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 childhood was still magical. Especially when my grandfather was alive. His life was different from our everyday life. He knew the trees, the forest, fish in the lake.”
She fell silent, thinking about the vacations she and her parents had enjoyed. It seemed so long ago and far away. Would visiting some of the spots bring the memories closer? Or only emphasize she was alone? She wanted Dante to see all of Italy. They’d make new memories.
“I’m going into Monta Correnti tomorrow. The doctors at the hospital wanted to check me and Dante again, make sure there are no lasting effects. I need to get access to a printer so I can print up another picture of Ariana. Maybe check around in Monta Correnti to see if anyone recognizes her.”
“Park near the town square. Easy to get to an Internet café, shops and the hospital.”
“We’ll find it,” she said cheerfully, wishing he’d offered to drive them into town.
After visiting the hospital the next morning and getting a clean bill of health for both her and Dante, Mariella wandered the center part of Monta Correnti. First stop after the hospital was the Internet café where she was able to print a color photograph of Ariana. Staring at the picture of her friend, she remembered how vital she’d always been when younger. The illness had robbed her of so much.
Then she pushed the baby in the stroller, wandering down side streets, walking around the square. When she saw a likely tourist spot, she showed the photo. No one recognized Ariana.
It was after one when Mariella turned back onto the wide piazza and gazed at the buildings. Rosa seemed to leap out at her. That was Cristiano’s family’s restaurant—the one with the excellent marinara sauce. She pushed the stroller along, wondering if she dared try Dante in the restaurant. So far the baby had been in perfect harmony with all they’d done. But she’d hate to be in the middle of a meal and have him start screaming his head off.
As they approached, Mariella saw a nice open-air space connected to the restaurant. Much better for the baby, she thought. The day was warm enough to sit outside.
Once seated, with a baby highchair for Dante, Mariella perused the menu. She’d try the tortellini with the famous sauce. She sat back to enjoy the ambiance while waiting for her order. The waiter had brought bread sticks and she gave one to Dante to drool on. He beat the table, put it in his mouth and looked surprised. She laughed. Hadn’t he expected it to be food? He couldn’t eat it, but she thought he could gum it a bit. Once it got soggy, she replaced it with another.
The courtyard was delightful. Tables were scattered around as if awaiting company, two others occupied. None too close to impede a private conversation. The bougainvillea spilled down a trellis, their flowers faded now as winter approached. She bet they were spectacular in the height of summer. A fountain’s melody gave a pleasant sound to soothe and enhance enjoyment of the food. Mariella suspected the restaurant was a favorite of many.
When the meal was placed before her, Mariella smiled in anticipation. She looked at the waiter. “I can’t wait to eat this. I had this sauce recently at Cristiano Casali’s place. Do you know him?”
The waiter bowed slightly. “Of course. He is son of the owner, Luca.” He frowned. “He has not been to visit recently. I shall tell his sister you are here.”
Mariella took a bite of the tortellini. It almost melted in her mouth. The sauce was even better than she’d had at Cristiano’s. She savored each mouthful.
“Signora?”
A pretty woman wearing an apron approached Mariella.
“Sì?”
“I am Isabella, Cristiano’s sister. You are a friend of Cristiano?”
Mariella smiled. “He rescued me and my baby from a fire at Lake Clarissa. I consider him a hero.”
“Ah. May I?” Isabella said, holding onto the back of a chair.
“Please.”
“How is he?” she asked when she sat down.
“Fine. He said he is recovering from injuries?” How odd his sister asked a stranger for an update on her brother.
“He was a first responder to the bombing in Rome last May,” Isabella said slowly.
“I knew that. That’s where he was injured.”
“A burn, a broken ankle. Yet it’s taking a long time to heal. Does he walk okay?”
“Fine.”
Isabella stared at Mariella for a long moment.
Growing uncomfortable, Mariella smiled again. “I had some of your marinara sauce at Cristiano’s and so when I had to come to Monta Correnti and saw the restaurant, I thought I’d eat it again. It’s delicious.”
“Thank you. So you ate at Cristiano’s home?”
“The
