by Unknown
Her arms, which had still been loosely hugged round herself, flew out for balance. At the same time he reacted on reflex and his hand shot out and curled round her elbow, steadying her.
Not at arm’s length now. Not at all.
He looked down at where they were joined and wondered how hard it would be to let go. He looked up again to find Ruby’s eyes large, but her expression calm and open. Very hard, he decided. Even after the boat had rocked itself back into equilibrium he found he hadn’t been able to do it.
But maybe he didn’t need to.
He slipped his hand down her arm, over her wrist, until his fingers met hers, and he laced them together, reminding himself of those intersecting arches he’d stolen for his design. How simple the shapes were on their own, but how much better they were when they were joined with something similar.
He reached for her other hand, meshed it to his in the same way. She looked down at their intertwined fingers, so tangled up with each other that he couldn’t tell whether he was holding her or she was holding him, and then she looked back up at him, her breathing shallow, her cheeks flushed.
This was way more than ankle deep.
Gently he tugged, and she came. Their hands remained joined, and he bent his head to brush his lips against hers. It wasn’t enough. He kissed her again, lingering this time. Ruby sighed and leaned against him. Gently she slid her fingers from his and ran her hands up his arms, onto his neck. He could feel her fingertips on the bare skin above his collar, her thumbs along his jaw.
She pulled away and opened her eyes. He looked back at her. Her fingers continued to roam, exploring his jaw and temple, tracing his cheekbones, and then they kissed again, sinking into it.
It wasn’t like their first meeting of lips. It wasn’t hot and urgent, fuelled by simple physical need, but neither was it hesitant and testing. It was slow and intimate, as if they’d been lovers for years, nothing but truth flowing between them, even if he was a little fuzzy on what exactly that truth was.
As the bells of the far away campanili rang out across the lagoon, and Venice glittered like a jewel in the distance, Max wrapped his arms around Ruby, pulled her as close as he could get. He might be rubbish with words, but he spoke to her in the poetry every Italian knew so well.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THEY DIDN’T GET BACK to the palazzo until well after nine. Max cut the engine and stared at the hulking exterior of his mother’s house. Here, his and Ruby’s roles were defined for them, clearly marked out. Out there on the lagoon, there had been nothing but a delicious blurring of all the reasons they shouldn’t be together.
Ruby jumped out of the boat, took the rope from him and secured it to a post. Max stayed where he was in the boat.
He didn’t want to go back inside.
For the last hour he’d felt alive again, free. The grief that had been the wallpaper of his life since his father’s death had evaporated briefly, but now it was back again, slamming into his chest with such force he had to draw in a breath.
Ruby smiled at him, a sweet, beguiling smile, but he found he couldn’t return it. Shutters were clanging up fast inside him, like those in a bank when the panic button had been pressed, and by the time he climbed out of the boat and headed inside no chink remained.
Each step up the staircase made him feel heavier, as if gravity were increasing.
‘Max?’ Ruby said as they reached the top, her eyes clouded with worry. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t anything to do with her, that she was the only bright spot in his life at the moment, but the words didn’t even make it up his throat, let alone out of his mouth.
He did what he could: he reached for her hand, caught it in his and wove his fingers into hers the way he’d done back on the boat just before he’d kissed her.
He saw relief flood her features and the smile came back. Sweeter this time, softer. What he wouldn’t give to just lose himself in that smile.
‘You have returned?’ His mother’s voice came from inside the salon.
Ruby jumped and slid her fingers from his before his mother appeared in the doorway. His skin felt cold where hers had just been.
‘Why don’t you come and have a coffee with me and tell me all about it?’
His mother looked hopefully at him, and Ruby joined her.
His head started to swirl—with the memories that had assaulted him earlier, with the conversation he’d had with Ruby out on the lagoon. He knew he should try with his mother, knew he should at least let her share her side of the story, that going in for coffee now would be a tiny and harmless step in that direction, but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move.
‘Max?’ Ruby said, her smile disappearing, her brow creasing.
He felt as if he were made of concrete. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice a little hoarse, ‘but I need to make up the time I took away from my work.’
Ruby’s face fell. His mother just stared at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, and strode off in the direction of the library.
* * *
Ruby and Fina watched Max go. When the library door had shut behind him, Fina sighed and turned back into the salon.
‘I don’t blame him, you know,’ she said as she walked to the coffee table and poured espresso into delicate cups. ‘When things were at their worst between me and Geoffrey, I didn’t behave well. He probably has many memories that make it easy for him to hate me.’
Ruby wanted to reach out to her, put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ she said softly.
Fina shook her head. ‘I loved that man, even though he was just as pig-headed as his son.’ Fina sighed. ‘I could have handled that. It was the fact he locked himself away...here.’ She thumped her chest with her palm then looked Ruby right in the eye. ‘I grew tired of hungering for something I thought he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—give me.’
Fina didn’t pick up her coffee cup, but walked over to the windows and stared out. Ruby couldn’t tell if she was focusing on the moon beyond or her reflection in the glass.
‘I had glimpses of the man underneath,’ she said. ‘Foolishly, I thought that once we were married the process of slowly unravelling all that bound him would start. I tugged, pulled at threads, but I could never find the right place to begin.’
Ruby swallowed. She knew all about glimpses. Knew all about how tantalising they could be.
‘In the end I used to do anything I could to provoke emotion from him. Anger was the easiest. I told myself that if I could make him feel something it proved he still cared.’ She shook her head and looked at Ruby. ‘I pushed him and pushed him. Doing things, saying things, I shouldn’t have. And each time I had to try harder, do more. I must have seemed like a monster to my son, but really I was just...’ She paused, struggling for the right word.
‘Desperate?’ Ruby finished for her.
Fina gave her a grateful look. ‘Yes.’ She looked back at her reflection in the window. ‘And in the end I succeeded. I pushed him to the ultimate limit.’
Ruby held her breath for a moment. ‘What did you do?’
Fina blinked. ‘I left him.’
Ruby stepped closer.
‘It broke him,’ Fina continued, her tone taking on a ragged quality. ‘I finally had my proof. But I could never go back. I’d done too much damage.’
Ruby didn’t know what to say, which was just as well, because if she’d tried to speak, tears would have coursed down her face. She just nodded, letting Fina know she was listening.
‘It’s my fault Massimo is the way he is,’ Fina added softly, ‘so I cannot be angry with him. I just don’t want him to harden himself further, end up like his father.’ She paused a moment and heaved in a breath. Ruby sensed she was trying not to lose composure completely. ‘I shouldn’t have left him behind, bu
t I thought I was doing the right thing. He had his school...and Geoffrey adored him. I couldn’t rob him of his son, too.’
‘Of course you couldn’t,’ Ruby said.
Fina suddenly turned to face her, grabbed her hands and leaned in. ‘Be careful when you fall in love,’ she said hoarsely. ‘It is a curse to love something so much, believe it is in easy reach, and then discover it will always be kept beneath lock and key.’ Fina sighed dramatically and dropped her hands.
Ruby nodded and then stepped away, walked back to the table and picked up her espresso. She finished it quickly, even though it felt like gravel going down.
‘I’d better check on Sofia,’ she mumbled, then fled from the room.
Fina knew. Ruby didn’t know how. Maybe she’d worked out that Ruby’s dishevelled appearance after the boat ride had been down to more than a brisk twilight wind, but she knew. And she was warning Ruby off.
* * *
The morning was clear and bright. A light mist hovered over the lagoon and the Damiani family boat carved through it at speed as it headed away from the city and out into the open water. Max stood at the wheel, breeze lifting his hair, and concentrated on pinpointing their location. It had been a long time since he’d visited this place and he knew if he didn’t pay attention that he’d miss it altogether.
‘Where go?’ Sofia piped up from the back of the boat.
He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a smile. Sofia was snuggled up between Ruby and his mother and all three of them were surrounded by a jumble of beach equipment—an umbrella, a picnic basket, various bags containing sunscreen and towels and changes of clothes.
He deliberately didn’t catch Ruby’s eye. Mainly because he was only just hanging on to the last bit of his control. The urge to touch her every time he saw her was quickly becoming overpowering—and had led to a few interesting stolen moments over the few days since their sunset trip. She was like a drug. The more he had, the more he wanted. Needed.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to behave. His mother and his not quite three-year-old niece were also in the boat; that should help somewhat. And it did. Just about.
‘We’re going to the beach,’ he told Sofia and turned back round to concentrate on where he was going. A few moments later he slowed the motor and peered around, first at the water directly in front of the boat and then at the horizon, checking the location of various landmarks on the coast.
This was it. He was sure it was. He cut the motor and let down the small anchor.
‘Want beach,’ Sofia said, most determinedly, and Max threw her another smile.
‘We’re here.’
Ruby frowned at him. ‘Don’t tease her. She doesn’t understand.’
‘I’m not teasing,’ he said. She was even adorable when she was cross with him, which was just as well, really, seeing as he was rather good at getting her in that state. He turned his attention to Sofia.
‘This is a magic beach. You just wait and see.’ And he stuck his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled loudly. ‘That’s what gets the magic started,’ he explained.
His mother just patted the child’s hand and looked back at him with soulful eyes. This place had always been special to him, a highlight of their family holidays each year, and he knew she was experiencing the same rush of memories that he was. He’d thought it would help, bring them a sense of connection, but he managed to return her gaze for a second or so before he looked away.
He didn’t have many memories of his father in Venice, especially as he’d often worked through the long summer holidays and had only joined them for snatched days and weekends, but this had been one of his favourite places. He’d been charmed by the sheer contrariness of it.
The tide had caused the boat to swing on its anchor slightly, just as he’d planned, and now he gave Sofia a salute, kicked off his shoes and jumped overboard.
‘No!’ screamed Ruby and stood up, but then she sat back down again with a plop when she realised he was standing and the water was only lapping round his calves. Sofia ran over to the edge of the boat and peered over the edge.
Ruby gave him an exasperated look and mouthed an insult that wasn’t fit for Sofia’s ears. He grinned back at her. Some primal part of him was stupidly pleased she’d been worried for him. She shook her head and smiled, rolling her eyes.
He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything but stand here, the water turning his toes pruney, and look at her. It was the kind of thing he’d mocked his friends for doing when they’d met someone special, and had never, ever expected to fall prey to himself. He had to force himself to look away.
‘Told you it was magic,’ he said, and lifted Sofia out of the boat, lifejacket and all, and put her down beside him, careful to keep a grip on her hand. Sofia squealed, at first from the surprise of the cold water, but then from delight. He walked along a short length of the hidden sandbank just under the water then back to the boat.
‘It’s all very well having a magic beach,’ Ruby said, trying to maintain an air of superiority and failing, ‘but what good is it if it stays underwater?’
‘You just wait and see. Coming in?’
Ruby nodded, and began stripping off her skirt to reveal shapely legs and the bottom half of her swimming costume. His mouth dried. He turned to his mother and raised an eyebrow.
‘Don’t be an idiot, Massimo. I’m far too old to be wading about in the lagoon. You just carry on and I’ll enjoy the sun in the boat for a while.’
He nodded and held out his hand to Ruby so she could steady herself getting out of the boat. Once she was in the shallow water, they placed themselves either side of Sofia and went exploring. The remains of what once might have been an island was tiny, maybe only thirty metres by ten, but as they splashed around in the shallows, swinging Sofia between them, the tide crept away and revealed a perfect golden sandbank.
Sofia stood on the damp sand and stared at the grains beneath her feet. ‘Magic,’ she whispered. ‘How do, Unc Max?’
He crouched down beside her. ‘I whistled and it came.’
Sofia jammed all five fingers of her left hand in her mouth and puffed. ‘No work,’ she said, after she’d pulled them out again.
‘That’s because learning to whistle takes practice,’ he told her. ‘You have to do it again and again until you’re good at it. When you’re older, you’ll be able to call the island, too. Everyone in our family can.’ In the meantime, he showed her the basics—how to pucker her lips, how to blow gently. Sofia didn’t manage to produce more than a raspy sound, but she seemed quite happy trying.
He looked up at Ruby. ‘Can you whistle?’
She smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘Not like you. In comparison my efforts seem pathetic.’
Max stood up, still holding Sofia’s hand. The patch of sand was growing now, the almost imperceptible tilt of the land helping the tide to recede rapidly. ‘Let’s all whistle together, and perhaps the rest of the island will come.’
So they stood solemnly in a row, faced the lagoon, and blew, his whistle loud and long, Ruby’s slightly throaty, with a unique little trill at the end, and Sofia’s determined puffing filling out their little orchestra.
It was strange. He’d found it hard to be at the island again at first, but bringing Ruby here was changing that. Somehow she soothed the dark voices in his head away, made him believe he could be free of them one day.
When they’d finished they headed back to the boat and began unloading their beach stuff. He set up the umbrella and spread the blanket while Ruby held on to Sofia. Fina directed from the bow of the boat, and only when it was all set up to her liking did she consent to let him pull the boat closer so she could step onto dry sand.
They ate their lunch under the umbrella, a simple affair of meats and cheeses, bread and olives, and when they’d fi
nished Ruby grabbed a towel, headed out from under the shade of the umbrella and laid it on the sand. She unbuttoned her white, Fifties-style blouse and shrugged it off, to reveal a matching swimsuit.
Not matching in colour, because it was a deep ruby red with large black roses all over it, but matching in style. It was one of those weird things he’d seen in old-fashion photos, with a wide halter-neck strap, a ruched front and a leg line that was low, completely covering her bottom and reaching to the tops of her thighs. It should have been unflattering, and on many women it would have looked like a Halloween costume, but on Ruby it looked sensational. She reminded him of those sirens with the rosy cheeks, red lips and long legs that he’d seen painted on the side of wartime planes.
‘I didn’t think you’d remember the whistle,’ his mother muttered beside him, her eyes a little misty.
His first reaction was to bristle, to bat the comment away and pretend he hadn’t heard it. Of course he’d remembered. It had been his father’s trick to call the island that way. For a man who’d had a hard time expressing his emotions, he’d been unusually imaginative. It had made him a good architect, but it had made him an even better father, softening the gruff edges.
He turned and watched Ruby as she finished getting her towel just so, then lay down on top of it to face the sun.
He thought about her willingness to try and try again, even when things didn’t go according to plan. She never gave up, never locked herself away from new experiences. Never locked herself away from hope that it would all turn out right one day. She wasn’t weak and flaky, as he’d thought her. She was strong. Resilient.
And she was right. He needed to try with his mother. Not just for the sake of his family, but because he wanted to be the kind of man who was worthy of Ruby Lange. The kind of man who knew how to do more than just ‘ankle deep’. That was what she needed, and that was what he wanted to give her.
His mother was staring out to sea, and had obviously given up on him giving her an answer. For the first time he saw it—what Ruby had been trying to tell him about—the deep pain behind her eyes. The same kind of desolation he’d seen his father wear in unguarded moments, the same one that had eaten away at him, until it had sucked the life right out of him.
