Maybe it’s foolish to search for his father, but if it were me, I’d want to know. Easier maybe to find out about him now than when Dante is twenty-one.”
Cristiano didn’t know how he’d feel about finding out he had a child at some future date, after the child was grown. Had the man truly not wanted any connection, or had his initial reaction been panic that he now regretted?
In a way, his family’s recent events paralleled Mariella’s situation. He still didn’t know how to deal with the newly acquired knowledge that his father had other sons, older than he was. They’d grown up a world apart. Would there be some connection should they ever meet? Would blood call to blood? Or would they forever be strangers?
Cristiano could never knowingly give up a child if he had one. How had his father done it?
He kicked down the stand and got off the motorcycle. “Have you questioned everyone in town?”
“So far only the priest and the proprietor at the resort.”
“Come, I’ll buy you an ice-cream cone and you can ask there. Seems to me your best bet would be restaurants and shops where visitors are likely to go.”
“Maybe, but they could have simply come for a weekend at the height of the season when she’d have been just one of many,” she said, pushing the stroller ahead as they walked around the square. The sun shone in a cloudless sky. The air was cool, but comfortable. And she was walking beside a handsome, attentive man. She didn’t want to talk about Ariana and her lost love. She wanted to learn more about Cristiano.
The ice-cream shop was virtually empty.
“Not the time of year for ice cream. Want something else?” he asked.
“No. This will be good. I can give Dante a tiny taste. He’s not eating real food yet.”
They ordered, then went back into the square to sit on a bench in the sunshine.
“Did you once live here? The proprietress knew you,” she asked.
“My grandparents were from Lake Clarissa. They had a small cottage nearby. We lived with them when we were children and papa was busy working. Summer days we would swim in the lake. Sometimes we’d camp out overnight in the forest.”
He watched as Mariella licked her ice cream. The lonely existence he’d chosen these past few months melted away. He hadn’t felt normal for a long time. What was it about this woman that changed that? He could forget the horror that haunted him when he was around her. Maybe he should take her home with him and keep her with him until the spell was broken.
Yet moments before he’d had another flashback. He looked away. He had no business coming to town. What if he had a major meltdown? He had to beat this thing before he could get his life back.
“Sounds like you had a lot of fun here,” she said.
“Yes, we did, it was a happy time. My grandfather lived until I was almost an adult. He continued to live here even when we had all moved away from home, he was a part of the place. He gave our childhood an extra sense of fun and excitement, beyond playing in the forest or at the lake.” Hard to think about the past when he listened to her voice, soft and lilting.
“Is that where you got your daredevil ways?” she asked with a teasing grin.
“Daredevil ways?” That grin felt like a kick to the mid section. For a moment he forgot where they were and wondered what she’d do if he leaned over and kissed her. Her eyes sparkled, there were freckles scattered across her nose, kisses from the sun. He looked away before he did something foolish, such as trail kisses over every one. They’d just met. It was too early to think about kisses.
Yet as the seconds ticked by, the thought would not fade. He’d like to take her hand and feel the soft warmth against his palm. Sit closer so he could feel every radiant bit of heat from her body. Lean in so she could only see him. Find out what fascinated him about her.
“Racing across the lake like you were trying to fly. I consider that amazingly like a daredevil,” she explained, leaning closer.
Did she feel that same pull of attraction? He took a breath, taking in the scent of her, light and flowery. He held his breath for a moment to savor it. Then released it and shook his head. “I’m no daredevil. You should meet my brother Valentino. Now, he’s the daredevil in the family. Today was just Jet Skiing.”
She pointed to the motorcycle across the square. “That’s a dangerous mode of transportation.”
“Not if you know what you’re doing. It’s like flying along the road.”
“So tell me about living here, especially during summer,” she invited as they ate their cones.
Cristiano didn’t want to talk about himself; he wanted to know more about Mariella. But if he offered something, he could have her reciprocate. He began recounting summer days playing at the edge of the lake, climbing around on the rocky shore and learning to swim. Then the nights he and Valentino had spent roaming the woods, feeling daring and grown up braving the darkness.
She laughed at his stories and from time to time admonished Dante to stop listening, she didn’t want him to get ideas. The longer Cristiano talked, the lighter the world seemed to grow. He liked hearing her laugh. The more she did, the more outrageous he made the stories.
“Now, tell me about your summer holidays,” he said when he’d wound down. They’d long since finished their ice cream. The baby had fallen asleep and Mariella seemed content to sit in the sunshine. It was as if she brought sunshine into his life where only darkness had once dwelt.
“We always went to places to learn more about history. My father was an accountant, but he loved history. So we visited Pompeii and Turin, Florence, of course, and Venice.” She smiled in memory and Cristiano knew from her expression how much she’d enjoyed those vacations with her parents.
“Ariana went with us when we were teenagers. We flirted like crazy with the gondoliers in Venice. Of course they ignored us.” She laughed, then her eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. “We should have had the chance to remember all those foolish activities when we were old with grandchildren running around. It’s so unfair she died.”
Cristiano wanted to comfort her, but only time would completely heal the pain.
“I had a friend who died last May. Life is unfair. I’m single with few responsibilities. He had a wife and two children. Why him? It should have been me.”
She looked at him in shock. “Never say that. Who knows why some die young? But I have never thought it should have been me instead of Ariana. Life is too precious. We need to enjoy every moment. Maybe even more so because in a way we are now living also for our friends, experiencing life as they will no longer be able to.”
The memories were threatening again. The fear he’d end up hiding beneath the bench they now sat on in the middle of the day, yelling for Stephano, was real. He had to get away before he cracked.
He stood. “I have to go.’ The tightness in his chest grew. It was becoming more difficult to breathe. He held onto the present desperately.
“Thank you for the ice cream. And the conversation,” she said.
He nodded and strode
