by Wendy Tyson
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.”
Allison studied her friend. “Something tells me you’ve already done some research on the topic.”
Vaughn smiled. Allison loved his smile. “I may have.”
“You’re something. You know that?”
Vaughn waved away her affection. “Just think about it, Allison. Fresh air. History. Some time for you and Grace alone. An interesting client. This could be just what the doctor ordered.”
THREE
The bathroom tiles were cold against her bare feet. Allison stood with her back to the closed door, staring at the small stick in her hand. She willed a second pink line to fill a tiny rectangle, but the white void remained. She could hear Jason changing through the door and squared her shoulders. It’d been a long day, but she’d just confirmed the thing she suspected—six days late didn’t amount to pregnancy. Perimenopause, maybe—at thirty-four, it was possible—but clearly not a baby.
And what had the doctor told her? Her parts were in order. There was nothing medically wrong preventing conception. “Patience,” she’d said. Ugh—patience.
A sharp knock on the door startled her.
“Hold on.” Allison wrapped the stick in tissues and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Come in.”
Jason stood in the doorway, his tall, lean form filling the space. He wore plaid pajama bottoms and no shirt. The hairs covering a firm, broad chest were sprinkled with gray—reminding Allison that neither of them was getting any younger. A wave of love hit Allison like a tsunami, due as much to Jason’s vulnerability as his strength.
“What’s up?” she asked.
He held his phone toward her. “Read.” His voice was flat.
It only took Allison a moment to understand what she was looking at. It was the offer package from Linear, an Austrian-based company that had been trying to recruit her attorney fiancé for more than three months.
Allison looked at him questioningly.
“Almost ten percent more than the number I told them. And that was twenty percent higher than what I expected.”
“That’s awesome.” Allison forced a smile. “Congratulations.”
“I’m going to accept.”
“Err…okay.”
“You’re alright with that?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“The position is here, in Philly,” he said, answering a question she’d thought of but not yet asked. “But there is some travel. Mostly to Innsbruck.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Jason nodded. His neck strained to see beyond her into the bathroom. “Well?”
Allison kept her expression blank.
“The test. I figured that’s what you were doing in here.” He shrugged. “I saw the kit in the cabinet.”
There was an odd edge to his voice that caused Allison’s muscles to tense. “I’m sorry.” She regretted the words immediately. Jason hated anything that smelled of pity. “Next time, maybe. At our age it can take months. And then when you least expect it—”
“There won’t be a next time.” He stared her down, the edge turning to anger. “It’s me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do.”
“What are you saying?”
“I had tests done too.”
“But you said you weren’t going to do that, not yet.” Her voice louder, she said, “Why would you go alone? Without telling me?”
“Shh, you’ll wake up Grace.”
Allison’s niece was asleep in the next room. Allison swallowed, adjusting her temper. This wasn’t about what Jason had or hadn’t told her. This was about something much bigger.
“Why?” Allison said, more softly this time. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
When Jason didn’t respond, Allison walked out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, and sat down on the bed, suddenly too tired to argue—or be angry. Could the two of them make a baby? She’d been resistant for so long, and now, it seemed, it was all she could think about. But as Amy had demonstrated with Grace, making the baby was usually the easy part. And yet they seemed incapable of even that.
She asked, “What did the doctor tell you?”
Jason sat down next to her. Despite a clean shave before the morning’s funeral services, a bristle of beard shadowed his chin. He looked distant and handsome and angry and bitter all at once. Allison felt her insides twist. Jason had been her husband for five years during a tumultuous time in their lives. Their marriage hadn’t survived Jason’s sister’s untimely death or Allison’s success. They’d reconnected over the last two years. Or maybe they never really severed their bond. Allison loved him, but at times like this, she worried that the demons that had haunted their union would continue to plague their relationship.
Jason spoke matter-of-factly. “I’m the reason we aren’t conceiving.”
“I thought you wanted to wait before seeing a doctor.”
“I needed to know for sure.”
Allison nodded. Outside, more rain pelted the window. She glanced at the dresser, at the row of framed photos that lined its cherry wood top, then reached out to touch Jason’s face. He flinched.
“Are there treatments?”
“The doctor said they probably won’t work in my case. Our best bet is to use another man’s sperm.”
Allison mulled over her next words. She settled on, “Is that something you want to do?”
“I don’t know what I want to do.”
Allison tried to interpret the feelings beneath the sharp edges of his words. Despite their years together, often Jason still seemed like an enigma.
He said, “Let’s just go to bed. It’s been a long day.”
Allison shut off the bedside lamp and lay down, waiting for him to climb in next to her and wrap his arms around her, like he always did. He got under the covers but rolled in the opposite direction, facing the wall.
In the safety of the dark, Allison stroked his back, ignoring the muscles that stiffened under her touch. “None of this matters to me, Jason. I love you. We’re a family. That won’t change.”
He didn’t respond, but the shudder of his body told her all she needed to know.
Allison awoke at ten after nine on Sunday morning. Despite the late hour, she felt stiff and groggy. She rolled over to find Grace in her bed, breathing softly. The little girl had one thumb tucked in her mouth and her arm around a loudly snoring Brutus, their Boxer. Simon the cat perched on the dresser and looked disdainfully down at his family, clearly above all this sentimentality. Jason was gone.
The day outside shown bright with the promise of blue spring skies and fair weather. Allison thought of the conversation she’d had the night before, of her mother’s death and the blank window on the pregnancy test. She slipped out of bed and pulled a robe over her cotton nightgown. After glancing in the mirror, she yanked her hair into a ponytail and stretched, arms over her head. With one last glance at the sleeping dog and child, she headed downstairs. Only the cat followed her.
Jason wasn’t in the kitchen—or anywhere in the house. His briefcase and phone were gone. She found a note. He’d headed into the office. To write his resignation letter.
He’d leave for orientation in Austria in three weeks.
Allison made a call.
“Tell me more about Elle Rose’s proposal.”
Vaughn filled her in on all the basic details. After a series of bad career moves, Elle had moved to the Castle San Pietro with her husband, Damien. She’d lost her husband in a tragic accident a few months before, and now she wanted a fresh start. She needed a new image, a new brand, and she’d pay handsomely. Allison could stay in a guesthouse on the property, which was a cottage on the grounds of the castle nestled in the Italian Dolomite Mountains. The only stipulation was that Allison must be on call for
Elle when she needed her—and she must complete the assignment. Otherwise, Allison’s time was her own.
“Sounds too good to be true,” Allison said when she heard the payment Elle was offering.
“Maybe, but her father is very well off. I imagine he’s the one footing the bill.”
Allison considered this. A spoiled socialite with too much money and nothing to do did not sound like an optimal client. But she’d looked at a map, and she knew that Bidero was in South Tyrol, close to the Austrian border. Very close to Innsbruck, where Jason’s new company was headquartered.
Vaughn interrupted her thoughts. “You’re seriously considering this?”
Allison told him about Jason’s newest offer, leaving out the results of the fertility tests and her fiancé’s false bravado. “What do you think?”
“I think this job will be a good break.” He paused, and Allison could almost hear his gears turning. “You could get married there. You’ve been waiting for the right time. Why not make it the right time?”
Allison closed her eyes, mulling over Vaughn’s idea. They could, indeed, get married there. It would be simpler. No crowds, no fuss. “What were you thinking?”
Vaughn didn’t hesitate. “Go to Europe with Jason. Scope out the place, make arrangements for the wedding. Then we’ll fly over and join you.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course.”
“What about my appointments here?”
“You wouldn’t leave for a few weeks. Meet with each of your clients, explain about your book, offer a couple of free sessions when you return.” Vaughn cleared his throat. “You don’t have any major speaking engagements coming up. There’s nothing we can’t reschedule or postpone.”
“You’ve already checked.”
“Of course.”
Allison tried to reign in her building excitement. It could work—and it could be the break she and Jason needed. “There’s Grace to think about. Even if we can take her, does that make sense? Would a new culture be overwhelming?”
“Just a thought, but maybe Faye could take her for a few days, then Mia could meet you in Italy with Grace.”
Allison heard the pain in Vaughn’s voice at the mere mention of Mia. Mia had been the original owner of First Impressions and Allison’s mentor. She was also Jason’s mother and Vaughn’s former lover. Their breakup—Mia’s idea—had happened months ago, but Vaughn never mentioned it. He rarely mentioned Mia, for that matter. Allison imagined the pain was still overwhelming, whether Vaughn would admit it or not.
“I don’t know. That’s a lot to ask.”
“Then just bring Grace with you. I really think the time together will do you both some good. And Elle said it’s fine. She likes kids, and she has a trained nurse who can help watch Grace when you’re working.” He paused. “As long as your whereabouts are known and Amy doesn’t object, I don’t think it will be a problem with the agency.”
Allison ran through the issue in her mind. Would the social services people or the courts let her niece travel overseas? Would Amy fight her on it? Unlikely—no one even knew where Amy was. Vaughn was probably right. “I’ll make some calls,” she said. “But what about Simon and Brutus?”
“We’ll hire someone to watch your menagerie. Angela has a friend who is a professional pet sitter. She can stay at your house.”
“You really have thought of everything.”
“I really think you could use this time.”
Allison smiled. They could do this. She glanced at her laptop, at the map of the world up on the screen. What was she so afraid of? With a deep sense of finality, she said, “If I can take Grace, I’ll go.”
“I’ll start making arrangements, although I won’t commit you yet. Let me know what you hear.”
“Thanks, Vaughn,” Allison said.
“For what?”
“For being my friend.”
Vaughn’s voice was rough with emotion when he next spoke. “Other than Jamie, you’re all I have.”
FOUR
The trip to Bidero via Milan was blessedly uneventful. Allison and Jason rented a car at the Milan airport and sped east out of the city, carefully navigating the country’s highways using their limited knowledge of Italian. West of Verona, they began their journey north toward the majestic Dolomite Mountains. The mountains’ pale peaks were just visible in the distance, looming sentries of a world very different than that of the Philadelphia Main Line.
Conversation was limited as they wound their way up small mountain roads and through tiny villages reminiscent of an earlier, simpler time. In fact, the quaintness of the South Tirolean countryside contrasted sharply with the weary cosmopolitan bustle of Milan—so much so that Allison had trouble believing they were part of the same country.
“Look at the architecture.” They were climbing toward the top of a mountainous road, and Allison pointed to a narrow stone church at the top of the long incline. Along the road were Swiss-style chalets, each adorned with window boxes overflowing with blood-red geraniums and ivy. “I feel like I’m in Switzerland.”
“It’s the Austrian influence.” Jason’s eyes were on the road, but his jawline and shoulders, unyielding for most of the flight and early drive, remained tense. Grace was asleep in her booster seat in the back. Jason glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping child, then at Allison. “Most people in the region speak Italian and German. The food is different from the southern regions of the country too.”
“Different in what way?”
“A blend of the two cultures but heavy on the Austrian influence.” He attempted a smile. “Pastas, sausages, dumplings. An interesting fusion. You’ll like it.”
Allison turned toward the window. They passed a deep green pasture spotted with grazing sheep. Their muddy-white forms seemed to float next to a dilapidated stone wall, a scene from another century. There was something haunting about the area, and Allison felt a haze of apprehension settle over her.
It didn’t improve when Jason said, “You know someone died at the castle.”
“Yes, Elle’s husband.”
“Did you read the accounts of his death?”
“An accidental fall.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful while you’re there. The man who died was an expert outdoorsman. It had been his family’s castle. He knew the area and was well acquainted with the dangers of the mountain terrain. If it could happen to him—”
“He’d been walking at night, Jason. On an unlit path. And I read they found drugs in his system.” Allison snapped her head around, giving him a hard look. “Why are you bringing this up now?”
Jason remained quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was lighter. “I just want to start this new job and know that you and Grace are safe.”
“We’ll be safe.”
Jason didn’t respond, but Allison could tell he was still brooding. Through the planning and packing he’d remained distant. She was hoping their time abroad would smash those barriers, help him to open up. Instead it felt like he was more reserved than ever.
She said, “This wasn’t how I thought we’d do it.”
“Do what?”
She sighed. “Get married. Start our new life together.”
“What’s wrong with what we’re doing?”
“It’s not the what. It’s the how.” She turned back toward him. One manicured nail tapped against the car’s leather seat. “You’re upset and worried. I’m a stress case. I thought it was a good idea at first, coming here, but now it feels like we’re running away.”
Jason looked over at her and his eyes softened. “We’re being practical, not avoidant.”
Allison closed her eyes against the assault of worry she was feeling. He was right. Life had tossed them some curveballs over the past few years—murders, an abduction, Amy’s addiction, the loss of he
r mother, and now news of their infertility. What was wrong with getting away, finding some time to focus on family and work? And the fact that Elle’s husband had died just months before? A sad accident that had nothing to do with them.
As the car spiraled up the mountainside, drawing closer to a towering chapel at the apex, Allison forced her mind onto other things, practical things. How would she start her sessions with Elle? She had a plan, but without having met the woman in person, she’d have to be flexible. As she thought through the tools she’d need for her job, Allison felt her mood lighten. Image consulting felt like solid footing. And this trip would be good for them. They’d go into it splintered and wounded and unsure about their next steps together—and come out husband and wife, once again.
But another glance at Jason sank some of that optimism. His eyes looked misty, his hands gripped the wheel with iron determination. He was avoiding the real issue: his infertility. And that was the one thing this trip couldn’t cure.
Castle San Pietro loomed ahead, its sheer size a testament to the builders of bygone times. The main structure sat atop a hill, a series of windowless box-like structures jutting from the earth beneath it like the edges of a crown. The tallest of the structures, a turret twice the height of any other, stood sentinel, its rock exterior stained and etched from centuries of use. One row of small rectangular windows wrapped the very top of the solid stone turret, under a slate triangular roof. The overall effect was eerie…eerie and oppressive. Allison wondered what it was like to live in such a place. She supposed she’d find out soon enough.
Smoke curled from the chimney of the main building. Horses grazed in a bordering pasture, and Allison could just make out a barn on the far side of a stone wall. To the left of the castle, the ground sloped steeply down. A dirt path followed the slope, crossed a dilapidated stone wall, and ended in a thick border of trees. The tree line was dense and shadowed, the forest of a thousand tales.
“Oh, it’s a fairy tale castle,” Grace said in awe, echoing Allison’s thoughts.
Grace had awakened just as they pulled into the long, steep road that led to the castle. Her sleepy eyes focused on the turrets, her mouth forming a wide o-shaped smile. Long caramel-brown tresses enveloped her round face. The five-year-old pushed the hair back from her cheeks with chubby fingers. She looked from Allison to the castle and back at Allison.
