by Annie O'Neil
Fran’s eyes shot to his, striking him like a viper. Neither of them was talking about Pia and he knew it.
“I’m hardly abandoning anything. I only have a few days left anyway.”
Of course she would leave. What had he thought would happen after last night? Had he really thought ripping his heart open and letting his whole sorry story pour out would keep her here? No. Quite the opposite. He hadn’t thought at all. He most likely repulsed her now.
“I would never let my patients down,” Fran shot back before he could get a word in. “I’m talking about the cottage. I can stay anywhere. The patients can’t.”
He waited for her to state the obvious. That he needed the money. He needed her.
“Rosa.” He forced himself to speak calmly. “Would you please give us a moment to discuss Miss Martinelli’s housing arrangements?”
“Of course, Dr. Montovano.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, Rosa gave the tiniest hint of a smile before she reluctantly headed back to the office. Italians loved a passionate fight, and from the speed of the blood coursing through his veins this was set to be explosive.
“So, what’s your big plan? To camp out on one of the sun loungers? Or are you going to whip one of the cottages into shape with one of your feel-good projects?”
Luca knew he was being unreasonable. Knew there was bite in his bark.
“I’ll stay in town. Commute in like the other doctors. Besides, with my father coming—”
“What?”
“My father. You know he’s coming.”
Luca shook his head. He remembered her mentioning something about a visit, but it hadn’t really registered. He couldn’t believe Fran would humiliate him like this. Show a half-finished clinic to a man renowned for his exacting attention to detail. A man who with a few swift strokes of his keyboard could save the clinic from oblivion. Fran’s father was the last person on earth he wanted crossing the entryway to Mont di Mare.
“Why would you do that? Why would you invite him here?”
Fran took a step away from Luca, as if the question had physically repelled her.
“He’s my father. He wants to see the clinic. Meet the people I’ve been talking about all summer. You of all people should know how important family is.”
* * *
Luca looked at her as if she’d slapped him. Her remorse was instant, but it was too late to make apologies. The warmth she had once seen in Luca’s eyes turned into inaccessible black, his pupils meshing with his irises as if there would never be enough light for him to see any good in the world. Any hope.
His lip curled in disgust, as if by inviting her father here she had betrayed him. “What’s the point in bringing him here if all you’re going to do is leave? Showing Daddy what a good little girl he’s raised?”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I do, chiara.” He closed the gap between them with one long-legged stride. “Has this been fun for you? Playing at a mountainside clinic while the rest of us are struggling to survive?”
Fran opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it. Her heart ached for Luca. Ached to tell him everything—but not in the state he was in now. Unbending. Proud. Hurt. There was hurt coursing around that bloodstream of his—she knew it—but it didn’t change the facts. She loved him, but if inviting her father here meant losing Luca but saving the clinic, then so be it. Her father was coming whether Luca liked it or not.
“Tell the new patient to come.” She forced her voice to sound steady.
“For how long, Francesca? Where’s your crystal ball? A day? A week? How many days do you foresee here before I have to tell this miserable wheelchair-bound boy and everyone else here that they will all have to go?”
“Whatever you feel is best. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient appointment to keep.”
Fran forced herself to turn away and walk calmly toward the clinic, trying her very best not to let Luca see that her knees were about to give way beneath her.
She knew anger and fear were fueling Luca’s hateful comments. Of course she wanted the clinic to flourish. She wanted everything in the world for him. She wanted him!
Couldn’t he see it in her eyes? In her heart?
Leaving wasn’t the plan. Staying was the plan. The dream.
But her father was a facts man. He needed to see things for himself. Touch the stone. Scour the books. Observe the work. He’d never invest in a dream he didn’t think could become a reality. And for the first time since she’d rung her father and asked him to jump on a plane as soon as possible, she felt a tremor of fear begin to shake inside her, forcing her to ask herself the same question again and again.
What have I done?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LUCA RUBBED THE kink out of his neck. A night in his office hadn’t achieved anything other than darkening his already-foul mood.
“They’re just about to land, Dr. Montovano,” a nurse called out to him.
He pushed up and away from his desk and strode toward the helicopter-landing site.
Against his better judgment, he had approved the new patient’s arrival.
It was Francesca’s doing. Of course.
Not literally, but he’d heard her voice in his head each and every time he’d tried to say no. If he was going to go down, he might as well go down in flames.
He looked up to the sky to see if he could catch a glimpse of the chopper. They usually headed in from Florence, but this sound came from the east. Nearer to the seaside airport.
Unusual.
It was all unusual. This hospital transfer was happening much earlier than normal.
He huffed out a laugh. As the patient’s stay would no doubt be short, they could at least eke a few more sessions out of his early arrival.
See? He shot a glance toward the bright sky. I’m still capable of seeing the silver lining.
The whirring blades of the helicopter strobed against the rays of sun hitting his face. He closed his eyes against the glare, taking a precious moment to relish the fact that the clinic was still here to help. Might still make a difference.
A day? A week? He didn’t know how long he’d have with this boy, but he would do everything in his power to show him that giving up without a fight was sounding a death knell. And dying young...? That wasn’t going to happen on his watch.
By the time the chopper landed, he had realigned his features into those of a benign clinician. Just as well. The first face he saw was his patient’s.
A scowling teenage boy who looked intent on proving that nothing and no one would improve his lot in life.
Luca stepped toward the helicopter with a grim smile.
Giancarlo Salvi. Seventeen years old. An able-bodied teen turned quadriplegic after a late-night joyride went horrifically wrong.
He took another step forward and saw the boy’s scowl deepen. And why wouldn’t it? Luca was able-bodied. Strong. Vital. He had the ability to walk toward things—and away from them.
The moment froze in Luca’s mind—crystalizing as if it were a beacon of truth.
No matter how powerless he felt, he still had choices.
Energy shot into his limbs, and without further ado he helped the crew unstrap Giancarlo’s wheelchair.
Destiny wasn’t just something you haphazardly fell into.
Destiny was something you shaped.
* * *
Fran tucked herself behind a thick cascade of greenery near the pergola when she heard voices. The last thing she wanted to do was distract Luca during this crucial time. Or drag out the duffel bag she’d hastily jammed her things into before cleaning her cottage to gleaming perfection before the new family arrived.
She needed to get it to the car so she could meet her father at the
nearby airport. He’d called a few minutes ago and asked for a ride. Something about the helicopter he’d chartered being delayed. The excuse sounded sketchy, but maybe it was his way of having some alone time before he saw the clinic.
A nervous shudder went through her. Once she’d brought her father here, Luca might well decide he never wanted to speak to her again. But if that was the cost of keeping the clinic alive, she could just about live with herself.
Fran let the stone wall behind her take her weight for a moment as she fought the sting of tears. When she’d invited her father here, to see if he thought the clinic was worth investing in, she’d thought she was doing the right thing. Now she was riddled with doubt.
Her father liked cars, not people. His passion wasn’t health care. Or dogs. The only reason he’d said he would invest in Canny Canines was to finally bring his daughter home.
She swiped at her eyes when she heard voices on the other side of the wall. The last thing she needed was to have a member of the staff—or worse, Luca—find her blubbering away.
She tuned in to the female voices. A pair of nurses whispering something about the newly arrived patient insisting the helicopter must stay until he had deemed the place “worthy.”
Fran’s blood boiled on Luca’s behalf. The place was exemplary!
Her jaw set tight as she tugged Edison in closer to her and listened more closely when the voices changed.
“This is where most of our patients like to spend their downtime.”
Fran peered out from behind the froth of summer blossoms at the sound of Luca’s voice. He was just a few meters away, guiding a teenage boy and his parents through the archway and out to the walled garden with the pool. This area always won people’s hearts. An infinity pool on the side of a mountain overlooking the sea... What wasn’t to love?
* * *
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Disdain dripped from the teenage boy’s every word. “Your paralyzed patients hang out by the pool? Why? So they can see what everyone else gets to do for fun?”
Luca eyed the boy silently for a while. He didn’t need to check Giancarlo’s charts to know fear of failure was behind the boy’s words. It was obvious that whatever treatment he’d been receiving had been palliative at best.
“Didn’t your previous physio involve any pool time?” Luca asked finally. The bulk of his patients had done at least a trial run in a pool, if not an entire program of hydrotherapy.
“Si, Dr. Montovano.” The boy’s voice still dripped with disdain. “They just threw us quadriplegics in the pool and whoever bobbed up first won a prize.”
“Giancarlo! Amore, he’s trying to help.” His mother admonished her son in a hushed tone, but her flush of embarrassment betrayed the frustration she was obviously feeling.
Despite himself, Luca felt for her. A parent trying to do her best in an already bad situation. His thoughts shot to Fran. She’d been doing the same thing. Taking a bad situation and doing her very best to make it better.
Why hadn’t he given her a chance to explain?
“Not all patients are necessarily up to pool work. Isn’t that right, Dr. Montovano? My son’s concerns are valid.”
Luca nodded in Giancarlo’s father’s direction and gave his chin a thoughtful stroke, trying his best to look neutral as he processed the parents’ different approaches to their boy’s disability.
The father was accepting his son’s bitterness. Failure. As if it were a done deal.
The mother? He could see her love knew no boundaries. That she was willing to give anything a shot if it meant bringing back her little boy.
“Not all facilities are equipped to deal with patients in hydrotherapy scenarios. We’re one of the lucky ones.”
“Lucky enough to be on a mountaintop and hide all of us cripples away, you mean.”
Luca stared into Giancarlo’s eyes, not liking what he saw. The bitterness. Rage. The loss of hope. All reflected back at him as if they were mirrors into his own soul.
A movement caught his attention. Edison. The Labrador was running into the garden, chasing after a tennis ball.
“You let dogs roam around here?” Giancarlo still sounded irritable, but the tiniest bit of light in his voice and the flash of interest in his otherwise-dull eyes told Luca all he needed to know. He still had hope. Despite everything, the boy still had hope.
Luca looked up and saw Fran slowly walking toward them, her hand making a sharp signal to Edison that he should sit in front of Giancarlo’s chair.
The parents were looking between Luca and Fran for answers. Was this her way of asking him not to give up hope?
“Buongiorno. I seem to have lost track of my assistance dog.” Fran unleashed her warm smile, instantly relaxing Giancarlo’s parents.
The Fran Effect.
“Per favore. Allow me to introduce Francesca Martinelli—”
“Like the cars?” Giancarlo interrupted, the first hint of a smile discernible on his face.
“Exactly like the cars.” Fran nodded. Then smiled.
Better than sunshine.
The next twenty minutes or so passed in a blur as Edison became the center of attention.
Giancarlo’s parents watched, wide-eyed, as Fran and the assistance dog exhibited a wide array of skills. Holding the boy upright if necessary. Retrieving objects and placing them in Giancarlo’s hands. Manipulating his electric wheelchair around hard-to-negotiate corners. Going for help if necessary. She was bringing smiles to the lips of three people who Luca was certain hadn’t known much, if any, happiness in the months since their lives had been changed forever.
By the time Fran had finished with her display, the Salvis—including Giancarlo—were committed to staying.
“Let me organize one of the other doctors to show you around.” Luca heard the note of caution in his own voice. Fran had performed a miracle and still he wasn’t happy. What was wrong with him?
Once Dr. Murro had been found and was showing the Salvis around the facilities, Luca wheeled on Fran.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Bewilderment swept across Fran’s features. “What do you mean? I was helping! Didn’t you want them to stay?”
“Not this way. Not when I don’t know how long I can offer them treatment. Don’t you see what you’ve done?”
“Offered him hope? Offered him a new way of looking at the world?” Defiance rang in her every word.
“Stop!” He spoke too harshly, too cruelly for someone who felt as if his heart was breaking.
Fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks. This couldn’t go on. He only had so much energy, and what little of it was left would have to go to Pia and the clinic.
“Will you please just stop?”
Francesca looked at him, her eyes held wide as if a blink would shatter her into a million pieces.
In them—in those crystal-clear blue eyes of hers—he saw myriad messages. Confusion. Tenderness. Pain.
She turned away without a word, and as she disappeared around the corner he knew in the very core of his being what the universe had been screaming at him all these weeks—he was in love with Fran.
* * *
“Dr. Montovano?”
A knock sounded at Luca’s office door. Enzo Fratelli, one of the physios, cracked the door open a bit wider, obviously hoping for an invitation to come in.
“Si?” Luca flipped over the pile of paperwork he’d been working on. No point in Enzo seeing all the red ink. Not before he’d found a way to tell the staff.
“We all want you to know we appreciate how much work you’ve been putting into getting the clinic up and running.”
Luca pushed back from the desk, suddenly too tired to pretend any longer. “Is it worth it, Enzo? Really?”
He gestu
red for his colleague to sit down. He knew he’d given up a lot to come and work here—a life in Florence, assured work at a busy hospital.
“Si, Dottore. Of course it is.” Enzo sat down, concern pressing his brows together. “What makes you doubt it?”
Money. Debt. The idea of doing this whole damn thing without Francesca to remind him of the bright side.
“What if I’ve been wrong?”
“About what?”
“The location. About having the clinic here at Mont di Mare.”
“But that’s half the draw. Surely you of all people would see that?”
Luca nodded, looking away from the appeal in the young man’s eyes.
“I’m not saying the idea of the clinic needs to come to an end. Perhaps we’d be better off relocating to a city. Florence. Or Rome, maybe.”
“I don’t understand.” Enzo shook his head. “This is your family’s land, no? Your heritage.” He opened his arms wide. “Being up here at Mont di Mare, breathing the mountain air, seeing the sea, being part of the sky, the meadows—all of it—is every bit as healing as the work I do in the physio rooms.”
He tipped his head to the side, as if trying to get a new perspective on Luca. See him afresh.
“You’ve been working too hard, Dr. Montovano. Surely now that Francesca’s father is here you can relax a little. Go enjoy a prosecco on the terrace—”
Everything inside him grew rigid. He’d not yet given himself a chance to process his feelings about Fran—about loving her—and now her father was here.
It didn’t matter now whether or not he wanted her to stay. With her father here to influence—to persuade, see things through a cooler lens—everything would change.
“Where are they?” Luca strode out from behind his desk.
Enzo put up his hands and took a couple of steps back. “Scusi, per favore, Dottore. I thought you knew. She’s showing him around the clinic now. Lovely time of day—seeing the sunset from up here.”
Luca didn’t hear what else Enzo was saying. He was running down the corridor, his blood racing so hot and fast he was surprised he could still see. It didn’t matter. Blind. Breathless. However he found her, all he knew was one thing. He had to find Fran.
