Unlocking the Italian Doc's Heart

by Kate Hardy

  ‘Ah.’ Chiara smiled. ‘I couldn’t not tell him about the baby, because I didn’t want to leave him out. But I felt bad about the timing.’

  ‘Because it’s near Florence’s birthday?’ Jenna asked. Lorenzo hadn’t actually said when it was, but she knew it was soon, and guessed that he’d find that day hard.

  ‘Yes. We all miss her. And it’s such a shame Georgia wouldn’t let her daughter share our family. Jack and Emily are around the same age as Florence, and they all played so nicely together. We were good for her, and she was good for us.’ Chiara sighed. ‘But Georgia didn’t see it that way, and she broke Renzo’s heart.’

  And Jenna hoped that she could mend it again.

  ‘He looks happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. That’s a good thing,’ Chiara said. ‘Now, let’s join the others in the garden.’

  The men were all fussing over the barbecue.

  ‘They’re all pretending to be Matteo,’ Luisa said with a grin. ‘Even Mark.’

  Chiara rolled her eyes. ‘Men and grilling things over a fire. It brings out the caveman in them.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Jenna asked.

  ‘All the salads are done,’ Helen said, ‘and it’s just a matter of putting the lemon and rosemary potatoes in the oven when Ric gives me the nod.’

  ‘Let’s leave them to it and play with the children,’ Luisa suggested.

  Jenna, used to being very hands-on with Ava, thoroughly enjoyed building a castle with Jack and Emily, taught them a song she’d learned the day she went with Lucy and Ava to toddler music class, and then sat reading a story to them with both children seated happily on her lap.

  She glanced up to see Lorenzo looking down at her, a wistful expression on his face. Was he thinking of Florence? He barely mentioned her, but Jenna knew he was nearly always thinking of the little girl he’d lost. She wished she could do something practical to help, but Georgia was the only one who could change things. And even if Jenna by some means managed to contact her, she didn’t think Georgia would listen.

  ‘Everything OK?’ she asked.

  ‘Everything’s fine. We’re ready for lunch,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll finish reading, and then we’ll be there,’ she promised, and duly finished reading the story.

  The large trestle table in the middle of the garden was laden with bowls of salad, a plate with large slices of tomato interleaved with slices of mozzarella and avocado, chargrilled vegetables, grilled chicken, skewers of tuna and salmon that had been marinated in olive oil and herbs, and the lemon and rosemary potatoes Helen had mentioned earlier.

  Jenna ended up sitting opposite Lorenzo and between the children. And how easy it was to feel part of this large, noisy family, she thought as she chatted with everyone, helped the children with their food and poured a glass of water for Chiara.

  The meal was followed by grilled peaches, and the best tiramisu she’d ever eaten.

  ‘Luisa is an excellent cook,’ Enrico said, ‘but you need to go to Verona. My nephew Matteo—now his food is really amazing.’

  ‘Yes, Lorenzo, you must take Jenna to the vineyard and to see Nonno and Nonna,’ Luisa added.

  Lorenzo spread his hands. ‘There’s the small matter of work, Mamma. We’re both busy at the hospital.’

  ‘You get annual leave,’ Luisa said. ‘And I know you’re planning to go out there later in the summer. Make it sooner and take Jenna with you. There’s plenty of room at the villa.’

  Lorenzo looked helplessly at Jenna, and she smiled at him. ‘I’ve heard a lot about the vineyard and Matteo’s food,’ she said.

  ‘Then it’s settled. I’ll text Nonna now and tell her to expect you both,’ Luisa said.

  Later that evening, as they walked back to Lorenzo’s flat from the tube station, he slid his arm round her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. My family’s a bit full on.’

  ‘I liked them,’ Jenna said. ‘A lot.’

  ‘And they loved you. I had eight texts from them while we were on the train,’ he said. ‘Eight.’

  ‘Well, it’s good that they approve.’ She grinned. ‘My lot gave you four yeses. Five, if you include Ava.’

  ‘That’s good.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Eight texts. That includes one from Nonna, and one from Nonno, and they’re not even good at texting! They want you to go out to Verona with me.’ He looked awkward. ‘I know my parents suggested it, but how would you feel about going to meet the rest of my family in Italy?’

  ‘That’d be nice. I’ve never been to Verona or Lake Garda,’ she said. But she remembered Lorenzo saying that it was his second home; clearly he loved the place.

  ‘Maybe we could make a long weekend of it. Stay one night in Verona with dinner at Matteo’s restaurant, one night at the vineyard, and one night just to ourselves by the lake?’ he suggested.

  ‘That sounds perfect,’ she said. She stole a kiss. ‘It sounds to me as if both our families think that this is a good idea—you and me, I mean.’

  ‘So it’s worth taking the risk.’

  ‘It’s worth taking the risk,’ she agreed. ‘Maybe we can sort out the off-duty rota tomorrow.’

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘would save me from a gazillion nagging texts from my mum. And my sister. And Nonna.’

  ‘Done,’ she said with a smile.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A COUPLE OF weeks later, Lorenzo and Jenna headed for Verona. And, even though he was looking forward to their time away, part of him wished he’d chosen a different weekend. Florence would be three tomorrow—another birthday when he wouldn’t have the chance to see her, or make a fuss of her, or even talk to her on the phone to wish her a lovely day.

  But this was going to be a new start for him, a way of doing something positive on that day instead of brooding and missing his little girl. And he didn’t want to spoil Jenna’s trip. He wanted her to love Italy and love his family as much as he did.

  So he forced himself to smile and chatter about Verona and Lake Garda on the plane. Plus he’d arranged to pick up a hire car at the airport that he knew he’d love driving, and hoped Jenna would find it fun, too.

  * * *

  Jenna stepped out of the plane at Verona and the heat hit her like a wall.

  She stumbled slightly and Lorenzo asked, ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Ye-es. I just wasn’t expecting it to be quite this hot, quite this early in the day,’ she admitted.

  ‘Apparently there’s a heatwave sweeping across the whole of Italy, so it’s a good ten degrees hotter than it usually is at this time of year,’ he said.

  ‘Just as well I brought really light clothing,’ she said with a smile. ‘And I think we’re going to need a lot of ice cream.’

  He laughed. ‘Great idea. Let’s go and pick up the car.’

  ‘Oh, now that’s seriously flashy,’ she said when she saw the bright red two-seater car, with its shiny wire wheels and soft top.

  ‘This part of the world is made for cars like this, and today is the perfect day to have the roof down,’ he said. ‘Do you have a headscarf? Because you’ll need to protect your head from the sun, and your floppy hat isn’t going to work.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘That’s easily fixed.’ He shepherded her back to the shops in the airport and bought a headscarf for her. Once she was sitting in the passenger seat with the headscarf and her sunglasses in place, he smiled at her. ‘You look like Grace Kelly.’

  She laughed. ‘Hardly, but thank you for the compliment. She’s gorgeous.’

  ‘So are you.’

  ‘You’re not so bad yourself, Dr Conti,’ she said. But Jenna’s heart gave a leap of excitement. She was happier with Lorenzo than she could ever remember. And being out here in the sunshine, with the roof of the car down and the wind in their faces and the gorgeous scenery, was just perfect.
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br />   He plugged his phone into the car and put on some bright, summery pop songs, then drove them away from the city and through narrow roads flanked by olive groves, lemon groves and rows of vines. It felt like being in the middle of a painting, and Jenna loved every second of it. Danny would’ve chosen a car like this because it was expensive; Lorenzo had clearly chosen it because he liked the design of the car and enjoyed driving it. And that made all the difference for her: substance over style.

  Lorenzo definitely had substance.

  Finally he pulled on to a very long track; at the end was a massive villa.

  ‘That’s your grandparents’ house?’ Jenna asked.

  ‘It’s the family house,’ Lorenzo explained. ‘My aunts, uncles and cousins have apartments on the top two floors, and Nonna and Nonno have an apartment downstairs in the centre, along with the family rooms everyone uses.’

  Nerves flooded through her, but she didn’t have time to ask Lorenzo for any kind of reassurance because people were pulling out of the front door. Lots of people.

  ‘Jenna, how lovely to meet you,’ Lorenzo’s grandmother said, greeting her with a hug.

  ‘And you, Signora Conti.’ Jenna diffidently handed her the flowers she’d bought at the airport that morning and the chocolates she’d bought in London. ‘I, um... These are for you.’

  ‘That’s so kind! Thank you.’ Nonna smiled. ‘You’re just like Luisa said you were. Now, you must call me Nonna, and this is Nonno.’

  Jenna was introduced to so many people that she could barely remember everyone’s name. But everyone welcomed her warmly, with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks, and she was swept into the kitchen.

  ‘Coffee,’ Nonna said decisively. ‘And torta di mela. Apple cake. You’ll have a big piece because you’ve been travelling, and travelling makes everyone hungry.’

  Jenna glanced at Lorenzo, who spread his hands in resignation.

  Go with it, then, she thought.

  The coffee was excellent. And the cake... ‘This has to be the best apple cake I’ve ever eaten,’ she said. It was still warm, and the cinnamon and apple topping complemented the fluffy sponge base perfectly.

  ‘I made it for you this morning,’ Nonna said. ‘With our own apples.’

  After cake, Nonno showed her round the garden—including his prized roses—and part of the vineyard while Lorenzo stayed in his grandmother’s kitchen for what looked like a serious chat, though Jenna wasn’t sure what they were saying as the old lady had switched to Italian. She just hoped that she hadn’t done or said anything to make the Contis disapprove of her, because Nonna looked concerned.

  ‘You must come back for the vendemmia in September—the harvest,’ Nonno said when he took her back to the house.

  To her relief, whatever Nonna and Lorenzo had been talking about while she and Nonno had been on a walkabout, they both looked relaxed now.

  ‘It’s hard work and a long day, but there’s nothing more satisfying than picking the grapes when they’re perfectly ripe and knowing that in years to come you’re still going to enjoy the wine.’

  ‘Lorenzo’s introduced me to your award-winning wine,’ Jenna said. ‘And it’s fabulous.’

  Nonno looked pleased. ‘My children and grandchildren are carrying on the family traditions. Though some have branched out. Enrico with his architecture and Renzo being a doctor.’

  ‘And I get to meet Matteo tomorrow,’ Jenna said. ‘I’ve heard so much about his food.’

  ‘He deserves that Michelin star.’ Nonno smiled. ‘And he’ll be the first to tell you, he started learning in the kitchen at his grandmother’s knee.’

  ‘I remember teaching him how to tell when pasta is cooked, and how to make a simple tomato sauce of butter, tomatoes and onions,’ Nonna said. ‘He always wanted to know, why does this herb taste different from this herb, and what happens if you swap one ingredient for another. And he paid attention to how you present food to make it look as good as it tastes. I knew he’d go far.’

  By the end of the afternoon, Jenna felt very much part of this warm, noisy, happy family; even more so in the evening, when she helped to set a massive table in the garden and carry large dishes of food to place in the centre, and everyone sat down to share bread, pasta, salad and wine. Lorenzo was right in the middle, the youngest members of the family were climbing over their Tio Renzo and chattering away to him, and he looked really happy. A family man.

  * * *

  Lorenzo loved having all the little ones chattering to him and wanting him to tell them jokes and stories, to see the drawings they’d made and hear all about their favourite cat or dog. But at the same time he was so aware of how much he missed his little girl. She’d be one of the youngest here, but she’d be right in the middle of them, chattering away and laughing and playing. So his happiness here was bittersweet; he was glad he’d brought Jenna to meet his family, but at the same time he couldn’t help feeling how much Florence was missing out on.

  Would the shadows ever go away?

  * * *

  Seeing Lorenzo here in Italy with his extended family made Jenna realise how much she’d fallen in love with him. Lorenzo Conti was a kind, gentle man with an enormous heart—a heart he’d kept guarded, though now he’d let her see exactly who he was and where he belonged. And she really wanted to be with him.

  It was a real wrench to leave the villa, the next morning.

  ‘Enjoy Verona, and tell Matteo we love him,’ Nonno said, giving her a hug.

  ‘And thank you, cara mia,’ Nonna said, holding her close. ‘Because of you, our Renzo is smiling again. That’s so good to see.’

  ‘Lorenzo’s special,’ Jenna said simply. ‘And he’s changed my life, too.’

  ‘Good. Now, you promise me you’ll come back for the harvest, even if it’s only for one day,’ Nonna insisted.

  ‘We will,’ Jenna promised.

  ‘And you remember what I said, Renzo,’ Nonna added.

  ‘Sì, Nonna.’ He kissed her.

  Whatever it was, Lorenzo hadn’t chosen to share it with her, and Jenna didn’t want to push the subject. Maybe it was her imagination, or were there shadows in Lorenzo’s eyes again? But then he put on a pair of sunglasses and shepherded her to the soft-top car.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  * * *

  When Lorenzo had driven them to Verona, on roads flanked by more vineyards and olive groves, it was still too early to check into the hotel, so they left their luggage in the hotel’s store-room for later and went exploring.

  ‘You took me to see the remains of a bath house in London,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Now I’m taking you to see the remains of the third biggest arena in Italy.’

  And it was stunning: two storeys high with perfect arches outside, and massive pink and white marble tiered seats inside, along with a huge stage that was clearly set up for a production. ‘This is amazing,’ Jenna said. ‘When I went to Rome as a student with my parents, I thought the Colosseum was incredible, but this... You really can imagine the audience sitting here and being entertained, because they still actually sit here in front of the stage.’

  ‘We don’t have time to come here tonight, because we have a table booked at Matteo’s restaurant, but maybe we can come back to Verona another time and see the opera,’ Lorenzo said.

  ‘I’d really like that,’ she said.

  ‘And now,’ he said, ‘I have to take you to the most romantic place in Italy.’

  He led her through the streets to an unassuming archway, which led into a small cobbled courtyard. Inside, the walls were completely covered with scribbles of names and labels and sticky notes and sticking plasters.

  ‘This is La Casa di Giulietta,’ he said. ‘Juliet’s house.’

  She glanced up at the protecting rectangle built of brick and white stone. ‘And the famous balcony, I presume—where Juliet decl
aimed “Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”’

  ‘The house itself is fourteenth century, but the authorities made the balcony from a seventeenth-century sarcophagus and installed it on the house less than a century ago,’ he said with a grin. ‘And obviously Juliet was fictional, but the house belonged to the Capello family, which is about as close as you can get to Capulet. It’s still a nice thought, though. Celebrating love.’

  Some of the courtyard was covered in ivy, and in one corner there were locks inscribed with lovers’ initials. ‘It’s to seal their love,’ Lorenzo told her. ‘And if you put a note on the wall here, they say your love will last for ever.’

  She shared a glance with him, and her heart felt as if it had done a somersault.

  He hadn’t said the three little words—and neither had she—but she was pretty sure that they both felt the same. That over the last few weeks they’d learned to trust each other, to trust themselves, and to trust to love again. There were still moments where she could sense the sadness in him, but maybe in time she’d help to heal that.

  ‘Maybe we should follow the tradition,’ Jenna said.

  ‘We should,’ he agreed, and took a pack of sticky notes and a pen from his pocket.

  She blinked, not quite believing this. ‘Are you telling me you came prepared?’

  ‘Of course I came prepared.’ He stole a kiss. ‘And I’ve never done this with anyone else, not even Georgia. I never brought her to Verona.’ He drew a heart shape on the sticky note, and wrote their initials inside it before handing the note to Jenna.

  ‘Are we supposed to do this together?’ she asked.

  ‘We are indeed.’ Ceremoniously, they each took a corner of the note and stuck it to the wall.

  ‘And we have to do something else important,’ he said, gesturing to the bronze statue of Juliet. ‘Legend has it that if you touch the right breast of her statue, your love will last for life.’

  Jenna could see that Juliet’s right breast was much shinier and brighter than the rest of the statue. ‘Then let’s join the queue and do it,’ she said.

  ‘Do you want me to take your picture?’ a middle-aged woman standing behind them in the queue asked as they reached the front.