Chapter 20
Chapter Twent y
I woke before sunrise with so much energy I contemplated giving that hiking trail a go with my suitcase held over my head.
Instead, because I still had two hours before my breakfast would be served, and a further two hours before my train departed, I dressed for a walk and headed outside.
But I was too early even for sunrise. The streets were dark and deserted. And worried I’d face-plant into one of the boat flower planters and break my nose, I returned back inside, lay on my bed, and read my book.
For once, time was ticking fucking slowly, and at each turn of my page, I glanced at the clock. It’d barely moved another three minutes.
It was an eternity before I took a seat at the breakfast table downstairs. Once I did though, I was like a bumblebee . . . buzzing.
After breakfast, I tried to pace myself by taking care applying my makeup and getting into my ‘greeting Roman’ outfit—the navy-blue wrap dress and my sexy boots. This time, however, I wore a colorful woolen scarf and long, silver earrings with a ruby-red sphere at the bottom that perfectly matched my matte lipstick.
When I arrived at the train station, I still had thirty minutes to wait.
Me and this waiting business were not friends, and with every second that passed, I wanted to bitch-slap my watch.
But other than the waiting, I felt good about today.
I liked to believe I had excellent intuition, and if I was reading the vibes right, today was going to be A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.
Sitting on my suitcase, I inhaled the crisp morning air and my breath misted on each exhale. I tugged my scarf around my neck and did up an extra button on my coat, but despite the cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, everything was perfect.
Maybe just a little too perfect.
I just hoped my newfound utopia wasn’t about to be obliterated.
My phone rang, and thinking it was Zali calling to wish me luck, I plucked it from my bag.
My gut twisted.
It was not Zali. The number indicated it was coming from Australia. That meant it was either the police or the hospital.
Inhaling deeply, I pressed the green button. “Hello. This is Daisy.
“Hello, Daisy. This is Doctor Alberts.”
When he paused, I mentally prepared for the inevitable.
“I’m sorry to tell you but your mother passed away in her sleep today.”
A knot wedged in my throat, and I fought it with all my might. Mother didn’t deserve my tears. And she sure as hell wouldn’t ruin my day. I had to swallow hard to speak. “Thank you for letting me know, Doctor. And thank you for looking after her. She enjoyed your company. I have left her funeral instructions with your reception.”
He cleared his throat. “I want you to know her last thoughts were with you, Daisy.”
I was sure they were, and probably not for any good reasons. “That’s sweet of you. Thank you.”
“She’s at peace now.”
“Thank you, Doctor, and thank you for all that you do for everyone.” I turned off the phone before he could reply, and as I sucked in the cool ocean breeze, I tried to analyze my feelings.
I was a touch sad. But that just made me angry.
Yet at the same time, I was at peace with myself. Although it had been harrowing, I was glad I’d seen Mother. I’d gone to her hoping for closure and I got it.
Now, with her gone, I hoped I rarely thought of her again, and that I never thought of Rob as my father.
Perhaps I could do what Zali had done for Kane and invent a father for myself.
Yeah. Maybe the other half of my DNA came from a man who mastered in researching medical miracles. Or taught disabled children. Or simply went on to be a wonderful husband and father.
The sound of a train had me jumping to my feet.
This was it. Moment of truth. Well, not exactly the moment. I had to find Roman first.
Lining up on the platform with just six other people, I giggled at the craziness of it. I’d traveled thousands of miles to try and find a man in a little Italian village to tell him I loved him.
I had officially lost my mind. But damn, it felt good.
Barely two minutes later, I stepped off the train and walked down a street that was nearly a mirror image of the town I’d just come from. Bright pink geraniums hung from balconies above me, as did strings of washing. Many people would have gone into hibernation during winter, and the streets certainly seemed to be deserted here too. Other than a few seagulls that were fighting over something above my head, my suitcase was about the only thing making noise. The smell of the ocean was calming—the complete opposite to my pulse that was thumping like I had hiked here.
Seven kids raced up the street. They looked like they were up to mischief, yet they were smiling and laughing. The girls in the front of the pack were screaming as if running for their lives. But their cheeky smiles confirmed it was all a game. They were young, fresh, and innocent.
The kids dashed around the corner, and an elderly woman setting a plant onto a small dining table watched them scurry past and shook her head. The woman turned toward me, smiling, and she shook her head again.
It was my cue. Hitching my bag on my shoulder and lugging my suitcase behind me, I strolled toward her restaurant.
The woman’s eyes bulged at my approach. She smiled and slightly opened her arms. “Caterina.”
I blinked at her. Caterina? As in, Roman’s Caterina?
I was a few feet away when her arms dropped, and a frown crossed her face. “ Mi dispiace. Pensavo fossi qualcun altro .”
Frowning, I said, “Lei parla inglese?”
“ Sì . Little.” She held her thumb and finger together.
“I’m sorry. My Italian is not so good.” I tried to indicate my meaning with my hands.
“Ah, it okay.” The woman swept her hand over the table. “Would you like coffee? We have coffee and cake special.”
My damn stomach rumbled as if it had understood her question, and I made a snap decision to take her up on the offer. Maybe, just maybe, she might know Roman. “Sì. Grazie.”
I sat at the table at the front of the restaurant. My view stretched up to the top of the cobblestone street where it met the limestone cliff. In the opposite direction, I could look right down the avenue of buildings to the seashore. Tiny fishing boats dotted the coast, and beyond that was the most exquisite azure ocean.
I’d officially slipped onto the pages of a travel magazine.
Roman talked so fondly of his hometown, and I could see why.
The elderly woman returned with a selection of muffins in a basket, and I pointed at the chocolate one studded with extra choc-chips.
“Ahh. You like sweet.” She winked. “You want cream?”
“ Sì . Of course.”
Standing at my side, she placed a small plate in front of me and handed me a napkin.
The kids raced past again and the woman cussed at them, telling them to slow down. I glanced up at her, and when she looked at me, I had a funny feeling she wanted to ask me something. But the moment evaporated as quickly as the scowl on her face. When she didn’t speak, I couldn’t resist the question that had been burning on my lips since I stepped off the train.
“ Scuzi . Do you know Roman . . .?” Oh my god. I didn’t even know his surname. How could I be in love with a?—
“ Sì . Of course.”
My brain scrambled to catch up with what she’d said.
“You do?”
“ Sì . Everybody know Roman.”
My heart thundered to life. The napkin shook in my trembling fingers. I cleared my throat, and angling my face to her, I offered a smile. “Do you happen to know where he lives?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you Daisy?”
My jaw would have hit the table if that were possible. I palmed my chest. “Yes. I am. How did you know?”
“I am friend of Roman’s mamma. Francesca. We meet at her place every month. Roman . . . he always talk about you. Your red hair. Your smile. He likes you, you know?”
The butterflies in my stomach pirouetted as I clutched my chest. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that he talked about me. Other than to say how fucked up I was.
The woman tugged the napkin from my fingers. “Come. I show you.”
My brain and my feet were scrambling to catch up with each other, and it was a wonder I didn’t tumble to the cobblestones. The woman spoke so fast, and while she switched between Italian and English seamlessly, I found it impossible to keep up. All I got were snippets of disjointed instructions. All the way down the street. Go left. Up path. Very steep. Blue house at end. White balcony. Cats.
She held my hand in hers. “Go to him.” When she smiled, her wrinkles tripled. But the twinkle in her eyes took years off her age.
“ Grazie . Thank you.”
She shooed me away like I was a naughty child and turned back to her empty restaurant.
As I strode down the street, my suitcase clacking behind me, I felt like everyone was watching me. My red frizzy hair stood out most of the time. But in a tiny Italian town that had a population of just three hundred or so, I was likely to stand out like a blimp dressed in a giant red bikini.
People waved and smiled.
I waved back and grinned in return.
My long, flowing skirt swished between my legs, my knee-high boots clipped over the terracotta pavers, and the mild ocean breeze caught in my hair. The suitcase made a terrible racket, and I wished I could stop it. Maybe that’s why everyone is turning to me?
The few restaurants that were open tempted me with offers of Chianti and house specials. People went about their business. Men were fiddling with boats that had been pulled up the main street and secured alongside doorways. The two women I passed were carrying groceries and pushing prams.
But after several people had looked at me with the same reaction the elderly woman had, I felt like I was on parade and people were keen to catch a glimpse of the stranger in town.
At the bottom of the hill, I stood on a small brick platform that represented the end of the street and stared out over the naturally curved marina. To my right was a pool made out of a series of giant rocks. To my left, a dozen or so small boats were tied up close to the shore. Kids played on the rocks, and despite there being nothing to stop them tumbling into the water below, there didn’t seem to be any adults watching them.
Following the elderly woman’s instructions, I headed to the left, walking up a steep, narrow path that ran parallel to the sea. Every house touched the house next door. The entire hillside was a kaleidoscope of colorful houses and terracotta rooftops.
The picturesque setting was one I’d seen in dozens of tourist brochures, and epitomized many towns dotted along the Italian riviera.
Two thoughts flashed across my mind simultaneously—one was that I wished I had more time to explore this region. The other was that with Roman as my guide, any time here would be special.
If he wanted to spend time with me, that was .
We hadn’t exactly left on good terms.
Shit!
Roman was probably still pissed at me for leaving him in the lurch like that. Maybe that was why he’d quit his job. Oh, God. I hadn’t even thought about that.
A pale-blue home in the distance caught my eye. It was at the end of the path and had white balconies just like the elderly woman had said. Shoving my unwelcome negativity aside, I aimed for it.
As I walked up the paved path, a few women came out onto balconies and waved at me like they knew I’d be there. It was as if a breeze filled with Chinese whispers had been dispatched, announcing my arrival. And just like with the elderly woman in the restaurant, I had a strange feeling they thought they knew me.
It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
Anonymity had been my thing for nearly thirty years. Move to a new town. Make as few friends as possible. Move again.
This was so very different.
The end of the path led right up to the front door of the blue house. The home was clinging to the edge of the cliff like an oyster shell. A table was set up at the front of the home with a bright green umbrella and a sign offering homemade limoncello.
Roman helped his father make limoncello.
Could that be Roman’s house?
The enormity of what I’d done to get here, and what I was about to do, hit me like a freight train. I could barely breathe. My feet were frozen to the pavers.
This was it. I had reached the point of no return.
Not that I wanted to run. Hell no.
Let’s do this, Daisy .
I ran my hands over my dress, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles, and forced my feet to walk toward the door.
Just before I knocked, the door opened. A beautiful young woman stood in the entranceway. Her long, cocoa-brown hair spilled over her shoulders, and her dark lashes framed her honey-colored eyes like a million-dollar portrait. Her yellow dress made a striking impression against her olive skin.
“ Ciao . You must be Daisy. Sì ?” Her Italian accent was strong, but her English was perfect.
Adrenaline shot through me, and I reached for the doorframe before I keeled over. “ Sì. Sì . I am Daisy.”
“I can tell.”
I touched my hair. “You . . . you can?”
“Yes. It’s about time you visited. I’m Maria, Roman’s sister. We were beginning to think Roman had made you up. Come. Come in.” She stepped aside.
I forced my wobbling knees to cross the threshold. Delicious aromas of spices and cinnamon filled the tiny entrance. She instructed me to leave my suitcase and hang my coat on a set of hooks overburdened with jackets and scarfs, and with each step I followed Maria upward, the aromas developed in intensity.
“ Mamma, Mamma, guarda chi c'è. Daisy .”
At the top, the stairs led to an open-plan room, and a short Italian woman with silver hair that looked like it’d just come out of hot rollers raced toward me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and smothered me in a bear hug like I’d never experienced.
Maria laughed. Mamma squeezed. Tears filled my eyes.
Mamma eased back and clutched my cheeks. “ Daisy, sei anche più bella di quanto dicesse Roman .” She pulled me to her bosom again .
I wrapped my arms around her, but I frowned at Maria. “Sorry,” I said. “I have no idea what she said.”
“Mamma said you are even more beautiful than Roman said.”
“Oh.” My mind swelled with delight. I’d only been in this house two minutes, and I already felt so welcome.
It felt so good.
No, it was more than that. It felt real.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, I was seated at the table with a glass of Chianti and four of Roman’s sisters. Donatella, Serena, Valentina, and his youngest sister, Maria. A dozen or so kids came in and out, and although they introduced each of them, I lost complete track of whose child was whose. Roman’s mother fetched one dish after another, and soon the entire table was filled with enough food to feed all of Manarola.
They asked me question after question.
What I was going to do for work now?
Where had I traveled to?
What was my favorite country?
It was obvious that Roman didn’t just talk about me. He talked about me a lot.
After a while, it occurred to me that they didn’t ask any personal questions about my mother or my growing up. I couldn’t decide if that meant Roman had told them about my crap and they were just being polite, or that he hadn’t told them.
Either way, I hoped they didn’t ask. Last thing I wanted to do was ruin this amazing introduction to his family.
But with an unprecedented bolt of clarity, I realized that it didn’t matter if they did ask those difficult questions.
My childhood was not my fault.
Besides, it was behind me now. Nothing mattered except what I did from here on. And being in Roman’s home, with his sisters and mother who he loved so much, was a huge step in the right direction.
But there was one problem. He wasn’t here.
We had finished three bottles of Chianti between the six of us before I’d summoned enough courage to ask, “Where is Roman?”
“Oh, he’s fishing.” Donatella rolled her eyes and waved out to the vast ocean—a view that filled the entire double-glass doors in the lounge room. “He’s always fishing.”
“Especially lately.” Valentina nudged Donatella’s shoulder.
Donatella nodded at me. “He’s been so grumpy.”
“He has? Since he left work?” If that was true, it was my fault. I’d abandoned him mid-tour. He must think I’m ? —
“He will be so happy to see you.” Maria interrupted my thoughts, and I blinked at her.
“He will?”
“He smell.” Mamma was loud. I guessed with her enormous family she needed to be. She pinched her nose for emphasis.
When I scrunched up my face, they all burst into laughter and spoke a million miles an hour in Italian. I glanced from one sister to the next, and an overwhelming sensation gripped me. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
I was comfortable with these relative strangers. I imagined this was exactly what it felt like to have family who loved you, and a place to call home.
A sense of longing enveloped me.
I wanted this. Exactly this.
“Daisy? Daisy?”
I stood at the sound of Roman’s voice.
The sisters covered their mouths. Their eyes were wide. Mamma clutched her hands to her chest and had the most magical grin.
I stepped back from the table .
“Daisy!”
When Roman appeared, tears pricked my eyes.
A delicious shudder shimmered through me as our gaze met.
He opened his arms and strode to me. “It is you. Oh my god.”
We fell into an embrace, and he picked me up and spun me around.
His sisters clapped and cheered, but I barely noticed.
I laughed and cried, and my heart squeezed so tight, I could barely breathe.
He put me down and placed his hand on my cheek. “What are you doing here?”
I curled my lip through my teeth. “I came for you.”
He clutched both of my cheeks and leaned forward. Our lips met, and the butterflies in my stomach soared to the sky.
It didn’t matter that his family was watching and clapping.
It didn’t matter that he smelled of fish and sea salt.
I was in heaven. With my Roman.