She’d been utterly shocked to see him outside the doors. And grateful…He could have no idea how wonderful it was to just get in the car and be waited on as if she were a princess.
Though he’d told her earlier that he had no interest in knowing the identity of the man who’d had an affair with his mother, Clara couldn’t help but think his birthfather must have been an extraordinary person with exceptional looks and drive. Otherwise Valentino wouldn’t have turned out to be such a brilliant entrepreneur and heartthrob.
“What’s the great Valentino Casali doing bringing you home in a taxi?” Silvio had just walked in the kitchen. He wasn’t usually home this early.
“He was thoughtful enough to give me a lift from town.”
Her brother grimaced. “Did he think that by not bringing you in the Ferrari, the family wouldn’t notice?”
“Why would he be concerned about that?” she asked, attempting to control her temper without much success. “If he didn’t choose to drive it, it was probably because he was tired of the paparazzi following him every second of his life.”
“Why do you let him do it?” he demanded. “Don’t you get it?”
“You can stop worrying. It hardly smacks of the kind of attention you’re talking about. I’m a dying woman.”
“Don’t ever say that again!” he cried.
“But I am dying, Silvio. You have to face it. We’re all going to die some time. I just happen to know that without a new kidney, it will happen to me sooner than later.”
“How can you talk that way?”
“How can I not? You’ve got to stop being angry about it. As things get worse, Mamma and Papa are going to need your strength, not your rage.”
His eyes grew moist. “You’ve been so brave. If the almighty Casali had any idea what you’re dealing with now—”
“Actually he does. In fact he sat with me in the clinic today while I was getting my treatment.”
“I don’t believe it,” his voice shook. “You told him you have ESRD?”
“No. We met in town before my appointment. After I said goodbye to him, he followed me to the clinic and pretended to be…a relative.” She caught herself in time. “He did that so he could get in to see me. At the end of the treatment he brought me home so I wouldn’t have to take the bus. He even brought food and drinks because he knew I needed it after dialysis.”
Silvio looked dumbfounded.
“Please let’s not argue over him. He’s been nothing but kind to me and now I’m tired.” She felt his eyes on her as she left the kitchen to go upstairs. All she wanted to do was go to bed and dream about tomorrow when he came for her.
One more outing, then she’d tell him that, as much as she enjoyed his company, her illness was slowly draining her to the point that any social life had to end. She was hurtling through space toward a black void from which there could be no return. Where she was going, he couldn’t go.
She knew Valentino well enough to know his compassion for her condition would prompt him to continue making himself available to her. She also knew herself well enough to know she would cling more and more to him because he was life to her.
Clara couldn’t think of a worse scenario for a man whose freedom meant everything to him.
On the way back to town, Valentino had to admit it was getting more difficult to drive away after they’d been together. When he thought about it, he’d never liked parting company with Clara. Until he heard from the doctor, he was going to be on tenterhooks.
In the meantime he needed to keep so busy he wouldn’t be able to think. But he soon discovered that work was no panacea for his heartache. Nothing could take it away. It went so deep, he couldn’t find solace.
Every time he thought about her pain and what she was facing, he was pierced to the quick. His agony drove him to get in his car. He started driving through the countryside with no destination in mind. While he was en route, the wildflowers seemed to flaunt their fragrance in the night air as if to impress upon him the delights Clara might not be able to enjoy much longer.
Crazed by the thought that a life as sweet and innocent as hers could be coming to an end, he found himself headed for the church. Eventually he pulled up in front of the rectory. It was after nine p.m. when he levered himself from the car and was made instantly aware of the sound of crickets chirping. Tonight all his senses had come alive to nature, sending bittersweet pains through his body.
He took the steep steps two at a time to gain the porch, not hesitating to tug on the bell pull. In a few minutes, a much younger priest he didn’t recognize opened the door.
“Yes?”
“I’m here on an emergency to see Father Orsini. Is he still awake?”
“I believe so.”
“Will you tell him it’s Valentino Casali? If he can see me, tell him I’ll be out here waiting for him.”
The other man studied him for a brief moment. “Bene,” he said before shutting the door.
Unable to remain still, Valentino walked to the wrought-iron railing and looked out over Monta Correnti. The lights of the town with its red-tiled roofs and centuries-old palazzos spilled over the undulating hills, creating a fairyland illusion. In the distance, the Rossetti farm made up part of the magical landscape.
Would that what he’d learned at the clinic today were just a bad dream from which he’d awaken at any moment.
“Valentino?” came a familiar voice. “Don’t tell me you’re here to confess ten years’ worth of sins?” He’d asked the question in a joking manner, but the ring of hope lingered in the night air.
Consumed by a guilt so deep he’d never been able to talk about it, he turned to face the grayhaired priest who’d grown much more frail over the last decade. “Not tonight, Father. Otherwise you would never get to bed,” he teased. Their easy relationship stretched back to Valentino’s childhood.
Father Orsini chuckled. The years hadn’t deprived him of a sense of humor, for which Valentino was thankful. “It’s good to see you.”
“Then you’ll understand how pleased I was when Father Bruno told me Monta Correnti’s most legendary figure was outside waiting for me.”
“Let’s not play games, Father. A legendary figure should at least connote someone worthy.” He shifted his weight. “Forgive me for calling on you so late, but this couldn’t wait.”
“Evidently not. Let me put it another way. What’s troubling Luca Casali’s most famous son?”
“Famous for what?” Valentino muttered in self-abnegation. “Certainly nothing that matters.” When the priest blinked in astonishment, Valentino added, “Did Luca or my mother ever take the opportunity to tell you I’m not his birth son?”
“What is this?” Father Orsini cried out aghast.
“I don’t blame you for being bewildered. Forget I asked.”
“My son—”
“It’s all right, Father. If you did know, you couldn’t reveal it anyway. He and Mamma told me the truth years ago. It was a good idea at the time considering I don’t look or behave anything like Isabella or Cristiano.”
“Do your siblings know?”
“You mean that my infamous qualities can be laid at my biological father’s feet?” he mocked. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. What I’m hoping is that