The Year of Luminous Love (33 page)

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Someone please tell us what’s going on,” Ciana pleaded.

The physician asked, “May I have your permission to speak freely to your friends? They have waited patiently for many hours.”

Arie nodded, then closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see,
couldn’t bear to see their faces while he talked, revealing her duplicity. His assessment was thorough, tumors in her liver and pancreas. He ended his explanation by saying, “I have sent all information to my fellow physician in Nashville. I understand Dr. Austin has tended your case for years. And that he advised you against coming on this trip.”

“True.”

“Whoa!” Arie heard Ciana say. “You knew before we left that you had relapsed?”

“Not now,” Arie said in an anguished voice.

Dr. Rozelli addressed both Arie and Ciana: “We will move you to a ward for more comfort, but it will be best for you to make arrangements to take Signorina Winslow home as soon as she can travel. She is very ill.”

Hot tears burned behind Arie’s eyes, and in more years than she could remember, she longed for her mother.

“Why didn’t you say something before we left?” Ciana asked Arie later when she was sitting up in the bed on the ward and feeling stronger after a unit of blood had been pumped into her.

“Because we would never have come to Italy. It was the trip of a lifetime for me.”

“Worth risking your life for?”

Arie stared into Ciana’s cinnamon-colored eyes. “Yes.”

“Well, not to me!” Ciana snapped.

“Or me,” Eden chimed in.

Arie leaned her head into the pillow. “I would have been sick whether I stayed at home or if I came. Coming was better.”

“And so you didn’t tell anyone?”

Arie cut her eyes to Eden, thinking she must have some special psychic gift for ferreting out truth. Why deny it? “Jon knew.”

An electric current shot through Ciana. “And he said
nothing
to us?”

Arie said, “Don’t blame him. I made him swear to keep my secret.”

“How could you tell him and not us?”

Eden touched Ciana’s arm, flashed her a look that said,
Back off
.

“He found out by accident. On the day I got the news, I went to see my horse and it was raining and I fell apart in the pasture and Jon found me crying my eyes out. He figured out the truth. He begged me to tell you both. But I didn’t.”

Ciana shook her head. “Bad choice on his part.”

“Don’t.” Arie’s voice strengthened. “Not. His. Fault.”

Ciana wasn’t convinced. “Well, we can’t stay here.”

Arie knew Ciana was right. Their final month would have to be canceled. “Don’t think it doesn’t break my heart,” Arie said, closing her eyes.

“I should call your family,” Ciana said.

“No, I’ll call. It’s my mess.”

“Not until we have some plan,” Eden cautioned.

“I think I need to sleep now,” Arie said, weariness slamming her. In truth, she wanted to fall asleep and not wake up. Returning home, facing weeping family members, going back into treatment, was going to be hell.

Ciana stretched across two chairs in the hospital waiting room, desperate to grab some sleep. Two days had passed, and Arie was stronger, but they were no closer to getting home.

“Coffee?” Eden stood over her, offering yet another paper cup of machine coffee that tasted like dirty water.

“Thanks. I think.” She sat up, took the cup.

“Any news?”

“Enzo’s fighting with the airlines to get us rebooked into Nashville instead of Atlanta. Everything’s booked solid this time of year.” Arie had talked to her family and they were frantic. They’d told the girls to fly first-class because it would be more comfortable. So had Alice Faye.

“So we won’t be returning to Cortona?”

“Don’t see how we can.”

“What about our stuff?”

“Enzo’s sent the couple who work for him to go pack everything up. They’re bringing some necessary personal items just to get us home and will ship the rest.”

Eden sipped her coffee. “That’s good. A big help.”

Ciana stroked Eden’s mass of tangled dark hair. “Of course you were already packed. I wish you and Garret—”

Eden shook her head, interrupting with, “I wish it too. But he’s gone by now.”

Just then Enzo came into the waiting area, a triumphant expression on his face.
“Avere successo!”
he said. “I have your reservations. First-class.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Ciana put her arms around Enzo. The weather had turned much cooler in Rome overnight, and his scent was of very fine cologne and his cashmere coat. “Thank you.”

He held her close. “Ah,
mia bella
,” he said, his lips against her hair. “How is it that you have stolen into my heart so completely?” He lifted her chin. “Next time, I will not give up so
easily to take you to Portofino.” He smiled, kissed her forehead, stepped away. “I will find her doctor and let him know.”

When he was gone, Eden asked, “Portofino? Forget to mention something to me?”

Ciana rubbed her temples, nodded, and told Eden about Enzo’s offer. “It was nice to be asked. And as it’s turned out, I couldn’t have gone anyway.”

Eden took Ciana’s hand. “Let’s go tell Arie we’re going home.”

They were on a jumbo jet high over the Atlantic. The aisles were spacious and the seats folded flat to become a real bed with fresh linen. Arie could recline and rest all the way home. Her condition was stable, and once they landed in Nashville, an ambulance and a customs agent would meet the plane on the tarmac and whisk her to the hospital, where her parents would be waiting for her. Ciana and Eden would have to go through customs in the normal way before going to the hospital.

Eden stared out the plane’s window, at the banks of clouds below. An hour before, she had watched Italy slip away. And she brooded.

From across the aisle, in a small soft voice, Arie said, “I messed up your plans to go with Garret, didn’t I?”

Eden startled, looking over at Arie’s pale face. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I hope you got a message to him before we left.”

Eden didn’t want Arie to fret. She reached across the aisle and squeezed Arie’s hand. “I’d probably have been a terrible camper. And staying in a cheap hotel? Can you imagine?”

Arie didn’t smile. She clung to Eden’s hand, but once she drifted off to sleep, Eden slowly let go, returning to her vigil at the window. Images of Garret slid through her mind’s eye—his smile, his crazy hair, her arms around him riding on the scooter. She imagined him, too, standing in front of the fountain in Cortona, waiting for her. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She brushed them away, her heart aching, and wondered how long he’d waited before he’d given up, before he’d left the plaza, before he’d realized that she wouldn’t be coming at all.

Arie’s homecoming and entering the local hospital was everything she had dreaded. Relatives, chastisement for having taken her trip in lieu of getting treatment, and lots of weeping. She didn’t need it, and sure as anything, she didn’t want it. Everyone was shocked. Everyone was sorry and sad. And everyone was asking, “Now what?”

Ciana and Eden were lost in the shuffle of foot traffic and a waiting room full of people, and they had to explain why nothing had been said before the treasured trip to Italy. It fell to Dr. Austin to clear Arie’s room of any except her parents, Eric, and Abbie.

Arie explained her reasons as simply as she could, imploring Eric to look after her friends, to get them home safely, and to make sure they weren’t the targets of rumors and accusations.

Patricia’s face was drawn and her eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion. Arie felt guilty and responsible for bringing pain to her mother. “Oh, Arie, why didn’t you tell us before you left for Italy?”

“Because I wanted to go to Italy. Because it’s my life. Simple as that.”

Swede shook his head. Eric scowled at her. Only Abbie offered the sympathetic look Arie needed.
“Thank you,”
Arie mouthed to her soon-to-be sister-in-law.

Dr. Austin intervened before any grueling interrogation could proceed. “Right now, I’m throwing all of you out. My patient needs rest.”

She called to Eric, “See to Eden and Ciana.”

She saw a film of moisture in his eyes that twisted her heart. “And don’t say one nasty word to either of them. They didn’t know either.”

When the room was cleared, Dr. Austin dragged a chair to her bedside. “Is it your turn to smack me around?” Arie asked. “Because if it is …”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Can’t unring a bell.”

“So you want to tell me how you’re planning on torturing me? On what my next treatments are going to be?”

“Not yet.” He steepled his fingers. “First I want you to tell me about Italy.”

His request surprised her but opened the floodgates. As Arie talked, as she told him about the sights, the old cities, the art, the culture, her enthusiasm built. Merely talking about Italy and the places she’d been, the things she’d seen, buoyed her spirit. Dr. Austin let her talk uninterrupted until her voice was hoarse and her eyelids were heavy. Finally he stood, checked her vitals, gave her some water, and told her to rest.