Niccolò told her more about what he had done with his life, from caring for the vineyards to nurturing young actors, writers, and directors in his theatre program. “My life is rich and rewarding, but there is still room for you.”
Ruby squeezed his hand. The spirited, youthful man Ruby had known was still there, though now she appreciated his wisdom and maturity even more. While she listened to Niccolò speak, Ruby’s heart grew with a new, more profound love.
They climbed the broad stone steps where moss and daisies had encroached, stopping in front of the old gray stone church’s wooden door, which was open. The stone tower with a belfry and a clock marking time rose above them. Niccolò lifted a chain that he wore around his neck. “Remember this?”
“The other half of my heart,” Ruby said, struck by the simple pendant.
“And you’re still wearing yours, too.” With glistening eyes, Niccolò kissed her softly. “Shall we go inside?”
Ruby slipped her hand into his, and they stepped inside the 14th-century basilica, blinking to adjust to the dimmer light. The sweet aroma of incense hung in the air, suffusing the atmosphere with the same scent Ruby recalled from years ago.
“It’s just as I remember.” Ruby admired the black marble underfoot and the rose stained-glass window high above that cast a kaleidoscope of colors into the church. The baroque altar and the polyptych of Saint George remained, as did other important frescoes. Above the nave and aisles rose circular bricked columns and high arches, which brought lightness to the dark interior.
“I appreciate this so much more now,” Niccolò said. “Sometimes on summer evenings, orchestras play outside, and people sit under the stars to listen. I’d love to do that with you.”
Ruby nodded. “Have you been back here since our wedding day?”
“Many times,” Niccolò replied, his voice suddenly husky. “On our anniversary. Which is coming up soon, if you recall.”
“How could I ever forget that day in August?” She’d had a ritual of her own over the years, but she’d love to come here on their anniversary. After that, they could go to Lorenzo’s café, just as they had on that magical day. As long as Niccolò could understand her dilemma of all those years ago.
“Maybe this year we could renew our vows,” Niccolò suggested with more than a hint of hope in his voice.
“Perhaps we will.” Ruby looked up into his earnest eyes, and her heart quickened. This was the man she had pledged herself to so long ago. Though many years had passed and they’d both lived full lives in the interim, their spark of love had not dimmed. Ruby was as attracted to him as she had ever been. She prayed that he would still want her after what she had to tell him.
“Would you like to go back to the villa where we stayed?” Niccolò asked.
“You still have access to it?” Ruby was surprised that he would after all this time.
“One of my cousins lives in it now with her family. I rang her and asked if we could visit. She’s going to be out, but she promised to leave the key for us.”
“I’d love that.”
Hand in hand, they walked along the same pink oleander-lined lane, albeit a little slower now. When they reached the stone villa on the hill, Ruby smiled. “They still have white roses.”
“Those might even be the same bushes that I picked flowers from for your wedding bouquet.”
“They’re my favorites.” Ruby paused to smell them while Niccolò opened the door. The old-fashioned, creamy white roses were just as heavenly as they had been on their wedding day.
Inside, Ruby saw the kitchen had been renovated. In the refrigerator, Niccolò’s cousin had left a pitcher of lemonade for them, along with a bottle of chilled prosecco. She’d also left an assortment of nuts, olives, cheeses, and bread.
“Your choice,” he said, opening the pantry for glassware.
Ruby touched his hand. “We’re celebrating. I’ll have the bubbles.” She also needed to calm her jittery nerves.
“I’ll join you.” He poured two glasses for them. “To us, once again,” he said, touching her glass.
As they sipped the sparkling wine, he took her on a tour of the house, pausing in the doorway of the bedroom where they had slept and made love so many years ago.
Leaning against the doorjamb, Ruby let out a sigh. Here is where their daughter was possibly conceived—and so beautifully. Tears misted her eyes, and she turned into Niccolò’s waiting embrace.
“Quanto ti amo, my dear Ruby.” Niccolò nuzzled her neck. “Ah, cuore mio. Such sweet hours we spent here. I remember it all.”
Ruby held Niccolò so tightly, until finally, he said, “Shall we go outside and sit under the pergola?”
“I’d…like that,” Ruby said, so overcome with emotion that she could hardly speak.
They stopped in the kitchen to refill their glasses. Niccolò brought the tray that his cousin had left for them.
As they wound their way outside, they walked under the purple wisteria-laden archway and passed the orchard that still bore figs, pomegranates, chestnuts, and olives. Other trees were heavy with lemons and grapefruit. On the way, Niccolò plucked a couple of ripe mandarin oranges.
Climbing roses still covered the pergola, shading the chairs under it from the midday sun and filling the air with their heady aroma. Orioles chirped nearby, and other birds joined in, serenading them with the sweetest of songs. Niccolò placed the antipasti assortment on a bistro table and pulled two chairs together to face the lake.
As Niccolò nibbled, Ruby sipped her prosecco. With the breeze in her hair, she regained her control. “This is even more romantic than I’d recalled.”
“And you are even lovelier,” Niccolò said, taking her hand. “After seeing you again the other night, I could hardly sleep. My deepest desire had come true, and you were once again in my arms, your kiss warm on my lips. Why then, cuore mio, are you sad? We should rejoice, for I am alive again,” he said with a little laugh.
The time had come. Ruby put her glass down and turned to him, gripping his hands. “My dearest Niccolò, we were robbed of the life together that we deserved. Of the family we should have had and looked after—together.”
“Since we cannot change the past, let’s not regret what might have been,” Niccolò said. “Our extended families make up for it. Our nieces and nephews are young and healthy. And who could have imagined that Alessandro and Ariana would have found each other? That makes my heart so glad.”
Pausing, Ruby gathered every scrap of courage she possessed and steeled herself against his potential anger. She wouldn’t blame him for turning away from her now. If only she had known he still lived.
Niccolò slid his arm around her. “Ruby, amore mio, please share what’s on your mind.”
There was simply no other way to tell him, except to be direct.
“You told me you stopped receiving my letters, which I believe,” Ruby said. “But in one of those letters, I wrote to tell you that I was pregnant.”
Niccolò’s lips parted. “Did we have…a child?”
Ruby spoke as gently as she could. “We do, but she was unaware that we were her parents.”