managed to discover anything. He had vanished into a void. That was the hardest thing of all to bear.’
‘Vanished?’ Heather echoed, shocked. ‘Do you mean that-?’
‘I don’t know,’ Baptista said quickly. ‘He vanished. It would be nice to know, one way or the other, but I suppose now I never will.’
‘You still think of him-after all these years?’
‘He was my one true love, and no woman ever forgets the man who is that,’ Baptista murmured with a touch of wistfulness. ‘I cried for weeks, and was sure my life was over. My parents arranged marriages for me and I refused them all. After several years they were growing worried. I was already twenty-five, a late age for a girl of my generation to marry. Finally they suggested Vincente. He was a good man, although very dull. But I wanted children. So I married him, and I was glad.’
‘You fell in love?’
‘No, not I with him, nor he with me. But we became dear friends.’ She gave Heather an impish smile. ‘How easy it is to embarrass the young. You are wondering if I knew about my husband and Bernardo’s mother. Of course I did, and it wasn’t the end of the world. I’d had my love, and the happiness I knew in that short time will stay with me all my days. I was glad Vincente could also be happy.’
‘But are you saying that-that love doesn’t matter in marriage?’
‘I’m saying there is more than one kind of love. Vincente was my dearest friend. As friends we loved each other, and our marriage was strong. When our little girl died we wept in each other’s arms.’
‘You had a daughter?’
‘Our first child. She died when she was six months old. Her name was Doretta.’ Baptista took her hand. ‘If she had lived, I hope she would have grown up like you, gentle, sweet-natured and strong.’
Heather laid her other hand over Baptista’s and looked at her with eyes that were suddenly blurred.
‘We haven’t known each other very long,’ Baptista said, ‘but sometimes a few days is enough-as you and Lorenzo have discovered. I knew from the first that you were the daughter of my heart, as surely as if I’d given birth to you. Bella Rosaria would have been Doretta’s dowry. Now it will be yours.’
‘You mean-you’re giving it to Lorenzo-?’
‘No. I am giving it to you.’
‘But-I couldn’t possibly-’
‘If you refuse, you will break my heart,’ Baptista said simply.
‘And I wouldn’t hurt you for the world,’ Heather said at once. ‘Thank you.’
After all, she thought, the property would return to the family on her wedding day. And that was so close now that the gift probably wouldn’t happen until the actual wedding.
But Baptista had another surprise for her. She rapped on the floor with her walking stick, and when a maid looked in spoke a few words in Sicilian. A moment later two grave-looking men, dressed in black, entered the room, carrying papers.
‘This is my lawyer and his assistant,’ Baptista explained. ‘The papers are all ready for signature, and they will act as witnesses.’
‘You mean now?’ Heather asked, slightly aghast.
‘There will never be a better time,’ Baptista said calmly taking up a pen.
‘In a few days it will be right for you to call me Mamma,’ Baptista observed. ‘Why not now? It would make me so happy.’
‘And me-Mamma.’
‘
A few moments later Heather found herself the owner of an estate. They all marked the occasion with a glass of Marsala, and the lawyers departed.
‘Now I’m feeling a little tired,’ Baptista announced. ‘I’ll go and lie down for a while, and you can look over your property.’
As she wandered through the rooms of the elegant little villa Heather knew she’d found the true home she wanted. It was the perfect size for two people in love, and just close enough to Palermo to make it feasible for her and Lorenzo to live here.
Plans were forming in her mind. Since she could travel with him it would be easy for her to involve herself in his work. Baptista had a seat on the board, and was all for Heather taking an interest in the firm. She and Lorenzo could work together and then retreat to this magic place and make their own world.
And when their world began to grow she knew exactly the room she wanted for a nursery. It was at the back of the house, overlooking the magnificent, flower-filled gardens. She stood at the window a moment, mentally redecorating this room in pastel shades, then hurried down to explore the grounds.
Here the air was heady with a thousand scents. Tall trees shaded her progress and birds called overhead as she wandered in a place of pure enchantment. Always she was within sound of rushing water, and sometimes she came upon little fountains, cut into the walls.
Suddenly the path widened into a small arbour, almost separate from the rest of the garden. Everywhere she looked there were roses, pink, white, yellow, climbing roses, trailing roses, full blooms and small tight buds. And in the centre a bush of brilliant crimson blooms that was in itself a declaration of love.
‘I thought you would find this place,’ Baptista said.
Heather turned and saw her standing there, leaning slightly on her stick.
‘I saw you from my window, and wanted to show you my special place myself.’
‘Did he-?’
‘Yes, Fede began it for me. It was his way of saying what he dared not say in words.’
She indicated a small wooden bench and they sat there together.
‘Over the years I have tended this place with love and it has grown. I’ve protected the plants so that they survived the winters, taking them into greenhouses, or even the house. Some are still the original plants that he put here. Some are from cuttings.
‘And I have taken cuttings to the Residenza, and put them in my garden there. But here, in this spot, was where he said to me that no other woman would ever exist for him besides me.’
She pointed to the glorious red blooms. ‘We planted that together, and I have never let it die,’ she said softly. ‘If he came back now, I could show him that bush and say, “See how I have loved it for your sake.”’
‘And I shall love it for yours,’ Heather said softly.
‘I knew you would. And when they bury me, and my coffin is piled high with formal tributes from people I cared nothing about, will you make sure a single bloom from this bush lies hidden there somewhere?’
‘Of course I will. But don’t you want Lorenzo or Renato to do that for you?’
She shook her head. ‘When the time comes Lorenzo will sob and forget everything but his grief. You will have to be strong for him then. And Renato is a good man, but there are things about the heart that he doesn’t understand.’
‘Just about everything, I should think,’ Heather said, and the two women exchanged a smile. ‘Of course I’ll do this for you,’ she promised.
‘Then I can be peaceful, for it was troubling me that there was nobody I could rely on to do this.’
‘You still love him, after so long?’
‘Not as I think you mean it. Passion is long dead. What matters then is someone to sit with you in the evening sun: someone who will talk and hold your hand, and smile at you with eyes that say, “Let us go, unafraid, into the twilight together.” Sometimes at dusk I’ll come and sit here, and remember. But always I sit alone. I am growing old, my dear daughter, and my heart aches for what I shall never have.’
She tucked her hand in Heather’s arm, and slowly they made their way back to the house.
Lorenzo’s reaction later that night was strange. After the first surprise and pleasure, he said, ‘I wonder how Renato will take this. He always hoped to own Bella Rosaria one day.’
After which Heather braced herself for recriminations, but Renato went up to his room without giving her more than a brief nod.
