Breathe

by Donna Alward

  “And Roberto? What did he say?”

  The hurts piled on top of one another, weighing Anna down. “He expressly forbade it. No daughter of his would disgrace the family with divorce.” Finally, she put down vegetable and peeler. She stared out the window. This was what her charmed life had become. Away from the home she’d known and loved, away from the people and places that were familiar just to escape her own guilt. “I couldn’t stay at Morelli, so I stayed in our house and contacted a lawyer.”

  Jace cursed. “Damn your father and his narrow mindedness. What kind of man would turn his daughter away?”

  Anna couldn’t help but smile a little as her heart warmed. This was why she’d come to Jace. Despite their past, she knew deep down he’d be on her side. “I really didn’t expect anything else, Jace. Anyway when Stefano found out I’d hired a lawyer, he took his mistress—the nanny who had rocked my children to sleep, supposedly loved them—on a trip on the sailboat. He was arrogant and complacent. And wooing her with Morelli’s finest, it would seem.”

  She tried to keep the loathing out of her voice, flattening it to calm the awful emotions churning inside her. “There was an accident, and he died. We just kept the mistress part quiet, and everyone considered it a horrible tragedy. If people knew, they said nothing to me about it. Only me, Papa and Alex knew the marriage was already ending. But it is hard to keep it a secret that she was there with him. She went into hysterics with the coast guard.”

  “Bastard.” Jace spit out the word and spun her around, his hands firm on her shoulders. “And now what, you feel guilty?” His gaze burrowed into hers. “You feel responsible?”

  “Yes, yes, I do,” she answered quietly. She eyed the pot of potatoes, most of which were unrinsed. She reached over, took it off the counter and ran it under the water. Anything to keep her hands busy. They wanted to reach over and grip his, to find strength in his fingers, but she knew she couldn’t rely on that too much. “I didn’t create the storm, but when it comes right down to it, I was the one who provoked him. I was the one who hadn’t been attentive enough, hadn’t seen the signs. And yet I couldn’t stand the sight of him, knowing what he’d done. You must understand, never would I have wished him dead. Never. But playing the sorrowful widow, knowing what I knew, was impossible. I couldn’t take it another minute. And that’s why I’m here. I’m not here to recover from some broken heart. I’m here because I have to find a way to face up to all the mistakes I made.”

  Jace was gutted. Of all the things he’d imagined, this wasn’t it. He’d resented her perfect life for so long it was a shock to realize it hadn’t been perfect at all. Tension rippled through him. He wasn’t sure what he felt at this moment.

  Responsible? Yes. He’d felt responsible all these years, feeling like he’d pushed Anna into Stefano’s arms. If only he’d handled things differently. If he hadn’t taken the coward’s route out. It didn’t matter that he’d been young. Or that he’d loved her more than he thought possible. It had become too much for him to handle, and instead of dealing with it he’d run away and left her alone.

  Anger? Absolutely. At her, for making the choices she had. At Stefano, for being such a failure as a man and a husband. At himself for neglecting their friendship as long as he had, and for not seeing what was happening right beneath his nose. Why hadn’t Alex or their father done anything about it? They’d all failed her. But especially him.

  And disappointment. Beneath all the other feelings was a heaviness that he recognized as disappointment. Anna had been his ideal back then. A girl who didn’t make mistakes. She was everything he wasn’t. Privileged, beautiful, classy. Smart, serious, level-headed. He’d liked those things about her. He’d gone to Kelowna with Alex needing space, but knowing when he returned they would figure everything out.

  And on the night he returned, it had been her engagement party to Stefano. Everything he’d known to be true about Anna dissolved in that moment when he’d realized she was marrying someone else.

  Now it had all come to a head with this—Stefano dead, Anna left behind with two children. Children that might have been his had things been different.

  He realized he’d been standing in the same place for a long time. Anna put the pot of potatoes on the range, and he saw her brush her fingers across her cheeks when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  He wanted to console her. Yet at the same time all the other resentments were so close to the surface he didn’t know how. Or even if he should.

  “You are not the only one who made mistakes.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Jace. I came here not necessarily to forget, but to look forward instead of backwards to things I can’t change now.”

  Oh, that burned. He wondered what sorts of things she’d change. If her regrets even went back as far as his.

  “And looking forward means what?”

  She straightened her shoulders. Moisture still clung to her sooty lashes and he wanted to reach out and touch them with his finger. He didn’t. With each passing hour, her being here went deeper than a debt to an old friendship. Now he wanted answers. Now he wanted to know if everything from back then was true. Or if it had been a girl’s fantasy.

  “It means finding the best life for my children. They deserve more than I’ve given them. They are my priority, first and last.”

  He pressed his tongue against his teeth. It was no girl standing before him now, but a beautiful woman, a mother. Longing warred with hatred and he closed his eyes, taking a breath to steady his nerves. She had changed, grown. Why couldn’t she have thought this way when they were younger? Why had she been rash and hurtful? She’d destroyed his world so very casually, ending it all with a wink and a bright smile the day of her party with Stefano. It had been years and the slash of pain had tempered to a dull ache. But now, with the flush and bloom of motherhood plain to see, the knife’s blade sharpened again.

  The thought raced through his mind unbidden: It should have been me.

  “Jace?”

  She came forward and put a hand on his arm. He stared down at her fingers. It wasn’t so long ago they would have been manicured and polished. Now they were smooth, soft, unadorned.

  He reached down and removed her hand from his arm.

  “Call me when dinner’s ready, will you?” He heard clipped tones in his voice but didn’t care. “I have to do something.”

  It was a paltry excuse and he knew it. It had been easier thinking she’d loved Stefano and was grieving. Now he felt adrift, not knowing anymore what was true and what wasn’t, and wondering how on earth to find out without getting in too deeply himself.

  Jace took himself down to the vineyard. Normally walking through the rows of vines comforted him, but not today. Today he was restless and soon found himself at the edge of the water at the place where the winery had acquired its name—the curving bend of the river, marked by an ancient willow, the feathery curtains of branches lending an air of calm dignity to the jut of land. He’d stepped on to this property, seen the lone tree standing guard and had just known. He belonged here.

  An old wooden dock traversed out several feet, and he supposed in years past perhaps rowboats or kayaks had called it home. He thought of Matteo and the look on the boy’s face when he’d claimed he hadn’t hurt Jace’s toy car. He wasn’t one for children, but the innocent statement had affected him more than he’d realized at first. What sort of life had he had with Stefano? Had he been afraid of his father? Constantly trying to please him? What would it have been like if he had been theirs, his and Anna’s?

  It was no good to think about it. Jace knew if Matteo had been theirs, life would be very different. Jace would have found himself under Roberto Morelli’s thumb. Perhaps he did owe the old man something after all. His disdain for Jace and his father had allowed Jace to become the man he was today—answerable to himself and no one else. He’d built the life he’d wanted all along.

  Matteo’s eyes seemed to follow him everywhere. It
had to be difficult, losing a father and then moving away from the only home he’d known. He should bring the children down here to swim. Or get a little boat to row around, something safe that they could all sit in and enjoy the area around the winery. The current here at the curve where it pooled wasn’t strong.

  He ran a hand through his hair. This was stupid. What was between he and Anna was long over. She’d made her choice. Second-guessing and living in the past, this wondering what if…it wasn’t like him. Anna brought back memories and old feelings. It was that simple. Jace just had to move past it. The answers he’d craved earlier didn’t matter. They would not change what was done. What she’d done.

  He made his way back up the slope to the house. As he drew closer, he saw the door open and Anna come out onto the verandah. He could tell when she saw him because she stilled. It was odd to think of someone being up there waiting for him, and when she offered a weak smile at his approach, he knew they had to move past this afternoon. Somehow.

  “Dinner’s ready?”

  “It is. I just put the children at the table.”

  He followed her in, disappeared momentarily to wash his hands, and then entered the kitchen.

  The dining nook was transformed. Stubby candles burned at the center of the table, the scent of wax and vanilla mixing with the delicious smells of dinner. Their places were set, and there was not the mess there had been last night. Matteo’s hair was freshly combed and his clothes straightened. He ate from a melamine plate and drank milk from a plastic cup. Aurelia sat in her chair, the tray holding a bowl with creamy potatoes, mashed vegetables, and tiny bits of polpettone. She smiled a toothy smile up at Jace and banged a covered cup against the tray, swinging a plastic spoon with the opposite hand. A torta sat on the marble countertop, and Anna was pouring wine from a bottle into two glasses.

  It was the kind of domestic picture he had never expected to see in his house.

  He did not know what to say to Anna.

  She handed him a glass of wine. “Sit down, Jace. Please.”

  He did. And grew even more uncomfortable as she served him a plate.

  “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.”

  The stilted words were fraught with things unsaid. Jace instead looked across the table at Matteo. “Do you like to swim, Matteo?”

  The little boy speared a piece of meatloaf and popped it in his mouth, eyed Jace warily and nodded, his nearly black hair flopping on his forehead.

  “I was just down at the water. Perhaps you’d like to go sometime.”

  Belatedly he looked up at Anna. “Does he have a swimsuit?”

  “He does.”

  “And Aurelia too?”

  “She’s a little young for the water.”

  Jace made the motions of eating. “Not if she were in your arms. It can get very hot here. The humidity can be quite something, and the river is refreshing.”

  He tried not to think of Anna in a swimsuit. Hers would be something unbearably chic, probably two pieces, and her long legs…

  He cut into his meatloaf.

  “My papa didn’t like swimming.”

  He looked up. Matteo had started shaping his potato puree into an odd-shaped mound. “No?”

  “No. He liked his boat. It was a big boat. It had huge sails.” Matteo spread his arms wide, demonstrating.

  “I bet that was fun.”

  Matteo looked up. “I saw it in a picture.”

  Jace blinked. “Oh.”

  “My papa drowned, did you know?”

  It was like a blow to the solar plexus, the kind that makes a hollow echo and drives all the air from the chest. Matteo was barely four. And he talked of his father’s death like one would say, “We went to the store, did you know?” Did he understand the magnitude of what had happened? Or would it be forgotten?

  “Matteo.”

  Anna’s soft admonition washed over them all except Aurelia, who was sucking potato off her fingers. Jace looked over at Anna and noticed how her hair curled up in wisps at the ends, the shade of rich mink. Irrationally, he could only think of losing his hands in the heavy mass, as her soft voice sighed against him. His gaze captured hers and her hand fell still, halfway to her mouth.

  Matteo’s puree was taking on the shape of a mountain as he carried on the conversation, oblivious to the silvery something shimmering between Jace and Anna. “What, Mama?”

  She dragged her gaze away from his, looking at her son instead. “Eat your dinner and stop playing please.”

  Quiet ensued for a few moments. Jace was reminded of home. The polpettone was indeed very much like Francesca’s, and Anna had made a salad of fresh spinach and avocado. The one good thing about the “big house” on the Morelli estate was the food. He’d gained a whole new appreciation for Italian cooking from the leftovers alone.

  “Do you have a boat, Jace?” Matteo piped up, disturbing the silence. “I wanted to go on Papa’s boat and he wouldn’t let me.”

  For the briefest of moments, Jace remembered being on the outside looking in. He remembered wanting so badly to have the things others had and knowing it was impossible. Of begging his father for them when he was too young to understand the financial constraints of his family.

  His demanding questions must have hurt his parents to answer. To have to constantly remind Jace they didn’t have the money for whatever it was he wanted. He had always only remembered what it had felt like to receive those answers.

  But now, at this moment, faced with Matteo’s pleading eyes, he thought he knew a tiny bit what it must have been like for his parents. Even though Matteo wasn’t his, he was glad his financial circumstances meant he could answer differently than his father had.

  “I should, shouldn’t I? Of course, with this little river, a sailboat like your papa’s is out of the question. But I’ve been thinking about getting something smaller. Would you like to go shopping for one?”

  He saw Anna’s lips drop open out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his gaze on Matteo.

  “What do you say? Do you want to help me pick one out?”

  Matteo’s hair flopped again against his forehead, and Jace cut into his dinner with renewed gusto.

  Someone had to spend time with the boy, other than pressing him into being a playmate for his sister or toting a diaper bag. He needed someone who understood what it was to be a boy. Jace scooped up a forkful of potato with satisfaction.

  Matteo would not be excluded. Jace would make sure of it.

  Chapter Six

  Three days later, Jace carved out an afternoon and made good on his promise to Matteo. Anna was surprised when he made the announcement over lunch. While she stayed with Aurelia, the two “boys” went to a local dealer, shopping for a small motorboat they could use to zoom up and down the river. He took Anna’s car in deference to her insistence that Matteo ride in the backseat, properly fastened in his booster seat. Anna spent an hour at the guesthouse taking notes, and then took Aurelia back to her room for a nap in her new playpen.

  Anna stared down at the sleeping baby. She supposed she should get a crib. Right now, Aurelia’s lashes lay against her cheeks and her hands were fisted, lying on either side of her head the way babies do. Her angel. So far she’d let the warmth of the little body comfort her in the large bed, taking away some of the loneliness, reminding her of how deeply she loved her children. But she couldn’t sleep with Aurelia forever. The playpen would do for naps but that was all. A crib seemed so permanent though, and they wouldn’t be at Two Willows that long. Anna tiptoed from the room, shut the door partially and eased her way downstairs in the silent house. The bed could wait until she figured out a more permanent situation for them all. A place where they could truly settle. A home.

  She blinked back the stinging in her eyes. Occasionally it hit her that she was the head of her own little family now. It was a hollow feeling, lonely and isolated, and filled with awesome responsibility.

  But for now she had a guesthouse to renova
te. She spent an hour making decisions and phone calls, asking for quotes, placing orders and booking painters. When it was done, she tied a scarf over her hair, found a dusting cloth and polish in the broom closet and began polishing the furniture.

  When Jace and Matteo arrived home, she was mopping the kitchen floor.

  “Mama, Mama, we got a boat!”

  She put her mop back in the bucket and stood, placing a hand against the small ache at the base of her spine. “You did? What color is it?”

  “White. With red stripes!”

  “Hold on, young man.” She put an arm out to stop his progress. “Take off your shoes and stay out of the kitchen. I’m scrubbing.”

  Matteo paused and pushed his shoes off with his toes.

  Jace followed Matteo in the house.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  She smiled brilliantly. “I’m cleaning.” But Jace’s scowl faded the smile from her lips. “What?” she asked, tilting her head.

  “You don’t have to clean my house.”

  She stared at him. “I know I don’t have to. Aurelia is sleeping. I am waiting to hear back on some quotes. And once I started—”

  “Just stop. Put those things away. The cleaning lady comes tomorrow.”

  What was his problem? Anna’s brow wrinkled and Matteo looked from her to Jace and back again. Granted, she had grown up with a housekeeper and cook, and had kept the same when she’d been married to Stefano. But it didn’t mean she didn’t know how to clean.

  “Then she can have a day off, can’t she.” She kept her grip firmly on the handle of the mop.

  “You are not to clean my house.”

  Her chin flattened at his outburst. Fine. If he didn’t want her touching his things, she wouldn’t. She let go of the mop, caring little that water splashed over the tile.