The Legacy (72 page)

The
familiar
warmth
that
sweeps
over
Adagio
is
accompanied by a growing feeling of fatigue. He keeps his
heavy eyelids closed, his body relaxing in the chair.

When Adagio finally opens his eyes, kneeling before him
is his beloved, and he heaves an awe-filled sigh. Cisely looks the
same as she did over fifty years ago, and her beauty takes his
breath away.

She smiles up at him with eyes full of love, then reaches
up and softly caresses his face.
“
Amore
,” he whispers breathlessly, leaning forward.
Rising a little, Cisely presses a kiss to his lips and he
closes his eyes, releasing a shaky breath. She stands, holding a
slender hand out to him, her eyes roaming over his youthful,
handsome features.
“Let's go home, my love.”
Adagio smiles as her silky voice again washes over him.
He places his hand in hers. Taking a few steps, he stops and
looks back, allowing his eyes to momentarily rest on his tired
old body in the chair. Turning back to his wife, he reverently
touches her face before drawing her into his arms and kissing
her fervently.
“Yes, my angel,” he whispers against her lips, “let us go
home.”

And the sigh that escapes me is one of relief and
gratitude. My blind eyes can make out the shadows of
medical personnel moving around the hospital room, but I
can't see Andrew's still features. I don't need to. There is a
new silence in the room–the absence of irregular shallow
breathing–for the
next few moments. Then the soft sobs of his mother and mine
dispel that silence.

With Andrew's death from undetected heart disease
comes my freedom. The pressure of my parents to marry him
has vanished and I feel as if a great weight has lifted,
brightening my world like the sun coming out after a long,
murky year of rain. I don't mean to be cold, but I've never
loved Andrew. I've never even liked him. Nevertheless, my
parents have been relentless in their desire to merge our
family with Andrew Tanner's, to strategically combine two
financial empires.

Andrew had been willing to put his own happiness
aside, as well as mine, and go along for the ride. Had
everything gone through, I would soon be trapped in a gilded
prison I couldn't see, and would likely have died in. That
death would have been a slow one, stealing my strength and
my spirit a little each day until all of the things that have
made me
me
disappeared, leaving an empty shell, my armor
weakened, emotionally scarred and battered. Just like our
parents, with Andrew, it had been all about the money. Love
had nothing to do with it because, hey, let's face it. Who
needs love?

“I do,”
I had told him. And he'd laughed. He actually
laughed! It was never about our wants or desires. It was
about our parents pimping us out to insure that the two
companies went to bed together as soon as possible. “
After
all,”
Andrew had said, “
the end justifies the means. Blind,
deaf or lame, it makes no difference to me.”

I offer my condolences to the Tanners, and then
extend my cane and turn to leave. I imagine the mouths of
the men silently opening and closing like fish lying on a
shore in need of water, and the women shooting invisible fire
darts with their eyes. Later on, I am sure my parents will
dutifully harp about my cold and heartless exit, hoping to
guilt me into showing the influential world the face of a
grieving and heart-broken fiancee.

But the days of me feeling guilty are long gone. If
anything, I feel sympathy for the Tanner's loss. Andrew was
their only son–their Golden Boy–the child they based their
hopes and dreams on. His sisters are a different matter. Other
than marrying rich men and breeding more sons to work in
the family business, their two daughters are treated as if they
are of no consequence.

And since I'm an only child, my parents' dreams and
ambitions
for me
are
shot
. . . unless
a
new
financial
opportunity emerges, an opportunity that will drive them to
once again attempt to prostitute me for their gain. Of course,
it figures since I'm not the daughter of their blood. I was
adopted by them during one of their philanthropic trips down
south. Boy, did they ever rack up brownie points for adopting
a token black baby, and a blind one at that!

Will I always be worth so little to them?
However, I have
been given a
healthy dose
of
strength, and I will no longer let my parents–Mr. And Mrs.
What Can You Do For Me Patton–run my life. Thanks to the
good Lord, I am in charge now, and I am open and ready to
receive the kind of love, and the kind of life, He has in store
for me. In God's eyes I am worth more. I don't know how
much more, but definitely more than the value my parents
place on my existence.
The trust fund I inherited four years ago on my
twenty-first birthday has given me the financial freedom to
live on my own in a downtown highrise condominium that I
own outright. And the money I earn giving violin and cello
lessons takes care of my needs. I guess you could say I have
it all.
Yes, you could say that . . . but you would be wrong.
Until now, the thing I have desired most– what I have
needed
most–has eluded me.
I smile, sensing a coming change. A change bringing
a life that has always been mine. A change I have been
prepared for, and one I am now ready to receive.
* * *
Treviso, Italy
Fixing his teary emerald gaze on the large granite
headstone bearing his grandparents' names, Adagio Phillip
St. John the third removes his sunglasses and heaves a deep
sigh. It seems sunglasses have become a part of him, a shield
and a mask.
It has been a month since he lost the two dearest
people in the world to him, and his heart still carries a fierce
ache. How
he
misses
them! They had always
been an
example to him of how he wants to live his life, and the love
they shared was truly a thing to behold. His mother and
father share a deep love as well, but what his grandmother
and grandfather had between them was indescribable.
Adagio is thirty-five years old and has yet to marry.
And he will never marry until he finds someone he can share
that kind of love with–the kind his grandparents shared. He
refuses to settle. His brothers and sisters constantly tell him
he is too picky, but his grandparents knew different. They
truly understood him.
While he has always been called Dagio by the family
to avoid confusion, his grandmother always called him young
Adagio because he was a mirror image of her husband in his
thirties. Frequently Adagio sat with his grandmother looking
through photo albums, and each time they came to a picture
of his grandfather, Adagio was amazed at how much he
looked like him, even more so than his father, Phillip. It was
uncanny.
Blinking tears onto his face, Adagio pulls a folded
piece of paper from his back pocket. It is a letter he found
inside his grandmother's journal along with two keys. She
had given the book to him the day before she passed away.
Tearfully opening the journal on the day of her funeral,
Adagio had been surprised when the envelope fell from
between the pages. It was addressed to him. A fresh tear stain
appears on the paper as he unfolds it and again reads his dear
nonna's
final words to him.
My, Dearest Young Adagio,
By now I am most likely gone from this earth , but
I'm never far away from you. I know you are hurting just
as your grandfather is. I'm so sorry to cause you pain and
would have spared you from it if I could. But the pain will
one day fade and healing will come.
Since the day you were born, you have always been
my light and my joy, and your grandfather's as well. And
even though I will not be there to watch you find love and
raise your own children, I will be watching from afar.
You are probably thinking, “Yeah, right, Nonna.
I'll
never find anyone like you and will probably die a lonely
old man.” And don't try to deny it because I know you.
This part again draws a wide smile from him. She
really did know him well.
Now, I know you recognize the keys and there is
no need
to tell
you
what they are
for. When
your
grandfather and I pondered what to do with the old
house in the states, the answer quickly came to us. No one
understands the importance of the house and how much
it means to us more than you. You and your grandfather
share the same heart, which is why you
could always read me so well.
So this is what I would like you to do. Pack your
things and move to Salt Lake. The move will be painful
for your parents and they will miss you greatly, but you
won't be gone long. This is a necessary step because your
ife won't truly start until you are where you belong.
Remember what your grandfather told you about looking
for love and finding it in God's time Well, my dear boy, it
looks like your life up to this point has mirrored his. And
as surely as he found the love of his life, you will, too. I
have a good feeling about this, and you know your nonna
is never wrong, right? Shake your head.
Chuckling, Adagio shakes his head no.
Adagio, I love you more than I can say, and I
always will. I am proud of the man you have become.
Now go live your life, and be happy. Remember, I will
never be far away.
Love,
Nonna
P.S. Remember to take the ring. You remember
where it is, right?

Yes, Nonna, I remember.
He
pulls
her emerald
engagement ring from his pocket, pondering the story behind
it. It was given to his grandfather by his own mother to give
to his future wife. His grandfather had taken it everywhere he
went, never guessing he would eventually be placing it on the
finger of the woman who had become his best friend.

And now it is my turn.
Folding the letter, Adagio puts it back in his pocket
and wipes his eyes. He looks at the headstone one last time.
“I love you,
Nonna,
and you,
Nonno
,” he whispers. “And I
will try to make you both proud.” He smiles, then puts his
sunglasses back on and walks away, charting a course toward
his new life.