by Diana Fraser
She shook her head and stepped away, rubbing her sleeve over her eyes. “I’ve never cried as much in my whole life, as I have since I met you.” She paced up to the window and looked out at the sun that was already dipping behind the buildings.
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“Good, bad, I don’t know. But it’s a thing all right.”
“Don’t worry about it. Crying is fine with me.”
“You see? You want some weak woman—a woman who cooks, who has babies, who cleans, and who cries. That’s not me.”
“I don’t want ‘a woman’ who does any specific list of things, at all. And I don’t want a weak woman; there’s nothing weak about crying.”
She twisted around. “Nothing weak about crying? You try telling my grandmother that! She kept a cane specially to punish signs of weakness.” Ursula sighed heavily, and looked up at the ceiling. “She had to use it a lot in the early days when I didn’t want to go to boarding school. And then, not so much. After a while boarding school became preferable. Being absent from my home, from my things, from my family, was a much better proposition.”
“Ursula, what the hell did they do to you?”
“They did what they thought they had to do to toughen me up, to make me fit into the real world. I learned early, and I don’t know if I can unlearn. I don’t know if I can be the woman you want me to be.”
He shook his head. “Don’t you understand, Ursula? I don’t want you to change. I just want you.”
Gripping the edge of the window sill, she looked out the window, and shook her head. “Please don’t, Demetrio. I’m so confused.”
He wanted to go to her, but she was trembling. He didn’t want to prop her up, to hold her, to cover the confusion and fear. That wouldn’t help her. “I know you are. I wish I could help, but I can’t. It’s up to you.”
“I came to Italy to escape everything. I wanted nothing to do with Christmas, nothing to do with families, with celebrations. I wanted to be alone. And instead…” She shook her head wearily, and Demetrio’s heart ached for this beautiful woman who had been so hurt that she had no idea what she felt anymore. And there was only one way to make her see beyond what had been so long entrenched in her personality, and it wasn’t by prolonging the agony. Tough love. Wasn’t that what it was called?
“Instead you found my family and me.” He picked up his wallet from the coffee table and thrust it into his back pocket. Then he picked up his phone, turned it on and put it in his other pocket. “I can’t do this anymore, Ursula. It’s nearly time anyway, so let’s leave for the airport now. You need to return to Sweden, and work out what it is you want because until you do, I don’t want you here.”
She looked up, and her eyes were full of hurt. “You said you loved me, but you don’t want me here?”
“No.” Every word he uttered which pushed her further away was breaking his heart, but he knew what she needed. And it wasn’t for him to make things easy for her. “You have to understand. My wife was a wonderful woman, and she was very dear to me. But—and I’ve never told this to anyone, although my mother suspected—I never loved her as she loved me. And I think that hurt me more than it did her. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you. You come to me if, and when, you know for sure.”
She nodded, and went toward her bags that were stacked by the door, her coat on top of them. They stood looking at each other. The despair was palpable, as was the need and longing. But there was nothing he could do to make it work. Only she could do that.
Suddenly the strident tone of the phone shattered the silence. As if awakening from a daze he answered it. “Hello!” Even as he spoke, his mind was full of Ursula, turning over the things he could say to her. Then he heard the hysterical tone in his sister’s voice, and he immediately focused. “Marianna? Calm down. What is it?”
As he listened, he felt Ursula’s touch on his shoulder. “What’s happened?” No doubt she could hear Marianna’s frantic voice.
He listened a few more minutes, calming Marianna as best he could. “You did the right thing. Don’t worry about Nonna. Leave it to me.”
“What’s happened?”
He slipped the phone into his pocket and grabbed his jersey and coat. “Accidenti! Damn! Marianna’s been trying to contact me, and I’ve only just turned on my phone. Car keys! Where the hell are the car keys?”
Ursula picked them up from behind a pot and handed them to him. “Can I help? Is it Nonna?”
“No, it’s Lorenzo. He’s had some kind of fit, and Marianna’s on her way to the hospital. She’s worried about leaving Carolina and Tomasso alone with Nonna because Papa has gone to see his sister in Siena and my mother isn’t well enough to look after the kids. I have to go to Abbadia. But… Marianna is so upset.”
“What about the neighbors?”
“Neighbors, Ursula? This is about family, not strangers.” He glanced around the kitchen, but Ursula had already switched off the oven and lights. Then she turned him around, to face the door.
“Demetrio, go straight to the hospital and meet Marianna there. She needs you.”
“But what about the kids? They’ll be upset. If Marianna was like that, then the kids will be worse, and my mother is too weak to cope.”
“I’ll go to Abbadia. I’ll look after them.”
“But… your flight?”
“There’ll be another one. And then another one after that. Go. Now.”
Demetrio took her head in his hands and kissed her fiercely on the lips. He walked backward a few steps, loathe to leave behind that vision of bee-stung lips and surprised, wide eyes. But he had to, so he strode over to the door. “The keys to the Land Rover are in the bowl. And a spare apartment key. Please, take them and lock up.”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Ursula stood by the window for a few minutes watching Demetrio tear off, heading toward the hospital where his sister would soon be arriving. Then she grabbed her suitcase and bag and, took one last look around the apartment where she’d found such happiness, and slammed the door.
There was a certain irony, she thought, as she headed out of Florence onto the motorway that would take her the two-hour journey to Abbadia. Half an hour ago, she’d been about to run away from emotional attachment, and now, instead, she was returning to its heart. Italy obviously hadn’t finished with her yet.
Chapter 9
Despite the time of day, the cars on the motorway had their headlights on because of the somber light. Ursula drove as fast as she dared in the unfamiliar car. As she drew closer to the mountains, freezing fog descended, and the lights from oncoming vehicles became diffuse, making visibility even more difficult, and reality seem even farther away. Ursula felt as if she were driving into a different world.
Demetrio rang periodically to see how she was progressing. Marianna had obviously driven like a woman possessed and was already at the hospital with Lorenzo, who was barely conscious with a high temperature and a rash over his little body. Ursula could hear Marianna crying in the background as Demetrio simultaneously comforted her while talking to Ursula.
Ursula knew how much his nephews and niece meant to Demetrio and she could hear the pain and fear in every syllable he uttered.
But Ursula was also struck by how Demetrio handled the stress of the situation. Unlike her last boyfriend, Demetrio was cool-headed and in control. When something had happened to her ex, he’d simply broken down. The man who could wheel and deal, who could broker multi-national agreements in corporate boardrooms, would become helpless if required to do anything practical, like take Ursula to hospital. But Demetrio’s strength showed itself—like steel, becoming stronger when tested in the heat. He was focused, in control, and capable. She knew Marianna was in the best hands. And, equally, she knew that Demetrio would keep her company while she navigated the unfamiliar roads, which they’d traversed only days before in the other direction.
By the time she drove into the farmyard, it
was dark. There were no outside lights on but inside, lights blazed at the windows, across which the curtains had only been roughly drawn. Of course, thought Ursula, Nonna wouldn’t be able to draw the curtains from the top, and the children hadn’t thought of it. She got out the Land Rover, slammed the door shut, and scrunched through the newly fallen snow toward the front door. Before she reached it, she heard shouts from inside, the door swung open wide, and Carolina and Tomasso came running through the snow in bare feet.
“Carolina! Tomasso! Inside straightaway, it’s too cold!”
“Where’s Mama?” demanded Tomasso.
“Where’s Mama and Lorenzo?” gulped Carolina, her tear-stained face, distraught with worry.
“She’s in hospital with Lorenzo making sure he’s okay. Now, come on, let’s get inside.” She ignored Carolina’s torrent of words, and Tomasso’s quietly spoken, insistent ones, and put her arms around them both and swept them into the hall.
“Orsula?” came a worried voice from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“Si, Nonna. I’m here.”
“Thank goodness,” said Nonna as Ursula entered the kitchen with the children. And Ursula thought she’d never forget the look of relief and welcome on the old lady’s face. She felt as if she were coming home.
* * *
The evening proved more arduous that she could ever imagine. Getting the children to calm down was bad enough, but Nonna was on the verge of collapse herself. It took all Ursula’s negotiation skills to get the children fed and settled by the fire—which she had to make with the help of disjointed instructions from a worried Nonna. Then she had to sit and try to calm the old lady, whose intense frustration at being confined to a wheelchair didn’t bring out the best in her. Things only really began to calm down after Demetrio’s phone call.
Lorenzo was out of danger. The doctor had confirmed that it wasn’t a case of meningitis as they’d feared, but a high temperature from a virus, combined with a food allergy. Now, it was a simple matter of waiting for the virus to run its course. Demetrio had wanted to know if she needed him there. But she’d insisted he stay with Marianna. She was fine.
She watched Nonna unload all her fears on Demetrio over the phone, and quieten as she listened to his reassuring responses. Demetrio seemed to carry the emotional burden for all the family, giving them the strength they needed to carry on. But what about him, Ursula wondered? How long could he continue to take it all on his shoulders, without refilling his reserves? With regret, she remembered the hurt in his eyes when she’d retreated from him. He was a strong man who’d opened himself up to her, and all she’d done was throw it in his face, because of her fears.
She only exchanged a few words with him over the phone. He’d wanted to know if she was okay; she was touched, but angry with herself at the same time. In addition to his fears about his nephew, he should ask how she was? She realized not just that Demetrio cared for her, but that she’d made herself appear weak in his eyes. And she wasn’t weak, was she? So many questions and only she could come up with the answers.
* * *
It was late afternoon the following day when Demetrio pulled up in front of the farmhouse. The outside light was on, and all the curtains were drawn closed against the cold. He turned off the engine and fell back against the seat for a few moments, suddenly aware of his exhaustion.
He’d been awake for thirty hours straight, not resting until his nephew was out of danger, and a bed had been found for Marianna beside her son. It had only been then that he’d allowed himself to leave them both and come to Abbadia. In addition to his worry about his nephew and Marianna, had been his concern for Ursula and how she was coping with his mother who, as dear as she was to him, wasn’t the easiest of people to handle. And then there was also Carolina and Tomasso.
The difference between his world and hers had been so pronounced in Florence that he was worried how Ursula would cope in his family home. She wasn’t used to the continuous demands of people on her time, energy, heart and mind. She was only used to looking after herself. Not that she was essentially selfish—he knew she wasn’t—but how she would cope with the children and his mother, he had no idea.
He swept his hand through his hair and got out the car. The sound of the door closing, disturbed the quiet of the afternoon. It was strangely quiet, he thought, as he walked through the undisturbed snow to the front door of the farmhouse and pushed it open. He shook his head. No one had thought to lock the door. He doubted whether his mother could have even produced a key for Ursula.
He closed the farmhouse door behind him and braced himself for whatever he might find. But the hallway was quiet. A soft toy lay in the middle of the floor, at the bottom of the stairs. He picked up the much-loved knitted rabbit and walked into the kitchen. A quick glance revealed the fire was still alight. Just. He was surprised. He knew his mother was no longer able to manipulate the damper. He wondered if his father had returned home, but there was no sign of his car in the yard. Ursula must have managed to damp it down the night before, because getting the fire going from nothing was a skill in itself.
On top of the stove, a pot of stew was keeping warm. He lifted it. Simple food, but the aroma made his mouth water. The lunch things had been washed up and were draining on the side. Nobody but Nonna would know where everything went. Even he didn’t. But a good attempt had been made, and most of the pots and pans had been hung up on the overhead rack where they belonged. The toy baskets were heaped up with children’s toys, and the table had only its usual pile of papers, and the hand woven basket Marianna had made at school, which contained buttons, pins, and coins.
Despite his hunger, Demetrio left the kitchen without touching the food and went first to his mother’s bedroom, knocked quietly and then entered. She appeared tiny in the large bed, which was topped with a quilt made from squares of material he remembered from various of his sisters’ and mother’s dresses over the years. He lingered there for a few moments, feeling the familiar stab of love and sadness that his mother was diminishing before his eyes. He closed the door quietly. The best thing his mother could do was to sleep while her grandson healed. When she awoke, he hoped he’d have even better news for her.
He walked along the landing to the children’s rooms. They were empty of people but full of toys. It looked like Carolina and Tomasso had run riot in their rooms, but at least the chaos had been contained. But where were they? They couldn’t have gone out, the Land Rover Ursula had used was still parked outside, now under several inches of snow.
Then he turned his steps toward Ursula’s room. He frowned as he heard a murmur of voices. He didn’t recognize any of them. What the hell?
The floorboards on the landing creaked as he hesitated outside. The door was slightly ajar, the voices were louder now and light spilled out onto the darkened landing. He knocked gently, his heart in his mouth. But there was no reply, only the constant murmur of voices.
He pushed the door open, and stopped and smiled at the sight before him. Ursula lay, fully clothed, on the bed. Unlike his parents’ Spartan bedroom, Marianna had made sure the guest bedroom was furnished with a collection of feather pillows, and a goose-down duvet that was as warm as it was light. Marianna must have also supplied the pure white linen. It wasn’t something his mother would have chosen. But it was exactly right for Ursula. Settled amongst the snowy-white linen, she lay fast asleep, with a child tucked under each arm. Books were strewn over the bed, with one having fallen over Ursula herself. As if worried she’d not be enough, there was also an audio book playing quietly in the background on her phone. The combination must have eventually sent them all to sleep.
Tomasso was neatly under the covers, curled under Ursula’s arm. Carolina was untidily draped, half over Ursula with her other arm dangling over the edge of the bed. She took up most of the bed. Demetrio had to swallow a chuckle.
So, he thought, this is the woman who’s too aloof to fit into our world?
He walked over to the
nightstand and picked up her phone and was about to turn off the book when a new text lit the screen.
He frowned, about to replace the phone unread. Then something caught his eye. It was only much later that he realized what it was that made him fail to replace the phone. It was the word “require.” Something inside him responded to that with anger. He glanced at the sleeping threesome and resolutely pressed the key that would reveal the whole message. That would be all he’d do, he told himself—just discover who it was who would dare to demand something of Ursula.
Ursula. You’re expected at dinner on the 19th. Don’t let me down. ETV will be there. A united family front is required.
He looked at Ursula and realized that, no matter how mature, how cool, how adult she appeared, she was still affected by a domineering mother who required Ursula to perform her part in her mother’s world.
His heart went out to her. She didn’t know it, but she’d just proved she could fit in and that she didn’t need the approbation of a mother who only wanted her for superficial reasons.
He kicked off his shoes, stripped off his sweater and gently climbed into the bed beside them. Only Carolina turned, plopped her arm over Demetrio’s chest, grinned sleepily and promptly fell back to sleep.
Demetrio felt that grin in the depths of his heart. He turned so he was facing Ursula, her profile illuminated by the light shining in from the landing. “Sweet dreams, Ursula,” he whispered, content just to be close to her and the children whom he adored.
* * *
It was dark when Ursula finally awoke. She sat up with a start as she remembered she was responsible for everyone in the house. Nonna would need help, the kids would need feeding, and Lorenzo? She turned to pick up her phone to see if she’d received any messages from Demetrio. She checked the time. It was six in the evening, and she suddenly realized she was unencumbered by children. She patted the dark bed. They’d gone. She turned on the light and cried out in surprise when she saw Demetrio lying on the other side of the bed, fast asleep.
