Just then the doors from the inner terminal slid open and arriving passengers poured into the waiting area. Arie stood on tiptoe, searching the crowds for Jon, her heart pounding with anticipation. When she saw him emerge, she rushed forward, wanting to throw her arms around him, but suddenly she became self-conscious. Maybe he didn’t want her to hug him. Jon grinned down at her and hugged her first. Relieved, she returned his hug enthusiastically.
“Nice to see you,” Eden said from behind Arie.
Jon gave Eden a friendly squeeze too. He glanced around. “Didn’t three of you come to Italy?”
“Ciana’s waiting at our hotel,” Arie said. “Come on, we’ll take you there.”
“I didn’t get reservations at your hotel,” Jon said.
“We’ll take you to your place afterward,” Eden said. Her sharp eyes hadn’t missed his momentary disappointment over Ciana’s absence. “I know Ciana’s anxious to see you.”
“Let’s go.” His voice and expression were noncommittal.
Arie hooked her arm through Jon’s. His other hand gripped a worn leather duffel. Eden followed, watching the two of them carefully. Arie was obviously in heaven. Jon was a question mark.
Ciana had showered and applied makeup. She was standing on the suite’s balcony when she heard the door open and Arie call, “Hey, girlfriend, guess who’s here?”
Ciana took a deep breath and reminded herself to smile and stay calm. She turned just as the threesome walked onto the balcony. With an ease that shook her, Jon’s gaze found hers. Her breath caught as his green eyes lit up her heart.
He came forward, hands in his jean pockets, and looked her up and down. “Howdy.”
“Buon giorno,” she returned in her best Italian.
“That the way people say ‘howdy’ over here?”
Ciana nodded. “And ‘good day.’ I think the language is pretty. Don’t you?”
His green eyes held hers. “Italy looks good on you, Ciana.” He slid his arms around her, pulled her close.
He smelled of leather and spice and Tennessee. Home. She closed her eyes and forced down a lump in her throat and pushed away. “You must be tired.”
“I slept on the plane.”
“No one sleeps on the plane,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I did.” He flashed Ciana a heart-melting smile. “I just slid my hat over my eyes and zoned out. Next thing I knew, the pilot was talking about landing in Rome.”
Just then the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Eden said.
“It’s room service,” Ciana said. “I ordered up some goodies, coffee and sodas.”
“Thoughtful of you,” Eden said, scoping out Ciana’s body language. Then she felt the undercurrent once again.
Arie breezed in from her bedroom, where she’d brushed her blond hair and applied fresh lipstick. Her face glowed whenever she looked at Jon. Having him at arm’s length was intoxicating.
Room service set up the delivery on a small table on the balcony, which overlooked the busy street below and the hills surrounding Rome far in the distance. Ciana had ordered olives, prosciutto-wrapped melon balls, bruschetta and marinara sauce, and hot espresso that Arie rejected. “Too strong for me.”
Jon looked over the food tray. “No salsa and chips?”
They laughed. “Try it,” Ciana said. “It’s good.”
“So what’s going on in the boonies?” Eden asked, skittish about asking yet anxious to know whether Tony was hunting her. If he was, she wouldn’t go home again, an option she hadn’t discussed with her friends. She could take a job in Italy. Somehow she’d manage to get one, perhaps here in Rome.
Jon sipped his espresso, then set down the cup. “That’s part of the reason I came over. To talk to you and tell you some things that went on after you left.”
Arie’s sense of exclusiveness over his visit dulled. “What things? I email my folks all the time and they never mentioned anything unusual.”
“It was agreed that nothing would be said until you all came home, but now that I’m here, I can tell you face to face.”
Eden’s stomach went queasy. “What’s happened?”
“Tony didn’t take to your running off. Mean bastard, you know.”
“I know.”
Jon leveled a look at Eden. “The night you left, he paid a visit to your mother.”
Eden’s heart seized. She and her mother had a prickly relationship, but she’d never have wished Tony on Gwen. “Is … is she all right?”
“She left town.”
“Not surprised.”
“But not before she sent him down a rabbit trail. Told him you’d gone to Greece via Nashville International and only had a short head start.” Jon chewed an olive. “That took guts, lying to him with a straight face. He knocked her around but took off after you all, thinking he was only miles behind you and you were driving Ciana’s blue truck.”
“And my mother? Was she hurt?” Eden’s voice quivered.
“We don’t think so. Before leaving, she called your mother and yours”—his gaze bounced between Arie and Ciana—“and warned them. It gave them time to prepare.”
Ciana dug her nails into her palms. “But they’re all right?”
“It was ugly for a while.” Jon grimaced. “Tony came back when he realized your mother had pulled a fast one and was gone. He trashed your house, Eden.”
Tears brimmed in Eden’s eyes. She’d never loved the place, but it had been her home all her life. “But Mom got away?”
Jon nodded.
“What about our families?” Arie asked, feeling betrayed that her parents hadn’t mentioned a single thing about what had happened. She wasn’t a child! They should have told her.
The corners of Jon’s mouth lifted in a smile. He looked at Arie. “Your family really stepped up to the plate. Round-the-clock guards on your property. Someone on your front porch all night long. Tony made the mistake of driving by late one night, stuck a gun out his car window. Guy on your porch took out two tires in the dark. The car went away and didn’t come back.”
Arie nodded. “That’d be my uncle Cecil. He was once an army sniper, and he hunts every season. Why, he can shoot the eye out of a wild turkey at two hundred yards.”
Jon, looking respectful, said, “I’m thinking Tony and his goons figured that out.”
“What about my mother?” Ciana asked. Alice Faye was no match for Tony. “What about Bellmeade?”
“She’s a Beauchamp,” Jon said matter-of-factly. “Cops protected her and your farm.”
Intuiting there was more to the story than he wasn’t telling her, Ciana asked, “And you?”
“He stopped by one night with his posse for a short visit. Knocked me around.”
“Why you?” Ciana asked, feeling queasy.
“I guess he thought I knew something about your leaving because I trained Arie’s horse. Guy was crazy.”
“Did he hurt you?” Arie asked, her voice trembling.
“I ride broncs. I can take a few licks. That and Pickins showed up with a shotgun to persuade them to leave,” Jon said with another wry smile.
Ciana sagged with relief. Jon and their families were guiltless and hadn’t deserved Tony’s wrath for something she had engineered.
“So Mom and I have no house to come back to?” Eden’s heart filled with hate for Tony.
“But you do. Arie’s kin fixed the place up.” He looked at Arie. “Your dad and brother mostly. They didn’t want Eden coming home to a mess.”
An act of kindness. Except for Ciana, no one ever had treated her with pure kindness. She closed her eyes as tears swelled. “And Tony? Did he leave all of you alone after that?”
“That’s another reason I came to talk to you face to face. You don’t have to worry about Tony anymore. He’s dead.”
Dead. Jon’s last word hung in the air. No one moved. Dead. Ciana and Arie cut their eyes to Eden, who looked ghostly white. Jon asked, “You okay?”
Eden’s mind spun bac
kward in time, to days less chilling, to when she’d loved Tony and had walked on clouds feeling safe and secure, loved and wanted. He had been her first love, her first and only lover. And he’d morphed into a stranger, a possessive, controlling, demanding, and selfish tyrant who dealt drugs and hurt people, perhaps even had some killed. She let go of the finer memories, let them tatter and tear in the wind of regret that blew through her head in the fine bright sunlight of Italy. “I’m sorry he’s dead,” she said in a soft voice. “But I’m glad everybody back home is safe.”
Fearful one of her relatives had taken him out and gotten caught, Arie asked, “How did he die?”
“Drug deal gone bad. In Memphis. And his goons with him. A cartel from Mexico, according to the cops. Didn’t like him pushing into their territory. There was a big shoot-out. By the time the Memphis cops arrived, six men were dead, including Tony. Story made all the papers and national television news.”
Jon’s soft Southern drawl smoothed over the words, the ugliness of the images planted in Eden’s mind. Tony had died as he’d lived—on the edge. And from the scene inside her head, Garret’s face emerged, his unruly head of curly hair, blue eyes, and charming smile. Another chance. “So now Windemere is safe for all,” Eden said under her breath.
“It is from Tony.”
“I’m sorry you got roughed up, Jon.” She stood. “Think I’ll hang in the bedroom for a while.”
Filled with concern, Arie watched her leave.
Ciana announced, “I’m glad he’s gone. Tony took part of her life.”
Arie shot Ciana a disapproving look, then rose from her chair. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and headed off to be with Eden.
Arie knocked lightly on Eden’s closed door. Not waiting for an invitation to enter, she eased inside. Eden sat on the bed, shoulders drooping, staring at the wall. She was dry-eyed. Arie eased onto the bed beside her. “Talk to me.”
“I’m okay,” Eden said. “You don’t have to stay with me. Go out there and be with Jon.”
“I will in a minute. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
What Eden was thinking was how the shoot-out might have gone down. She heard phantom explosions and saw Tony’s body ripped by bullets. “I’m thinking that I’ve seen too many Hollywood movies about how people die.” Eden patted Arie’s hand. “Don’t worry about me.” Without warning, Eden broke down and began to cry.
Arie slipped her arm around her friend and held her tight while her tears flowed.
Alone with Jon, Ciana shrugged. “Guess I’m not being sensitive, huh?”
“His dying didn’t upset me that much either. He hurt people.”
She crossed to the rail of the balcony, and Jon followed. He braced his forearms on the railing, leaned outward, his face toward the distant hills. “What do you think of Italy?” she asked, changing the topic.
“Too much city for this country boy.”
She stole a glance at him, his rugged profile, his work-worn hands. Hands that tamed horses. Hands that had once stroked her body and lit her on fire. She compared them to Enzo’s hands, which were long-fingered and manicured. Enzo worked in the vineyard, she knew, but mostly he gave orders to workers. “Arie says you’re heading home to Texas in a couple of weeks.”
“That’s my plan.”
“What about your dad? How’s he getting along?”
“Stubborn as ever. He’s still messed up from the stroke, but he won’t go to rehab. It’s dangerous for him living alone in that old trailer. When I tell him that, he explodes. We’re better off not seeing much of each other.”
“He probably hates to lose his independence, a scary thing to somebody who’s always valued it.” Watching Olivia’s downhill slide and eventual death had taught her as much. Ciana took a deep breath, said, “Thoughtful of you to come all this way for Arie’s birthday.”
“I didn’t come just for her birthday. Or to tell you all about Tony.” He straightened, turning toward her. “I wanted to see you too.”
What could she say to that? I’ve missed you. What would it accomplish to dredge up old feelings and memories? Sadness stole over her for what would be gone when she returned home. She needed to talk about something else before she broke out sobbing, or worse, threw herself into his arms. She thought of her mother and their last conversation. “Something’s going on with Bellmeade. Do you know what it is?”
Jon leaned again into the rail, the spell of intimacy between them broken. “Some developer’s in town. Talking about building a housing subdivision on your end of the county. Lot of the smaller farmers want to sell out, but Bellmeade’s the linchpin. Without it, he can’t build.”
Ciana shook her head in disgust. “When Mom called and told me, I lost it. I’ll never sell our land.”
“You’ll have a fight on your hands. It’s dividing the town.”
Arie breezed out onto the balcony, interrupting their conversation.
“She doing better?” Ciana asked.
“She’s getting there. She’s torn about his death and still relieved about her new life.” Arie hooked her arm through Jon’s. “How about I take you sightseeing?”
“Now?”
“You’re only here a few days. Have to make the most of them. And tomorrow’s my birthday, so we have to do whatever I want,” she told him with a wink.
Jon raked his hand through his hair and gave Ciana a lingering look. Then he turned his full attention to Arie. “No arguing with a determined woman about her birthday, I reckon. But first let’s find my hotel so I can wash the smell of travel off me.”
“Sure. We’ll catch a cab. Got an address?”
“In my bag.” He started for the front door, where he’d dropped his duffel.
Arie said to Ciana, “Catch you later. Make Eden go out with you. Don’t let her stay locked in that room by herself.”
Ciana said she would, then turned toward the streetscape below, unable to watch Arie and Jon go out the door together.
They found his small hotel, which was nothing like the palatial Old World building where Arie was staying. She waited for Jon in the lobby, and when he emerged, hair still damp from the shower, she considered kissing him senseless. She tamped down the urge.
“Where to?”
“The Colosseum. It’s amazing. It can seat up to fifty thousand people. That’s bigger than some U.S. sports arenas.”
They had no car, and cabs were expensive, so Arie negotiated the transit system using the Italian she’d learned over the past weeks. Jon told her he was mighty impressed, making her laugh. “You should hear Eden’s Italian. She really picked up the language fast. Has a natural ear, I think.”
The Colosseum was crowded with tourists, but Arie couldn’t have cared less. In her heart, she was alone with Jon. He stared up at the stone walls, once soaring a hundred sixty-five feet but now broken and pockmarked by time and war and invaders. Inside they walked the solid perimeter, Arie pointing out certain features and reciting statistics. When they went down into the catacombs below, Jon let out a low whistle, looking into the small catacomb cells. “This where they kept prisoners?”
“Yes, for public executions, also wild animals that they raised up on platforms and hunted inside the arena.”
“Doesn’t sound very fair to the animals.”
“They held reenactments of plays, too, so it wasn’t all blood and gore. But this is also where the gladiators fought.”
“To the death?”
“Unless the emperor or the spectators gave a thumbs-up, the mercy sign, to let the defeated live.”
“And if not?”
“Thumbs-down. Death.”
“Mean crowd.”
Arie took his hand, lifted it high. “Hail Caesar.”
He grinned. “I’d rather watch football.”
After thoroughly checking out the huge stadium, they walked along several streets, Jon fascinated with the contrast between the ancient and modern buildings.
“Looks can fool you. Som
e of these ‘newer’ places go back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Italians never abandon real estate.”
She took him through the Arch of Titus, where soldiers once returned to present their bounty and captives to the emperor while cheering people lined the streets. Arie told him of other ruins, of the Roman Forum, where laws were enacted, and promised to show him wonders. “Tomorrow I’m taking you to see my two favorite places, the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica. Both are so beautiful I cried when I first saw them.” She glanced at him quickly. “Probably a girl thing.”
“Well, right now, this man would like to see the inside of a restaurant. The olive snack didn’t hold me.”
Arie laughed. “Way too early for dinner. Most Italians don’t eat until nine.”
“I won’t make it.”
“I won’t let you starve. Lots of cute cafés with yummy appetizers down every street.”
Soon they were seated outside at a small eatery with an antipasto tray on the table. Jon ordered an Italian beer and Arie a soda. She didn’t want alcohol. She wanted to be clearheaded, wanted to savor every moment with Jon in sharp relief, like the images on the stone friezes atop ancient buildings.
Jon took a swallow of beer and leaned back in the chair. “Your mother came to see me at Pickins’s place when she heard I was coming over for your birthday.”
Arie gave him a cautious look. “What did she want? To come with you?”
“She misses you. Your whole family misses you.” He set down his glass. “And she’s worried about you.”
Arie waved her hand in dismissal. “She’s always worried about me.”
“Why shouldn’t she be? You didn’t tell her about your checkup.”
“My life. My decision.”
Jon bit into a crispy toast round dipped in olive oil. “Have you told your friends yet?”
Her face warmed and she didn’t meet his eyes.