The Proud Italian

by Alison Roberts

  ‘But I do…’ Rafael swallowed hard. ‘I know that your little sister, Sophie, died when you were only twelve. That you felt your parents had failed her because they refused to try any treatment that might have added to her suffering when they knew it would gain nothing but a little more time. But that was different. It wasn’t leukaemia and we tried everything we could even it was only going to give us a little more time. The idea that the treatment in New York could really work was…’

  Way too much of a miracle to hope for. Rafael’s words trailed into silence. It had worked, hadn’t it? He’d been wrong.

  ‘You knew the reason,’ Abbie agreed quietly. ‘But you didn’t understand how I felt about it because if you had you would have been there with me, Rafe. By my side. And it really hurt that you weren’t.’

  It hurt thinking about Sophie, too. The little sister she’d lost. The way her family had fallen apart. Sophie had been ill for so long that family life had centred exclusively on her and Abbie had felt almost invisible. The feeling had only strengthened after her sister’s death. Had her parents been too afraid to love her too much in case they lost her, too? Did they come to blame each other—the way she secretly did—for not having tried hard enough to save Sophie?

  Or did all the love just die because it got smothered under the grief?

  She’d tried so hard….

  She’d been driven to fight for Ella instead of standing back and watching her die. But her new family had still fallen apart, hadn’t it? Was it impossible to win in a dreadful situation like that?

  Rafael could see the pain he’d caused by reminding Abbie of what she’d lost as a child. And by not being there for her in New York when she’d needed him. What could he say?

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The words were raw. ‘I was wrong.’

  This time it was Abbie who took hold of his hand. ‘It’s not just your fault, Rafe. Don’t you see? I couldn’t understand why you were so opposed to it, any more than you could understand me. Oh, I knew how much you hated to see children suffering when there couldn’t be a positive outcome, and that’s why you changed specialties to get away from oncology, but this was your own daughter. I just didn’t get it.’ She bit her lip. ‘We don’t get each other.’

  ‘Get?’ Sometimes, if he was really fired up about something, his languages could tangle in his head and make him miss subtleties.

  ‘Understand. No…it’s more than that, I think. If you really love someone and you can understand why they feel the way they do, then you’ll support them, even if you might not agree with whatever it is.’

  Rafael turned the words over in his head. ‘You’re right,’ he said into the quietness. ‘I should have supported you.’

  ‘And maybe I should have supported you.’

  ‘Che cosa? But I was wrong. You only have to look at Ella to see that I was wrong.’

  ‘But if I’d understood why, maybe we could have changed things. All I could see was someone who was being a doctor, not a father. Or a husband. Someone who couldn’t feel what I was feeling.’

  It was true. He had isolated himself emotionally. Circumstances had then isolated him physically.

  But they were closer now, surely? They were talking about things they’d never talked about before.

  ‘It won’t happen again,’ he told Abbie. ‘I love you. I love Ella. I want to be a good father and husband.’ He touched her face. Cupping it gently the way he always had before trying to convey his sincerity with a tender kiss.

  But Abbie pulled away from his touch. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Please, don’t.’

  It was too bittersweet, that touch. She could give in to it so easily but it still wouldn’t solve anything. It would still be a throw covering a stain.

  Rafael dropped his hand. He turned to stare straight ahead and Abbie followed his line of vision. Through the arbour she could see a young couple, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing a passionate kiss. As intent on each other as Abbie and Rafael had been when they’d first come here together. As oblivious to the twists of fate that might pull them apart in the future.

  Rafael had to turn away from the sight of the young lovers. He and Abbie had been that close once. He’d hoped that they might get that close again today but they were as far apart as they had been before they had come here, weren’t they? Talking had solved nothing.

  ‘I’m still hurting, Rafe.’ Abbie spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear the words. ‘And I can’t go through anything like this again. I know Ella needs her father as much as she needs her mother right now but… I need time. I need to be sure.’

  Rafael closed his eyes. She wasn’t the only one who was still hurting. ‘And how did you think it made me feel, Abbie? When you wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say? When you took Ella away and I was so sure I would never see her again? Never hold her? You’re not the only one who was hurt.’

  ‘I know. And I’m sorry.’

  Rafael’s fingers found a tangled part of his hair but he shoved them through the obstruction, welcoming the pain. ‘Can we ever get past this? What do we do now?’

  ‘I hope we can get past this.’ But Abbie’s smile was shaky. Unsure? ‘And now? I think we should go and spend some time with our daughter.’

  It was Abbie who picked up the empty coffee cups and found a rubbish bin to put them in. She put on the soft cardigan she’d been carrying because there were a few clouds in the sky now and when the sunlight dimmed, the temperature dropped noticeably. The picnic feel to the day was gone. The date was over. They walked out of the Secret Garden and back through the main park in silence but it was a different kind of silence from the one when they’d first entered the park together.

  Things were out in the open. Yes, their marriage was still on the line but it seemed that they both wanted to repair it, at least. Surely that was a good thing?

  ‘Maybe, one day soon,’ he said, ‘we’ll be able to bring Ella to the park. To show her the Secret Garden.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Abbie responded. ‘And we could take her to the zoo.’

  ‘To see the monkeys.’ The unenthusiastic tone made them both look at each other. And then they both smiled.

  She understood. And if they did go to the zoo, she would know that it was a generous act on his part because those monkeys drove him pazzo.

  He could feel his heart lift. The connection was there. And the love. Surely it was going to be possible to build a bridge over the troubled waters that still lay between them?

  It had to be possible, Rafael decided as they went through the ornate iron gates and he raised his arm to flag down a taxi.

  It was as simple as that, really.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GIFTS WERE STARTING to pile up in Ella’s room.

  While the big pink bear was the frontrunner in the popularity stakes, everybody who looked after Ella was enjoying the growing stack of bright picture books and the toys, especially the board with the animal pictures and the buttons that made the appropriate noise for the animal when Ella pushed it. Her attempts to imitate the noises made them all laugh.

  And Rafael had a new audience on which to try out his own animal noises.

  ‘This is a lion, Ella. Rrrroahhh… You’ll hear them when we take you to the zoo one day. You might even hear them at home. And this is a monkey. Eeek, eeek, eeek.’

  The noises made both Ella and Abbie grin but they had yet to hear their little girl giggle again. What would it take?

  ‘You don’t have to bring a present every time you come, Rafe. You’re spoiling her.’

  ‘I want her to look forward to seeing me.’ But Rafael put the bag he was carrying today on the floor and leaned on the edge of the cot, watching as Abbie caught the small, waving arms and pushed them gently into the sleeves of her sleep suit.

  ‘Mum-mum-mum,’ Ella crowed.

  ‘That’s me.’ Abbie snapped some fastenings closed. ‘Mama. Can you say papa?’

  Ella stared up at her, her eyes round.

&
nbsp; ‘Papa?’ she repeated encouragingly.

  Ella grinned. ‘Mum-mum-mum.’

  ‘I think that’s the only word she knows.’ Rafael was also smiling but Abbie could sense his disappointment. She tried to distract him.

  ‘She’s pretty good at “no.” You should have heard her at lunchtime when I tried to persuade her to eat some carrots.’

  ‘She doesn’t like carrots?’

  ‘Not yet. Same with pumpkin.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the colour she doesn’t like.’

  ‘Hmm… You could be right.’ Abbie smiled and caught Rafael’s gaze. ‘It does clash with pink, doesn’t it?’

  His answering smile was swift and, for a heartbeat, things felt good. There were more of these moments now, when it felt like there was a real connection between them again. The time they’d spent in the park together had been a good starting point but, even with more time with both of them here with Ella and more moments when they were in tune with each other, that distance between them didn’t appear to be shrinking.

  Ella was the driving force behind Abbie’s motivation for trying to repair her marriage. She desperately wanted her daughter to grow up with a loving father in her life. For them all to make a real family. But the connection had to there between her parents, too. It had to be more than physical and it had to be strong enough to last the distance. While they were reaching out tentatively to see if they could find and build on that kind of connection, sadly it was Ella who was making things harder.

  Oh, she loved the presents. And she loved seeing her daddy and having a cuddle. As long as she wasn’t tired. Or sore. Or hungry. Or had a dirty nappy or anything else that was making life a little less joyful. At those times, she only wanted Abbie.

  Mum-mum-mum.

  As the days passed it was obvious that Rafael was feeling excluded. It wasn’t just an Italian’s pride that was being dented. Any father would feel disheartened by the preference that Ella made crystal clear when it was needed. And it wasn’t something that Abbie could fix, was it? Rafael hadn’t been there for such a long time. A quarter of Ella’s life. Was it any wonder that the baby saw him as a visitor in her life? That she expected her mother to provide everything from food to comfort?

  Abbie glanced at her watch. Any minute now and the nurse would arrive with Ella’s night-time bottle. And Rafael was here. She should let him feed her.

  Maybe it was the biggest olive branch she could offer?

  She couldn’t put it into words but when she picked Ella up and offered her to Rafe as the nurse came in with the bottle of warm milk, she could see that he understood how significant this was. The way his gaze held hers with a flash of surprise and then gratitude and then a flood of warmth that felt like pure love was enough to bring a huge lump to her throat.

  Rafael sat down in the armchair with Ella in his arms. She was happy enough to lie there until she caught sight of the bottle. The hungry whimper was followed by her head craning so far sideways Abbie feared for her neck.

  ‘Mum-mum-mum…’ Small arms were reaching out for her.

  Rafael chased her mouth with the teat of the bottle but Ella was having none of it. She arched her body into a stiff bow and her face went an alarming shade of red.

  Abbie had to force herself not to scoop Ella out of her father’s arms. ‘Try again,’ she said above the noise Ella was starting to make. ‘She’ll get used to the idea of you feeding her in a minute.’

  But Rafael shook his head. ‘I can’t bear to hear her this unhappy. You do it, Abbie.’ He stood up and all but shoved Ella into her arms.

  It felt like defeat. Worse, even when Ella settled and started sucking hungrily, the joy of doing this was somehow diminished. Abbie could feel Rafael’s gaze on her, and she could feel his despair. And there seemed to be something accusing in the gaze Ella had fixed on her, too. She felt like the meat in a sandwich. All she was trying to do was stick the layers back together. Why was it so difficult?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly to Rafael.

  He gave one of those eloquent shrugs. ‘It’s not your fault. Fiorella is a baby. All she knows is what she wants to make her happy.’

  But Abbie knew what she wanted to make her happy, too. And it seemed as far away as ever.

  ‘I…um…thought I might come home tomorrow. After work.’

  Rafael went very still. Oh, help…

  ‘Just to see if I find a suitable dress and shoes and things or whether I’ll need to go shopping. For the wedding on Saturday?’

  ‘Ah… Of course.’

  ‘I thought you might like to be here with Ella while I’m gone. If you’re free about five o’clock, you could feed her her dinner.’

  A faintly incredulous huff escaped Rafael but Abbie ignored it. ‘If I’m not here, she might be happy to let you feed her. And food is different from a bottle. She lets nursing staff feed her sometimes. We can only keep trying, can’t we?’

  A sigh this time. ‘Si…’ Rafael’s expression was unreadable. ‘This is true.’

  ‘She’s doing well, isn’t she, Mr de Luca?’

  ‘She certainly is.’ Rafael stroked the hair of the little Afghan girl, Anoosheh, and smiled at her. It had been nearly two weeks since her massive surgery and the swelling was going down nicely.

  ‘She’s learning English fast,’ his registrar put in. ‘Can you say hello to Mr de Luca, Anoosheh?’

  ‘’Ello,’ Anoosheh said obligingly. ‘I am ‘appy to see you, Dock-a-dor.’ The words were an effort to produce and then her face twisted into an odd expression.

  ‘She’s trying to smile,’ the nurse told them. ‘It’s still hard.’

  ‘Keep trying,’ Rafael told his small patient. ‘Soon you will be lighting up the world with your smile.’

  They all had to keep trying, didn’t they?

  Even when it didn’t seem to be working.

  The parts of his life were all there and, if you took each one on its own, there wasn’t anything obvious that was broken.

  Work was fine. Little Anoosheh was a triumph and one that was being followed closely enough by the media for Rafael’s reputation to be growing rather too fast for his liking. Only this morning he’d had to pass a request to appear on a television talk show over to Ethan—who probably passed it to Declan. Far better that the charity projects of the Hunter Clinic got some good publicity than that he became the poster boy for reconstructive plastic surgery.

  Ella was fine, too. Doing better each day. The three-month mark when her bone marrow could be checked again was rapidly approaching and if the results were good, her central line could be removed and she would be allowed home. Even better, his precious daughter was happy and she had no trouble lighting up the world with her smile.

  There had been no objections when he’d been the one to feed her the other evening and he’d done it again last night because it seemed that Abbie did need a new dress for Leo and Lizzie’s upcoming wedding and it had given her a chance to hit the high street.

  Yes. The wheels of his life were turning perfectly well.

  It was when Rafael’s ward rounds took him to visit Lucy, the little girl who’d been in the car crash, that he realised what was bothering him so much.

  Lucy’s grandmother was beside the bed, holding a drink that Lucy was sipping through a straw. She watched as Rafael checked the chart and then gently examined the little girl’s face.

  ‘Can you open your mouth a little for me, chicken? Does that still hurt?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘It will get a little better each day. But only if you keep trying.’ Rafael covered her right eye with one hand and then held up his other hand. ‘How many fingers can you see?’

  ‘Free.’ The word had to come out without her mouth moving.

  ‘Good girl.’ Rafael smiled at the grandmother. ‘The vision’s improving.’

  She nodded. ‘Mrs de Luca had a specialist from the eye department come in this morning. They think it’s going to be fine. And the orthopaed
ic surgeon is happy with her arms and the movement she’s got in her fingers. Mrs de Luca took some of the stitches out of her face this morning, too. It’s looking a bit better, isn’t it?’

  Rafael could hear the doubt in the woman’s voice. ‘If you’d seen Lucy when she came into Theatre, you would know that what Mrs de Luca did is just amazing. Lucy will need more surgery later but, eventually, I suspect you’re going to have to look carefully to see any lasting damage.’ His reassurance was sincere. The pride he felt in Abbie’s work even more heartfelt.

  ‘She’s your wife, isn’t she? Mrs de Luca?’

  ‘She is.’

  In name only, however. The taunting whisper stayed with Rafael as he finished his round of the surgical ward.

  The wheels of his life might be turning perfectly well but the cogs weren’t fitting together properly so the wheels weren’t turning together. Was it only coincidence that working together to operate on Lucy had been the only time they’d been that close professionally since she’d returned?

  She should be here now, sharing this ward round. Sharing the pleasure in the little girl’s excellent progress. But she’d been here before him today and she was in Theatre this afternoon. Creating a new ear for the patient she’d seen on the morning of that first outpatient clinic together. The one that had led to Leo and Ethan ordering them to put their personal issues aside and work together properly again. But they weren’t, were they? Even this patient they’d worked so hard on together was now being followed up on at different times.

  His time with Ella was wonderful but she would only allow him to do things for her when Abbie wasn’t there.

  There was nothing wrong with his home either, except that the only time Abbie had gone there had been when he had been here, looking after Ella.

  How could they possibly put things right when they were beginning to shape their lives into completely separate wheels? It wouldn’t matter how smoothly they turned, it wouldn’t be any kind of a marriage and he wouldn’t blame Abbie for deciding it wasn’t good enough.