The Legacy (57 page)

Mali presses
her
face
in
her
hands,
her
shoulders
trembling. Then she hears Adagio’s voice screaming Cisely’s
name, followed by the sound of screeching tires, and her head
jerks up. A single-syllabled scream tears from her throat.

Adagio continues to run after Cisely. When she finally
slows, he is able to gain a little ground. Through the rain, he
spots Mali sitting on the ground with her head in her hands and
his heart goes out to her. He doesn’t know what was said
between them, but he figures Cisely managed to get to the heart
of Mali’s problems. Thinking of this fuels a rush of anger at
Paul for deserting his family. If he hadn't left, Cisely wouldn't
be running after Mali in the rain. She would be home, safe and
dry and having dinner with him and the children. Adagio
knows he isn't thinking rationally. But right now he is afraid–
more afraid than he's ever been in his life.

He notices Cisely picking up her pace again to get to Mali
and his heart threatens to pound through his chest. Cisely steps
from the curb, and when she does, his whole world turns
upside down and crashes upon him. He watches in slow
motion as a car speeds up the road, opening up a river of rain
in it’s path, and hears himself scream her name as the vehicle
slams into her.

“No! No! No!” he cries over and over, running to her,
half sliding down the embankment. As he reaches her still
form, the rain stops. Sinking to the pavement, he leans over
her, and what starts as a cry comes out as a hoarse sob instead.
“Cisely! Oh, Cisely!”

Cisely slowly opens her eyes, struggling to focus. Looking
down at her through grief-stricken eyes, he watches a tear fall
from the corner of her eye back into her hair. Her mouth
begins to move.

“Don't try to talk, angel,” he says as she struggles to say
something. “Just hold on.” Her eyes slip shut and he panics.
“Cisely!”

The shaky driver is standing outside his car, calling an
ambulance.
Adagio looks up at him, barely able to see through the
tears. “Please tell them to hurry!”

Mali slowly approaches them, her expression a mixture of
horror and shock. When she reaches Cisely’s still form, she can
no longer move. She tries to speak, but no words come. Tears
coarse down her cheeks as she watches Adagio lean over and
press his face to Cisely’s, whispering the same thing over and
over.

“Please don't leave me, Cisely,” he cries softly. “Please
don’t leave me. I can't lose you. I just can’t.” He squeezes his
eyes shut. “Oh, God, please do not take her from me.” He
fights the desperate urge to move her. He wants so much to
hold her, but he's afraid of making her injuries worse. Raising
up a little, he stares at her bruised face, his mind willing her
eyes to open as tears splash down his face onto hers. “Please do
not leave me. Oh, God, please don't take her from me.”

He sucks in a breath as Cisely struggles to open her eyes,
and he gently places his hands on both sides of her face. “Stay
with me, baby. Stay with me.” Her lips begin to move and he
again tells her not to try to talk, but she is insistent. Leaning
down, he turns his head, positioning his ear above her lips.

“I will never leave you, . . . my . . . love,” she whispers
before slipping into unconsciousness.
A soft sob escapes his throat, and he continually fights
the desperate longing to pull her battered body into his arms.
Every part of him wants to die, his fear of losing her is so
unbearable.
Hearing
soft
sobs,
he
turns
to
Mali,
suddenly
remembering she is there. He takes in her grief stricken face
and pulls her down to him.
Mali buries her face in his wet shirt, crying bitterly. “I’m
sorry, Uncle Adagio. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Moving back a little, he presses a hand to her face.
“Listen to me, Mali. This was not your fault. Please believe me,
it was no one’s fault.” As Paul's face enters his mind, he
swallows against the renewed anger burning his insides. Closing
his eyes tightly, he tries to rid himself of these feelings, knowing
there is no good in them. Holding Mali close again, he gazes
tearfully
over
her
shoulder
at
his
wife’s
face,
willing
the
paramedics to come soon. Then he remembers the children.
“Mali, I need you to go back to the house and tell Phillip
to call Anna. Will you do that for me?”
Mali nods. She wipes her eyes and stands. He reaches for
her hand once more. “It is not your fault. You must believe
that.”
Nodding solemnly, she looks down at Cisely once more.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers again before starting back to the
house.
Adagio again leans over his wife and places a gentle hand
on her face. “Oh, God,” he pleads, “please help them to get
here soon.” He wipes his face. “I cannot live without her, God.
I can’t.”

Siting in a chair by the hospital bed, Adagio watches the
first rays of morning sun seep into the room. The soft light
casts an illuminating glow on Cisely’s face. He has been in the
same position all through the night. He hasn’t slept at all,
having spent the entire night gazing at his wife’s face and
holding her hand. Even with the bruises, he’s still never seen a
more beautiful face. And after talking with Peter earlier and
hearing the extent of her injuries, it is a miracle she is still alive.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he squeezes them shut as he
mentally goes over the prognosis he’d been given. Cisely has
two cracked ribs, a broken leg, a broken wrist, and a severe
concussion. Peter told him that because she hasn’t regained
consciousness, it is very possible for her to slip into a coma. He
also said there is a chance she may never wake up. This thought
brings him unbearable pain.

Moving closer to the head of the bed, he rests his head
next to hers as his tears wet the pillow. “I love you so much,
baby,” he says softly. “Please come back to me. I need you
more than you could ever know, more than words could ever
express. I couldn't bear it if I lost you. You are my whole life,
and if I lost you, I would die, too. I know I would.”

He presses a hand to her face, caressing it softly. “I need
you to come back to me,
amore.
Our children need you. They
need their mother. I need my wife. I need the love you give to
me, the joy you bring to my life every day.”

As he tenderly traces the outline of her lips with his
finger, then softly touches the bandaged spot on her forehead,
his thoughts travel to two nights ago when they stood together
on the back lawn. He remembers the passion that had burned
between them. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Intimacy between them has always been amazing, but that night
it had been something else entirely. Holding her, touching her,
kissing her was . . . it was as if they became one person. Her
heartbeat became his, their emotions moving through each
other. English abandoning him, his thoughts had all been in
Italian, his whispered words against her skin producing shivers
as she burned beneath his touch. It was a beautiful and terrible
need that stole all breath from them both. And as he held her
warm body in his arms afterward, he had drifted to sleep with
tears clogging his throat, wishing they could stay wrapped up in
one another forever, never leaving the haven of love encircling
them.

Drawing his thoughts forward, he ponders the feeling he
experienced earlier yesterday. Was God trying to prepare him
to lose her? He prays this isn't the case because he would be
lost without her.

“We still have so many years left, angel,” he continues.
“So many years to live and love on this earth. We need to grow
old together, to watch each other's hair turn white and watch
our children raise their children.” He sobs softly. “I can't do
any of those things without you. I have to have you here with
me. I know you will always be mine even in death, but . . . I
need you here with me now.” Sighing, he swallows hard. “You
are my everything, baby.” Raising up, he presses a gentle kiss to
her lips, grateful they are still warm.

A short while later, Peter comes in to check for any
changes. After examining her, he suggests that Adagio go home
and get some rest. Adagio shakes his head, refusing to leave his
wife. He wants to make sure he is there when she awakens, and
he can't possibly sleep in their bed without her there beside
him.

After some major coaxing, Peter convinces him to at least
go home and change and get something to eat. He promises
Adagio that he will stay with Cisely until he gets back, and he
will call him if there is any change at all.

Sitting on the veranda steps, Mali rests her head against
Phillip's shoulder. Neither of them had gotten much sleep and
were up with the sunrise.

Mali is sick with regret. She feels responsible for the
accident and had spent half the night futilely wishing she could
turn back time and change what happened, as well as her part
in it. She wishes she hadn’t run away. If she had stayed calm,
Cisely would be home and safe. Each time she looks into
Phillip’s grief-stricken eyes, her guilt is magnified. His mother
should be home preparing breakfast, greeting everyone with her
beautiful smile.