The Legacy (31 page)

I press my face against Adagio’s neck as the tears begin
anew. I know he is right, but my heart hurts so much, I don’t
know how to handle it. In the past I would have handled the
pain by numbing myself with drinking and drugs. But I can’t do
that now. I have come too far to go back down that road, and I
would rather die than give in to such weaknesses.

“You need to heal, baby,” he whispers against my ear.
“Maybe this is the way to do that.”
Broken in spirit, I continue to cry as Adagio lifts me in
his arms. Carrying me upstairs, he gently places me on the bed.
Covering me with a light quilt, he sits on the edge of the bed
and kisses me tenderly.
“You rest. This is a very hard thing you are facing. I wish
I could make it all go away somehow and take away the pain,
but I can't.”
“I know,” I whisper hoarsely. I can see how much my
hurting is affecting him, and I hate putting him through this.
“I will take care of Ingo. Just try and rest.” He presses
another soft kiss to my lips and leaves.

After closing the door, Adagio checks on Ingo. Finding
him content in his playpen, he heads to the den, and with tears
filling his eyes, he kneels to pray. He knows if he can do
nothing else to help the woman he loves with the trial she is
facing, praying for her is the one thing he can do.

I awaken the next morning with a heavy heart. I wish I
could shake the pain, but I don’t know how. I'd spent a good
while on my knees the night before, praying and begging for
God's comfort, but nothing has changed. I no longer hate my
father, and I truly want to forgive him. I just don’t know if I
have the strength to speak the words to him, or even face him.

Staring out our bedroom window at the River Sile in the
distance, I try to draw upon the comfort that usually comes
with the view, but it eludes me. After another moment, I finally
lay down and try to rest, then I sit up on the side of the bed,
deciding that trying to sleep is futile. Closing my eyes, I attempt
to clear my mind. But images of my father beating my mother
by day then standing over my own bed by night flash before me
and my eyes open abruptly, releasing the hot tears trapped
behind them. I struggle to push the images away and replace
them with good ones, but they continue to intrude and will not
leave me. By now the agony growing inside me is so intense, I
immediately slip to my knees beside the bed, desperation filling
my whole being. I feel like I will die from the pain.

I remain on my knees crying softly, not caring about the
ache in my back from the extra weight I carry. Nothing matters
except ridding myself of these feelings.

I am sitting in the grassy countryside, staring out at a small lake in
the distance. The little boy from the dream I had two years ago is beside
me. We don't speak, we simply sit quietly, enjoying the serene view before
us. Glancing at his profile, I take in his familiar features. A gentle breeze
tousles his black wavy hair and his olive skin shimmers in the sun. He is
a beautiful boy and I find myself longing to see his eyes.

I wake up with a gasp.
“Our son!” I whisper. The boy I had just dreamed of for
the second time is our son. Mine and Adagio's. My mind reels
in amazement.
And he urged me to forgive my father.
With this thought, a feeling of peace slowly enters me,
and with this peace comes the start of true healing. I am again
overcome with emotion, but it is sweet and soothing instead of
painful.
I know what I have to do now. It will be hard, but there
is no other choice.

When Adagio enters the room, Cisely is still on her knees.
“Are you all right,
amore
?” he asks, kneeling down beside her.
She wipes her face and smiles. “I am now.”
He presses a hand against her cheek, wiping another tear
away with his thumb. “I can tell,” he says, marveling at the
peace
radiating
from her.
Offering
up
a
silent
prayer
of
gratitude, he helps her up and holds her close, kissing her
cheek. “Does this mean I need to make plane reservations?”
“I think it does. And since we are going back to the
States, do you think we could spend a couple of days in Utah
with Jessica?”
“I think we can arrange that.”
Her expression sobers. “I’m so sorry about yesterday.”
“It is all right, angel,” he soothes. “You had a right to be
upset. Anyone in your position would have been.”
“But I’m not upset anymore.”
“I know.”
She buries her fingers in his hair. “I love you,” she says
breathlessly.
He smiles, allowing her silky voice to flow through him.
“I love you.” Pressing her as close as possible, he kisses her,
reveling in the way her body melts against his. Tightening his
embrace, he continues to feast upon her warm mouth, wishing
he could somehow make up for all the hurt and pain she
suffered in the past. Though there will still be trials, for now, he
only wants her to know love–his love.
“Where is Ingo?” she whispers as his mouth sensuously
explores her face and neck.
“Sleeping,” he murmurs.
“Good.”
Drawing back slightly, he smiles, releasing her just long
enough to turn the baby monitor on and close the door.

After grabbing our luggage and picking up the rental
car, we check into the hotel. By the time we are settled, it is
late, so we decide to wait until morning to go and see my
father.

As I close my eyes and try to sleep, my thoughts travel
across the states to little Ingo. I hope he is doing okay without
us. Jessica is taking care of him to make things easier, and
under the circumstances, we felt it was best to leave him in her
care. I don’t know how this visit with my father will affect me,
and not having to worry about exposing our son to my
emotional state makes me feel a little better.

I continue to stare up into the darkness, not able to turn
my mind off. I am both nervous and afraid to see my father.
Yes, I have done the right thing by coming, but I am still scared
and can’t seem to calm down enough to sleep.

“Adagio,” I whisper.
“Hmmm?” he answers sleepily.
“I’m sorry
to
wake
you,
but
could you
please
do

something for me?”
“Anything,
amore.”
He awakens fully.
“Would you
tell me
again
that
I've
made
the
right

He turns on the lamp and rubs his eyes, then props
himself up on his elbow. “You have made the right decision.
And I admire your bravery.”

“But if it hadn't been for our son appearing to me in that
dream, I don't know if I would be able to do it.”
Pressing a hand to my face, he looks at me intently. “I
think God knew that, which is why he gave you such an
amazing experience. I am still awed by it, and that our son
appeared to you twice . . . it just blows me away ever time I
think about it.”
“Me, too,” I say as I think back on sharing the experience
with Adagio a couple of days ago. His reaction had been the
same as mine.
“But even if you had not had that experience, deep down
you have always had the courage to do what is right. You
would have found that courage.”
“How can you have so much faith in me?” I ask softly.
Drawing me close, his lips rummage my brow. “Because I
know you, Cisely. Better than I have ever known anyone. No
one has a kinder heart or more beautiful soul.”
I smile. “I can think of one person. I'm fortunate enough
to be married to him.”
His mouth travels to my jaw. “You have made me a
better man,” he whispers as his kiss moves to my neck. “You
are the part of me that was missing for so many years.” He
draws back slightly, looking into my eyes. “I am so glad you are
mine.”
“And I'm glad you are mine. You will never be without
me,” I whisper, burying my fingers in his hair and meeting his
mouth with mine.
The heat building between us is now a steady burn and
we quickly lose ourselves in one another. I am unaware of
anything except his kiss and his touch. Whenever he makes
love to me, the rest of the world ceases to exist.
“Thank you,” I say after a long while.
He turns out the light. “You are welcome.”
Secure in his arms, I rest my head against his chest. After
a while, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear
slowly lulls me to sleep.

The next morning I pace the floor nervously, trying to
calm down. I thought I would be fine, but this morning the
feelings are fresh. Except for glimpsing him in the distance the
day of my mother’s funeral, I haven’t seen my father in almost
twelve years, which has always suited me fine, but now the
thought of being in the same room with him again has my
stomach tied up in knots, even though I know I've made the
right decision in coming.