A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [59]
‘Until he was twelve months old, he slept so deeply that it would have taken an earthquake to waken him. But then things changed. After…’
‘After Lucia…’ Terrie inserted softly, sensing intuitively the words that had deserted him as his shoulders tensed, and one hand covered his eyes. ‘That’s what you mean, isn’t it? Young as he was, Paolo sensed that someone very special was missing from his life.’
And, from the way that the little boy who had known his mother only such a short time had reacted, she could guess at how deeply his father, who had loved her as much as life itself, had felt her loss.
‘Yeah…’
It was a long-drawn-out sigh, one that wrenched at her heart, brought the sting of tears to her eyes.
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
Abruptly he swung round, turning to face her, and on a shock of surprise Terrie suddenly had the strangest feeling that he was looking at her almost as if for the first time.
‘I hope you enjoyed yourself today.’
‘I had a wonderful time!’ Terrie answered with total honesty, knowing that the gleam in her eyes must speak for itself. ‘I’ve never been that close to the site of a volcano before.’
The circular journey to Etna had been like a pattern of light and shade. In the foothills of the great volcano were the richness of the olive groves, the glistening citrus and the nut plantations. But clinging to the sides of Etna itself had been dark volcanic villages and ruined Norman castles. Further up, seen from a cable car, the setting had seemed like nothing so much as a moonscape.
‘It’s a scary place.’ She gave a shiver just remembering. ‘But I’m glad I’ve seen it. What was that name you said that native Sicilians call Etna?’
‘Mongibello. It comes from the Arabic for mountain. Some people just call it a muntagna—the mountain—pure and simple.’
Gio’s tone was vague and distracted. It was clear that his attention was not on the subject at all.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Terrie asked, feeling awkward and unsure of herself.
The trip out had gone so well. Gio had seemed relaxed and at ease, a charming and knowledgeable guide to the places they had visited, and an easy, entertaining companion over dinner. But since they had come back into the house it was as if unease had settled round her like a cloak, coming between her and the comfortable mood of the day.
‘Some wine?’
‘No, nothing alcoholic.’
Gio shook his head. He wanted nothing that might cloud his mind, stop him from thinking clearly. All day he had been plagued by the strangest feelings, ones he didn’t know how to handle, and anything intoxicating could only make matters so much worse. It was almost as if he was standing outside himself, watching every move he made, and not understanding it.
He had walked through familiar places, seen familiar sights. He had even eaten in a long-time favourite restaurant. Somewhere where he’d been perhaps a hundred times or more. And everything had seemed new and strangely different.
And he had felt differently too.
The only way he could describe it was that the empty space at his side—the space that he had lived with all day and every day for the last two years—suddenly seemed to be not so empty, not so dark.
It wasn’t just that he had had someone with him. He’d lost count of how many times he had gone to some of the special places he had shared with Lucia—alone, with Cesare or Megan, or even the two of them together and Paolo. And still he had felt empty, lost and alone.
Today the tall, slender figure of a blonde Englishwoman had gone a long way towards filling that space. And in a way that no one else ever could.
Teresa… He had opened his mouth to say her name, to tell her…but then the realisation that he didn’t know what to tell her closed his lips again, just as Terrie, enticing, laughed suddenly.
‘Well, I’d offer to make you some coffee, if you think we’d drink it