by ADAMS, J.
A short while later, Peter comes in to check for any changes. After examining her, he suggests that Adagio go home and get some rest. Adagio shakes his head, refusing to leave his wife. He wants to make sure he is there when she awakens, and he can't possibly sleep in their bed without her there beside him.
After some major coaxing, Peter convinces him to at least go home and change and get something to eat. He promises Adagio that he will stay with Cisely until he gets back, and he will call him if there is any change at all.
Sitting on the veranda steps, Mali rests her head against Phillip's shoulder. Neither of them had gotten much sleep and were up with the sunrise.
Mali is sick with regret. She feels responsible for the accident and had spent half the night futilely wishing she could turn back time and change what happened, as well as her part in it. She wishes she hadn’t run away. If she had stayed calm, Cisely would be home and safe. Each time she looks into Phillip’s grief-stricken eyes, her guilt is magnified. His mother should be home preparing breakfast, greeting everyone with her beautiful smile.
Phillip squeezes Mali's hand, sensing her thoughts. Blinking against threatening tears, his own thoughts travel to the hospital where his mother lies. He loves her so much, and the thought of possibly losing her is more than he can take. His thinks of his father and what he must be going through. Phillip has never seen two people more in love than his parents, and he knows this is tearing his father up inside. He’d cried and prayed through the night for them both, futilely wishing the accident never happened.
Still, even wading through the sadness and worry, he doesn't hold Mali at fault. He'd spent the entire night trying to convince her she isn't to blame. Sometimes things just happen. And witnessing her suffering breaks his heart. He cares for her more than he can say and wishes he could help her somehow. All he can do is be there for her and let her know he cares.
As Adagio walks through the veranda doors, Phillip jumps up and runs into his open arms. Pulling back, he anxiously looks at him. “How is Mama?”
Cupping his son's cheek, Adagio swallows hard. “She hasn't awakened yet.” His voice is strained, but he draws forth a smile. “But I think she will soon.”
“Do you really think so, Papa?”
“That is what I keep praying for.” He caresses Phillip's hair. “We have to have faith that she will be well.” He says this for himself as much as his son. He must force himself to think positively, otherwise, he will go out of his mind. Watching Cisely sleep through the night had taken a toll on him, but his prayers for her have never ceased because he can’t bear the thought of losing her.
“Uncle Adagio,” Mali says, slowly approaching him, “I’m so sorry.”
Smiling sadly, Adagio pulls her close, embracing them both. “There is nothing to be sorry about, Mali. You are not responsible. It just happened.”
“That’s what Phillip keeps saying,” she confesses, wiping her face. “But I can’t believe that.”
“You should listen to Phillip. He is the smart one in the family.” Giving his son a slow smile, Adagio's eyes mist over. “He takes after his mother.”
“I love you, Papa,” Phillip says tearfully.
“I love you, too, son. I love you as well,” Adagio says, returning his gaze to Mali.
Mali buries her face in his shirt and cries.
Keeping his arms around them, Adagio draws as much comfort as he gives. “Are you two going to be all right?”
“Yes, Papa,” Phillip answers, drawing strength from his father.
“I need to go shower and get back to your mother.” He kisses Mali’s forehead and places a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Anna is going to stay and take care of things, and Sadie will be by later. I need you to take care of Mali, all right?”
“Yes, Papa.”
Phillip's father takes his face in his hands and kisses his cheek before turning to go back into the house. Watching his retreating form, Phillip believes there isn’t a braver man in the world.
And I will be like him.
Ninety-two
Slowly awakening, I struggle to adjust my eyes to the dimly lit surroundings, but the throbbing pain accompanying the attempt makes it difficult to focus. The pain that reenters my body is a stark contrast to the sweet peace I'd felt only moments ago, and the memory of the experience fills my heart with warmth. Turning my head slightly, my eyes meet Adagio’s sleeping form leaning against the bed. He looks so exhausted and I can't begin to imagine what he has been through.
Oh, my love. Tears blur my vision as I gaze at his handsome face, and I want so badly to hold him. Ignoring the pain, I lift my uninjured hand and softly caress his hair, not able to resist touching him.
Feeling a gentle touch, Adagio awakens. When he raises his head and finds Cisely staring at him, tears immediately spill down his cheeks and emotion wells in his throat, rendering him unable to speak. Even if he could, there are no words–no way to describe what he feels looking into her beautiful eyes–eyes he hadn’t known if he would ever gaze into again in this life.
Cisely wipes his tears, caressing his face. “I told you I would never leave you.” Her voice is slightly hoarse.
Moving to the head of the bed, he presses his face into the pillow next to hers, unable to suppress the sobs that come. “Oh, angel, I thought I was going to lose you.” He rests his cheek against hers, relishing her warmth. “Thank you, God,” he whispers. He finally draws back and kisses her hand. “How are you feeling, amore?”
Cisely weakly pulls his hand, bringing him closer. “My head hurts and I’m achy, but I’m so happy to see you, none of that matters.”
“Oh, angel,” he says, kissing her hand again. “I was so afraid. I don't know what I would do if I lost you.”
Loosening a finger, I catch one of his tears. “Never, my love.” I close my eyes against the pain, knowing I need to request something for it, but right now I need him more. “Would you kiss me?”
Smiling through a steady stream of tears, Adagio softly touches his lips to mine. I long to be closer, and I sense him fighting the urge to hold me. His warm breath against my skin only makes my yearning increase. An emotional moan escapes me as his mouth molds to mine. His kiss is powerful and leaves me completely breathless. After a long moment, his mouth moves to my cheek.
“I love you,” he whispers against my skin.
“And I love you.”
He draws back slightly and we silently gaze at one
another. I take in every feature of his face–his handsome brow, his tousled hair, his full lips, and his beautiful, emotion-filled emerald eyes. I just need to look at him, to be lost in his beauty, his perfect masculinity.
Closing my eyes, I groan softly, losing the fight against the increasing pain. “Adagio, could you go and ask someone to bring me something for the pain?”
“I will go right away.” Adagio is only gone a moment and the nurse arrives right after he returns. She injects the pain medicine into my IV and within minutes, I begin to feel relief. I thank her before she leaves and she tells us the doctor is on his way. Adagio again takes my hand, moving as close to me as possible.
“How is Mali?” I ask softly. His smiling eyes are tinged with sadness. “She will be all right,” he assures me. “Don't worry. Just concentrate on getting well.”
I squeeze his hand. “Adagio, please tell me.” He heaves a resigned sigh. “She is not good, I am afraid. She blames herself for the accident.”
“She needs to understand it wasn’t her fault.” “I know, amore. I tried to assure her of that, but she has
grown used to being hard on herself. I don't understand it.” “I know, but I do,” I say with a yawn. “I need to tell you
about the conversation we had. Mali blames herself for things
she has no control over.” Yawning again, I gaze at him sleepily
as the medication kicks in. “I also need to tell you something
else. Some . . .” I pause, fighting the dr
owsiness.
“Don't try to tell me now, baby. It can wait.” He caresses
my face. “You need your rest. After all, we still have a trip to
Tuscany to plan.”
I smile sleepily. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back up and ready in
no . . . time.”
“I know, angel,” he says, kissing my brow.
“Are the children okay?”
“They are fine. Anna is with them. Don't worry.” “Okay.”
When Cisely's breathing becomes deep, Adagio assumes she has fallen asleep, but he is surprised when she opens her eyes slightly and squeezes his hand.
“Stay with me, my love.” Lifting her hand to his face, he kisses her palm, holding it against his mouth. “I will stay with you forever, baby,” he whispers. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Ninety-three
Phillip lay on his back with his hands clasp behind his head, trying futilely to fall asleep. His mind is completely focused on the room down the hall. Thoughts of Mali consume him and he can’t stop worrying about her. Not able to lie there any longer, he finally gets up. Pushing a hand back through his hair, he quietly makes his way down to the kitchen for a glass of milk, surprised to see the kitchen light on. He is even more surprised to find Mali sitting at the table with a glass of water. There is a distant look in her eyes as she stares at a painting on the wall.
“How are you?” he asks, sitting down beside her, placing his hand over hers.
“Okay, I guess,” she answers, looking down at their hands.
Phillip lifts her chin with his finger, looking into her eyes. He knows she isn’t okay, but he doesn’t know what to say to help. Her sadness affects him in ways he can’t explain and his heart aches for her. He has never felt so much pain for another person before.
As he continues to stare into her eyes, deep emotion fills him. Words that have hovered in the back of his young mind fight their way to the surface, bringing with them feelings so pure, yet so intense, his heart threatens to thump through his chest.
By the way Mali is staring at him, he can tell she feels the change. He hears her take a deep breath and watches her press a hand to her chest. Swallowing hard, he tightens his fingers around hers. “Mali . . . I need to tell you something, something important.”
When she says nothing, he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. His voice is soft. “I love you, Mali. I love you very much.” He watches her eyes widen and plunges ahead. “You are more special than you could ever know. And one day . . . when I am older, I will come for you, Mali, and make you my wife.”
Tears of disbelief blur Mali's vision. Never would she have dreamed of him saying these things to her. She is young, but she can’t deny the feelings his words stir in her heart. She has guy friends at home and in school, but she’s never felt as close to anyone as she does to Phillip. He treats her special. He makes her believe she matters. And he seems so much older than his years. She continues to stare at him through glistening eyes.
Phillip looks down at Mali's hands in his a moment before lifting his eyes to hers again. Not knowing what else to say, he swallows hard, then slowly leans forward and brushes his lips lightly over the corner of her mouth. The kiss is brief, yet it is as soft and gentle as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. He moves back, staring into her eyes intently. “I promise, I will come and find you. Please tell me you believe me.”
Lifting a hand to her lips, Mali slowly smiles as a tear trails down her face. Though his lips had only touched part of hers for a second, it is the first time she’s ever experienced something so amazing. And no matter how many summers she spends with him after this, this is the one she will remember forever. She squeezes his hand. “I believe you, Phillip.”
Ninety-four
Cisely begins to heal, her progress slow but steady. Adagio hardly ever leaves her side, seeing to her every need. And each morning when he awakens and gazes at her sleeping form lying next to him, he gives thanks to God for sparing her life and allowing him more time with her on the earth. He wants to grow old with her and prays they will have many more years together in this life–many years to laugh and love.
Ian and Isabelle often draw pictures and make cards to cheer their mother up. Ingo helps out by keeping an eye on his brother and sister and sharing in the housework. Phillip spends most of his time sitting with his mother when his father has to take care of other things.
Cisely and the rest of the family keep in touch with Mali through letters, cards and emails, wanting her to know she is loved and missed. And despite all that has happened, Mali is doing better. She always responds to their letters, telling them how much they all mean to her as well. She keeps them informed on what is going on in her life. Her letters to Phillip are usually longer because there is always so much to say between the two.
Six months after the accident, other than having a slight limp, which I am told will most likely be permanent, I have completely healed, and Adagio and I are finally able to go on a two week long trip back to Rome and Tuscany.
Though I love taking in the wondrous ancient structures of Rome, I had forgotten just how much I've missed the beautiful rolling hills of the vast countryside in Tuscany. I have always considered Italy a laid back country, but the people of Tuscany move at an even slower pace, which is what I need right now. Still, both cities are equally beautiful. We savor every moment together.
Having finished dinner, we relax out on the bedroom terrace of the secluded villa we've rented for the week. The elegant old country home is surrounded by acres of trees and is bordered by a small stream. The villa is set high on a hill overlooking numerous vineyards, orchards, and olive groves. It is larger than we need, but we enjoy the privacy of having the place all to ourselves, especially during times like tonight.
Watching the stars slowly appear in the darkening sky, we talk about the past two weeks. When night has completely fallen, I light several candles and placed them on the table. Then, sitting next to Adagio on the bench, I take his hand in mine, running my thumb over his knuckles. His emerald gaze is illuminated by the flickering flames.
“Adagio, there is something I need to share with you. It is something I have wanted to tell you since the moment I awakened in the hospital, but for some reason the time just never felt right, until now.”
“What is it?” he asks, looking into my eyes. I say nothing for a moment, so he remains quiet, studying my face.
“I had an amazing experience while I was unconscious. It was brief, but it will stay with me forever. At first I thought maybe it was a dream, but I know without a doubt it was real.” I slowly smile. “I saw your mother, Adagio.”
His grip on my hand tightens. “You saw my mother?” His voice is thick with emotion.
“I did.” I touch his face. “I knew her before she even told me who she was because you look so much like her.”
Emotion fills his eyes. “Tell me, amore. How did she look?”
“She looked beautiful,” I answer, remembering the lovely petite woman with laughing emerald eyes and a long, dark, thick wavy mane. Dressed in spotless white, Marcella St. John looked like I suppose an angel would look.
Adagio closes his eyes. “Your description is perfect. I always thought my mother was beautiful. And since you have never seen a picture, I have no doubt you saw her.”
“My time with her was brief,” I continue, “but I remember everything she said to me. I remember the warmth I felt from her. She never touched me, but just being near her was indescribable.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she loved me, and you . . . and that our marriage was meant to be. She told me the love we share is the purest kind, and it will never die.” Pausing, I wipe the tears from his cheeks. “She said nothing more, but she stayed a little longer until I awakened.”
Silently absorbing all Cisely has shared with him, Adagio says with reverence, “I am glad you were able to meet her and still be here to tell me about it. My mother is
an amazing woman.” He presses his hand to her face. “And so are you.” Staring into her eyes, he caress her cheek and moves closer, gently taking her face between his hands.
“It’s frightening, this powerful hold you have on my heart. To love you so much that everything in me aches to be where you are. I have often wondered why sometimes I cannot tell where I end and you begin, how I can feel so connected to you that my every sense is consumed with you. There have been times when my need for you has been so strong, I literally could not think, function or even breathe unless I had you in my arms.”
He traces a caressing finger over her lips. “And when I thought I was going to lose you, I knew I would die. I couldn't have survived. I have asked myself over and over how I can be so integrated with you, how you can be such a part of me that I can't even exist without you.” Releasing a shaky breath, he touches his lips to hers, then draws back slightly. “Now I know why. You really are supposed to be mine, amore,” he whispers breathlessly against her lips. “Siete stati promessi me. You were promised to me,” he continues to whisper against her mouth. “That's why you are such a part of me. So much so that I can literally feel you moving inside my soul. I know now that my heart has always belonged to you, and it always will. Everything I am is yours, Cisely.”
There are no more words as their kiss becomes moist and heated.
I shiver as a heady warmth rushes over me, through me, a product of the passionate words spoken. A small sob escapes me as his mouth devours mine with a kiss that is demanding, possessive, and infinitely filling at the same time. Deep within, my heart burns as his soulful words wash over me, my entire being suddenly crying out for him, and the strength with which these emotions comes is almost frightening. How can this man love me so much? How can I love him beyond all reason?
