“I know how much this means to you.” So far the man in the backseat had no idea this was all in tribute to him. “I’ll give you my very best.”
“You always do. Did I tell you Mel Jardine will be coming next week? He’s missing you terribly.”
“I miss him, too,” she said, warmed by his words, “but I have to admit I love it here.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Does that mean you’re reconsidering my offer?” he asked hopefully.
“No. It just means I’m a typical woman who’s having more fun than I deserve.”
“After what you’ve been through, no one deserves it more than you. Now get to bed and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you for everything, Guilio. Ciao.”
Once Annabelle had clicked off, she turned in the seat and was taken back by Lucca’s inscrutable stare. The light from the store illuminated his irises, which were flecked with green among the grey. What a beautiful surprise they were. This was the first time she’d seen their color.
The silence deepened, making her uneasy. “Are you waiting for your prescription to be filled?”
“No. I’ve taken my medicine and am ready to go home whenever you are.”
The knowledge that he would be feeling relief shortly seemed to have revived him enough to be civil to her. He might hate it that she existed as an unwanted encumbrance, but he’d needed someone to help him. Would it be out of the question to hope he might thank her at some point? She started the car and headed back to Ravello without saying anything.
“My father sounded more excited than I’ve heard him in years.”
You have no idea, Lucca. “After meeting him, I had the impression he’s always like that.”
“You’ve heard of the immovable object and the irresistible force. My father’s the embodiment of both of them,” he said in a tone of exasperation.
Her thoughts flew to Guilio, who came across as a dynamo and was infinitely likable. But she hadn’t been his child who’d lived with him from birth. That child might have a different perspective altogether.
About to ask him if he needed anything else as long as they were out, she decided against it because it was quiet back there. Annabelle would normally be turned off by such moody behavior, but she knew too much about him already and cared about him in spite of herself. The man had served his country and was used to making instantaneous decisions to take out the enemy and still stay alive.
That kind of sacrifice put him in a special category of human being, particularly since he’d suffered a recent leg injury that had brought him home on unexpected leave. She imagined it wasn’t in his nature to show his need of anyone. Proud to a fault, perhaps? Especially around his father? It had to be a man thing.
Being a survivor, he would shun anyone hovering over him. Annabelle could understand that and wished she hadn’t been in his house last night. The wounded warrior had the right to come home and deal with his demons out of sight.
It was a case of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Guilio couldn’t have known that. He’d only been trying to accommodate her.
A shudder wracked her body when she thought of the cruel things she’d said to Lucca. Once she’d realized who he was and had overcome her fear, anger hadn’t been far behind. She knew most—if not all—of her comments last night had more to do with lashing out at Ryan. He often came home in the middle of the night after being on rounds at the hospital. Or so she’d thought.
Instead he’d been with the woman who was now his wife. They had a baby, the one that should have been Annabelle’s. The one Ryan had said they couldn’t have until he’d become a fully fledged doctor and had set up a practice.
No…those salvos she’d enjoyed hurling last night had been aimed at the wrong target. If Lucca ever gave her a chance to explain, she would apologize.
By the time they reached the house, she thought he must have fallen asleep. In fact she was sure of it when she opened the rear door and called to him several times without obtaining a response. The position he was half lying in couldn’t possibly have been comfortable. If it were, she’d let him spend the night there.
She reached for the cane and propped it against the side of the car. “Lucca?” She nudged his shoulder gently. “Wake up! You’re home now. Let me help you in the house. Come on. You can’t stay here.”
Something she’d said, maybe just the sound of her voice, must have gotten through to him. Suddenly his body turned rigid and jerked upright. Streams of words poured from his mouth in rapid succession. They hadn’t been said in anger or swearing. Though she understood very little Italian, she thought he must be giving orders or delivering instructions.
In the semidark, a look of horror spread across his face. The hand closest to her squeezed her upper arm in a death grip. He was unaware of his strength. His cries rang in the night air. She thought he said a name before low sobs of anguish shook his frame and found their way to her soul.
Whatever he was reliving in his mind had to have been unspeakable. The man battled post-traumatic stress disorder. Annabelle had worked around vets at the hospital and understood even more his natural instinct to hide away from family until he was able to cope.
Still standing, she leaned farther in and put her other arm around his shoulders. Without conscious thought she rocked him against her, pained for him. “You’re all right, Lucca. It’s just a dream. You’re home and safe,” she murmured over and over in soothing tones, wanting to comfort him.
The freshly shaven male cheek pressed against hers was damp with tears. Whether his or hers at this juncture, she didn’t know. “It’s all right,” she whispered against his temple. “I’m with you. Wake up,” she cried softly.
After a long moment his hold on her arm loosened enough for her to embrace him fully. In the next breath she felt his body relax, as if he were with her now, mentally as well as physically. No longer seized by what had to have been some kind of flashback, he drew in a labored breath.