Dale was not at work today because he had been suspended, which had infuriated her. How could any boss punish him for searching for an abducted child, a child in grave peril? Bah. Nothing made any sense in this country.
But Bella loved America. She had made it quite clear that she did not want to go back to Italy.
Fran shook her head as she watched her daughter and Dale. For two days she’d stepped back and allowed them to be alone together as much as possible. How could she begrudge them that time?
Her main worry was how Bella’s ordeal had affected her. Bella appeared to be coping well, but the female counselor at the hospital said Bella was not ready yet to talk about everything and needed further therapy. But should that take place at home in Italy or here in America?
Laughing, Dale and Bella turned and approached her.
So when should they go back to Italy? How much time should she give the father and daughter to learn about each other?
Bella showed her mother the drawing of the white bird.
“That’s quite good, Bella,” Fran told her. “The feather pattern is realistic.”
“Thank you,” Bella said. “Papa thinks so, too, but he is biased and so of course I can’t believe his criticism.”
Looking up, Fran met Dale’s piercing green gaze and she could not breathe.
He smiled, a lazy smile that did strange, sensual things to her insides. Suddenly she was a seventeen-year-old girl again, a child not much older than Bella, a girl madly in love with a boy named Dale, with America and life in general.
Could she find that young girl again? Could she be as happy as that carefree teenager had once been, as adventurous?
With Dale by her side, she could. He made her feel as if she could fly as easily as the great blue heron, as if she could do anything, that she could have it all.
But did he want her and Bella on a full-time basis?
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Dale paced his kitchen waiting for Fran to wake up. He expected her any minute, although he suspected she was avoiding spending time alone with him. Bella had been home three days and so far they hadn’t managed to speak to each other more than two minutes without their daughter’s presence.
Why?
Because Fran didn’t want to tell him she was going back to Italy?
He didn’t want her to go. Bella didn’t want to leave.
He needed to tell Fran how he felt, just put it all out there and deal with the fallout later. But, damn, he hadn’t told a woman he loved her in over a decade. And what did he have to offer Fran and Bella?
He still had a job, if not the assignment to the terrorism task force.
Dale blew out a breath and glanced at the brand-new expresso machine on the kitchen counter, which Bella had helped him select on their shopping excursion. They’d also purchased some rare African coffee beans his daughter had insisted on which they’d ordered specially ground. And one other important item.
He needed all the help he could get to convince Fran to stay. If anything could persuade her, strong coffee might just do it.
Although he wanted her to stay because she still loved him, because she wanted to make a life with him, the life they had planned so long ago as reckless teenagers.
Was that even possible? He must be nuts to think she would consider remaining in Miami. Her life, her career, was in Italy where she was the reigning artistic goddess. Online, he’d seen a rendering of the Searching Man, a gigantic marble sculpture she’d been commissioned to create for a piazza in Milan.
The damn thing had been beyond beautiful, reminding him of something Michelangelo would produce. No question his Frannie had real talent, as did his amazing daughter. Of course Fran would have to return to complete that project. And he wanted her to. He was proud of her skills.
But if she went home, would she want to come back to Miami?
And maybe it was selfish of him to expect her to move. Maybe he should be the one to make the change.
Dale paused his restless movement as the idea blossomed and grew. Why the hell not? He could live in Rome, learn the language. Would the Italians hire an American for their police department? Because of his duty in Iraq, he had advanced training in various weapons. Maybe he could get a job in private security. He could work on curtailing human trafficking in Europe where the problem was huge.
“Buongiorno.”
Dale whirled at the sound of Fran’s lovely accented voice.
“Buongiorno,” he repeated, trying to mimic her pronunciation. Might as well get started.
When she giggled, Dale knew he hadn’t gotten it quite right.
He swept her up in an embrace and kissed her thoroughly. Bella had promised him she’d remain in her room until after he’d had this conversation with her mother.
Fran grinned at him when he pulled back. “You are in a good mood this morning.”
“I bought you a present.” He stepped aside so she could see the gleaming stainless steel contraption on the counter. “Behold.”
Her eyes widened.
And zeroed in on the small package wrapped in gold foil with a festive silver bow on top. A package that had been a long time coming. Maybe if he’d made this gesture in high school things could have been different.
But he had no more time for useless regret. He wanted his family to move forward and perhaps grow.
Fran remained frozen, staring at the gift.
“What is this?” she asked in a breathless voice.
“Something I should have done a long time ago.”
When she still didn’t move, Dale handed the present to her. “Open it,” he said. And then added, “Please.”
Fran tore open the wrappings, uncovering a black felt box. She still didn’t open it.
“Don’t you want to see what’s inside?” he asked softly.
With trembling fingers, she flipped the box open to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. Probably not the largest gemstone she owned, but hopefully the one with the most meaning.
“Will you marry me, Francesca Scarpetta?”
“How?” She shook her head. “When?”
“Whenever you want. Tomorrow. Today, although I think we have to get a license.”
She transferred her gaze from the ring to him. “I mean, when did you buy this ring?”
“Oh. Bella helped me pick it out yesterday.”
She blinked. “So Bella knows you planned to propose marriage?”
“Yes. And she loves the idea.”
“Yes, I am certain she does.” Fran stared at the ring again. “Do you want to marry me because of our daughter?”
“What? God, no.” Dale ran a hand through his hair, knowing he’d protested too vehemently. This wasn’t going at all like he’d envisioned it.
“Then why?” she asked.
He shook his head at his stupidity. He’d been so damn anxious about popping the question he’d forgotten to tell her the most important thing.
“Because I never stopped loving you, Fran. Never. In all the years since we lost each other, there’s never been another girl or woman that I’ve cared about like I care about you.”
She stared at the ring, and her lips began to curl into a smile.
“I tried to forget you, but I never did. You have to believe me when I tell you how hard I tried to contact you, to find you. You haunted my life and my dreams. Eventually, yeah, I made a new existence for myself, but it’s not the same without you in it. I want the life we planned all those years ago.”
Her half smile broadened into a real one.
Once he started, he couldn’t stop. “I know your career is in Italy. And Bella’s school,” he added. “I know she has friends there. She’s told me about them. So I’ll move to Rome if that’s what you want. I know about your Searching Man, and he’s awesome. You need to finis
h him.”
Her smile didn’t dim.
“We deserve to be happy, Fran. We’ve been through so much. I’ll figure out a way to get back into law enforcement once I learn the language.”
She shook her head.
Dale held his breath. Was she saying no?
“Do you love me?” he asked. “Do you want to be with me?”
She raised her gaze to his. Her eyes shimmered with moisture. Why was she crying?
“Always,” she said. “Forever.”
He touched her skin beside her right eye. “Are those happy tears?”
“Oh, yes.”
Dale relaxed. “Then let’s get hitched.”
Her mouth quirked. “Hitched?”
“It’s an American saying, something Bella mentioned.”
He took the box from her hands, removed the ring and slid it onto her finger. “I don’t care where we live. I just want to be with you. I can’t ever lose you again.”
“Bella wants to stay here.”
“I know. What do you want to do?”
She stared at the ring on her finger. “I’ve always loved America.”
“What about your Searching Man?”
“I will go home to complete him.”
“Good. I can’t wait to see him.”
She met his gaze. “He was you, you know.”
“Me?”
“Yes, although I did not realize it until I sketched you that night in the motel.” She shook her head. “It’s not important now.”
“But your work is important, Fran.”
“Yes it is. Thank you for understanding I need my art to be whole, to be me.” She closed her eyes. “Hold me, please. I need to know that this is real.”
He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, soft and warm and willing. He nuzzled his cheek against her hair, never wanting to let her go.
Fran relaxed against Dale and felt all the tension of the last month, the last thirteen years desert her. She took a deep breath and found the inhalation came easy. Dale loved her. She loved him. Bella was safe. What more did she need?
As long as they were together, they could figure everything—anything—out.
“You haven’t answered my question yet,” Dale said. He pulled back, touched her chin and raised her gaze to meet his. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” She smiled at him. “Let’s get hitched.”
Dale nodded, a confident nod, the Dale she remembered from all those years ago now grown into such a good man. A man who never gave up on her or his daughter. They would be happy always.
“It was the expresso machine, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. “It was you, my searching man.”
* * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488051043
Her One and Only Hero
Copyright © 2020 by Sharon S. Hartley
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