Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (35 page)

CHAPTER FORTY

ROSA AND FELICIA WALKED BESIDE ANTONIO, EACH HOLDING
 a hand on either side of him. There was a light drizzle along the Seine, whose beauty had always entranced Rosa, inspiring her to draw it many times. Shortly after her mother's death, Rosa had retreated so severely that her one means of communication became her drawings.

The first time Antonio heard her speak again was two years after Lydia's death, when he took both girls to Paris. It was the first time Rosa had seen the Seine.

“It's beautiful, Papa,” she had whispered.

His eyes filled with tears hearing his daughter speak for the first time in so long. He thought he had lost her forever, as he had lost Marta. He took her in his arms. “You spoke! Merciful God, you spoke!” They cried together while holding onto each other for a long time. She still spoke only when absolutely necessary. Antonio knew she'd never be quite the same. There would always be an underlying sadness in the child's heart.

But now it was her art that made her happy. He had asked many times if she wanted to go away to school, where she could learn to develop her gift, her talent. But she'd always refused his offers. He knew that going away to learn her trade would benefit her, maybe get her to open up to others. And, although her talent was evident, the morbid and dark themes that seemed to be the focus of her art frightened him a bit and he wished she'd paint more lighter, brighter scenes. She did a lot of paintings with dead angels who looked remarkably like her mother, and other paintings with what Antonio could only classify as demons who looked to be battling child-like angels. Out of fear of putting her work to a halt, Antonio never made any suggestions about her art, and she continued to deny the need to go to art school. It was as if she were afraid to be around people, unlike her younger sister Felicia, who was the outgoing wild one. She had bright eyes and her mother's beauty. Possessing a mind full of questions, she was a perpetual chatterbox.

“Papa, Papa,” Felicia said as she tugged at his coat. She always needed to be the center of attention.

“Yes?”

“I'm going to be a famous French model.”

“Really? How interesting.”

“You're not French,” Rosa interrupted her tartly.

“So? When I was out shopping today, while you were wasting your time doodling, a man from the Marie Claire agency approached me. He told me that I was very beautiful, and that I should come to see him. He said he would take photographs of me to see if I am as beautiful on film.”

“He was probably a con man,” Rosa commented, as they walked across the street to the restaurant where they were to meet Bella.

“No, he wasn't. He gave me his card.” Felicia pulled a card out of her coat pocket and dangled it teasingly in front of Rosa.

“Let me see that,” their father ordered, taking the card from Felicia. Scanning the information on the card, he saw that it bore the name “Mark Le Blanc” on the front. At the top of the card were the words 
Marie Claire
.

“See, told you so. Can I at least go talk to the man, Papa?”

“I'll think about it, but understand that I will go with you. You will not go alone.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you. You wait, big sister, I'll be on the cover of every magazine in the world!”

“Good for you,” Rosa muttered. She couldn't stand Felicia's childish antics, and prayed that she'd curb her obnoxious behavior in the restaurant. Even though Bella and Felicia were closer in age, her friend had always seemed to gravitate more toward Rosa. Bella was special to Rosa. She was the only one who never asked her why she had stopped speaking during all those years. Whenever Bella had come to visit, she would play with Rosa quietly in her room, as if she, too, were mute, a normal condition. Rosa had always appreciated her friend's consideration.

As they walked into the candlelit restaurant, mouth-watering aromas teased their taste buds. Antonio approached the 
maitre de
 to ask if Bella had arrived. Finding she hadn't, they made their way into the bar near the main room of the restaurant to wait for her.

Not long after taking their seats at a cocktail table, Bella arrived. Although disheveled from wind and drizzle, she still appeared as feminine and pretty as ever.

If anyone should be a model, Rosa thought, it should be Bella. However, Bella did not possess the height and trendy beauty her sister Felicia had. Bella was beautiful in both an exotic and classic way. Her green eyes and dark looks made her exotic, but the elegant bone structure of her face gave her a classic look, the kind even age couldn't diminish.

“Hello,” she greeted them breathlessly. “It's so good to see all of you.” She kissed each on the cheek as they stood to greet her. “I'm so sorry I've gotten you wet,” she said to Antonio, holding out her raincoat. The 
maitre de
 walked over.

“May I?” he asked.

She handed her raincoat to the man who asked if they'd like to be seated in the dining room. Antonio nodded and they all followed him into the restaurant.

Antonio laughed. “No need to apologize.” He held out a chair for her.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Tell me, what is new with all of you?”

Immediately, Felicia answered, “I'm going to start modeling.”

“Really?” Bella inquired, smiling knowingly at Rosa.

“Yes, haven't you heard? She's going to color her hair blonde and become the next Cheryl Tiegs,” Rosa teased.

“Shut up. You're jealous. You wish you were me. All you do is waste your time drawing your stupid pictures.”

“Girls,” Antonio warned.

“How 
is
 your art coming along, Rosa?” Bella asked.

“It's wonderful. She draws and paints such beautiful pieces of work, it never ceases to amaze me,” Antonio said.

“I'd really like to see some of them. You know, my horse trainer has a friend who is an art dealer. Maybe I could put you in contact with him.”

“Oh, no, Bella you don't have to do that,” Rosa protested. She shyly looked down at the 
hors d'oeuvres
 the waiter placed before them.

“Why not? I think it's a wonderful idea,” Antonio said.

“Don't be silly, Papa, my art isn't nearly good enough yet to be seen by an art dealer.”

“Now there you go again, doubting yourself. Your art is magnificent. If Bella can help, then let her.”

“He's right, Rosa. I'm sure your art is very promising. I'd love to help in any way that I can.”

“Well, all right, thank you, Bella,” Rosa whispered.

She could not help but remember the words her demon uncle had spoken to her years ago, the words that echoed in her mind the whole time he'd committed his sins against her: 
You will never be anything, Rosa. Only a mute child. And if you ever tell anyone about our private meetings, I will see to it that everything you've ever loved will be destroyed, everything.

It was that same day Rosa saw him playing with her sister Felicia's hair in the courtyard. He'd glared at Rosa, but she'd vowed to protect her sister from harm, and thus far she had. Now Felicia was grown, and Rosa felt certain Emilio had never harmed her. He'd started leaving Rosa alone as well, once she turned fifteen. There had been no explanation, and she certainly didn't ask. She had been enormously grateful she no longer received his unwanted attention.

“Wonderful, I'll speak to Jean Luc about it tomorrow. He'll talk to Pierre, and see if we can't set something up for you.”

Rosa was elated about the idea of a real art dealer seeing some of her work, but her self-doubt still plagued her, and Uncle Emilio's words haunted her memory.

“Tell us, word has it that you'll be heading for the Olympics,” Antonio said.

“I don't know about that,” Bella replied. Her cheeks flushed.

“Come on, tell the truth.”

“Well maybe in a couple of years to Barcelona. I hope.” She held up crossed fingers. “I have an important trial next month in Italy, and Jean Luc says there's a good possibility I could actually make the French team if Delilah and I have a good go.”

“That's wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I think we'll have to make a special trip to come and see you and cheer you on. Your father will be here, won't he?”

“I don't know,” Bella paused, picking at her chateaubriand with her fork.

“Of course he'll be here. I know how proud he is of you, Bella. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”

“I really don't think he'll be here. I wrote him a letter telling him about it. When he didn't write or call me back, I figured he couldn't be here. I finally called him yesterday, and Carlotta said he wasn't in. I asked her if she knew whether or not they were coming. She said that they couldn't because they were going to visit Stefan in Texas. I think he has a soccer tournament going on with his school.”

“I can't believe your father would choose to go to Stefan's tournament, instead of seeing you in a major horse trials, young lady. In fact, if I know your papa, he would bring Stefan along. Your brother would want to see you, too. It's too important for them to miss.”

“I mentioned that to Carlotta, but she said the teachers at the school had told her that the soccer matches were really important to Stefan's self-esteem. How could I argue with that? He's such a sweet little boy, and he 
is
 my brother. I believe anything that would help him is all for good.”

After they'd finished dinner, Antonio sat back in his chair and pulled a cigar from a long silver tube in his coat pocket. He mulled over Bella's story. Something didn't sound quite right. He doubted Javier would miss such an important event in Bella's life. He would make an appointment to visit him when they returned, and find out the truth. Antonio suspected that Carlotta was behind this slight. He hadn't liked the woman from the beginning, when she had been so unscrupulous about sending Miguel and Bella away. He hated the way Javier allowed her to control his life like that. Thinking about this made him recall Marta's attempt to control his own life, as the girls chatted on about horses, modeling, and art. Antonio tried to convince himself over the years that he was happy that Marta left after her attempting to make him change his ways. What a fool she was for leaving him. He would've given her everything she'd ever wanted. It angered Antonio that he hadn't even been allowed to raise his own son. However, it was clear to him that it had all worked out for the best. But how sad that his daughters suffered so much at that time, especially Rosa. Springing Marta and Alejandro on them might have caused them irreparable harm. Yet his heart still ached for them both. He wondered how they were and what they were lives were like now.

“Papa, are you listening?” Felicia needled him.

“Hmmm, what? I'm sorry. Guess I'm a little tired.”

“Bella was saying that she'd get us a box at the trials if she could.”

“That would be fantastic.”

“I can't make any promises, but I'll talk to Jean Luc and see what he can do.”

“Excellent. We will definitely be there to see you win, then to go on for the gold at the Olympics in Barcelona!”

Bella squirmed in her seat. “I think you're assuming a great deal, Godfather.”

“Don't be silly. You will certainly win the gold, I can promise you that.” He tapped his finger on the table to make his point.

The waiter came by and took their dessert orders.

“Oh, no, thank you. I'm watching my figure,” Felicia gushed.

Rosa rolled her eyes at Bella, who couldn't help giggling. Felicia shot the two of them a sharp glance. Antonio watched, amused by his grown daughters acting like children.

“Nonsense,” Antonio said. “We'll all have the 
crepes Suzette
, please.”

*****

“
FOR SOMEONE WHO HAD NO DESIRE TO EAT DESSERT, YOU 
nearly licked the plate clean,” Rosa remarked teasingly to her sister.

“I have a right. At least I don't look like a cow.”

“Stop it,” Antonio demanded.

Rosa was far from being a cow. Bella couldn't help noticing that she'd turned into a pretty young woman. She wasn't beautiful, exactly, but she was certainly no cow. Neither as tall as her sister nor as petite as she was, Rosa had been gifted with deep, dark eyes, framed by long, thick lashes. But it wasn't the dark hue that made her eyes stand out. Bella always thought there was a sadness in Rosa's eyes, as if some dark secret dwelled within them. Bella assumed that this tinge of sadness was caused by the death of her mother. But as time wore on, her instincts told her that her friend yearned for lost pieces of a life she never truly enjoyed. Bella recalled those years when she and Rosa would play together as being dismally quiet. Rosa had forgotten to be a child. Looking at her across the dinner table, Bella was certain that the sadness in her eyes ached for those lost years.

“I hate to eat and run...” Bella started up.

“Then don't,” Antonio replied.

“I have to. We have a curfew at our school. I had to get special permission to come here as it is.”

“All right, if you must. But we'll see you again before we leave.”

“Definitely. I'll talk to Jean Luc first thing tomorrow about your art, Rosa, and also about getting all of you a box for the trials.”