by Fiona Harper
The nerve of the man!
Ah, this was better. The horrible achy, needy feeling was engulfed by a wash of anger. She knew how to do anger, how to welcome it in, how to harness its power to drive herself forwards. Who cared if it left an ugly grey wake of bitterness that stretched back through the years? She was surviving, and that was what counted.
Being angry with Romano Puccini was what she wanted, because without the anger it would be difficult to hate him, and she really, really needed to hate him.
Jackie exhaled, measuring her breath until her lungs were empty. This was better. Familiar territory. Hating Romano for rejecting her, for abandoning her and their daughter.
How could the man who had left her pregnant and alone, a mere girl, flirt with her as if nothing had happened?
‘You’re doing it again.’
Jackie hurt her neck as she snapped her head round to look at her sister. She’d half forgotten that Lizzie was sitting there and her comment had made Jackie jump. ‘Doing what?’
‘Staring off into space and looking fierce. Something’s up, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ The word shot out of her mouth before she had a chance to filter it. Lizzie leaned across and looked at her, resting her hand on Jackie’s forearm.
‘No…’ Jackie said, wearing the poker face she reserved for fashion shows, so no one could tell what her verdict on the clothes would be until it was printed in the magazine. ‘It’s nothing.’
Why had she said yes? It wasn’t as if she’d been planning on telling Lizzie her problems, certainly not in the run-up to her wedding. She looked at her sister. The poker face started to disintegrate as she saw the warmth and compassion in Lizzie’s eyes.
Could she tell Lizzie now? It would be such a relief to let it all spill out. Over the years, her secrets had woven themselves into a corset, holding her in, keeping her upright when she wanted to wilt, protecting her from humiliation. Seeing Romano last night had tightened the laces on that corset so that, instead of giving her security, it made her feel as if she were struggling to breathe. Suddenly she wanted to rip it all off and be free.
But it wasn’t the time to let go, even if her sister’s open face told her that she would understand, that she would comfort and not condemn. Already Lizzie was tapping into her maternal side, helped along by the buzzing pregnancy hormones. It brought out a whole extra dimension to her personality. She was going to be an excellent mother, really she was.
The sort of mother you have never been. May never be.
A shard of guilt hit Jackie so hard she almost whimpered, but she was too well rehearsed in damage limitation to let it show. Just as an underwater explosion of vast magnitude happening deep on the ocean floor might only produce a small irregularity on the surface, she kept it all in, hoping that Lizzie couldn’t read the ripples on her face.
She smiled back at her sister, squinting a little as she faced the morning sun. ‘It’s just wedding jitters.’
Lizzie’s concerned look was banished by her throaty laugh. ‘I thought it was me who was supposed to get the jitters.’
Jackie saw her chance and grabbed it, turned the spotlight back where it should be. ‘Have you? Got any jitters?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘No. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.’ She went quiet, gazing out over the gardens, but the look on Lizzie’s face wasn’t fierce or hard; it was soft and warm and full of love. Jackie envied her that look.
She leaned in and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek. ‘Good.’ This was about as expressive as communication got in their family. But Lizzie got that. She knew how pleased her little sister was for her.
Lizzie began to move and Jackie stood up to lend her a hand as she heaved herself off the slightly dewy grass. ‘Why don’t you get rid of those jitters of yours by going into town with Mamma and Scarlett? They’re planning to leave shortly.’
‘Maybe.’
As she watched Lizzie walk away Jackie decided against the idea of joining her mother and other sister on their jaunt. A morning in the company of those two would give her grey hairs.
Going into Monta Correnti, however, taking some time to rediscover her home town, to see whether it still matched the vivid pictures in her head, now that was a plan she could cope with.
Exploring Monta Correnti was fun, but it didn’t take more than an hour or so, and Jackie soon returned to feeling restless. She kept wandering anyway, and ended up in the little piazza near the church, outside Sorella.
It was late morning and Scarlett and Mamma were probably inside, having a cool drink before they decided what they were going to eat for lunch. She really should go in and join them.
But beautiful smells were coming from Uncle Luca’s restaurant next door and, despite the fact she’d sworn off carbs, she had a hankering for a simple dish of pasta, finished off with his famous basil and tomato sauce.
So, feeling decidedly rebellious, she sidestepped her mother’s restaurant and headed for Rosa. Uncle Luca was always good for a warm welcome and she wanted to pump him for more information on all of Isabella’s brothers. This year had certainly been a bombshell one for her extended family. So much had happened already. First, there had been the shocking announcement that Uncle Luca had two sons living in America that nobody had known about. Isabella had been trying to get in contact, but she wasn’t having much luck. The family had thought that sending invitations to Lizzie’s wedding might help break the ice, but Alessandro had declined and Angelo hadn’t even bothered to reply.
Personally, Jackie wasn’t too optimistic about Isabella getting any further with that. This family was so dysfunctional it wasn’t funny. But she understood the need to heal and mend, to ache to bring forgotten children back into the fold.
She also wanted news of Isabella’s little brothers. She didn’t know if Valentino was in Monta Correnti at the moment or not, but it would be great to catch up with him before the hustle and bustle of Lizzie’s wedding. She also wanted to find out the latest news on Cristiano. Mamma had announced last night that he’d been injured at work, fighting a fire in Rome, and was currently in hospital. Of course, Mamma had made it all sound totally dramatic, even though he’d only suffered minor injuries. Jackie would have preferred an update straight from her uncle, minus the histrionics, hopefully. Cristiano wasn’t going to make it to the wedding either, which was such a pity. She’d always had a soft spot for him.
The entrance to Rosa was framed by two olive trees in terracotta pots. Jackie brushed past them and stood in the arched doorway, looking round the restaurant. The interior always made her smile. Such a difference from Sorella’s dark wood grain and minimalist decor.
Everything inside was a little outdated and shabby, but, somehow, it added to the charm. There was a tiled floor, wooden tables and chairs in various shapes and styles, fake ivy climbing up the pillars and strings of garlic and straw-covered bottles hanging from the ceiling. Locals knew better than to judge a restaurant’s food by its decor. Sorella, next door, was where the rich visitors and tourists ate, but Rosa was where the locals came, where families celebrated, where life happened.
At this time of day, the restaurant was deserted, but not silent. There was a hell of a racket coming from the kitchen. A heated argument seemed to be taking place between two women, but Jackie couldn’t identify the voices above the banging of pots and pans and the interjections of head chef Lorenzo.
Unfortunately his fierce growling was not having the desired effect, because nobody shot through the kitchen door looking penitent. However, she heard someone enter the restaurant behind her.
Jackie had never been one for small talk. She didn’t chat to old ladies at bus stops, or join in with the good-natured banter when stuck in a long queue. Perhaps it was her upbringing in Italy. When things went wrong, she wanted to complain. Loudly. So she didn’t turn round and make a joke of the situation; she just ignored whoever it was. For a few seconds, anyway.
‘Buon giorno.’
‘Are you stalking me?’ she said, without looking round.
Romano had the grace not to laugh. ‘No. I came to see Isabella, but I won’t lie—I was hoping I would run into you this morning.’
She didn’t dignify the pause that followed with an answer.
‘Jackie?’
She took a deep, calming breath, opening her ribs and drawing the air in using her diaphragm, just as her personal trainer had taught her. It didn’t work. And that just irritated her further. She’d bet the man standing behind her didn’t have to be taught how to breathe, how to relax.
He wasn’t standing behind her any more. While she’d been on her way to hyperventilating he’d walked round her until she had no choice but to look at him.
‘I would like to talk with you. I believe we have some things to discuss, some mistakes from the past to sort out.’
Now she abandoned any thoughts of correct breathing and just looked at him. That, of course, was her big mistake. The expression on his face was so unlike him—serious, earnest—that she started to feel her carefully built defences crumbling.
What if he actually wanted to acknowledge Kate after all these years? What if he really wanted to make amends? Could she let her pride prevent that?
No.
She couldn’t do that to her daughter. She had to hear him out.
As always, Romano had sensed the course of her mood change before it had even registered on her face. ‘Have lunch with me,’ he said.
Lunch? That might be pushing it a bit far. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the kitchen door crashed open, cutting her off.
‘We have to, Isabella!’ Scarlett said, marching into the dining area, looking very put out indeed. ‘What if she talks to him again? What if—?’
‘I don’t think it is the right time,’ Isabella countered in Italian. ‘After the wedding, maybe.’
Scarlett, as always, was taking the need for patience as a personal affront. ‘After the wedding might be too late! You know that.’
Isabella’s hands made her reply as she threw them in the air and glared at her cousin. ‘You’re so impulsive! Let’s just wait and see how things—’
It was at that moment that she spotted Jackie and Romano, her view half blocked by a pillar, both staring at her.
‘—turn out,’ she finished, much more quietly, and gave Scarlett, who was still watching Isabella intently, a dig in the ribs. Scarlett turned, eyes full of confusion, but they suddenly widened.
‘Jackie!’ she said warmly, smiling and rushing over to give her a hug. Jackie stayed stiff in her embrace. It felt awkward, wrong. But she had to give Scarlett credit where credit was due—she was putting on a wonderful show.
‘Isabella and I were just talking…’
That much had been evident.
Scarlett paused, her gaze flicked quickly to the ceiling and back again. ‘We’re planning a surprise hen party for Lizzie and we want to drag you out to lunch to help us organise it!’
Isabella looked at Scarlett as if she’d gone out of her mind.
Isabella voiced Jackie’s very thought. ‘I don’t think Lizzie—’
‘Nonsense!’ Scarlett said with a sweep of her hands. ‘And there’s no time like the present. You don’t mind, do you, Romano?’
Romano didn’t really have time to say whether he minded or not, because Scarlett grabbed Jackie’s elbow and used it as leverage to push her back out into the sunshine, while Isabella followed.
Yep, thought Jackie, rubbing her elbow once she’d snatched it back, Scarlett was getting more and more like their mother every year.
Once they were clear of the tables and umbrellas out front of the restaurant, Jackie turned and faced them. ‘You two are deranged!’
Isabella looked at the cobbles below her feet, while a flash of discomfort passed across Scarlett’s eyes. ‘We need to talk to you,’ she said. ‘Don’t we, Isabella?’ She hung a lead weight on every word of that last sentence.
Jackie looked towards the restaurant door, not sure if she was annoyed or relieved that her chance meeting with Romano had been unexpectedly hijacked. She looked back at her cousin and her sister in time to see a look pass between them. Isabella let out a soft sigh of defeat.
‘I suppose we do. But we need to go somewhere private,’ she said. ‘Somewhere we won’t be interrupted or overheard.’
The three of them looked around the small piazza at the heart of Monta Correnti hopelessly. Growing up in a small town like this, you couldn’t sneeze without the grapevine going into action. And, this being Italy, the grapevine had always had its roots back at your mamma’s house. She’d be waiting with a handkerchief and a don’t-mess-with-me expression when you got home.
That was why Jackie and Romano had gone to such lengths to keep their relationship secret once their respective parents had warned them off each other. They’d been careful never to be seen in public together unless it was when Romano and his father had eaten at Sorella on one of Jackie’s waitressing shifts.
Scarlett stopped gazing around the piazza and put her hands on her hips. She fixed Isabella with a determined look. ‘I know one place where we won’t be disturbed.’ She raised her eyebrows and waited for her cousin’s reaction.
‘You don’t mean…?’ Then Isabella nodded just once. ‘Come on, then,’ she said and marched off across the old town’s market square. ‘We’d better get going.’
A low branch snapped back and hit Jackie in the face. She lost her footing a little and gave her right ankle a bit of a twist. Nothing serious, but she’d been dressed for a stroll around town and a leisurely lunch, not a safari.
‘Sorry,’ called Scarlett over her shoulder as she tramped confidently down the steep hill.
Jackie said nothing.
What had started off as a brisk walk had turned into a full-on hike through the woods. Her stomach was rumbling and she was starting to doubt that food was anywhere in the near future. What kind of shindig was Scarlett planning for Lizzie that involved all this special-forces-type secrecy?
Eventually the trees thinned and the three women reached a small, shady clearing at the bottom of the hill with a small stream running through it. Jackie smoothed her hair down with one hand and discovered far too many twigs and miscellaneous seeds for her liking. When she’d finished picking them out, she looked up to see Isabella and Scarlett busy righting old crates and brushing the moss and dirt off a couple of medium-sized tree stumps.
As she looked around more closely Jackie could see a few branches tied together with twine lying on the floor, obviously part of some makeshift construction that had now collapsed. A torn blue tarpaulin was attached by a bit of old rope at one corner to the lower branch of a tree while its other end flapped free.
Scarlett sat herself on the taller of the two tree stumps and motioned with great solemnity for Jackie to take the sturdiest-looking crate. Isabella took the other crate, but it wobbled, so she stood up and leaned against a tree. Jackie suddenly wanted to laugh.
It all felt a bit ridiculous. Three grown women, sitting round the remains of an ancient childhood campfire. She started to chuckle softly, but the shocked look on Scarlett’s face killed the sound off while it was still in her throat. She looked from her sister to her cousin and back again.
‘So… What’s this all about? You’re not planning something illegal for Lizzie’s hen do, are you?’
Scarlett looked genuinely puzzled and every last trace of hilarity abruptly left Jackie at that point. Despite the summer sun pouring through the leafy canopy, she shivered.
‘It’s you we need to talk to,’ Isabella said. ‘The party was just an excuse.’
Scarlett looked scornful at Jackie’s tardiness to catch on. ‘Can you imagine what Lizzie would do if we planned a night of debauchery and silliness? Not very good for her public image.’
Not go
od for anyone’s image, Jackie thought.
Scarlett stood up and looked around the clearing. ‘This was our camp. Isabella and I used to come here to share secrets.’
‘I remember how close you both were—joined at the hip, Uncle Luca used to joke. It was such a shame that you fell out. I thought—’
‘Jackie! Please? Just let me talk?’
The hint of desperation in her sister’s voice sent cold spiralling down into Jackie’s intestines.
‘This is difficult enough as it is,’ Scarlett said, and stood up and ran a hand through her hair. She looked across at Isabella.
‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ Isabella continued. She pushed herself away from the trunk of the tree she’d been leaning on and started pacing. Jackie just clasped her hands together on her knees and watched the two women as they walked to and fro in silence for a few seconds, then Scarlett planted her feet on the floor and looked Jackie squarely in the eye.
‘We know your secret.’
Although her mouth didn’t open, Jackie’s jaw dropped a few notches. Her secret? Not about Kate, surely? They had to mean some other secret—the anorexia, maybe. Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘And what secret would that be, exactly?’
The leaves whispered above their heads, and when Isabella’s answer came it was only just audible. ‘About the baby.’
An invisible juggernaut hit Jackie in the chest.
‘You know I…? You know about…?’
Their faces confirmed it and she gave up trying to get a sentence out.
But exactly how much did they know? All of it? She stood up.
‘You know I was pregnant when I went away to live with my father?’
They both nodded, eyes wide.
‘You know I gave the baby up for adoption?’
Isabella nodded again. ‘No one told us, but it was kind of obvious when you came home the following summer without a baby.’
Oh, Lord. They knew everything. She sat down again, but she’d chosen the wrong crate and it tipped over, leaving her on her hands and knees in the dirt. Both Isabella and Scarlett rushed to help her up. She was shaking when she grabbed onto their arms for support.
