Rose’s eyes glistened, and she blinked several times. Moisture clung to her lashes. “I–I’m so happy to meet you. My name is Rose.”
Rosannah put her hand to her mouth and giggled again. “Same as mine.”
“Almost. How about that? But I think your name is prettier.” Rose stretched her hand out. It trembled as she brushed her fingers over Rosannah’s hair. “Like you.”
“You’re also pretty.” Another giggle. “I like the way you talk.”
“Thank you. And I love that poppy in your hair. Where did you get it?”
Rosannah touched the flower. “My nonna picked it from the field over there.” She pointed to the open piece of land dotted with red. “She wanted me to look pretty. Said that daddy was bringing home a special visitor. Is that you?”
Rose gave a shrug then a soft laugh. “I guess so.”
A crinkle creased Rosannah’s forehead as she stared at Rose. “Are you Pappa’s girlfriend? Are you going to marry my pappa?”
A chuckle spilled from his mouth. “I think that’s enough questions for now, young lady.” He set her down. “Run along and tell Nonna we are here. We’ll be inside shortly. I want to first show Rose the lavender field.” He watched as Rosannah obeyed. How long did he have before Rose reacted? Enough for Rosannah to get back inside the house? What about getting Rose far enough away, like to that purple field?
“Make sure to wash your hands before dinner,” he called after Rosannah.
She stopped and turned. Taking the flower from her hair, she hurried back to Rose and held the red poppy up to her. “You have it. It looks like your shirt.”
Rose bent down and Rosannah tucked the flower into her hair—in the same spot it had graced her own head. She pivoted then ran back to the house, waving before she slipped inside. The door shut.
Rose swung to Joseph, eyes narrowed, heaving each breath. “Y–you had her? All this time, you had her?” She pounded a fist against his chest. “H–how could you? How could y—” Her voice broke as tears spilled from her eyes.
Joseph grasped her wrist. “Let’s discuss this away from the house. I don’t want our daughter to hear us argue, or see us fight.”
He led her to the lavender field. The oils from the flowers were useful for treating anxiety—perhaps a walk between the purple bushes would help calm Rose. He picked a few sprigs as they walked along in silence—he in one row, Rose in the next—each step taking them farther away from the house and his family.
She brushed her hands over the blooms then brought her palms to her nose to smell the fragrance they’d left on her skin.
Breathe in deep, mio amore.
Joseph himself drew in a lungful of air then exhaled. “I’d like to tell you my side of the story.”
Without looking at him, Rose nodded, her breathing more regulated than before. Her hand continued to skim the tops of the lavender flowers as they walked.
“Arabella called me the day you left Italy. Even though you’d signed the forms to give our baby up for adoption, I think she thought you wouldn’t go through with it…that you’d change your mind. But when you left the country so suddenly, so soon, she felt I had a right to know that I’d become a father. I was shocked, and at the same time angry that you hadn’t told me, hadn’t given me a say in the matter. I would have married you, Rosa, if you’d only told me.”
She glanced up at him. “I—” She shook her head and looked down at her feet again. “I didn’t want anything to stand in the way of your career,” she mumbled. “I–I thought a family would hold you back. Stupid…”
“At the time, I was in Milano. Soon as I put the phone down on Arabella, I contacted Rafaele for legal advice. He got a court order that same afternoon to halt any adoption proceedings until I could prove my paternity.
“Once it was established that I was Rosannah’s biological father, I was allowed to take her home. She was two weeks old by that time, although I visited her every day at the Madri di Misericordia, or Mothers of Mercy, home for orphans.” Joseph stopped walking. They had reached the end of the lavender field. How did they get there so fast? By this time he held a rather large bunch of lavender in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed the growing bouquet. He stretched out his hand, and added another sprig to the collection.
Reaching across the bush that divided them, he handed the lavender to Rose.
Their fingers brushed against each other as she took the bouquet and fixed her gaze on him. “Why did you never tell me?”
“Like I said, I was angry with you. And I figured you wouldn’t want to know, that the reason you had given her up was because you didn’t want her. I realize now that my perceptions were far from the truth.”
He pushed through the bushes, coming to stand in front of Rose. Clasping his hands around hers, he brought them to his chest. The thin purple spikes and their fragrance filled the space between them. “Can you forgive me?”
Rose stared down at the flowers. “I–I want to…you forgave me so readily. But I—” She sucked in a long breath. “I’m not sure I can. I missed out on so much because you didn’t let me know. In all these years you could easily have found me.”
“What you lost out on was from your own choosing. If it hadn’t been for Arabella telling me, and then me intervening, you would never have known your child.” Joseph clenched his teeth together. It would be so easy to get angry with her right now. Get a grip. Arabella warned this could happen.
He blew out a breath and squeezed her hands. “Rosa, you have the opportunity to know her. Don’t ruin this time by allowing yourself to feel bitter over my actions. Rather be thankful.”
“I am.” She pulled her hands from his clasp as she took a step back. The lavender fell from her hands and scattered across the red soil at her feet. “But now what? Do I leave Italy never seeing her again? Her never knowing I’m her mother? Or do we share weekends and holidays, splitting her life between Italy and England?”
Moving closer, he slid his arm around her waist. “I was thinking something more permanent for us all. Could you see yourself becoming part of a large, noisy Italian family?”
Joseph’s features blurred through her tears. He had no idea how much she wanted to get to know her daughter, to make up for lost time. She couldn’t wait to be her mamma, but…surely he wasn’t asking her to marry him? If he were, was having a child reason enough for marriage? She still loved Joseph. And she loved their daughter, so much. She wanted to be in her life every second of every day. But other than a child and a few weeks of summer romance over half a decade ago, what did she and Joseph really share?
She wiped the tears beneath her eyes with her fingers. “I–I don’t understand what you mean.”
Joseph released her to pluck yet another lavender sprig. He quickly fashioned it into a small, circular shape. The long flower protruded from the miniature wreath like a purple jewel. Going down on his haunches, he held the lavender ring at the end of Rose’s finger and gazed up at her. “I want us to be a family—you, me, and Rosannah. I want to marry you, mia bella Rosa.”
The makeshift ring like a burning coal at her fingertip, she yanked her hand away. “I can’t.”
Brow crinkling, Joseph pursed his lips as he straightened. He blinked. “Why not? I love you, and I can tell you still love me. We have a beautiful daughter who deserves to have a mother and a fathe—”
“Because it would be a recipe for disaster. We’d be unequally yoked. Look at what happened the last time we were romantically involved—a total fiasco that affected not only our lives, but the life of that beautiful little girl we created. Much as I would love to, I cannot marry you. I’m done making mistakes.” If only he believed the way she did. If only God were as important in his life.
Rose turned away. “I’m sorry, but we need to find another solution, other than marriage, to our parenting problem.”
He’d so wanted this to be a happy occasion, couldn’t wait to see the excitement on Rosannah’s face when he told her Rose w
as her mother. But if there were bad blood between them…
Joseph caught Rose by the arm as she tried to brush past him. She couldn’t leave yet. They needed to settle this before they returned to the house.
She wiggled her arm to get loose. “Let me go. We can discuss the ins and outs of a custody arrangement later. I–I need to be alone for now. Please.” She yanked her arm from his grip, and the poppy slid from her hair and fell to the ground. She stooped to pick it up. “I need to think.”
Joseph hurried to step in front of her so she couldn’t run off. “Custody arrangement? There is no custody arrangement, Rosa. You gave up your rights to Rosannah the day you signed her away. And I received all those rights the day she became legally mine.”
“So you’re saying you won’t let me be a part of her life unless I marry you?”
He shook his head. The last thing he needed was to fight with her when he was trying to woo her. Clearly he was so out of practice. But he knew what she wanted. And he was ready to give that to her. It was in his best interest, anyway. “You haven’t let me finish.”
Rose twirled the poppy between her fingers. “What else do you need to tell me?”
Placing a hand on hers, Joseph stopped her from spinning the flower. He slid the bloom from her hands and tucked it back where Rosannah had placed it. He gazed into her eyes, a smile on his face. “So you named her Josephine? After me.”
Her eyes flicked away for a moment. When she looked back at Joseph, a small smile tugged at her lips. “And you named her Rosannah, after me.”
“I did. But I also chose that particular name because of its meaning. I could’ve named her Rosa, or Rosalie, or Rosabelle, or Rosabella, but even though she was a beautiful rose, rose of grace seemed more fitting.”
“That’s so beautiful. Thank you,” she whispered. “You have done an amazing job of raising her. She’s so adorable.”
“That’s because her mother’s so adorable.” Joseph brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Rosa, I know how important it is for you that I’m on the same page as you...spiritually speaking.” How was he to say what he wanted without her thinking this was a last desperate attempt to get her to marry him, when it wasn’t? “Please don’t think the timing of this is convenient, because what I’m about to tell you isn’t about getting you to say yes to me. For some time, Davis has been telling me about Jesus, and what it’s like to have a living relationship with him. Although intrigued, I was too afraid to make a commitment—worried about how it would affect my business and my image in the fashion industry. But when I saw you yesterday and listened to you praying in the Duomo di Milano, I knew I wanted what you had. And I want my daughter…our daughter…to one day become a woman of great faith like her mother. I cannot do that on my own. I will fail, guaranteed.”
Rose’s mouth skewed as she chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes moistening again. She swallowed hard. “Oh, Joseph. I’m not a woman of great faith. My faith is so weak, and I—”
“You’re wrong. Watching you these past two days…I want what you have. I don’t care anymore about appearances. I care about what God thinks. I–I should have done this yesterday in the cathedral, but—” He lowered to his knees again, unconcerned this time that his white chinos pressed against the red earth. The stain could easily be removed. But only one thing could remove the stain of his sins, the years of ritualistic lip-service to the Creator. This prayer.
He reached for her hand. “Will you help me pray the sinner’s prayer that Davis has often told me about?”
Chapter Ten
“WHY SO QUIET?” Joseph asked Rose as they strolled in the lavender field one last time. The upright purple spikes swayed lazily in the early morning breeze.
If only she could feel so free of any cares.
He reached for her hand, and she thrilled at his touch. He’d been a perfect gentleman the three days spent in Tuscany. Come to think of it, he’d always been a perfect gentleman, except that one time they’d both allowed passion to rule their emotions and changed the course of their lives forever.
Rose gazed into the distance. Straight rows of purple filled her vision. “Just thinking how grateful I am that you brought me here. Thank you for no longer shutting me out.” She released a sigh. “But I am sad that we need to return to London this evening. I could stay here forever.” Returning, however, was only part of what weighed so heavily on her mind. Fear of the future; the disruption of Rosannah’s life as they juggled their daughter between homes, between countries… If only there were a quick and easy fix.
Joseph had spoken of marriage again after his lavender-ring proposal, and getting married seemed the only solution to their quandary, but she was so scared to rush into anything.
“I could marry you. We could relocate here—open a bridal boutique for you in Florence,” he tried for the third time, squeezing her hand.
How tempting the idea was. “Joseph… You know I can’t. Not now. We already spoke about this yesterday.”
“I know, I know. Romance first…marriage later.” He pushed through the lavender bushes onto the path between the rows that she walked on.
She smiled. “You like doing that.”
He cocked his head to the right. “Doing what?”
“Pushing through onto my side.”
“How else can I do this?” He slid his arms around her waist and drew her into his embrace. “And, speaking of romance…we haven’t had any time for that. Not with you getting to know your daughter, and her getting to know her mamma.”
Rose inhaled deep then exhaled. “I’ve missed out on so much. Thank you for showing me what you could of her life. Would you mind terribly if I took the photo albums back to England to show my parents?”
“Your parents?”
Rose nodded. “When I went to bed last night, I plucked up the courage to call them.”
“And?” His mouth curved.
“You were right. They were understanding. Upset at first, naturally. My mom cried. But soon they asked when I could bring Rosannah to meet them.” Rose placed a hand on his chest and smoothed her palm over the cotton fabric. “Would you come with me? I’d really like my family to meet you, as well.” Plus, she could do with the moral support. And that reassuring touch of his.
“Of course I will. And Rosa, the albums are ours. Feel free to take them with back to England. One day, hopefully soon, they’ll sit on a shelf in the one place we both call home—whether that be in London, or Tuscany.”
She smiled. “You’re determined, aren’t you?”
Joseph flashed a white grin. “I won’t stop asking until you say yes.” Finger on her chin, he tilted her face upward. “What do you say we begin creating that future now? You wanted romance, I can certainly give you that…Italian style. Tell me what could be more romantic than our first kiss in far too many years in a beautiful lovender field?”
“You mean lavender?”
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No. I mean lovender. It was here that I felt the first kiss of heaven, felt God’s love. And it is here that I want to experience the same with you.”
Rose closed her eyes and she shivered as his hands moved up her back, his hold on her tightening. What could be more romantic than to be wooed by a handsome Italian, and the father of her child, in this amazing setting? She ventured opening her eyes to meet his gaze.
“The perfect place to start is with a few Italian kisses, wouldn’t you say?” His mouth found hers—unresisting—his kisses gentle and sweet at first, deepening to lengthy, passionate ones. She should have tasted these Italian kisses days ago.
Finally he pulled away from her, breathless. “Don’t take too long to give me a yes answer, mio amore.”
“Ciao, Nonna! Arrivederci, Nonno!” Rosannah waved goodbye to her grandparents as she walked between Rose and Joseph, headed to the car.
Joseph’s mother and father waved from the door. They’d decided not to venture farther for fear they’d not be able to let their granddaughter
leave. Despite Joseph and Rose’s repeated promises to return soon, tears rolled down the elegant woman’s cheeks. His father had swallowed hard as they’d kissed goodbye.
Rosannah took Rose’s hand, looked up at her and smiled.
Rose’s heart swelled. She’d never tire of the feeling of that small hand in hers. Thank you, Lord, for giving me back my child.
And Tuscany.
The four nights spent there had redeemed the mistakes of long ago.
“Pappa, can we take a last walk to the lavender field? I want to pick some to take to England for my new grandmamma and grandpappa.”
“Of course, mio bambino.”
Stopping, Rosannah placed her little arms firmly on her hips. The bright floral fabric of the long-sleeved T-shirt hanging over her jeans scrunched with the action. “Pappa, I’m not a baby anymore. I’m five now.” She turned her gaze to Rose. “Mamma, what’s London like?”
Rose looked down at her daughter as they continued on toward the lavender field. “Has your father never taken you there?”
The long French plait Rose braided into Rosannah’s hair that morning swished from one side of her head to the other. “Never, Mamma.”
Rose shot Joseph a look.
He shrugged. “My times in London are always hectic with work.”
She softened her gaze. “I understand. I guess we’ll both have a lot of changes to make now.”
She felt a soft tug at the edge of her cotton jacket.
“London, Mamma…”
Rose smiled. “Well, it rains a lot there. The skies aren’t as blue as in Tuscany, except in the summer. And sometimes when it’s not raining. There are a lot of buildings and people so it’s very busy. We do have a beautiful wide river running through the city—”
“Like Venice, Mamma?”
Rose thought of the romantic gondolas that grace the canals of that city and shook her head. “No, Rosannah. Nothing at all like Venice.” She sucked in a breath. “London does have palaces. The Queen of England lives in one. It also has one of the biggest Ferris wheels in the world.”
Those Blue Tuscan Skies Page 11
