All the Way to Heaven

Chapter 33

I wheeled my chair out onto the terrace, overflowing with emotions, both mine and those shared with me, about this home and the way of life that was changing before my very eyes. Suddenly, my silly cracked ankle that was going to heal just fine, my stolen identity that could so easily be replaced, and my broken heart over a man not worthy of my tears, all seemed so trivial in light of the loss of generations upon generations of family legacy. I was humbled by the transparency and the tenacity of the people in whose home I'd found sanctuary.

Margarite had set out a dish of fruit for me, along with a glass and a bottle of chilled San Pellegrino, but it sat untouched on the table beside me.

A breeze kicked up and I moved into a patch of sunlight, not wanting to go inside for a sweater, enjoying too much the fragrance of the valley swirling around me. Closing my eyes against the glare, I tilted my head back and breathed deeply. I could almost taste the essence of Tuscany in that breath: the grit of arid soil, the sharp tang of savory herbs blending with sweet orange blossoms and wild honey.

"Ani."

I jerked my head up and bit back the cry that leapt from my throat. I turned in my seat to find Paulo standing at the edge of the terrace, hands thrust into his pockets, shoulders relaxed. The breeze kept ruffling the hair on top of his head, making it stand on end like a flapping toupee. I warred between wanting to giggle and wanting to berate him for startling me.

"I apologize for disturbing you. You looked very peaceful."

"You didn't disturb me, Paulo," I retorted. "You scared the living daylights out of me. Why are you always sneaking up on me?" I'd momentarily forgotten that I didn't want to see him.

"Why are you always sitting with your eyes closed?" The question hung in the air between us, and I read a subtle jab into it that he probably hadn't intended. His next words confirmed my paranoia. "You look exceptionally beautiful today, Ani. I like your red pants."

I narrowed my eyes at him, unable to tell if he was really paying me a compliment or mocking me. "Thank you," I finally mumbled, then hurried on. "Why are you here, Paulo? Please tell me you didn't bring that poor boy with you." The thought had just occurred to me, and I glanced past him.

"No, I came alone. To see you."

"They do have a front door, you know. You could have knocked and come through the house like a normal person, rather than sneaking around back." My words weren't very kind but my tone was gentler. I could see he had something on his mind, and I wasn't cruel by nature. There was just something about Paulo that seemed to push the wrong buttons in me.

"I met up with Claudia in the driveway when I arrived. She informed me you were out here and told me to go around."

"Oh." I looked out toward the horizon, ashamed, and trying to stay angry at him, but finding it difficult.

"May I join you?" He still stood on the path, waiting for an invitation to come closer.

"Yes. Of course." I dipped my head toward the tray on the table. "Would you like some water? I haven't used the glass yet."

He glanced over at the food as he passed, but came directly to me, crouching down in front of me the way he had Sunday night when I'd told him I liked his smile. I mentally cringed at the memory, wondering if he was thinking of my inebriated foolishness, too.

He waited until I met his gaze, but when I looked away again, he took my hand, holding it between both of his. His fingers were warm on my chilled skin and I fought the impulse to pull away from him, from the irrational and unpredictable response he stirred in me every time he was around.