don’t have a clue who the father is.” She’d asked as many of Ariana’s friends as she knew if they had known the man. No one had. It was a secret her friend had taken with her.
Cristiano frowned at her statement. Mariella elaborated in a rush, feeling the need to explain.
“Dante’s mother was my best friend, Ariana. She met some guy and fell in love. Apparently when she told him she was pregnant, the man abandoned her. I didn’t know any of this. I was in New York when I got her phone call shortly before Dante was born. She was sick and asked me to come back to Italy. I did, instantly. When she asked me to take Dante, how could I refuse? We were as close as sisters, yet she never told me his father’s name though I asked many times.” She looked at the child, feeling the weight of her commitment heavy on her shoulders.
“What happened to your friend?” Cristiano asked gently.
Mariella took a moment to gather her composure. It was still hard to talk about the death of her very dearest and longest friend. “She died of leukemia. She found out she had it while pregnant and refused any treatment until after the baby was born. He arrived healthy and strong, though a couple of weeks early. She died when he was two weeks old.”
Mariella tried to blot out the picture of her friend those last weeks. Her thin cheeks, lackluster hair, sad, sad eyes. Ariana had known she wouldn’t live to see her baby grow up. She’d implored Mariella over and over to promise to raise Dante for her. The day the guardianship paper had been signed, Ariana had smiled for the last time and soon thereafter slipped into a coma, which led to her death.
“You still seem awfully young to be tied down with a baby. Shouldn’t you be out enjoying life at this stage?”
“Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine with being Dante’s guardian.” She didn’t need some stranger questioning her ability to watch the baby. It was a huge responsibility, Mariella knew that already. And she often questioned her ability herself when lying awake at night, trying to anticipate all she needed to do to raise Dante. Mariella considered it an honor to be chosen to raise her friend’s baby.
No one needed to know how overwhelmed she felt. And how while she loved Dante, it was not the deep maternal love she knew other mothers felt immediately for their child. Mariella loved this baby, but couldn’t help feeling a bit cheated of her best friend. If Ariana had not been pregnant when she’d found out about the leukemia, she might be alive today. Mariella felt alone in a way she’d never experienced before; isolated even more by the demands of an infant.
Not that she’d tell anyone in a million years. What if it ever came back to Dante? She did love him. She did! But she had loved her friend for far longer.
“I need to go,” she said, jumping up. She had to escape her thoughts. She could do this. She would do this. Or find his father and make sure Dante had a loving family to welcome him.
“Seems like I run you off at every turn,” Cristiano said.
She started pushing the stroller. Cristiano rose and fell into step beside her. “Why are you here at this time of year? Most tourists come in the summer months, when they can use the lake,” he said. Glancing at the baby, he added, “And they come when their kids are older and can play by the water. We’ll be getting rain before long. It’s already colder now than a couple of weeks ago. Not very conducive to sitting by the lake.”
“I thought maybe I could find out about Dante’s father. But now that I’m here, I’m not so sure.” It had been a foolish thought. Clutching at straws, that was what. The man could have brought her friend here for a get-away weekend. She only knew Ariana had been happy at Lake Clarissa.
“What do you know about him?” Cristiano asked.
“Nothing. Ariana wouldn’t talk about him at all.”
They approached the small resort on the lake. Traffic was light on the street. The quiet of the afternoon was interrupted only by birdsong.
“You have the last cottage, right?”
“How did you know that?” Mariella asked, looking at him. He had obviously shortened his stride to stay even with her. She wondered if he’d come to the cottage and stay a while. She’d love to put the baby down and have some adult conversation—especially with a man so unlike others she knew.
“I saw it was occupied when I was skiing.”
“Do you live here year round?” she asked.
“No.” With that one word, he changed. She glanced at him, but his expression gave nothing away. He looked ahead as they walked, not elaborating on the single-word response. But she could feel the difference, the way he closed himself off. A bleakness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. What had she said?
“Visiting?” she probed. He’d asked enough questions, she could ask a few. Her curiosity grew. If Ariana had been around, she’d have called her up to tell her about the daredevil and how he was a poster child for sexy, virile Italian male. And speculate why he was at Lake Clarissa and discuss ways she might get to know him better.
“Staying a while,” was all he said.
Her curiosity arose another notch. But she didn’t know him well enough to pester with a lot of questions. Though a dozen burned on her tongue.
The path to the cottage was packed dirt lined with rocks. Bumpy and uneven. It was a bit of a struggle for Mariella to push the stroller, but Dante loved being bounced around. He gurgled and looked enchanted with the bouncy ride.
“Here, let me,” Cristiano said at one point, reaching out to take the stroller. His hand brushed hers as he reached for the handle and she folded her arms across her chest, savoring the tingling. Walking beside him made her feel sheltered and feminine. This was how a family should be, father, mother and baby. She blinked. No going off in daydreams, she admonished.
“Thanks,” she said when they reached the fifth cabin. The trees shaded in the afternoon. The small stone terrace had two chairs and a small table to use when sitting to watch the lake.
The wind had picked up a bit and it was definitely cooler than before.
“I can manage from here,” she said with a smile. “I hope I see you in town again,” she said, feeling daring. It would be too awful to have this be their sole encounter.
He stepped away from the stroller and looked at her. Mariella had the feeling he wanted to say something. His eyes seemed full of turmoil. But he merely nodded and said, “Maybe you will. I come to town often. Goodbye.”
She watched as he walked back along the path, his long legs covering the distance in a short time. One minute he was there, the next gone. And he took some of the brightness of the day with him.
She should have shown him the picture. Maybe he had seen Ariana. Where did he live? Why had her question caused the change? One minute he seemed open and friendly, the next closed and reserved. Not that it was any of her business. But she couldn’t help the curiosity. Was he married? Separated or divorced?
She hoped she saw him again before she left.
Cristiano walked back to the square wondering if he was losing his mind. It had been months since anything had caught his attention as strongly as Mariella Holmes had. She was pretty—granted. But he’d seen other pretty women.
But
