The Legacy (59 page)

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Authors: J. Adams

BOOK: The Legacy
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Tears of disbelief blur Mali's vision. Never would she
have dreamed of him saying these things to her. She is young,
but she can’t deny the feelings his words stir in her heart. She
has guy friends at home and in school, but she’s never felt as
close to anyone as she does to Phillip. He treats her special. He
makes her believe she matters. And he seems so much older
than his years. She continues to stare at him through glistening
eyes.

Phillip looks down at Mali's hands in his a moment
before lifting his eyes to hers again. Not knowing what else to
say, he swallows hard, then slowly leans forward and brushes
his lips lightly over the corner of her mouth. The kiss is brief,
yet it is as soft and gentle as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. He
moves back, staring into her eyes intently. “I promise, I will
come and find you. Please tell me you believe me.”

Lifting a hand to her lips, Mali slowly smiles as a tear
trails down her face. Though his lips had only touched part of
hers for a second, it is the first time she’s ever experienced
something so amazing. And no matter how many summers she
spends with him after this, this is the one she will remember
forever. She squeezes his hand. “I believe you, Phillip.”

Ninety-four

Cisely begins to heal, her progress slow but steady.
Adagio hardly ever leaves her side, seeing to her every need.
And each morning when he awakens and gazes at her sleeping
form lying next to him, he gives thanks to God for sparing her
life and allowing him more time with her on the earth. He
wants to grow old with her and prays they will have many more
years together in this life–many years to laugh and love.

Ian and Isabelle often draw pictures and make cards to
cheer their mother up. Ingo helps out by keeping an eye on his
brother and sister and sharing in the housework. Phillip spends
most of his time sitting with his mother when his father has to
take care of other things.

Cisely and the rest of the family keep in touch with Mali
through letters, cards and emails, wanting her to know she is
loved and missed. And despite all that has happened, Mali is
doing better. She always responds to their letters, telling them
how much they all mean to her as well. She keeps them
informed on what is going on in her life. Her letters to Phillip
are usually longer because there is always so much to say
between the two.

Six months after the accident, other than having a slight
limp, which I am told will most likely be permanent, I have
completely healed, and Adagio and I are finally able to go on a
two week long trip back to Rome and Tuscany.

Though I love taking in the wondrous ancient structures
of Rome, I had forgotten just how much I've missed the
beautiful rolling hills of the vast countryside in Tuscany. I have
always considered Italy a laid back country, but the people of
Tuscany move at an even slower pace, which is what I need
right now. Still, both cities are equally beautiful. We savor every
moment together.

Having finished dinner, we relax out on the bedroom
terrace of the secluded villa we've rented for the week. The
elegant old country home is surrounded by acres of trees and is
bordered by a small stream. The villa is set high on a hill
overlooking numerous vineyards, orchards, and olive groves. It
is larger than we need, but we enjoy the privacy of having the
place all to ourselves, especially during times like tonight.

Watching the stars slowly appear in the darkening sky, we
talk about the past two weeks. When night has completely
fallen, I light several candles and placed them on the table.
Then, sitting next to Adagio on the bench, I take his hand in
mine, running my thumb over his knuckles. His emerald gaze is
illuminated by the flickering flames.

“Adagio, there is something I need to share with you. It is
something I have wanted to tell you since the moment I
awakened in the hospital, but for some reason the time just
never felt right, until now.”

“What is it?” he asks, looking into my eyes. I say nothing
for a moment, so he remains quiet, studying my face.
“I had an amazing experience while I was unconscious. It
was brief, but it will stay with me forever. At first I thought
maybe it was a dream, but I know without a doubt it was real.”
I slowly smile. “I saw your mother, Adagio.”
His grip on my hand tightens. “You saw my mother?”
His voice is thick with emotion.
“I did.” I touch his face. “I knew her before she even told
me who she was because you look so much like her.”
Emotion fills his eyes. “Tell me,
amore
. How did she
look?”
“She looked beautiful,” I answer, remembering the lovely
petite woman with laughing emerald eyes and a long, dark,
thick wavy mane. Dressed in spotless white, Marcella St. John
looked like I suppose an angel would look.
Adagio closes his eyes. “Your description is perfect. I
always thought my mother was beautiful. And since you have
never seen a picture, I have no doubt you saw her.”
“My
time
with
her
was
brief,”
I continue,
“but
I
remember everything she said to me. I remember the warmth I
felt from her. She never touched me, but just being near her
was indescribable.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she loved me, and you . . . and that our
marriage was meant to be. She told me the love we share is the
purest kind, and it will never die.” Pausing, I wipe the tears
from his cheeks. “She said nothing more, but she stayed a little
longer until I awakened.”

Silently absorbing all Cisely has shared with him, Adagio
says with reverence, “I am glad you were able to meet her and
still be here to tell me about it. My mother is an amazing
woman.” He presses his hand to her face. “And so are you.”
Staring into her eyes, he caress her cheek and moves closer,
gently taking her face between his hands.

“It’s frightening, this powerful hold you have on my
heart. To love you so much that everything in me aches to be
where you are. I have often wondered why sometimes I cannot
tell where I end and you begin, how I can feel so connected to
you that my every sense is consumed with you. There have
been times when my need for you has been so strong, I literally
could not think, function or even breathe unless I had you in
my arms.”

He traces a caressing finger over her lips. “And when I
thought I was going to lose you, I knew I would die. I couldn't
have survived. I have asked myself over and over how I can be
so integrated with you, how you can be such a part of me that I
can't even exist without you.” Releasing a shaky breath, he
touches his lips to hers, then draws back slightly. “Now I know
why. You really are supposed to be mine,
amore
,” he whispers
breathlessly against her lips. “
Siete stati promessi me
. You were
promised to me,” he continues to whisper against her mouth.
“That's why you are such a part of me. So much so that I can
literally feel you moving inside my soul. I know now that my
heart has always belonged to you, and it always will. Everything
I am is yours, Cisely.”

There are no more words as their kiss becomes moist and
heated.

 

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