by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
“Brianna.” She jumped as her father’s voice boomed from the living room. “What a wonderful surprise.” She slipped into his embrace and inhaled the familiar aroma of his pipe tobacco.
“Your mother’s in the back garden. She’ll be so happy to see you. She was bemoaning the lack of e-mails from you only this morning.” He cupped her cheek in his large rough hands, his fingers scratchy against her skin. “Is everything okay, love? You look a wee bit unhappy.”
She nodded and followed him through the back door, clenching her fists as a sharp ache lodged in her throat. These people had welcomed her to their family as a newborn baby and she should be grateful to them for the loving home they’d provided. Jennifer was on her knees weeding the vegetable patch. As much as she didn’t want to hurt her parents, she needed to have it out. They owed her an explanation.
She closed her eyes and wished she were back on the island, sitting on the balcony sharing a drink with Tom.
Blast you, Tom. Get out of my head. I am not going to depend on you.
Jennifer stood and pulled off her gardening gloves. It was apparent by the look on her face that she had read Brianna’s expression and knew why she had come home.
“Time for a chat. We have a lot of talking to do,” Brianna said.
…
An hour passed, much tea was consumed, and her parents convinced her the secrecy had been at Rosa’s request.
“Love, she could see how happy you were and then she didn’t want to mess with your head. All she wanted was for you to be happy and you have been, haven’t you?” Jennifer put her teacup down and squeezed her daughter’s hands. “We tried to persuade her, especially at the end when we knew she didn’t have long, but she wouldn’t have it.”
“Did she tell you about the villa? Did you know she was leaving it to me?”
Jennifer shook her head. “She spoke toward the end about how if you ever married, she would leave it to you. I don’t understand how you’ve got the villa now. She made it quite clear she wouldn’t leave it to you unless you were married. She never forgave your father for leaving her as a single mother, and she swore she would do as much as she could to make sure you married and settled. She wanted to provide for you, but I guess she put her own take on what happiness was. She became very bitter in the end.”
Brianna gave a short laugh and held out her left hand and flashed her wedding ring. “She didn’t change her mind. I got married a week after I arrived on Lipari Island.”
The look on her parents’ faces was priceless and Brianna gave a bitter laugh.
“And now I have to get out of it and try to keep the villa. Do we have a good lawyer?”
Her cell phone buzzed and she groaned, putting her head down on her arms on the table. Her voice was muffled.
“It’s all too bloody complicated.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tom sat alone on the balcony of Brianna’s villa watching the sun rise over the sea before he started work. Silver and pink tinged the low line of clouds hovering above the horizon. It promised to be another clear and beautiful day, but he was not going to the marina. Aunt Carmen had returned from Naples and he’d promised himself he would make a start on deciphering the finances today. He couldn’t believe the change in himself. A few months ago, he would have had the books balanced and computerized even if it had meant staying up all night. Now he preferred to spend his nights in Brianna’s bed, and he gave little thought to his stocks and shares. They were in the hands of his broker, and he trusted him to make the decisions for him.
Loneliness settled in his chest. It had sat there like a stone for the three days since he had returned to the empty villa. Luckily, Brianna had left the key for him and a brief note saying she was going back to Edinburgh and would be in touch. The disappointment had overwhelmed him, but he knew there must be a good reason for her sudden departure. Everything had been fine between them when he’d left and she had promised to stay, so something had happened. He knew he loved her, and he was not going to doubt that she loved him, too. It was only a matter of time until she admitted it to herself, and he had planned his strategy.
He’d reverted to list-making and he hoped she appreciated it. The time had come to implement it. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. Seven a.m. here, five a.m. in Edinburgh. He knew she was not picking up his calls, because it rang before going to her message service.
Time to wake up, Brianna.
He pressed send and put his phone away before pulling out the first box of papers.
Two hours later he was sitting in the kitchen, receipts and journals spread chaotically across the table, when his phone beeped.
I am.
Tom jumped to his feet and punched the air with a loud “Yes.” Aunt Maria had arrived earlier and now she ran in from the balcony where she was watering the potted plants. “You have finished the books?” she asked.
Tom grabbed her and danced around the room. “No, but I will soon.”
Aunt Maria shook her head and went back into the kitchen, and Tom picked up his phone.
He typed another text.
#1 I got my earring, remember?
He waited and a beep signaled the reply.
I remember.
His fingers flew over the keypad.
#2 Rode the Jet Ski and didn’t drown. He waited for a reply but all was quiet. He turned back to the tattered ledgers spread across the table and lasted for another two hours before the call of the boats and the fresh air won.
The phone remained silent.
…
Brianna was sitting in the office of the chief executive officer of the Burrough Medical Service waiting for her boss to finish his call. She stared out the window at the steady rain, grateful for the warmth of the air-conditioning in the office. Glancing down at the cell phone in her hand, she closed her eyes and smiled. A picture of Tom riding a Jet Ski around Lipari harbor, his long black curls tangling in the breeze, his muscles flexing as he steered through the waves, was implanted in her mind. And of course, the earring would be glinting in the bright sunshine.
Damn him, she thought.
“So, Brianna, you’ve finished the book?” her boss asked. “A lot earlier than you’d planned.”
“Yes, Mick. A new me. I met someone who helped me with my time management skills.” She smiled at him. “So here I am, ready to come back to work a bit earlier.”
“I’d be more than happy for you to cancel your leave.” Mick steepled his fingers under his chin and frowned. “But your replacement is on a six-month contract and that doesn’t finish for another eight weeks. So I’m going to have to keep you on leave for at least another two months.”
Brianna looked across at the window and thought for a moment. “What about in one of the other branches? Any other openings to fill in for a couple of months? I’m happy to travel.”
Mick shook his head. “Things are tight at the moment. Government budget cuts, and it’s getting worse by the day.” He looked down at his watch. “I’m sorry, I have another appointment. So we’ll expect you back in eight weeks?”
Brianna stood and her phone beeped. She ignored it and gave her full attention to her boss. “Not a problem. It was worth a try. I might even start another book.”
She walked out of the office and picked up her umbrella from the circular bin at the front door.
The fates were conspiring against her.
No way was she going back to Lipari while Tom was there. She was running scared, but she knew he was going to try to convince her to make it a real marriage. It was not fair—she was only emotional because of the situation with her mother.
She was not in love with Tom. She didn’t do relationships. They don’t last.
Her conscience nagged. She was so confused she didn’t know what she wanted.
Her phone beeped again while she was on the bus and, being pigheaded, she decided to ignore it. He was persistent—went with his personality type. Closing her eyes so she couldn’t
see the phone tempting her from the side of her bag, she tried to make a plan.
No success.
What the hell was she going to do in Edinburgh stuck in her tiny apartment for eight weeks? She was so not going to be tempted back to the island by some stupid text messages. The phone beeped again. She shoved it down into her bag and sighed.
He knew how she felt, and if he carried on like this he was going to get hurt. Yes, he was a great friend and she loved him like a friend. He was fun to be with and they were explosive in the bedroom. But he was only a friend.
I don’t do love and happily ever after. And she knew deep in her heart he would be happy with no less.
Why can’t things stay the way they were?
She chewed on her lip and the phone beeped again and she pulled it angrily out of her bag.
#3 I had fun.
So did I Tomas, so did I.
#4 Your kitchen is a mess and my clothes are on the floor. Aunt Maria won’t pick them up.
Brianna burst out laughing and typed a response.
I don’t like mess.
His answer came straight back.
#5 Got roaring drunk last week. Never again…been there, done that.
The bus drew to a halt and she realized they were at her stop. She grabbed her bag and umbrella, getting to the automatic door just as it began to close.
She jumped through the door and dropped her umbrella. When she bent to pick it up her cell phone flew out of her bag and landed in a puddle.
“Shit, shit, shit. Oh, no.” Distress pierced her chest and she scrabbled around in the pouring rain. The phone was sodden and she wiped it with her coat. Glancing around, the bright lights of a tearoom beckoned and she pushed open the door, grateful for the warmth inside. With shaking fingers, she slid the loose back section of the phone back into place and pressed the power button, breathing a huge sigh of relief as the phone powered on.
The waitress waited for her order while she scanned her message box.
Three new messages.
She looked up at the waitress, laughing, and ordered a pot of tea and scones.
“Glad to see the rain hasn’t upset you, lovey,” the woman said.
Brianna opened her in-box.
#6 Didn’t insult anyone on the flight back. No beautiful clinical psychologists.
Beautiful. A warm feeling stole over her and she closed her eyes. He told me I was beautiful all the time. What did he say before he left? “You’ve bewitched me. You’re in my blood.”
The waitress placed a steaming pot of tea and a plate of scones loaded with jam and cream in front of her. Comfort food. She looked down at the next message.
#7 Fall in love. Wasn’t on the first list, but it happened.
Oh Jesus, don’t do this to me, Tom.
The phone beeped again. What the hell was the next message going to say?
Call me. Temporary staff member happy to leave now.
It was a lifeline from Mick. Disappointment surged through her. Her finger hovered over the buttons.
Chapter Seventeen
Tom pushed his bicycle through the gate of Brianna’s grandfather’s villa. He’d been invited up for a late lunch and was interested to find out what the old fellow wanted. The invitation had been more like a command. A brief note delivered yesterday by his driver, with a date and time in the midafternoon next to “pranzo.” Lunch. Friday, three o’clock.
Even though he’d taken a change of clothes and showered at the marina, he was hot by the time he parked his bike outside the luxurious villa. He wondered how cold it was in Scotland.
His phone had remained deathly silent since his seventh text, and he had begun to worry he’d pushed her too far. Swallowing the doubt plaguing him, he rang the bell on the ornate door and waited to be summoned inside. It had been two days since his last text and it was about time he took the final step of his campaign.
“Benvenuto, figlio mio.” Signore Caranto greeted him at the door himself.
“Still no Brianna?” the old man asked. Tom shook his head and wondered how much her grandfather knew, but he didn’t answer until they were seated in the salon. Signore Caranto poured a large glass of red wine for each of them.
“I’m waiting for a message from her.” He couldn’t help himself and pulled his phone out but the screen was clear. “Scusi.” Scrolling down to the in-box, he checked in case a message had filed itself. Nothing.
Signore Caranto looked him with sympathy. “She will come back. She love you.”
Tom’s head flew up.
“I see the way she look at you.” The old man shook his head and leaned forward. He spoke in Italian and explained that he wanted there to be no misunderstandings, so if Tom was happy he would stay in his native language.
Tom nodded.
He listened carefully and a great sense of relief overtook him. Brianna’s grandfather told him about visiting Brianna the day Tom had left for Australia. He told him about the photographs and the letter he’d given Brianna, and why she’d gone to Scotland.
The old man sat back and stared at Tom, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
“I know why you married her. And it is all right. It was her mother’s wish she be married and it has all worked out good.” He explained that he had kept his distance until he was sure it was the right thing for his granddaughter to be here. He didn’t want to be selfish. He had seen the unsettled life Rosa had lived. When he described how he’d held his granddaughter in his arms and they had made their peace, Tom closed his eyes.
He missed her so much.
It was time for the last text. He explained what he was about to do and a wide smile took years off Signore Caranto’s lined face.
“It’s time,” Tom said to the old man and pulled out his phone and pressed the letters firmly and confidently.
#8 Marry me again?
#9 Love you
#10 Love you heaps
#11 Last message
#12 Over to you.
Tom put the phone on the table and picked up his wine. Signore Caranto sat next to him and together they watched the phone and waited. It was seconds before it buzzed and Tom grabbed it from the table. He let out a great whoop and grabbed the old man in an embrace before giving him a smacking kiss on both cheeks.
“She’s on the ferry!” he exclaimed and ran for the door. “Rain check on lunch.”
Grabbing his bike, he jumped on it and pedaled furiously down the hill. The afternoon breeze from the harbor cooled his cheeks as he coasted down the bumpy road, excitement zinging through his veins.
It had to be good news. It had to be yes.
She wouldn’t have come home if she didn’t love him.
Tom was confident and wouldn’t let the niggling doubts creep in. As soon as he saw her, he’d know.
The blast of the ferry’s horn announced its arrival as it turned into the harbor. The pressure wave from the bow broke the surface of the calm water. Seagulls screeched and hovered above the ferry as it drew closer to the shore. Tom put the bike outside the marina and ran down the steps to the boarding area.
Brianna stood on the top deck, her hair braided and her thick fringe blowing in the stiff afternoon breeze. She was too far away for him to see her face, but she waved wildly as soon as she saw him, and he waved back.
Tom stood patiently as the ferry docked and the tourist crowd shuffled off. Leaning against the wall in the shade of the terminal building, he waited.
A high-pitched squeal ahead of him caught his attention and he stepped forward, smiling as he remembered his first sight of those long, bare legs sliding to a stop at the international airport in Sydney a few months ago. The girlish figure with a long dark braid flying behind her ran across the boardwalk in front of the ticket office and flung herself into his waiting arms. She rained kisses on his cheeks, her long legs wrapped around his hips. Tom smiled at her exuberance and dropped his head and captured her mouth with his. After a moment, she pulled back and her dark gaze held his.
“I’m so happy you waited for me, Tom. I love you, love you, love you so much.”
Arms looped around each other, Brianna chattered nonstop as they walked across to collect Tom’s bike.
“I was wrong,” she said.
“About a lot of things,” Tom said.
She pretended to punch him on the arm and he stopped walking.
“I can do relationships. I just needed the right man.”
“Come over here and kiss me again, woman. I missed you.”
“Are you going to propose to me?”
“We’re already married,” he said between kisses.
“But I want to do it right.”
Epilogue
As far as weddings went, well…it was different.
The setting was on a wildflower-covered clifftop overlooking the azure blue sea. Mount Stromboli put on a fine show for the guests. The bride wore a secondhand wedding dress because the groom had insisted she wear the same dress she had worn to their first wedding. The groom wore jeans and a black T-shirt, because the bride chose his outfit. The best man, Nick, held his wife’s hand and their new baby gurgled as the vows were made.
The bride’s grandfather held the hand of the groom’s aunt. They had made their peace, and the Italian cousins from the island suspected they may be attending another wedding in the not-too-distant future.
As the groom kissed his bride, a flurry of congratulations in Italian, and in English with Scottish and Australian accents, surrounded them as their three families bestowed them with good wishes.
Tom had arrived holding Brianna’s hand, and he’d kept his arm around her for the whole ceremony. As the Italian cousins sprinkled them with confetti, he murmured against her lips.
“Have I told you what a beautiful bride you make, Mrs. Richards?”
“Have I told you how much I love you, Mr. Richards?” Brianna lifted her head and smiled at her husband.
One man, one woman, a second wedding…for a lifetime this time.
