“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m everything you called me and more, but that girl doesn’t have a selfish atom in her entire body. What’s happening to her isn’t fair.”
“It’s awful.”
“I’m going to find her a kidney if it ends up taking all my money to do it.” That was what he intended to tell Dr. Arno when they talked. Clara’s doctor still hadn’t called him, which meant he hadn’t returned from his vacation yet. “Her chances of a long life will be vastly increased if one is found soon.”
“Then you have to make it happen! You’re known for doing the impossible.”
“Is that right?”
She smiled. “You know it’s true.”
“Let’s hope this time it is,” he ground out. “I’m going to ask the clinician to start training me how to do her dialysis so she can have it at home when we are married. Right now I’m going upstairs to tell Papa I’m getting married.”
“He’s always wanted you back home. Your news is going to make him happier than you know.”
“Happy enough to attend the ceremony with you?” Valentino knew otherwise, but that wasn’t important right now. He’d promised Clara he would try to get along with his father. “I’m not sure he’s well enough.”
“Papa wouldn’t miss it. Do you want me to phone Cristiano?”
In the past he’d always let Isabella do everything, but no longer. This was something Valentino had to do himself, though he dreaded it.
“I’ll call him,” he murmured. “Except for Clara’s immediate family, no one else is invited. I don’t want Aunt Lisa or our cousins to get wind of it. This has to be kept so quiet the media won’t have any idea of it until long after the fact. I’ll do anything to prevent the press from intruding on Clara’s private agony.”
“I understand.”
He breathed in deeply. “Once we’ve said our vows, we’ll drive straight to the villa. Fortunately with the church so close, it’ll be a quick trip for her.”
She put a hand on his arm. “No celebration?”
“Only if Clara is up to it after we’re home. I’m leaving that decision to Signora Rossetti.”
“You can count on me for any help.”
“I know that.” His dark brows furrowed. “Too bad you were let down in the younger brother department. From now on I’ll try to do better, Izzy.”
As he gave her a hug his father entered the empty dining room with his walker.
“What’s going on?”
Valentino intercepted Isabella’s glance before they moved toward him. “I was just on my way upstairs to talk to you.”
“Giorgio told me you were in here. I decided I’d better find you before you ran out again.”
“Let’s sit down, Papa.”
Isabella patted their father’s arm. “I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t need to sit. You did an excellent job on the inventory, by the way.”
Incredible. “You’re the one who taught me.”
They eyed each other cautiously. For the first time in his life Valentino got the impression his father seemed nervous of him. He thought back to what Clara had told him about Luca being terrified Valentino would leave town at the first sign of trouble.
His father squinted at him. “You said you had something to tell me?”
“Wouldn’t you rather sit? This could take a few minutes.”
“All right.” He moved the walker to the nearest table and planted himself on a chair. Valentino sat opposite him.
“I’ve been doing some research to help bring in more business. It’s just an idea, but it might be worth investigating.”
“I’m listening.”
Valentino presented his ideas about the Web site and attracting the tour-bus crowd. When he’d finished his explanation his father pursed his lips. “That’s what you and Isabella were hugging about?”
The question wasn’t the response Valentino sought. He couldn’t tell what his father was thinking, but at least he hadn’t rejected the suggestions out of hand. “No. I was saving my other news until last.”
“Go on.”
“I’ve been seeing Clara Rossetti since I’ve been home. She has agreed to be my wife. We’re getting married on Saturday at the church and we’ll be living here in Monta Correnti. I would like it very much if you could be there.” Despite all grievances, he discovered it was true. “However, I know you’re not well,” he added to give him an out.
His father stared at him for a long time. “She’s a fine girl.”
“I agree,” Valentino said in a husky voice. I’m in love with her. He’d always been in love with her, but he hadn’t known until he’d seen her lying there in the clinic and realized she could be taken from him.
“What do you think?” Clara came out of the dressing room wearing a simple white A-line silk gown with a scooped neck and long lace sleeves that covered her graft.
Her mother, bedecked in the pale blue dress she wore to Mass, let out a sound of approval. The tears were never far away. “We bought the right one. You look like a princess.”
For once in her life Clara felt like one. It didn’t seem possible when just last week she hadn’t thought she’d live long enough to see this day. And certainly not with Valentino! How many times in her secret fantasies had she imagined him coming home to Monta Correnti because deep inside he’d always loved her and wanted her for his bride?
When she’d lost all her weight, she’d done it with him in mind. More than anything in the world Clara had wanted to be the beautiful woman on the cover of the magazine standing next to him.
That first day on the stairs when he’d called her Clarissima and told her she was a remarkably beautiful woman, she’d known he’d meant it. She’d seen it in his eyes, in the tone of his voice. It was the look she’d always hoped to see. Today Clara knew a joy so powerful it was already draining her.
Her family had insisted she stay in bed this morning. For once she didn’t fight them. They brought her breakfast and lunch. While Bianca did Clara’s nails, her mother washed and combed her hair. They wouldn’t let her get up until it was time to drive to one of the local bridal shops in Monta Correnti.
Bianca, also in her Sunday best, carried the shoulder-length, matching lace mantilla Clara would put on right before the ceremony. She kissed her cheek. “The gown is perfect on you. I wish all the relatives could come to the church to see you.”
“So do I,” her mother said with a sigh, “but we’ll just have to take pictures for them to see later. Valentino was right about doing everything possible to keep the paparazzi away. So far no one knows anything.”
“Except the saleswoman,” Clara reminded her.
“Ah—but she has no idea who’s going to be your husband.”
“And he’s going to be upset if we don’t get her to the church right now!” Bianca put her arm through Clara’s good one. “We need to hurry out to the truck. Papa is waiting.”
The three of them made their way to the outside of the shop. Their mother got in the truck first with a bag holding Clara’s regular clothes. Bianca helped Clara in next, taking care with her wedding dress, then she got in Tomaso’s truck with the children. Silvio had muttered something about meeting them at the church.
Clara’s father drove the truck through the town and they followed the winding road up the hillside to the lovely seventeenth-century baroque church of San Giovanni where their family had been attending for generations.
The air was warmer than the day Valentino had driven her to Gaeta. She couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful wedding day. While the others were brimming over with excitement—Silvio being the exception—a calm had descended over Clara.
This was a surreal moment for her. Within the hour she would be Signora Casali, a role many women had coveted. She wasn’t naïve. Clara understood exactly the unique place she held in Valentino’s psyche. She knew what marriage to him meant, and what it didn’t mean.
No one wanted to live a l
ong life more than she did. If it wasn’t her destiny, then Valentino would be given his freedom soon, but it would be with the knowledge that he’d done everything in his power to keep her alive. She’d witnessed that desire yesterday when Serena had spent the four hours teaching him how to administer Clara’s dialysis.
His intelligence allowed him to absorb directions quickly. Valentino was at his best when faced with a challenge. Over the last few days she’d watched him take on this new job of health-care giver with a seriousness and dedication that touched her heart.
That plus his assurance that he was working on his relationship with his father meant more to her than he would ever know. For Luca and him to find peace would guarantee they had a happier marriage. She wanted that with every fiber of her being!
When the end came for her, she had every confidence there’d be no demons to torture him the way they had after his mother had died. In the meantime she planned to devote the time she had left to supporting him around his family and making him as happy as her sickness would allow.
Already she was tired, but that was because this was a day like no other. With so many emotions running rampant inside her, she felt more drained than usual and prayed she’d make it through the ceremony before she wilted.
Her father drove them around the back of the church and pulled to a stop in front of a door used only by the clergy. Tomaso followed in his truck. After the women and children got out, Bianca draped the mantilla over Clara’s head. The oohs and ah-h-hs coming from everyone made her smile.
By now her other married brothers, Dante and Cesare, and their families had arrived, bringing her grandmother. She was thankful Tomaso was taking pictures so this day would be preserved.
Father Bruno opened the door and ushered them inside. The younger priest had a serious nature so different from Father Orsini’s. Clara got the feeling he didn’t approve of this clandestine marriage about to be performed behind doors locked to the public for the next half-hour.
“There you are,” Valentino murmured, suddenly appearing in the hallway behind the chapel. He mesmerized everyone as he moved swiftly toward her.
A white rose had been tucked into the lapel of his formal dove-gray suit. Beneath the jacket he wore a darker gray vest. The clothes fit his powerful frame like a glove. In the dazzling white shirt and silk jacquard tie of silver and gray, he could easily have been taken for some important Italian prince. He looked so handsome, her legs almost buckled.
“I can’t find the words for how lovely you are,” he whispered as his dark, searching eyes played over her face and figure. With that compliment she almost sank to the floor in a puddle, bringing to mind her mother’s comment about her wedding dress being too big for Clara.
Valentino seemed to have invisible radar because he put his arm around her waist for support and led her the rest of the way into the chapel. His dark-haired sister Isabella stood nearby.
“Clara? You look beautiful,” Isabella said softly and handed her a bouquet of white roses.
“Thank you for coming and for these. The flowers are gorgeous.” She buried her face in the petals to hide her emotions while she inhaled their sweet scent.
Next to her sat an imposing Luca Casali with his cane. He’d dressed in a midnight-blue suit for the occasion and looked very distinguished. Valentino helped his father to his feet. The older man patted his son’s arm before turning to Clara.
“Welcome to the family,” he said in a voice of surprising emotion and gave her a kiss on both cheeks.
“I’m so glad you were well enough to make it,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t have missed it and couldn’t be more pleased with my son’s choice. You were always the best influence on him,” he confided sotto voce.
“That’s very kind of you to say.” He’d sounded as if he meant it. Just then her gaze met Valentino’s. Her husband-to-be looked happier than she’d seen him in days. Thank you for coming, Luca. You have no idea what it means to your son and to me.
She wished she could say the same for her twin brother, who sat a few feet away with Maria and the children, unable to pretend something he didn’t feel.
While both families greeted each other, Silvio stayed put and only stood up when Father Orsini entered the chapel from a side door. The priest nodded to everyone. “If you will all be seated, I’ll ask Valentino and Clara to come and stand in front of me.”
Valentino clasped her left hand and drew her toward the priest who’d been their spiritual mentor for the whole of their lives, but the broad smile he’d always had for them was missing. In its place he wore a solemn expression, as if he no longer saw them as children. His wise black eyes seemed to say it was time to put childish things aside for the real test of life.
Father Orsini knew this wasn’t a normal marriage between two young lovers desperate to belong to each other. He was a realist who, though he hoped and prayed for the very best for them, had to consider there would probably be dark days ahead in the near future.
“Clara and Valentino? Normally we would celebrate Mass first, but, considering the unique circumstances, I’m going to marry you now. This will in no way make your marriage less sacred.”
She could have kissed the priest for his understanding, but she realized it was Valentino who’d prevailed on Father Orsini to keep the ceremony brief.
The older man cleared his throat. “I have one piece of advice for both of you. Strive to lose yourselves in making the other one happy, then you cannot fail.”
Since Clara had already determined to do her part no matter what, it wouldn’t be hard to take his advice.
“I see Valentino has already taken you by the hand, Clara. If you’ll repeat after me.”
Within a few minutes they’d both pledged to love, honor and sacrifice for each other, in sickness and in health. Maybe Valentino didn’t realize it—or maybe because he did—his fingers tightened hard around hers when the priest said, ‘As long as you both shall live.’
“You wish to exchange rings?”
“Sì, Father.”
Clara couldn’t repress a slight gasp as he produced a gold ring with a brilliant light green stone. He slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly.
She in turn waited for Bianca to hand her their grandfather’s ring so she could slip it on Valentino’s finger. Yesterday morning her grandmother had insisted she take it to give to her intended. It was one of those precious moments in life Clara would always treasure.
Father Orsini nodded. “I now pronounce you, Clara Rossetti, and you, Valentino Casali, husband and wife. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”
“Amen.” Valentino’s deep male voice resonated throughout the chapel. Before she could think, he slid his hands to her shoulders and his mouth descended on hers, sending a river of heat through her already weakened body. It wasn’t like the warm kiss he’d given her in front of the farmhouse the other night. With this one she felt unmistakable desire arc through her.
Until now she’d had the impression she was in a strange and beautiful dream, but no longer. All of a sudden this man who’d just become her husband felt so alive and real, she was shaken by powerful new sensations. She broke off their kiss and eased away from him in confusion.
“Are you all right, piccola?” She could hear the concern in his voice.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. The ceremony has exhausted you. Go with your parents. We’ll meet at the villa in a few minutes as planned.” They’d agreed it would be better if they weren’t seen together leaving the church. Soon enough the world would learn Valentino Casali, the world’s most exciting, desirable bachelor, had married a little nobody from a town few had ever heard of.
Clara gave a slight nod. Without looking at him she started for the door where they’d come in a little while ago. She was the first down the passageway and out the back of the church, clutching her bouquet in her hand. Everyone hurried after her and rushe
d to the trucks parked a few feet away.
Once they were in the cab, her mother cried in alarm, “You look like you’re going to faint.”
“I’m all right, Mamma.”
“We’re almost to the villa,” her father muttered. “Then you will lie down and have a good rest.”
Wrong. Valentino had brought her senses alive. For once in her life, rest wouldn’t cure what was wrong with her.
His home was a small, ochre-colored palazzo perched on a summit of vegetation in flower. All the Di Rossi family’s royal properties had been built in the prime locations of the region. Any local could point them out, but you couldn’t get inside the grounds without passing through the gate.
Valentino had already given her father a remote and directions to the private road leading up to it. Clara’s family was still in awe that she would be living in this one with him. For her the only important thing was that she would be an intimate part of his life from now on. The setting was immaterial but lovely as they pulled up to the front with its profusion of flowers and ornamental trees.
Somehow her brand-new husband had beaten them here. He came out the tall paneled doors and pulled her from the truck into his arms.
“Tino—what are you doing?”
He flashed her that devilish smile she remembered from so long ago. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured against her tender neck.
Once he’d swept her over the threshold, she glanced around her in astonishment. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
From the elegant foyer to the salon, fresh flowers in every shade possible had been arranged around the period furniture. Flowers reflected in the gilt mirrors, creating the illusion of a wonderful garden.
“You love nature so much, I wanted to bring it inside for our special day.”
She was overcome. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Do you need to go to bed, piccola?”
“Not until later.” Not after everything you’ve done to make me happy. “Please put me down.”
Miracle for the Girl Next Door Page 10
