They’d be here a week so she needed to get organized, then she could decide how to go on.
“I didn’t mean to run you off.” She looked to her left and saw the man from the restaurant. He paused beside her. The sun glinted on his dark hair. His dark eyes looked straight into hers and caused her heart to bump up in rhythm. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She felt a flare of attraction sweep through her. It made her almost giddy. Certainly not the way a mother should react. She hadn’t expected to see him again—especially so soon after the restaurant.
“I was ready to leave,” she said. She looked away. He was gorgeous—tall, tanned and fit. Was he on holiday? Why else would he be Jet Skiing and then taking a long lunch in the middle of the week? Or did he live around here and have the kind of job that allowed mid-week excursions to the lake? She wanted to know more about him.
He sat beside her on the bench, staring at the fountain at the center of the square. She flicked him a glance, but he seemed oblivious, still focused on the fountain. She noted no rings on his hands. She looked where he looked. The honey-colored stone blended well with the mountain setting. The cobbled street gave testimony to the age of the village. Surely he’d seen it all before. As if reading her thoughts, he turned and looked at her, offering his hand.
“My name is Cristiano Casali. Emeliano’s suggestion caught me by surprise. You have a baby and I thought it best—never mind. I apologize for my rudeness.”
She shook his hand and then pulled hers free. Tingling from the brief contact, she cleared her throat and tried to concentrate on what he said and not on the amazing feelings suddenly pulsing through her. He was just a man being courteous.
“Not to worry. I’m Mariella Holmes.” She didn’t dare look at him. Let her get her roiling emotions under some control first.
“So the mystery of the baby intrigues me. And if you knew about how things have been with me lately, that’s surprising. How is he yours? You look too young to be a guardian of anyone.” He glanced at the baby, then back at her.
“I’m twenty-two and old enough. I have friends who didn’t go to university who married young and already have two children.” She would never confide to a stranger how unprepared she felt being a new mother. If she’d just had more time to prepare, maybe she’d feel better suited to the role.
“Okay, you’re old enough, but how?”
“His mother died. Before she did, I agreed to be his guardian. Ariana had no other family.” She was proud she could say her friend’s name without bursting into tears. Studying him as she spoke, she saw no start of recognition when she said her friend’s name.
“The father didn’t object?” he asked.
“I 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
