Miracle for the Girl Next Door

by Rebecca Winters

  “Uh oh. Anyone I know?”

  “No. It’s a close friend of mine.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Give me a few particulars.”

  Once Valentino had unloaded about Clara, the doctor told him what he could. “Those treatments take between four and five hours. Afterward she’ll be weak and need rest. Sometimes the patient suffers a sudden loss in blood pressure or gets muscle cramps. One or all of those reasons was why she’d been in a hurry to get on the bus the other day.”

  “Of course.” Valentino had read all the signs wrong. She’d run from him because she wasn’t well, and because she had her pride. The Rossettis possessed that in abundance. Clara wouldn’t even let her family drive her to the clinic and back.

  “Depending on her individual health, she probably needs to eat more animal protein. If necessary she might have to cut milk, cheese, salt and soft drinks. She’ll do better on the day after each dialysis treatment. That explains her ability to work at her family’s fruit stand.”

  “How long can she go on like this?”

  “Most patients live longer on dialysis these days, but her End Stage Renal Disorder might be more severe. Perhaps she’s been diagnosed with anemia. There could be other problems, too, like bone disease, nerve damage or high blood pressure. These are complications you’ll have to discuss with her specialist. Naturally the most desired thing would be to find a compatible donor for a transplant as soon as possible.”

  He closed his eyes tightly. Dr. Arno couldn’t call him back fast enough. In the meantime, Valentino intended to be there for her in every conceivable way.

  “Thank you, Dr. Rimbaud. What you’ve told me helps a lot.”

  “Call me anytime.”

  As soon as he hung up, he phoned for a taxi to take him to the local market. Once there he did some shopping, satisfied that the paparazzi would be looking in vain for his Ferrari. Until further notice it would stay in the garage. He would wait outside the doors to the clinic in the taxi until she emerged, then offer her a ride home.

  “Signore?” the chauffeur called to him. “We’ve arrived.”

  “So we have.”

  He instructed him to wait in the loading zone. His pulse picked up speed when he finally saw Clara start out the clinic doors. She looked good, not as pale as she’d been last evening. He stepped out of the taxi into her path so she had to stop.

  “How come you keep following me?” he baited her gently.

  She lifted her beautiful head so he could see the green flecks in her eyes.

  “Tino—” she cried in shock, but her eyes lit up. This was a bonus he hadn’t expected after barging in on her treatment.

  “Come on. I’ve brought cold fruit juice and a chicken sandwich for you. You can eat it on the way back to the farm.”

  He could tell she wanted to argue with him, but she didn’t have the kind of strength she needed for that. “Where’s the Ferrari?” she asked as he helped her into the backseat.

  After he gave the driver directions, he handed her a sandwich and a drink before sitting back to answer her question. “It’s out of sight for a variety of reasons.”

  “That will drive the paparazzi crazy.” She took several bites of her sandwich. “I have to admit this tastes delicious. You’re spoiling me with good food again.”

  He’d bought himself a fruit drink and drained most of it. “I wonder how many hundreds of times you shared your lunch with me at school because I was too busy doing some project to stop and eat. Your mother made the best lunches in Monta Correnti.”

  A trace of a smile hovered on her lips as she continued to eat. “Our family carried around the excess pounds to prove it.”

  He flashed her a sweeping glance. “Not any longer.”

  She avoided his gaze and drank more juice.

  “Does your mother know she kept me alive with her cooking?”

  “I didn’t dare tell her.”

  Valentino chuckled. “You’re lucky you’ve had her in your life all these years. Do you want to know a secret?”

  Clara’s head turned in his direction. She’d finished the last of her sandwich. He was thankful she’d had an appetite. “What is it?”

  “I was jealous you had a mother who fussed over you every day. You and Bianca always seemed so happy. You didn’t know it, but having two parents who were alive and loved you gave you a confidence I would have given anything to feel.”

  Her expression sobered. “I understand that now, but you did have Luca.”

  “Yes, and he indulged me without limits.”

  “That was only natural. After your mother died, he would have tried to play both roles. He loved you, Tino. I know he did. Otherwise his marriage to your mother wouldn’t have worked out.”

  “I guess he wanted her badly enough to include her excess baggage.”

  In a surprise gesture she covered his hand with her own and squeezed it gently. “I’m so sorry you’ve carried this pain with you all these years. I often sensed something was wrong, but you never opened up about it.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  Her head was bowed. “None of us is exempt from problems, but somehow we deal with them because we have no choice, right?”

  He marveled at her courage. “Sì.”

  She let go of his hand. “We’re almost to the farm.”

  Valentino told the driver to turn onto the private road where you could see the sign advertising produce at the Rossetti farm. He told him to follow it all the way in to the farmhouse and pull to a stop.

  The minute the taxi slowed down, Clara had the door open. He knew better than to ask her to stay with him and talk. She was probably craving her bed.

  “Thank you for the food and the ride, Tino. You saved my life today.”

  Would that were possible.

  “I always enjoy being with you.”

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Where are you going now?”

  “Home to work on the Web site.”

  “What did your father say about your ideas?”

  “I’ve decided to wait until I have all the facts at hand, then present them in one go and see how he reacts.”

  “I think you’ll be surprised how accepting he is of your ideas.”

  “We’ll see. Your optimism gives me hope.”

  “That’s good,” came her fervent reply.

  He leaned toward her. “I’m going to come by for you in the truck after you’re off work tomorrow.”

  Clara felt her pulse race. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I thought we’d drive to Gaeta—we went there once, remember? We’ll enjoy a meal on the coast. It’s not too far. We’ll take it in stages. If you feel like sleeping on the way, you can.”

  He still wanted to be with her?

  “I’d love it!” she broke in. To go to the sea with him sounded divine.

  His mouth broke into a satisfied smile. “I’m happy to hear it. Get a good sleep. I’ll be by about three.”

  “All right. Ciao.”

  Clara entered the kitchen feeling more light-hearted than she’d been in days. Who else but Valentino would have pretended to be her fiancé so he could gain access to the treatment room? She’d noticed that none of the workers at the clinic were immune to his compelling personality and looks. He’d been the talk of the place. Serena had been totally won over.

  As for the taxi waiting for her, it might as well have been a golden coach whisking her away from the castle with her dashing prince while he fed her on the way. Because of his kindness, her body didn’t get a chance to feel depleted as it did when she had to walk down to the piazza and then wait for the bus.

  She’d been utterly shocked to see him outside the doors. And grateful… He could have no idea how wonderful it was to just get in the car and be waited on as if she were a princess.

  Though he’d told her earlier that he had no interest in knowing the identity of the man who’d had an affair with his mother, Clara couldn’t help but think his birthfathe
r must have been an extraordinary person with exceptional looks and drive. Otherwise Valentino wouldn’t have turned out to be such a brilliant entrepreneur and heartthrob.

  “What’s the great Valentino Casali doing bringing you home in a taxi?” Silvio had just walked in the kitchen. He wasn’t usually home this early.

  “He was thoughtful enough to give me a lift from town.”

  Her brother grimaced. “Did he think that by not bringing you in the Ferrari, the family wouldn’t notice?”

  “Why would he be concerned about that?” she asked, attempting to control her temper without much success. “If he didn’t choose to drive it, it was probably because he was tired of the paparazzi following him every second of his life.”

  “Why do you let him do it?” he demanded. “Don’t you get it?”

  “You can stop worrying. It hardly smacks of the kind of attention you’re talking about. I’m a dying woman.”

  “Don’t ever say that again!” he cried.

  “But I am dying, Silvio. You have to face it. We’re all going to die some time. I just happen to know that without a new kidney, it will happen to me sooner than later.”

  “How can you talk that way?”

  “How can I not? You’ve got to stop being angry about it. As things get worse, Mamma and Papa are going to need your strength, not your rage.”

  His eyes grew moist. “You’ve been so brave. If the almighty Casali had any idea what you’re dealing with now—”

  “Actually he does. In fact he sat with me in the clinic today while I was getting my treatment.”

  “I don’t believe it,” his voice shook. “You told him you have ESRD?”

  “No. We met in town before my appointment. After I said goodbye to him, he followed me to the clinic and pretended to be…a relative.” She caught herself in time. “He did that so he could get in to see me. At the end of the treatment he brought me home so I wouldn’t have to take the bus. He even brought food and drinks because he knew I needed it after dialysis.”

  Silvio looked dumbfounded.

  “Please let’s not argue over him. He’s been nothing but kind to me and now I’m tired.” She felt his eyes on her as she left the kitchen to go upstairs. All she wanted to do was go to bed and dream about tomorrow when he came for her.

  One more outing, then she’d tell him that, as much as she enjoyed his company, her illness was slowly draining her to the point that any social life had to end. She was hurtling through space toward a black void from which there could be no return. Where she was going, he couldn’t go.

  She knew Valentino well enough to know his compassion for her condition would prompt him to continue making himself available to her. She also knew herself well enough to know she would cling more and more to him because he was life to her.

  Clara couldn’t think of a worse scenario for a man whose freedom meant everything to him.

  On the way back to town, Valentino had to admit it was getting more difficult to drive away after they’d been together. When he thought about it, he’d never liked parting company with Clara. Until he heard from the doctor, he was going to be on tenterhooks.

  In the meantime he needed to keep so busy he wouldn’t be able to think. But he soon discovered that work was no panacea for his heartache. Nothing could take it away. It went so deep, he couldn’t find solace.

  Every time he thought about her pain and what she was facing, he was pierced to the quick. His agony drove him to get in his car. He started driving through the countryside with no destination in mind. While he was en route, the wildflowers seemed to flaunt their fragrance in the night air as if to impress upon him the delights Clara might not be able to enjoy much longer.

  Crazed by the thought that a life as sweet and innocent as hers could be coming to an end, he found himself headed for the church. Eventually he pulled up in front of the rectory. It was after nine p.m. when he levered himself from the car and was made instantly aware of the sound of crickets chirping. Tonight all his senses had come alive to nature, sending bittersweet pains through his body.

  He took the steep steps two at a time to gain the porch, not hesitating to tug on the bell pull. In a few minutes, a much younger priest he didn’t recognize opened the door.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m here on an emergency to see Father Orsini. Is he still awake?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Will you tell him it’s Valentino Casali? If he can see me, tell him I’ll be out here waiting for him.”

  The other man studied him for a brief moment. “Bene,” he said before shutting the door.

  Unable to remain still, Valentino walked to the wrought-iron railing and looked out over Monta Correnti. The lights of the town with its red-tiled roofs and centuries-old palazzos spilled over the undulating hills, creating a fairyland illusion. In the distance, the Rossetti farm made up part of the magical landscape.

  Would that what he’d learned at the clinic today were just a bad dream from which he’d awaken at any moment.

  “Valentino?” came a familiar voice. “Don’t tell me you’re here to confess ten years’ worth of sins?” He’d asked the question in a joking manner, but the ring of hope lingered in the night air.

  Consumed by a guilt so deep he’d never been able to talk about it, he turned to face the gray-haired priest who’d grown much more frail over the last decade. “Not tonight, Father. Otherwise you would never get to bed,” he teased. Their easy relationship stretched back to Valentino’s childhood.

  Father Orsini chuckled. The years hadn’t deprived him of a sense of humor, for which Valentino was thankful. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Then you’ll understand how pleased I was when Father Bruno told me Monta Correnti’s most legendary figure was outside waiting for me.”

  “Let’s not play games, Father. A legendary figure should at least connote someone worthy.” He shifted his weight. “Forgive me for calling on you so late, but this couldn’t wait.”

  “Evidently not. Let me put it another way. What’s troubling Luca Casali’s most famous son?”

  “Famous for what?” Valentino muttered in self-abnegation. “Certainly nothing that matters.” When the priest blinked in astonishment, Valentino added, “Did Luca or my mother ever take the opportunity to tell you I’m not his birth son?”

  “What is this?” Father Orsini cried out aghast.

  “I don’t blame you for being bewildered. Forget I asked.”

  “My son—”

  “It’s all right, Father. If you did know, you couldn’t reveal it anyway. He and Mamma told me the truth years ago. It was a good idea at the time considering I don’t look or behave anything like Isabella or Cristiano.”

  “Do your siblings know?”

  “You mean that my infamous qualities can be laid at my biological father’s feet?” he mocked. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. What I’m hoping is that you’ll be able to help me over another matter. It’s of life and death importance.”

  The priest cleared his throat. “If I can, but that places a great burden on me.”

  Valentino squinted at him. “I knew you’d say that, but I have nowhere else to turn.” He stared at the priest. “What do you know about Clara Rossetti?”

  In the quiet that followed, a sadness entered Father Orsini’s eyes and he pursed his lips, giving Valentino the answer. Fresh pain arced through him as surely as if he’d crashed on the track and the paramedics couldn’t separate his body from the wreckage.

  The compassionate priest put a hand on Valentino’s shoulder. “She doesn’t want to die and is fighting this with everything she has in her.”

  Valentino’s body trembled. “I know. I’ve been with her every day since I came home. She’s so courageous, I’m in awe of her.”

  “You two were very close growing up.”

  A sob got trapped in his throat. “Very. I don’t want her to die, Father.”

  “Of course you don’t. After being away
such a long time, this news must have come as a great shock.”

  Shock hardly covered it. Shame for his narcissistic lifestyle had seeped into his soul. Up to now Valentino had lived only for his own pleasures. He’d avoided marriage and children in order to pursue new adventures without suffering any more guilt than he already dragged around.

  In the process he’d pretty well abandoned his family, not to mention Clara. Valentino wasn’t only selfish, he was a coward unwilling to face certain unpalatable truths. After his aunt Lisa had leaked the latest family secret, his first instinct had been to run away and stay in denial. That had been his pattern over the years.

  That was the mortifying part. After spending time with him during their growing-up years, Clara had become so well acquainted with his self-focused obsessions, she’d written him off when he’d left in his late teens. And why not?

  What had he ever done for her?

  His hands curled into fists.

  Nothing! Not a damn thing!

  It strained his credulity that she’d given him the time of day since he’d been back. While he’d been off in his superficial world, angry at life while he tried to break barriers and set new bars, she had been battling for her life!

  Somewhere in his psyche Valentino had known there’d be a price to pay for always running away, for always taking without giving anything back. He just hadn’t expected it to come now, in this particular form. Clara, more than any other human being, had shown him unqualified friendship, but he hadn’t realized or understood until it was too late.

  “I can see you’re in pain, my son.”

  “I want to help her, but I don’t know where to begin.”

  “She could use a good friend.”

  Something he hadn’t been.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me?”

  Valentino shook his head. “No, grazie.” He had quite enough on his plate and had said more than he should already. Calling on the priest this late at night constituted a special act of selfishness all its own, the kind for which Valentino was famous.

  Luca’s “famous” son who really wasn’t his son. The negative connotation fit.

  “I’ve intruded on your time long enough. Thank you for seeing me, Father. Buona notte.” He started down the stairs.