LITMIR.BIZ

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looked around. Mariella was pushing the stroller toward him. The priest was standing on the stairs leading into the old church smiling at the children who played around the fountain. The sun shone in a cloudless sky. A pastoral scene, one of peace and tranquility and the very fabric of life.

      Taking a breath, he hoped he could keep his mind in the present. He’d thought he had these flashbacks under control. It had been days since—

      “Hello,’ she said as she approached, that wide smile holding his gaze.

      No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Only Cristiano knew he’d had another flashback—thankfully brief this time. He never knew when they’d come, how debilitating they’d be. This one had passed quickly. Because of Mariella?

      He didn’t want her to know. They’d spend some time together today, enjoy each other’s company and then he’d take off for the cottage, the bolt-hole he’d claimed when he had been released from the hospital. No one in his family had known he’d been injured far beyond the ankle that had broken.

      “Are you all right?” Mariella asked when she reached the motorcycle, a questioning look in her eyes.

      “Sure.” He needed to change that subject quickly. “How do you know Father Andreas?”

      “We just met. He was walking by and I showed him my friend’s picture to see if he recognized her. He didn’t.”

      She drew it from her pocket and held it out to Cristiano. He took it. The laughing expression on the unknown woman’s face tugged at his heart. This was the young mother who had died. She didn’t look as old as Mariella. Did Mariella feel the same tearing grief he felt whenever he thought about his friend Stephano? Did she regret time wasted when, if she had only known the future, she would have changed what she did in the weeks, days left before her friend’s death?

      Had he known Stephano would die in the bomb explosion last May, would he have done more in the days leading to that fateful time? Or would he have taken everything for granted as he had expecting them both to live forever?

      It was a lesson well learned. No one could predict the future. Enjoy life while he could. As long as he could.

      Handing it back, he said, “I don’t recognize her. When was she here?”

      “I don’t know. Sometime within the last eighteen months is all I have. I thought at restaurants or shops someone would recognize her.” She slipped the photograph back into her pocket and shrugged. “So far no one has.”

      “What are you going to do if you find him?”

      “I’m still not sure. A baby should have his family around him. I’m hoping the father comes from a large family who would love Dante. I may never find him. But I want to tell Dante when he’s older that I tried.”

      “Let your family be his.”

      She shrugged. “I have no family. Ariana was the closest thing to a sister I had. Both our parents are dead. Neither of us had any other living relatives. Maybe it’s foolish to search for his father, but if it were me, I’d want to know. Easier maybe to find out about him now than when Dante is twenty-one.”

      Cristiano didn’t know how he’d feel about finding out he had a child at some future date, after the child was grown. Had the man truly not wanted any connection, or had his initial reaction been panic that he now regretted?

      In a way, his family’s recent events paralleled Mariella’s situation. He still didn’t know how to deal with the newly acquired knowledge that his father had other sons, older than he was. They’d grown up a world apart. Would there be some connection should they ever meet? Would blood call to blood? Or would they forever be strangers?

      Cristiano could never knowingly give up a child if he had one. How had his father done it?

      He kicked down the stand and got off the motorcycle. “Have you questioned everyone in town?”

      “So far only the priest and the proprietor at the resort.”

      “Come, I’ll buy you an ice-cream cone and you can ask there. Seems to me your best bet would be restaurants and shops where visitors are likely to go.”

      “Maybe, but they could have simply come for a weekend at the height of the season when she’d have been just one of many,” she said, pushing the stroller ahead as they walked around the square. The sun shone in a cloudless sky. The air was cool, but comfortable. And she was walking beside a handsome, attentive man. She didn’t want to talk about Ariana and her lost love. She wanted to learn more about Cristiano.

      The ice-cream shop was virtually empty.

      “Not the time of year for ice cream. Want something else?” he asked.

      “No. This will be good. I can give Dante a tiny taste. He’s not eating real food yet.”

      They ordered, then went back into the square to sit on a bench in the sunshine.

      “Did you once live here? The proprietress knew you,” she asked.

      “My grandparents were from Lake Clarissa. They had a small cottage nearby. We lived with them when we were children and papa was busy working. Summer days we would swim in the lake. Sometimes we’d camp out overnight in the forest.”

      He watched as Mariella licked her ice cream. The lonely existence he’d chosen these past few months melted away. He hadn’t felt normal for a long time. What was it about this woman that changed that? He could forget the horror that haunted him when he was around her. Maybe he should take her home with him and keep her with him until the spell was broken.

      Yet moments before he’d had another flashback. He looked away. He had no business coming to town. What if he had a major meltdown? He had to beat this thing before he could get his life back.

      “Sounds like you had a lot of fun here,” she said.

      “Yes, we did, it was a happy time. My grandfather lived until I was almost an adult. He continued to live here even when we had all moved away from home, he was a part of the place. He gave our childhood an extra sense of fun and excitement, beyond playing in the forest or at the lake.” Hard to think about the past when he listened to her voice, soft and lilting.

      “Is that where you got your daredevil ways?” she asked with a teasing grin.

      “Daredevil ways?” That grin felt like a kick to the mid section. For a moment he forgot where they were and wondered what she’d do if he leaned over and kissed her. Her eyes sparkled, there were freckles scattered across her nose, kisses from the sun. He looked away before he did something foolish, such as trail kisses over every one. They’d just met. It was too early to think about kisses.

      Yet as the seconds ticked by, the thought would not fade. He’d like to take her hand and feel the soft warmth against his palm. Sit closer so he could feel every radiant bit of heat from her body. Lean in so she could only see him. Find out what fascinated him about her.

      “Racing across the lake like you were trying to fly. I consider that amazingly like a daredevil,” she explained, leaning closer.

      Did she feel that same pull of attraction? He took a breath, taking in the scent of her, light and flowery. He held his breath for a moment to savor it. Then released it and shook his head. “I’m no daredevil. You should meet my brother Valentino. Now, he’s the daredevil in the family. Today was just Jet Skiing.”

      She pointed to the motorcycle across the square. “That’s a dangerous mode of transportation.”

      “Not if you know what you’re doing. It’s like flying along the road.”

      “So tell me about living here, especially during summer,” she invited as they ate their cones.

      Cristiano didn’t want to talk about himself; he wanted to know more about Mariella. But if he offered something, he could have her reciprocate. He began recounting summer days playing at the edge of the lake, climbing around

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