Miracle for the Girl Next Door / Mother of the Bride: Miracle for the Girl Next Door

Would that what he’d learned at the clinic today were just a bad dream from which he’d awaken at any moment.

“Valentino?” came a familiar voice. “Don’t tell me you’re here to confess ten years’ worth of sins?” He’d asked the question in a joking manner, but the ring of hope lingered in the night air.

Consumed by a guilt so deep he’d never been able to talk about it, he turned to face the grayhaired priest who’d grown much more frail over the last decade. “Not tonight, Father. Otherwise you would never get to bed,” he teased. Their easy relationship stretched back to Valentino’s childhood.

Father Orsini chuckled. The years hadn’t deprived him of a sense of humor, for which Valentino was thankful. “It’s good to see you.”

“Then you’ll understand how pleased I was when Father Bruno told me Monta Correnti’s most legendary figure was outside waiting for me.”

“Let’s not play games, Father. A legendary figure should at least connote someone worthy.” He shifted his weight. “Forgive me for calling on you so late, but this couldn’t wait.”

“Evidently not. Let me put it another way. What’s troubling Luca Casali’s most famous son?”

“Famous for what?” Valentino muttered in self-abnegation. “Certainly nothing that matters.” When the priest blinked in astonishment, Valentino added, “Did Luca or my mother ever take the opportunity to tell you I’m not his birth son?”

“What is this?” Father Orsini cried out aghast.

“I don’t blame you for being bewildered. Forget I asked.”

“My son—”

“It’s all right, Father. If you did know, you couldn’t reveal it anyway. He and Mamma told me the truth years ago. It was a good idea at the time considering I don’t look or behave anything like Isabella or Cristiano.”

“Do your siblings know?”

“You mean that my infamous qualities can be laid at my biological father’s feet?” he mocked. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. What I’m hoping is that you’ll be able to help me over another matter. It’s of life and death importance.”

The priest cleared his throat. “If I can, but that places a great burden on me.”

Valentino squinted at him. “I knew you’d say that, but I have nowhere else to turn.” He stared at the priest. “What do you know about Clara Rossetti?”

In the quiet that followed, a sadness entered Father Orsini’s eyes and he pursed his lips, giving Valentino the answer. Fresh pain arced through him as surely as if he’d crashed on the track and the paramedics couldn’t separate his body from the wreckage.

The compassionate priest put a hand on Valentino’s shoulder. “She doesn’t want to die and is fighting this with everything she has in her.”

Valentino’s body trembled. “I know. I’ve been with her every day since I came home. She’s so courageous, I’m in awe of her.”

“You two were very close growing up.”

A sob got trapped in his throat. “Very. I don’t want her to die, Father.”

“Of course you don’t. After being away such a long time, this news must have come as a great shock.”

Shock hardly covered it. Shame for his narcissistic lifestyle had seeped into his soul. Up to now Valentino had lived only for his own pleasures. He’d avoided marriage and children in order to pursue new adventures without suffering any more guilt than he already dragged around.

In the process he’d pretty well abandoned his family, not to mention Clara. Valentino wasn’t only selfish, he was a coward unwilling to face certain unpalatable truths. After his aunt Lisa had leaked the latest family secret, his first instinct had been to run away and stay in denial. That had been his pattern over the years.

That was the mortifying part. After spending time with him during their growing-up years, Clara had become so well acquainted with his self-focused obsessions, she’d written him off when he’d left in his late teens. And why not?

What had he ever done for her?

His hands curled into fists.

Nothing! Not a damn thing!

It strained his credulity that she’d given him the time of day since he’d been back. While he’d been off in his superficial world, angry at life while he tried to break barriers and set new bars, she had been battling for her life!

Somewhere in his psyche Valentino had known there’d be a price to pay for always running away, for always taking without giving anything back. He just hadn’t expected it to come now, in this particular form. Clara, more than any other human being, had shown him unqualified friendship, but he hadn’t realized or understood until it was too late.

“I can see you’re in pain, my son.”

“I want to help her, but I don’t know where to begin.”

“She could use a good friend.”

Something he hadn’t been.

“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me?”

Valentino shook his head. “No, grazier.” He had quite enough on his plate and had said more than he should already. Calling on the priest this late at night constituted a special act of selfishness all its own, the kind for which Valentino was famous.

Luca’s “famous” son who really wasn’t his son. The negative connotation fit.

“I’ve intruded on your time long enough. Thank you for seeing me, Father. Buona notte.” He started down the stairs.

“Don’t be such a stranger!” the old priest called after him.

Valentino deserved that particular distinction, too. A stranger was one who was neither a friend nor an acquaintance. Those who knew his name would say that pretty well summed up his existence.

He waved to the priest from the lowered window of the car before he headed back to the villa. His black thoughts drove him to the kitchen where he made a pot of strong coffee. On an empty stomach the caffeine was guaranteed to keep him wired for the rest of the night. He did his best thinking when he prowled around in the dark.

The priest’s words wouldn’t leave him alone. She could use a good friend.

That meant making a commitment you didn’t break.

For the rest of the night Valentino searched his soul. By the time morning came eight hours later, he’d determined Clara Rossetti would discover how good a friend he could be, even if she didn’t believe it right now.

CHAPTER FIVE

“VALENTINO has come for me, Mamma. We’re driving to Gaeta. Just so you know, I’ve come to a decision. After today, I won’t be seeing him anymore. He knows I’m dying, and he’ll respect my wishes.”

Her mother let out a heavy sigh and stopped stirring the sauce she was cooking. “I’m glad to hear it, for his sake as well as yours. And I’ll tell you something else. You’re not going to die if I can help it! The doctor has assured me they’re doing everything to find the right donor for you. God hears me beg for your life every minute of the day and night.”

Clara lowered her head, humbled by her mother’s love. The doctor had told them they needed a miracle, but she knew that even if a kidney became available from a non-relative, there was always the possibility her body would reject it.

“See you later, Mamma.” She hugged her mother, then hurried outside to the old truck. Valentino got out of the cab wearing the same straw hat. When she drew closer, he flashed her a broad smile.

“Buon giorno, piccola.” He was hiding something behind his back.

“What have you got there?”

“You need a disguise, too,” he said before putting a matching hat on her head. “You look very fetching with it perched at that angle. From a distance we’ll look like an old farming couple taking a break after a busy morning.”

She loved it! They left the farm and headed in the direction of the coast. The truck made for slow going, but she felt very much at home in it. The Rossettis didn’t drive anything but trucks.

They ate some plums he brought and made desultory conversation while they drove through the enchanting countryside. Clara felt so carefree and relaxed that in time she found her eyelids drooping and fought to stay awake.

Nestling against the door, she closed her eyes, telling herself it would only be for a moment. The next time she became aware of her surroundings, she was cognizant of two things: the tangy smell of the Mediterranean and the feel of Valentino’s hard-muscled arm against her cheek and shoulder. He’d always smelled so good. It had to be from the soap he used in the shower.

“Oh—I’m sorry—” She sat up horribly embarrassed that she’d been asleep for an hour with her arm against him. Her hat was askew. How was it she’d ended up pressed to the side of his fit body instead of the door? Looking straight ahead, she glimpsed the Gulf of Gaeta spread out before her like a sparkling blue jewel in the sunlight.

Valentino had removed his sunglasses and cast her a sideward glance. “Why apologize? You needed your sleep. I’m hungry and presume you are, too.”

“I am.” Food had never sounded so good to her before.

“After we eat, we’ll take a walk on the beach if it’s warm enough for you and you’re up to it.”

Mentally she was up for everything he suggested, but her body had other ideas. Still she wouldn’t think negative thoughts right now, not when this would be her last outing with him. Certainly not when they were passing through hills of rich green vegetation where she spied a fabulous pink hotel surrounded by palm trees and a fabulous garden. “I remember that place from before! Didn’t you tell me it was once a monastery?”

“You have an excellent memory. It’s the Villa Irlanda. I thought we’d eat by the pool where there’s a view of the coast. I was in too big a hurry to stop here last time. It’s an oversight I intend to correct now. When I look back on my life, I think I was always in a hurry, but no longer.”

Valentino waited in the hotel lounge for Clara, who went into the ladies’ room. When she came out again a few minutes later, he escorted her to the pool where they settled on loungers to soak up some sun. They had the place to themselves. He signaled one of the waiters, who came right over.

After greeting them, he named half a dozen entrees on the menu. “But may I suggest that the oven-roasted abbacchio with rosemary, white wine and peppers would be a superb choice. You couldn’t go wrong with a side dish of carciofi alla romana.”

“What do you think, Clara?” In the late afternoon sun her eyes glowed an impossibly iridescent green. Fringed by her long black lashes, their color mesmerized him.

“I love lamb. As for artichokes, I’ve never had them stuffed with mint. It all sounds delicious.”

“I think so, too.” He placed their order, asking that it be served with his favorite pinot noir. When the waiter walked away, Valentino turned to her. She was a totally feminine creature, one of the few who could wear a blouse with a ruffle like that. “Can you drink wine?”

“In moderation. I have to stay away from sodas.”

Valentino thought she looked a little pale. No doubt her work at the fruit stand had drained her. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Good.”

“Still, I can tell something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

She let out a small laugh. “Apparently I’m not able to hide anything from you. To be honest, the air’s not as warm here as it was at the farm.”

“If you’re chilly, that’s an easy fix.” Valentino was relieved the temperature had turned out to be the culprit for the moment. “Come with me.” He helped her to her feet and they walked back inside the hotel to the front desk.

When he told the concierge he wanted a room with a view of the sea, he could see Clara shake her head no, but he pretended not to notice. After making arrangements for dinner to be brought to their room, he escorted her upstairs to a suite with a sweeping vista of the grounds and coastline. It was definitely warmer inside.

“Tino—” She laughed as he moved the table and chairs in the corner of the room to the center of the window.

“I want a view while we eat,” he declared. “In the meantime, you can lie down until our dinner comes.”

“Have you forgotten I slept in the truck?” Ignoring the suggestion, she sat down on one of the chairs. “Why didn’t we just eat in the restaurant?”

He could tell something was bothering her. “Because I wanted you to feel totally comfortable.”

“That’s very considerate, but are you sure you weren’t afraid the paparazzi would sneak in and take pictures of us that will make tonight’s ten o’clock news?”

He took a fortifying breath while he tried to understand her sudden burst of heated emotion. “For once the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

“I don’t think Giselle Artois would be happy about it.”

Ah. Giselle…Valentino frowned. “She’s engaged to her long-time British lover.”

Her eyes widened. “But on the news it sa—”

“Forget the news,” he cut her off. “They say and print whatever they feel like, but it has nothing to do with the truth. In all honesty there’s something I have to say to you and I wanted it to be in private. The restaurant wouldn’t have afforded us a moment to ourselves.”

To his dismay she paled a little more. It wasn’t his imagination that she was all tensed up.

“Tino? Can I speak frankly?”

“Always.”

“You said you need to talk me, but there’s no point in going to these elaborate lengths in order for us to be alone.” More of that hidden temper of hers was showing.

“What are you getting at, piccola?”

She plucked at her napkin. “Since you came back to Monta Correnti, don’t think I haven’t appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but now it has to stop.”

He put his hands on his hips. “Where’s all this coming from?”

Before he knew it, she’d jumped to her feet. “Over the last few days you’ve more than made up for the nine years of silence, and I’ll never forget your kindness. But we’re going in different directions and I’m not unaware you have personal commitments and a business to run. Entertaining me wasn’t your plan when you came here.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. He’d never seen her this wound up in his life. Normally unflappable Clara had just delivered the longest impassioned speech she’d ever made, revealing another unexpected side to her nature.

“I’ll get it.”

One of the staff from the kitchen wheeled in a tea cart with their meal. Valentino gave him a tip, then shut the door and pushed it across the room to the table. With her beautiful body still taut, she held onto the back of one of the chairs while she stared out the window.

Intrigued by her behavior, he put everything on the table and invited her to sit down. “We need to eat our food while it’s hot. I wanted this to be special for you. Earlier you admitted you were hungry.”

The reminder eventually forced her to comply. Gratified to see her food start to disappear, he poured them some wine and picked up his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass as if she were barely holding onto her control and would like to crush it. After a minute she lifted the glass. “Let me go first.”

“By all means,” he murmured.

“To our old friendship.”

He’d seen that one coming. After he touched her glass, they both drank.

“Now it’s my turn.” Trapping her gaze, he said, “To our new one.”

The second the words were out, she looked down without drinking. He swallowed the rest of his wine while he waited for her to absorb what he’d just told her.

She pushed her glass away. “We can’t have a new one. I’d like to go home now, Tino.”

“Not until you’ve heard me out.”

Her head reared back. Green sparks flew from her eyes. “I’m not trying to be intentionally rude, but I don’t want to listen to anything else.”

“Not even if this is vitally important to both of us?” When she didn’t immediately shut him down he said, “Last night I went to see Father Orsini, but there was one thing I couldn’t bring myself to confess to him.”

He saw the shiver that ran through her body. “If you’re thinking of telling me what you couldn’t tell him because I’m dying, please don’t. I’m not a priest.”

His chuckle permeated to her insides. “No, you’re not, grazie a Dio. But you are the woman I want to marry as soon as possible.”

After a long silence, he heard hurtful laughter come out of her. “Me—marry you—” she mocked in a brittle tone.

“Yes.”

“It sounds like you’ve come to the rock bottom of your many excellent adventures. I thought you were the one person who wasn’t like everyone else, but I was wrong.”

Like the lash of a whip, he felt her salvo. “That’s the first unkind remark you’ve ever made to me.”

“Maybe it’s because even a dying farm girl doesn’t relish the idea of being the object of Valentino Casali’s pity.”

She got up from the table hot-faced and made a dignified exit from the room. He hurried down to the front desk to pay the bill, then raced after her. When he crossed the parking south of the hotel he found her waiting for him in the cab of the truck with her hat on.

They started back to Monta Correnti. He noticed she stayed close to the door so neither their arms or legs would brush by accident. “Pity comes in many forms, piccola,” he began. “It depends on the point of view. I’m counting on yours to save me from myself.”

Clara didn’t want to listen. Valentino had a way of twisting words and meanings until he threw her into a state of confusion. Maybe she was having some strange, distorted dream where the impossible was happening and everything was out of her control.

“Before you consign me to my rightful place, which is a great deal lower than the angels, you need to know I called my doctor in Monaco. Among the things we talked about, he said I can be trained to help you do dialysis at home so you don’t have to go to the clinic. They have these new machines so you can even travel with them and carry on your activities.”

She couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful, but not at Valentino’s expense.

“Your mother can show me what kind of meals to make for you. I’m a good cook. I’ve had to be. The villa has a view of the town and valley from every window. Your family can visit all the time. You can visit them and still run the fruit stand if you want.

“While we’re waiting for a kidney, we’ll do everything together like we did when we were at school. We’ll have fun. When was the last time you had fun? I know I haven’t had any. I have to reach back to those years with you to remember what it was like to enjoy a carefree day. Marry me and make me respectable. I need you so much more than you need me.”

Oh, Tino. The issues with his father had robbed him of so much confidence. She’d never dreamed they were this serious.

“Allow me to take care of you, piccola. Now that I’ve come home, I can’t be around my family, my aunt and cousins, without your help. Since you talked to me about my father yesterday, you’ve made me realize I have to try harder.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What about the woman in your life? I’m not talking about Giselle now.”

“What woman?”

“Don’t tease about this, Tino. It’s too important.”

“I agree. I guess it’s confession time. There have been other women, but not as many as you have imagined. Even the few I had a relationship with didn’t inspire me to get married. I suppose I didn’t feel I could count on them for the long haul. If I’d wanted to make a lifelong commitment with one of them, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Even so—”

“Even so nothing! What about the men in your life? Don’t tell me there haven’t been any because I wouldn’t believe you.”

“No. I won’t tell you that, but my illness has changed everything.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

She sucked in her breath, trying to keep her wits about her. “Of course there is! You can’t just give up your racing and let your team down.”

“You haven’t been listening to me. Though I haven’t officially announced it yet, it’s over.”

“Since when?”

“It’s been over in my mind for quite a while. Isabella has been after me to come home, but it wasn’t until I knew I wanted to marry you that the issue was finally settled for me. Our marriage needs to take place right away so we don’t lose any more time. Something quiet and private that won’t wear you out.”

What he was saying had shaken her to the foundations.

“When we get back to the farm, I want to tell your family so we can make plans right away. The one thing they won’t be able to say is that we haven’t known each other long enough. From the age of seven to eighteen, I probably saw or spent time with you every day of your life, whether at school or church.”

Clara stirred restlessly on the seat, trying to get her bearings. “That’s true, but they’re going to ask about all the years since then.”

A smile hovered around his male mouth. “Surely your parents read about mine or watched it on TV. My last nine years have been lived in a fish bowl. The public seems to know more about my life than I do, but the one thing no one knows except you is my pain. It’s time for the pain to end for both of us. Don’t you agree?”

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