When all was eaten, when presents were stored and everyone but the NICU staff had drifted away, Emily sat in the chair beside her granddaughter. Annie had gone out for the afternoon with Rodney instead of going back to the accommodation put aside for mothers with sick babies, so Emily was alone.
She gazed unseeingly at the open crib, tried to let the beeps of the machines wash over her, but seemed only able to replay her conversation with Marco from the previous morning.
Emily turned her head and stared with stinging eyes at the little determined chin that poked out from under the eye protection. ‘You’re so like your mother.’
Her daughter’s words circled around and around in her head. Even Annie’s words in Marco’s office came back to haunt her. Yes—she had tried to be everything for Annie. Had chosen the night shift so nobody could say she was leaving her baby for her gran to rear. Had pushed any thought of a relationship away because someone might say—or she might feel—she wasn’t doing the job well enough. Perhaps it hadn’t been those few men who had been lacking—but her. She just didn’t have what it took for a man to fight for her. Or was it she that lacked the fight?
Footsteps and then Marco’s voice came from behind her as his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. ‘Did you have a nice party?’
She put her fingers up and over his hand. Felt the strength in those fingers that could be so gentle. Fingers that could caress her so eloquently they almost sang against her skin. So he had come. The overwhelming relief and comfort made her shoulders drop. Without turning, she said, ‘Annie was sorry you couldn’t make it.’
His hand tightened. ‘Only Annie?’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘RODNEY missed you too,’ Emily said, with the first tinge of humour she’d felt all day.
‘Ah, my friend Rodney.’ He stood behind her for a moment longer and then lifted his hand. She missed it already but he’d stepped away to bring a chair.
‘May I?’ When she nodded he placed it beside her so that they both faced Rosebud’s open crib. ‘You are very good to Rodney.’
Was she? ‘Rodney is very good with Annie. If he wasn’t, it would be a different story.’
‘I can see that.’ He smiled and she had to smile back because they both knew how protective she was of her daughter. ‘But you do not hold his family history against him.’
She heard the dark taste of bitterness in his voice. Frowned at it as she tried to imagine where it had come from. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Forgive me.’ He shrugged. ‘The first day you met Rodney, I too saw him, and overheard Annie tell you his brother was in jail. Your distress was clear.’
Emily had no idea where he was a going with this but something warned her that was very important to Marco and therefore it was important to her.
She needed to be careful how she answered so she watched his face. Tried not to be distracted by how much she enjoyed just looking at him. ‘That’s got nothing to do with Rodney.’
He shrugged. ‘How is this nothing to do with Rodney?’
‘Why would it be? I didn’t ask him to, but he explained how his brother became involved in a bad crowd, and now pays the price for that. I try to take people how I find them. Rodney is not the one in trouble and cannot be held accountable. He has a good heart and genuinely loves Annie and Rosebud.’
She shrugged. ‘Still, they are very young and it will be hard to grow up at the same pace from this age—but that’s for them to decide and discover for themselves.’
He raised his brows and she could see that he was surprised. ‘So you expect them to move in together?’
She supposed that was liberal from an Italian male’s point of view. ‘I haven’t come to that conclusion yet. Maybe not for a long time. But Rodney doesn’t have a satisfactory place to stay and he wants to carry some of the load in caring for Rosebud when she comes home. We’ll see. Maybe he’ll stay weekends.’
‘You are a very understanding person.’
Except to him. He should know she could be better at that. ‘I’d be the pot calling the kettle black.’
He frowned. ‘This is like fishing?’
‘A colloquialism. Yes.’ She smiled. ‘I will miss you. And I’m sorry I pushed you away the other day.’ There, she’d said it. She went on in a bright little voice that only just cracked. ‘So, when do you leave?’
Marco heard the tiny element of distress and told himself he’d imagined it. ‘Tomorrow. I have come to say goodbye.’
‘Tomorrow.’ More brightness. ‘You didn’t give yourself much down time to see Sydney.’
He glanced across at Rosebud. ‘I’ve seen the important parts.’ Glanced back at her and smiled and something in his expression made her eyes sting with emotion. ‘I have been on the important rides.’
She turned to face him. Touched his sleeve and tried to smile. ‘We had a lovely time. Thank you.’
So it ended, Marco thought. He looked across at her. Held his hand back forcibly so that he didn’t caress her hair or run his finger down her cheek despite the overwhelming urge to do so. ‘I will miss everyone here.’ He was surprised how much. This was what happened when you opened your heart. The pain soaked in. As he deserved.
‘And we will miss you.’
Perhaps they would. For a brief while until he was forgotten. He glanced at the baby girl with her sunglasses on. He would miss seeing Rosebud grow stronger, grow more alert and active, start to make noises. Cry louder. Demand food. Recognise her mother. Recognise her grandmother.
The impact of his next thought vibrated in his head. Now this tiny infant would never recognise him. He had to leave this woman and this baby and this family, and that tore his heart into tiny strips.
He stood up. Lifted his chair and put it against the wall and then he came back to her for the last time. ‘Goodbye, Emily.’
Emerrrlee! Emily watched him turn, take two steps. Had she not thought Marco was worth the same fighting spirit she’d always found for Annie? Was the chance of happiness with Marco and perhaps his happiness with her as well at stake and she was willing to let him fly away? For ever?
‘Marco?’
He stopped and she stood and crossed the space to him. ‘Why do you have to go?’
He squared his shoulders and did not meet her eyes. ‘Because that is what I do.’
She wanted him to look at her. ‘Why?’
‘Because I learnt this during my childhood.’ Even with his chin averted she saw the pain cross his face. Felt his anguish. She so wanted to understand.
He went on. ‘My childhood was a series of uprootings in the night. My earliest memories of hurriedly dressing, told to be silent, hide before questions were asked. Such memories burn holes in the psyche that I have not yet filled. Now my parents are dead and at most I have vowed never to return to the place I felt so branded by disgust. As a boy I learnt to accept that I am not good enough for any parent’s daughter.’ He lifted his head. ‘Not good enough for you.’
No. That wasn’t how she wanted him to leave. ‘I think you’re amazing!’
‘Ah. The amazing Dr D’Arvello. My work is good.’ Simple truth. ‘You do not know of my family.’
She reached out and touched his sleeve. Felt the tension in his shoulder even through the fabric.
Marco wanted to squeeze her hand against his arm with his fingers so that she was welded to him. So he couldn’t lose her. He could not believe he had told her some of his past. Never had this happened with a woman.
‘Your family do not matter to me.’ He heard her words but did not believe them. She went on. ‘I know about you. The Marco we all care about. Of how much my family love you. Of your kindness and your strength and your amazing heart.’
Her words unmanned him. He shook his head. She had no concept. Could not know. ‘My father.’
She lifted her fingers and stopped his words at his lips. Such gentle insistence. ‘And you felt tainted by him. Like Rodney did.’ Her words seeped into the wall he had g
uarded for all these years. Washed away the mud that had stuck to him for so long. Exposed his need to the daylight of her
caring.
He hadn’t thought of it like that but, yes, and the voice inside his head insisted, she had accepted Rodney for who he was.
She went on in that calm and almost steady voice, ‘So if you didn’t seek a relationship, nobody could say no?’ She gave a strangled laugh. ‘Imagine that. You and I are not dissimilar, you know.’
And the light cracked through like the peep of sunlight through one broken slat of a fastened shutter.
She felt that way too? Was this why no man had carried her off?
She lifted her chin high. Drew a breath and stared up into his eyes, and he could not look away, could feel the physical embrace though she wasn’t touching him, such intimate connection as he stared into the depth of his Emily’s green soul.
‘I wish you could stay. Please don’t go.’ He shook his head and he saw she thought he was saying no. But it was in wonder of this woman. How did she have that strength? Risk all and stand before him so resolutely? Ask the question he hadn’t realised he’d longed to hear. How could he have arrived at this moment in life and suddenly seen the light?
A light that blinded him. The light that was Emily.
‘And if I stayed, would you share yourself with me? Share your family? Your heart?’ He grinned and suddenly joy bubbled from within. Swept away the years of bitterness and fizzed in his bloodstream. ‘Share your house?’
She pretended to frown at him but he was not fooled, could see a little of that joy in her face too now. ‘That would depend on how long you were staying.’
‘Ah,’ he teased. ‘That would depend on how long you would have me.’
She smiled slowly, with such tenderness and warmth he blinked. ‘A long, long time.’
A sudden vision of her grandfather’s family home. Renovations. Perhaps even extensions for all the children or grandchildren they would have. Little girls and boys running on the freshly mown grass. Perhaps another baby shower with tents and tiny pink cakes and women with sunshades all watching the children and the boats on the harbour. And Emily. Always Emily. ‘Then in that case I have seen a house I wish to buy.’
She frowned. ‘You’ve been looking at houses?’
‘I didn’t mean to.’ He could do nothing but smile at her. Loving her confusion, loving her bravery, loving her. ‘Someone I know has a house near you and I have grown very fond of your ferries and your harbour. And if I bought it, restored it to its former glory, perhaps you would move there with me. Make a gate in the side fence to join your grandmother’s house. We would know our neighbours very well.’ He could see Annie swinging Rosebud as she came through the gate to visit her mother. His daughter, his granddaughter, his family.
Emily’s nerves were settling. She didn’t know what he was talking about but there were more important things going on here than houses.
She couldn’t believe she’d dared to ask. Dared to dream and give that dream a chance. Fought for him and very possibly, judging by the adoring look on his face, perhaps won. ‘Do you think you’d be able to find work?’ she teased.
‘I am sure.’ He smiled that smile that lifted her feet off the ground then whispered almost to himself, ‘Never did I think I would say these words.’
He glanced at Rosebud, almost as if to ask permission, then back at Emily. Stared into her eyes and the love that shone from his face took her breath away. ‘Amore mio, per favour, sposami.’ Then more strongly, again in English, as if something had been set free with the words in his native tongue. ‘My love. Please. Be my wife.’
Emily stared into his beloved face. His wife! This man who had turned her life upside down, whose strength and kindness and skills had saved her family, and whose passion and warmth and caring had saved her.
She reached up, cradled his face and
gently kissed his lips. ‘With all my heart, my love.’
* * *
Three months later, at sunset, a three-masted brig drifted away from the wharf at Darling Harbour.
It seemed the captain was a real captain and could marry those aboard his ship once outside the heads.
At the bow of the ship, with his hands clenched behind his back, a tall, dark man stood anxiously, magnificently dressed in coat and tails, and waited for the ship to sail out to sea.
Marco drew in the salt-laden air and savoured the breeze at his back as he stared down the length of the ship, past the guests seated on the chairs arranged under the masts, all craning for a glimpse of Emily. His life had changed so much in the last precious months and it was all because of the woman he waited for.
As they’d arrived for the wedding Emily had decided each guest should be given a wristband that entitled them to free rides for the rest of the night at Luna Park after the wedding reception. They wanted to share their love and excitement with all of their friends, and what better way than at a funfair?
At the stern of the ship the bride, in an exquisite sixty-year-old lace wedding dress, with her beautiful daughter as her bridesmaid, stood framed against the sunset as the ship passed under the Sydney Harbour Bridge under sail.
Annie held Emily’s posy of pale pink rosebuds, in honour of the bride’s granddaughter, too young to be flower girl but old enough to be held by her father as they waited in readiness for the ceremony.
The bride’s hands shook slightly as she imagined the time when she would walk the length of the ship and bind herself for ever to the man she loved, and her fingers shook so much that her engagement rings, one old that had belonged to her grandmother and the new, a magnificent emerald, caught every ray of light from the pinkening sky.
Finally it was time. The music drifted towards her on the afternoon breeze and Annie leaned across and kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘You look beautiful. Good luck.’ She handed her the posy.
‘Good luck?’ Emily laughed and her fingers relaxed as the movement stilled. She lifted her face to the breeze. ‘I don’t need luck. I have Marco!’
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459235656
Copyright © 2012 by Fiona McArthur
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Sydney Harbor Hospital: Marco's Temptation Page 13
