dad was American, but he settled in Rome ages ago. Ever since I can remember the plan was for me to attend school there when I hit university level. After their death, it helped that New York is vastly different from Rome, so I didn’t have lots of memories to deal with at every turn. Maybe it helped with the grief, too. To have the coursework to concentrate on.”
“So now you’re back settled in Rome?” he asked.
“I’m Italian, so is Dante. There is nothing waiting for us in New York. When he’s older, I’ll take him there and show him the sights. It’s a fantastic city. But it’s not home.”
She looked up. “It was good to grow up in Rome, but I’m wondering if it might be even better to have a smaller town, where I could build a support group. A single mom will need help. I’ve lost touch with many of my friends from high school.”
And lost her best friend, he remembered.
“I couldn’t wait to move to Rome when I graduated. More vibrant, more things to do.”
“Of course. But when you got hurt, you came home. There’s a lot to be said for a country setting. Where in Rome can you get views like you have? Sitting on the patio, seeing the lake, the gorgeous hills. It’s fantastic.”
“Doesn’t offer a lot of opportunity for young people, though.”
“Ah, but that depends on what opportunities one’s looking for. I have a job, a child. My opportunities now lie in different areas than when I was single and fancy free.”
She smiled again and Cristiano was struck by her happy outlook. She seemed not to have a care in the world, though he knew differently. What was her secret to that optimistic outlook?
Not having to deal with post-traumatic stress disorder, for one thing.
“I think I’ll take the baby to the lake later. Want to come with us?” she asked.
“Will it be warm enough for him?” he asked.
“In the sunshine. I guess you’ve done it a thousand times.”
“It never gets old. The lake is beautiful all times of the year. My ankle was broken a while ago. I’m still getting it back in shape. The sooner I’m fit, the sooner I can return to work. Want to go Jet Skiing?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Sitting on the beach is enough.”
CRISTIANO drove them in the car back to the village. He and Mariella took the baby to the shore near the marina. The beach was a mixture of sand and pebbles sloping gently to the water’s edge. There was a couple sitting in nearby chairs, reading. She waved to them while Cristiano settled on a spot some distance away so as not to disturb their tranquility with their presence.
He brought a blanket and soon Dante was taking tummy time facing away from the water, so he was facing up hill. When he grew frustrated, Mariella sat him up, holding him lightly so he wouldn’t fall over. He could almost balance by himself. He settled in first gnawing on the plastic keys, then throwing them down. She retrieved them and handed them back.
Again
And again.
Cristiano stretched out beside them, laughing at the baby’s antics. Mariella tossed him the keys.
“You try it,” she said.
Dante turned to see the keys and grinned at Cristiano.
“Don’t want to lose your keys,” he said, dangling them in front of the baby. “Especially when you’re older and that means wheels.”
The tranquility of the setting soothed. Mariella coughed again, wishing she’d get over the smoke problem soon. Her chest felt dry and tight. Taking a deep breath, she relished the clean air scented with evergreen. The sun sparkled on the water. In the distance she could see a boat bobbing near the center of the lake. Was that a fisherman?
Dante threw the keys again.
Cristiano retrieved them and handed them to Dante. He threw them again and looked at him, a wide smile on his face. Her heart contracted. She loved this precious baby.
“It’s so lovely here, even if we can’t swim today. Maybe we’ll come back for a visit when Dante’s older. Maybe continue the search for his father if we don’t find him this time.”
“How can you have spent so much time with your friend and not found out more information?”
“She was in the late stages of pregnancy and very ill. We spent more time talking about our shared memories, reliving good times. She changed the subject anytime I brought up who Dante’s father might be. He could be named for the man, for all I know. She spoke of what she hoped for in Dante’s future. The future she’d never see.”
“Maybe she truly didn’t want her son to know his father.”
“Maybe.” She wondered if she was doing wrong trying to find the man. He obviously wasn’t as nice as Cristiano. She couldn’t imagine any woman not want a child of his to know him.
“It’s nice here,” she said, turning slightly and fussing with the baby to cover the fact she was studying Cristiano’s profile. He made her heart happy. He could have been in movies, she thought. The rugged hero rescuing the heroine from danger then kissing her silly. And her heart almost melted when he played with a baby. Why was a strong man giving his attention to a baby so sexy?
She sighed a bit, wishing he’d pay that much attention to her.
“Problem?” he asked, glancing at her, one eyebrow raised.
“No, just thinking how nice it is here and how horrible the other night was.’ She shivered involuntarily. “We could have died.”
“But you didn’t.” His voice came sharp.
She brushed her fingertips over Dante’s head. He was perfectly content sitting on the blanket and throwing his plastic keys. She wished she could be so easily satisfied.
“I know that. As a firefighter, you’ve probably seen lots of death.”
He frowned and sat up, resting an arm on his upraised knee. “It’s not something anyone gets used to,” he said.
“I imagine not.” She could have bitten her tongue and not said anything. How many other lives had he saved, and how many had he not been able to save? There was more to firefighting than just pouring water on a fire.
“Do you think I can raise him?” she asked a few moments later.
“You can do anything if you want it enough. Remember that. From what I see, you are doing a fine job.”
“Tell me more about growing up around here.”
“Weekends are busy times for restaurants. My father worked hard. My mother with him, until she died. But even though we didn’t see much of them our
