The Sicilian's Bride (17 page)

“I’ll be back in a week or two if all goes well. But you’ll be fine without me,” he said. “You’re on your way. The house is livable and the grapes are ripe. You’ll have a great harvest. You’re strong. You’re capable.”

I may be capable, but I need you every day in every way,
she thought, her heart pounding. What he was really saying was good-bye. Things would never be the same. He left without kissing her good-bye. His mind was hundreds of miles away. While she had been falling in love he had been just helping a neighbor. The truth hit her like a barrel of aged wine. Once again she’d fooled herself into thinking the man she loved loved her in return.

When everyone left, and the sun was setting over the hills in the distance, silence descended on the Azienda. Isabel looked around from the house to the vines. She sat down on a wooden chair at the edge of the vineyard, suddenly so tired and weak she felt as if she’d just run a marathon instead of hosting a party.

For the first time in two weeks, she was alone. She’d been spoiled. She’d let herself get used to having Dario there every night and every morning. Worst of all, she’d let herself fall in love with him. Finally she stood and went into her house, her cold, empty, lonely house.

During the next week Isabel took her grapes to be crushed. She continued to paint and plaster. She managed to buy food for herself, but she didn’t feel like eating it. She went to bed every night and lay tossing and turning and thinking about how stupid she’d been until it got light. Life on the Azienda was no longer beautiful. It was flat and uninteresting without Dario. She gave herself stern warnings about standing strong, but she buried her head in her pillow and tuned them out.

Another week went by during which she talked to no one but her workers, and their conversation was limited by her lack of Italian. She was anxious to know how Dario was doing in Palermo, but she had no way to find out except by calling him on his cell phone, and she couldn’t do that. She had her pride, after all.

If he wanted to get in touch with her, he knew where to find her. One day she ran into Lucia at the town square. Dario’s sister greeted her warmly.

“How’s Dario doing?” Isabel asked, swallowing what little pride she had left.

“Still in Palermo. The problems are more serious than we thought. He’s working night and day to negotiate a new contract with the workers’ union. Who knows how long it will take? In the meantime Cosmo is taking over some of his work here. It’s good for him. Dario was always the big brother. Always in charge. Cosmo never had a chance to show what he can do. Now’s his chance.”

Isabel felt sick. He’d updated his family, but hadn’t called her.

“Are you all right?” Lucia asked. “You look a little pale.”

Isabel managed a smile. “I’m fine.”

Lucia looked at her and Isabel was afraid she could guess that she’d been suffering. “You know I was hoping you and Dario…”

“We were just friends, that’s all,” Isabel assured her.

“It’s too bad,” Lucia said softly. “You were good for him. I don’t understand what happened.”

Isabel understood perfectly. He’d made the same mistake with her that he had with Magdalena except that he’d been in love with Magdalena. He was once again making up for his lack of attention to work by burying himself in it. This time for good. No one can recover from two mistakes in a row. Not Dario and not her either. It was time to do something different. She couldn’t continue to live and work where Dario’s face and his voice and his hands infused in every square inch of the house and land. Everywhere she looked she saw his smile, heard his voice and listened for his car. Every surface she touched, she felt him. It was an illusion. He wasn’t there and he would never be there again, not the way she wanted him to be. She had to pull herself together and stop thinking about
him night and day. She had to make decisions based on what was best for her and her state of mind. Hard decisions.

Dario was exhausted. He’d been working nonstop since he got to Palermo. He’d been up for the last twenty-four hours haggling over details with the union organizers. The days had all blended together since he’d left home. Home. Where was home? When he thought about it, the Azienda came into his mind. The Azienda and Isabel.

He tried not to think about her, but the sound of her voice, the look on her face before she woke up in the morning, the smell of fresh paint on her house, the taste of the coffee she made for him in the morning haunted him day and night. He couldn’t shake the image of how she had looked when he’d said he was leaving. She’d tried to smile, but her lips had trembled. He’d thought he had no choice but to go. His mind was already there, settling the dispute. Fixing the problem by himself the way he always did.

He’d thought no one could handle the situation but him, but his brother-in-law had arrived the night before with new energy and fresh ideas, so maybe he was wrong. He’d thought no one could manage the harvest without him, but Cosmo seemed to be doing fine. Maybe his family was right. He was a control freak who couldn’t let go. But he couldn’t do everything by himself. It was time to go home. He knew where home was. It was the Azienda. It was wherever Isabel was. He needed her. Without her he could never be whole. Never be happy.

Finally the answer came to Isabel. She had to leave. But how could she when she loved the Azienda, every crack in the foundation, every spiderweb, every dripping faucet. With all its flaws, it was the only home she’d ever had. Still, the pain was unbearable. The loneliness worse than ever. She’d been alone before, but that was before she met Dario. That was
before she’d shared this house and her bed and her life with him. She could be alone again, but not here. He’d made it impossible for her to stay.

She went to Dario’s house and looked in the window. She saw the stone fireplace and the matching leather chairs and the pile of papers untouched on his desk. She remembered how she’d felt the night he’d brought her here to see his grandfather’s paintings and had kissed her for the first time.

There was no music playing today. The windows were closed. She slid the note she’d written under his front door. When he walked in it would be the first thing he’d see. She was glad he wasn’t there. If he were, he’d try to convince her to stay. He’d give her all the reasons why she should stay, except for the one she wanted to hear. She leaned against his front door, her head pressed against the hard wood panel.
What am I doing?
She asked herself.
I can’t leave.
She had to retrieve the note. But she couldn’t reach it. She’d write another one, she’d say—
Disregard the previous note. I’m not leaving after all. It’s nothing personal. Nothing to do with you. I just can’t leave a house I’ve spent so much time and energy on.

Then she reminded herself he hadn’t called her since he’d left. He didn’t miss her. He didn’t love her. It was obvious. The brusque way he’d left her the day of the Blessing was like a fresh wound in her heart. He didn’t seem at all sorry he had to go. He appeared almost eager for a new challenge. Why had she not realized what it meant? Once again she’d fallen in love by herself. It was time to go or to consign herself to suffering even more than she was now. Or should she wait and tell him in person? She went to her car and sat there for an hour, torn between going and staying.

Dario returned from Palermo that night. He had to see Isabel. He had to see her right now. He’d thought he didn’t need her. He’d thought he’d lost his head again, along with his work ethic. Instead he’d found what was important. More important than the land or the harvest or anything. It was her. He went straight to the Azienda, but she wasn’t there. The door was unlocked but the house was empty. Puzzled and confused, with a sense of dread gnawing at his gut, he went to his house.

When he saw her note lying on his floor he dumped his valise on the ground and sat down at his desk, his heart pounding, his vision blurred as he read her words.

“…can’t stay here any longer…too difficult…I understand…Azienda all yours…” He crumpled the note in his hand and threw it across the room. What was wrong with her? Why did she leave? Was it because he’d gone to Palermo and she needed him? Why didn’t she get in touch with him then? She’d never called him once while he was gone. The note was full of explanations, but none of them made any sense.

He was in a state of shock. He’d been working too hard, not eating enough, not sleeping enough, then driving here too fast, thinking about her too much.

He stared at the empty fireplace filled with cold ashes. He retrieved the note and smoothed the wrinkles in it with his palm. He walked outside and looked at the sky. The sun was still shining even though Isabel wasn’t here. She’d gone back to California. But when and how?

He was filled with anger. Anger at her for leaving without telling him. Anger at himself because of all the things he’d never done. Never taken her to see the volcano. Never taken her to see the
cathedrale
at Monreale or to the opera to hear Puccini.

He stood for a long moment trying to get it through his
head that she was gone. She wouldn’t be there to share dinner cooked over an outdoor fire pit with him. She wouldn’t be there to take a shower with him or put her arms around him to keep from rolling out of the narrow bed they’d shared.

He thought of the Azienda. Her touch and her smell were everywhere as if she’d just stepped out for a moment. Maybe she had. Maybe she’d just left. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to get a ticket home. He could only hope. Missing her caused a dull ache in his heart, the heart he’d thought was encased in stone. So he ran back to his car and drove as fast as he could to the airport. He, the ultimate loner, the guy who lived alone was racing down the highway to try to persuade a woman to share her life with him. Forever.

Isabel was at the ticket counter where she’d been waiting for hours while the agent checked the flights to the U.S. again and again. Nothing. There was nothing today. Maybe
domani
…tomorrow?

She couldn’t wait until tomorrow. She’d lose her nerve. She was already having second and third thoughts. If she didn’t get on a plane now what would she do? Return to the Azienda? Go to a hotel? Buy a ticket to someplace else? No, no no. She paced the floor, bought a magazine and went to the airport
caffee
and ordered a cappuccino. If Dario were here he’d insist she get a gelato too. He wanted her to taste and experience everything Sicilian.

But he wasn’t here. He was in Palermo working. That’s where he wanted to be. The time he’d spent with her at the Azienda was just a blip on the screen of his life, only a short sequence that had been fun but that couldn’t last. If it weren’t for the family business emergency, it would have been something else. Yes, it was best she leave. If not today then tomorrow. And if not tomorrow…

“
Ciao, signorina
,” he said, in a voice she recognized with a jolt.

She swiveled around on her chair and stared. There he was easing into a chair across the table as if this had all been planned. She gripped the spoon in her hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. He very casually ordered a coffee, so casually that she was convinced he’d seen her note and he had just come to say good-bye.

She braced herself against the back of the chair while her heart pounded and the whole room spun around. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice so strained she sounded like a rusty gate. It must be a dream. Dario at the airport.

He rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. He was so close she saw the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the shadow of a beard that lined his jaw. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. But he still looked amazing in his Italian jeans and his blue shirt. He was so close she felt her bones melt.

“I might ask you the same thing,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m thinking of returning to California. But all the flights are full.”

“Why?” he said, his blue eyes glittering like the sea on a stormy day.

“Why are they full?” she asked with a frown. “Maybe because it’s Friday.”

“Why are you leaving?” he asked, with an obvious effort to be patient with her.

“I wrote you a note,” she explained

“I got your note. But I want to hear it from you. Straight from your mouth. I thought you liked it here.”

“I did. I do. But I can’t stay.” She pressed her lips together
and willed herself not to cry. She must stay calm and explain why she was leaving. If only she could make it clear in her own head. “I thought I could manage the Azienda by myself, but when you left I realized I couldn’t.”

“It’s not like you to quit something you cared about so much.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision.” That was the truth. In fact, she was still wavering.

“At least you could have waited until I got back to tell me in person. I thought I meant more to you than that.” His mouth twisted into a frown. “You could have called me. I never heard from you.”

“You didn’t call
me.
If I hadn’t run into your sister I wouldn’t have known you were still alive.”

“I’m sorry. I should have kept in touch. The work was overwhelming, but that’s no excuse. I thought about you. And I missed you.” He looked deep into her eyes, so deeply she was afraid he could see the real reason she was leaving.

Isabel blinked back a tear. These were the words she longed to hear.

“I missed you too,” she said softly.

“I shouldn’t have gone. I should have sent someone else,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought I was indispensable, the only one capable of doing the job, but when Guillermo came to relieve me I realized he was even better qualified than I was. He had the energy I had run out of. And Cosmo has taken over back here and done a great job. So maybe it was good I left as far as he was concerned. It’s been a humbling experience to find I’m not as important as I thought. Except for one thing. You too decided you didn’t need me.”