The Year of Luminous Love (28 page)

“Too much city for this country boy.”

She stole a glance at him, his rugged profile, his work-worn hands. Hands that tamed horses. Hands that had once stroked her body and lit her on fire. She compared them to Enzo’s hands, which were long-fingered and manicured. Enzo worked in the vineyard, she knew, but mostly he gave orders to workers. “Arie says you’re heading home to Texas in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s my plan.”

“What about your dad? How’s he getting along?”

“Stubborn as ever. He’s still messed up from the stroke, but he won’t go to rehab. It’s dangerous for him living alone in that old trailer. When I tell him that, he explodes. We’re better off not seeing much of each other.”

“He probably hates to lose his independence, a scary thing to somebody who’s always valued it.” Watching Olivia’s downhill slide and eventual death had taught her as much. Ciana took a deep breath, said, “Thoughtful of you to come all this way for Arie’s birthday.”

“I didn’t come just for her birthday. Or to tell you all about Tony.” He straightened, turning toward her. “I wanted to see you too.”

What could she say to that?
I’ve missed you
. What would it accomplish to dredge up old feelings and memories? Sadness stole over her for what would be gone when she returned home. She needed to talk about something else before she broke out sobbing, or worse, threw herself into his arms. She thought of her mother and their last conversation. “Something’s going on with Bellmeade. Do you know what it is?”

Jon leaned again into the rail, the spell of intimacy between them broken. “Some developer’s in town. Talking about building a housing subdivision on your end of the county. Lot of the smaller farmers want to sell out, but Bellmeade’s the linchpin. Without it, he can’t build.”

Ciana shook her head in disgust. “When Mom called and told me, I lost it. I’ll never sell our land.”

“You’ll have a fight on your hands. It’s dividing the town.”

Arie breezed out onto the balcony, interrupting their conversation.

“She doing better?” Ciana asked.

“She’s getting there. She’s torn about his death and still relieved about her new life.” Arie hooked her arm through Jon’s. “How about I take you sightseeing?”

“Now?”

“You’re only here a few days. Have to make the most of them. And tomorrow’s my birthday, so we have to do whatever I want,” she told him with a wink.

Jon raked his hand through his hair and gave Ciana a lingering look. Then he turned his full attention to Arie. “No arguing with a determined woman about her birthday, I reckon. But first let’s find my hotel so I can wash the smell of travel off me.”

“Sure. We’ll catch a cab. Got an address?”

“In my bag.” He started for the front door, where he’d dropped his duffel.

Arie said to Ciana, “Catch you later. Make Eden go out with you. Don’t let her stay locked in that room by herself.”

Ciana said she would, then turned toward the streetscape below, unable to watch Arie and Jon go out the door together.

They found his small hotel, which was nothing like the palatial Old World building where Arie was staying. She waited for Jon in the lobby, and when he emerged, hair still damp from the shower, she considered kissing him senseless. She tamped down the urge.

“Where to?”

“The Colosseum. It’s amazing. It can seat up to fifty thousand people. That’s bigger than some U.S. sports arenas.”

They had no car, and cabs were expensive, so Arie negotiated the transit system using the Italian she’d learned over the past weeks. Jon told her he was mighty impressed, making her laugh. “You should hear Eden’s Italian. She really picked up the language fast. Has a natural ear, I think.”

The Colosseum was crowded with tourists, but Arie couldn’t have cared less. In her heart, she was alone with Jon. He stared up at the stone walls, once soaring a hundred sixty-five feet but now broken and pockmarked by time and war and invaders. Inside they walked the solid perimeter, Arie pointing out certain features and reciting statistics. When they went down into the catacombs below, Jon let out a low whistle, looking into the small catacomb cells. “This where they kept prisoners?”

“Yes, for public executions, also wild animals that they raised up on platforms and hunted inside the arena.”

“Doesn’t sound very fair to the animals.”

“They held reenactments of plays, too, so it wasn’t all blood and gore. But this is also where the gladiators fought.”

“To the death?”

“Unless the emperor or the spectators gave a thumbs-up, the mercy sign, to let the defeated live.”

“And if not?”

“Thumbs-down. Death.”

“Mean crowd.”

Arie took his hand, lifted it high. “Hail Caesar.”

He grinned. “I’d rather watch football.”

After thoroughly checking out the huge stadium, they walked along several streets, Jon fascinated with the contrast between the ancient and modern buildings.

“Looks can fool you. Some of these ‘newer’ places go back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Italians never abandon real estate.”

She took him through the Arch of Titus, where soldiers once returned to present their bounty and captives to the emperor while cheering people lined the streets. Arie told him of other ruins, of the Roman Forum, where laws were enacted, and promised to show him wonders. “Tomorrow I’m taking you to see my two favorite places, the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica. Both are so beautiful I cried when I first saw them.” She glanced at him quickly. “Probably a girl thing.”

“Well, right now, this man would like to see the inside of a restaurant. The olive snack didn’t hold me.”

Arie laughed. “Way too early for dinner. Most Italians don’t eat until nine.”

“I won’t make it.”

“I won’t let you starve. Lots of cute cafés with yummy appetizers down every street.”

Soon they were seated outside at a small eatery with an antipasto tray on the table. Jon ordered an Italian beer and Arie a soda. She didn’t want alcohol. She wanted to be clearheaded, wanted to savor every moment with Jon in sharp relief, like the images on the stone friezes atop ancient buildings.

Jon took a swallow of beer and leaned back in the chair. “Your mother came to see me at Pickins’s place when she heard I was coming over for your birthday.”

Arie gave him a cautious look. “What did she want? To come with you?”

“She misses you. Your whole family misses you.” He set down his glass. “And she’s worried about you.”

Arie waved her hand in dismissal. “She’s always worried about me.”

“Why shouldn’t she be? You didn’t tell her about your checkup.”

“My life. My decision.”

Jon bit into a crispy toast round dipped in olive oil. “Have you told your friends yet?”

Her face warmed and she didn’t meet his eyes.

“You haven’t, have you?” Jon shook his head. “You should, you know.”

“Did you come all this way to crab at me?”

“I told you, I came for a lot of reasons.”

“Well, I got the message. Now tell me what my mother wanted. Please,” she added in a less grouchy voice.

“What do mothers ever want? She wanted me to evaluate you, tell her how you’re
really
doing. If you’re eating right.” He grinned. “Bet you haven’t had a decent burger in a month.”

Arie rolled her eyes. “Tell her I’m just fine.” She didn’t dare
confess about her bad days when her lower back ached horribly and she was forced to swallow a narcotic to dull the pain. “So what will you tell her?”

“That I think you look thin.”

“I eat plenty. Walking and sightseeing takes tons of energy.”

Jon drained his beer. “Then let’s ride to wherever we’re going next.”

The tourist places and museums were closed, so she took him to a street with rows of small shops. The sidewalks teemed with people coming out for a long evening. The air was chilly, but Arie was prepared with a jacket stuffed into her large purse. Jon bought a beautifully cut leather jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. With his boots and Stetson, he looked like a cowboy from a spaghetti Western, and absolutely delicious.

He bought his mother a silk scarf and Essie Pickins a pair of silver earrings. “She’s been like a second mother to me,” Jon said.

They went to dinner closer to nine, in an intimate trattoria not far from his hotel. The place held only twelve tables, all lit by candles, and their waiter doted over them. Jon ordered two glasses of champagne. “To toast your birthday,” he said, clinking his glass to hers.

Because he had bought it for them, Arie sipped the sparkling bubbly, felt it tickle her nose and spread warmth down her throat.

Jon finished off his champagne and had the waiter bring him a beer. He raised the drink to Arie, then said, “So tell me about Eden and Ciana. How are they liking Italy? What are they up to?”

“Eden doesn’t get out of bed until noon and Ciana’s up with the chickens. Says it’s country living in her blood. Some days we take day trips into nearby towns.” She did a brief countdown of the cities they’d visited. “Every place is old. Medieval. Craftsmen still make copper pots, stained-glass windows, leather goods, gold jewelry like their ancestors before them. Pretty amazing.”

“What about nights?”

“We meet up with a group of kids doing a walkabout—that’s a travel group that hangs, works, and travels together.” She warmed to telling him stories. “The leader of the group is an Aussie named Garret, and he’s taken a shine to Eden. She likes him, but she’s gun-shy after Tony. Can’t blame her. Shame too. Garret’s got it bad for her.”

“And Ciana?” Jon rolled his finger around the top of his beer glass.

Arie giggled, leaned forward. “Best story of all. We were touring a local winery and Ciana caught the eye of the owner, Enzo. He’s older but has some aristocratic heritage that goes way back, according to a Web search Eden did on him. He’s richer than all get-out. He has horses and he and Ciana go riding on his estate. Secretly I think she likes him but won’t say so to either me or Eden.” Arie rolled her eyes dramatically.

Jon stared into his beer glass, where the liquid glowed in the candlelight.

For a moment, Arie thought she’d lost him.

He tossed the remainder of the beer down in one swallow, then reconnected with her. “Sounds like you’re all having a real good time.”

A note of sarcasm in his voice made the moment feel awkward. “We are,” she said lamely. “But that’s why we came.”

He raised his empty glass at her, offered a conciliatory smile. “I think I’m running out of steam. Guess the trip’s catching up to me.”

“No problem,” she said, trying for cheerful and failing. He was ending their evening and Arie wasn’t ready. Time was going by too quickly. If she could have stopped the clock, she would have gladly, because time had never been on her side. Now she had even less of it.

“Before I forget, your brother gave me a present to give you for your birthday. I’ll bring it tomorrow when I come and pick you up.”

“Can’t we get my gift now?” she asked eagerly. “We’re not too far from your room … so close we can walk. I’m so full I could pop, so a walk would do me good.”

“You sure?”

She nodded and he paid for the meal, and together they went out into the night. Although it was almost eleven, the sidewalks and streets were full.

“These people ever go home?” Jon asked.

“Not until very late. Getting on their schedule takes some getting used to.”

As they walked, she wanted him to take her hand, but he didn’t. When they were at his hotel, she followed him into the elevator. “You don’t have to come up. I’ll bring it down,” he said.

“I want to see your room.”
Any excuse to linger
.

“Very ordinary.”

“Enzo upgraded our room to his favorite suite, as a surprise, so that’s why we’re in the best place,” she explained, realizing she was babbling useless information.

“Thoughtful guy,” Jon said, sliding his old-fashioned key into the lock of his third-floor-room door.

The room wasn’t large, but there was a curtain separating the space into two sections. A table and two chairs stood in one half. Arie surmised the sleeping area was behind the curtain, where Jon disappeared, reemerging a minute later with a small wrapped box. She took it, smiled. “Thanks.”

“I’ll take you down and put you in a cab to your hotel and call you in the morning. We’ll spend the whole day going wherever you like, birthday girl.”

Arie’s heart raced. Jon had been kind to her, but she wanted more than his kindness. She stood with her head bowed like a marble statue, her voice as frozen as her body. Seconds passed. Using the back of the table chair for support, she eased into the seat, staring down at her trembling hands.

He crouched beside the chair, peering at her anxiously. “Is something wrong, Arie?”

She lifted her head, connecting with his green eyes, his look of concern. “I … I don’t want to leave you.” Her voice quivered slightly over the words. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

A look of confusion crossed his face. “Here?”

She nodded.

Then his expression changed from one of confusion to one of understanding as to what she was asking of him. He searched her face. “Look, Arie, I don’t think—”