Chapter Fourteen
Home isn’t always where the heart is.
Marcello waved one last time to all his fellow actors, and then slid into the backseat of the limo the producers had waiting to take him and Gina to the airport. He should have won another Oscar for his farewell performance, pretending nothing was wrong, while hating that he’d probably never see another movie set and trying to just exist while living with the hurt he’d caused Rachel.
Gina handed him a boarding pass. “You’re going to have to reimburse our village for the cost of both our flights. You sure you don’t want to take your plane? It could be cheaper than these last-minute tickets. First class was all they had left.”
“No.” She clearly didn’t understand how much it cost to fly a plane per hour. And there was no way he wanted his plane stuck in Italy if he ended up in jail. His pilot had been instructed to take most of the things he’d brought with him to the shoot back home and then be certain the plane was maintained properly. He didn’t plan to lose his case, but if it took years, he didn’t want to come home to his things in shambles. Like his life was going to be.
But at the moment, he was more concerned with making sure the press would be at the airport to see him boarding the plane with Gina. It’d hurt Rachel to see it, but at the same time, perhaps fully convince her that he’d moved on with another woman.
And by doing it, he’d feel like a bigger monster than his father had ever been.
After they pulled up to the drop-off point, Marcello grabbed his bag filled with the bare essentials and waited for Gina to grab her backpack. He slid an arm around her shoulder and waved to the crowd of reporters waiting for him, thanks to Stella.
Gina, dark haired and almost as tall as Rachel, started to pull away, but he held her close. While maintaining his smile, he said, “You’ve come to ruin my movie career. Why not help me ruin my relationship too? So she can move on.”
Gina glanced his way looking puzzled, and then, after a moment, nodded in understanding. She lifted her hand and smiled too as they walked into the terminal arm in arm.
Once inside, travelers thrust all sorts of personal things in his face, asking for autographs. He’d obliged, mostly to annoy Gina. But it could be the last time anyone would ever ask for his signature, so he tried his best to smile and enjoy it, despite people asking about Rachel and the twins. He pretended not to hear, and signed as many hats and scraps of paper as he could.
Will I miss this?
He’d never been in a real position to question that before. Seemed he was about to find out. But that thought didn’t depress him nearly as much as the prospect of being without Rachel and the kids.
Gina tugged on his arm, so he called out, “Can’t miss our flight.” He was going to call out, Arrivederci, but instead said, “Addio!” Because that meant goodbye for good.
Anger, mixed with defeat, blended with grief over losing Rachel and his children formed a lump in his throat. So much so, answering the gate agent’s fan questions as he checked them in became impossible.
Gina glanced his way and then asked if they could be placed somewhere private, so the agent whisked them through security and to the airline’s lounge near the gates. Once inside, Marcello headed straight for the liquor. He was going to drink until his mind shut down and the alcohol numbed the pain of his shattered heart.
When the doorbell rang at seven o’clock on Sunday night, Rachel punched up her pillow and let Ally get it. Thankfully, Ally being there had allowed Rachel the space she needed to grieve all day. Tomorrow, she’d get back to work and on with her life. For the kids’ sake. But for today, she’d lain in bed with the images of Marcello and his new girlfriend running around her head.
It was bad enough that he’d broken up with her in an email and then shut down his phone. But how could he be so cruel to rub it in like that with all the internet pictures? He’d told her he hadn’t flown commercial in years, and yet suddenly, he was smiling and waving to the crowd, ignoring questions from the press about her and the kids.
What had made him change his mind? It still made no sense.
Her sister’s voice sounded outside in the hallway. She was arguing with Ally, who was trying to stop Lori from disturbing Rachel. Ally was sweet to try, but twins didn’t work that way, and Rachel had no doubt Lori would win.
The door opened and let light from the hallway into the darkened master. “Ally said you’ve been in here all day.” Lori closed the door behind her and hit the light switch.
She squinted against the blinding light. “I just need to wallow for a bit more. Then I’ll be fine.”
Lori shook her head. “Nope. You’re going to get in the shower, and get cleaned up because you have guests waiting to help you burn Marcello at the stake.”
She didn’t want to see anyone. “Please. If you love me, just go away. I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Rach. Now, get up!” Lori grabbed Rachel’s arm and tugged. “I promise you’ll feel a million times better.”
“Geeze, I thought you were supposed to be the nice twin.” She let her sister tug her out of bed, but only because she needed to brush her teeth anyway. “Lori, you have to know how embarrassing this is for me. Please don’t humiliate me like this.”
She walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Not a pretty sight. Mascara tracked down her face and her eyes and nose were fire-engine red.
Lori’s reflection appeared. “How is this embarrassing for you? Marcello is the one who should be publicly flogged. Did you do anything wrong in this relationship?”
“Maybe.” Rachel turned on the water and stuck her brush under the stream. Her anger had vacillated all day between wanting to punch out Marcello to wanting to kick herself. “I’m not the best at telling people how I feel.”
Lori laughed. “Ya think?”
“I’m glad you’re amused by that.” She brushed her teeth and then spit. “Maybe that other woman had no trouble giving him unconditional love. And trust. That part, I really had a hard time with. And she probably dotes on him and wouldn’t dream of teasing and poking fun at him the way I do.”
“Stop it!” Lori rolled her eyes. “You’re hurt, Rachel. Own that, and let him own the rest.” Lori moved behind and leaned her chin on Rachel’s shoulder. “Any guy would be lucky to be with you. You’ve never had a shortage of interest.”
Rachel cringed as she scrubbed makeup from her face. Her mother has said it best: she’d never let them close enough to reject her first. She pushed interested men away before they could do what Marcello had just done to her. Maybe her old way had been the best way.
She grabbed the towel Lori held out and wiped the water from her eyes. “You aren’t going to leave until I go out there, are you?”
Lori smiled. “Nope.”
She’d just get it over with so she could go back to bed. “Who’s here?”
Lori dragged Rachel toward the shower, then turned on the water for her. “Just Mom and Shelby, and Jo baked when she heard. You know you can’t resist anything Jo bakes.”
That was true. Jo ran the best bakery and café in Denver.
“Okay. You win.” She hadn’t eaten anything all day, so she was starving. If it turned out Jo brought something chocolate, even better. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
After Lori left, Rachel stripped her PJ’s off and stepped under the warm spray, letting her tears freely fall for a few minutes to get it all out. She didn’t want to blubber in front of the girls.
Marcello’s head ached. He’d stayed drunk on the free first-class champagne the whole flight and was paying the price for it as he and Gina drove to their hometown. Their village was located just outside of Florence, so it was his last hour of freedom.
Disconnecting his phone had been a good thing, or he’d have had a hard time resisting one last call to hear Rachel’s soothing voice before he went to jail for God only knew how long.
The rolling hills and stunning views of his homeland should have been a salve to his broken soul, but all he could focus on was the years of sitting in a jail cell that lay ahead.
At least Gina had let him ride up front in her police vehicle and not in the rear like a common criminal. She’d been pleasant enough even though he’d snapped at her the whole trip. She’d even texted from the plane and arranged for extra security to make it easier for them to get through the throngs of press who had figured out which flight he’d been on.
She’d just been doing her job.
He spoke to her in their native language. “I apologize for my behavior, Gina. I’m not usually so rude. How’s your family?”
Gina glanced his way. “You remember my brother?”
He nodded. “Luca. He told everyone they’d be sorry they’d teased him when he was a famous astronaut one day.”
“Yes. He always had big dreams.” Gina smiled. “He lives in Rome and is a brain surgeon now.”
He smiled for the first time that day. “A great one, I’m sure. And your parents? Are they well?
“Yes. Thank you.” She was quiet for a moment. “Would you like to tell me your side of the story before we get home?”
He leaned his aching skull back on the headrest. “Would it matter?”
“To me, yes. I read your report last night. I have some questions.”
He lifted his hands. “Then, please, by all means, ask.”
She sucked in a deep breath, then slowly let it out as if carefully composing her thoughts. “You said yesterday you’d fight the charges. But the ambulance drivers said your mother’s last words before she passed out were, ‘He tried to kill me.’ And your father had proof he was at the factory at the time of her fall. You were the only one home.” She glanced his way with both brows arched with suspicion.
She probably wouldn’t believe him, but he looked forward to telling the truth for once. “My father threatened his employees and made them say he was at the factory a half hour longer than he was. I heard him make the call.” His hands fisted with anger at the memory. “He threw my mother down the stairs because she bought me a new suit for my confirmation without asking him first. Then he stood over her crumpled body at the bottom, listening to her struggle and wheeze for air, waiting for her to choke on her own blood.”
Gina winced. “And where were you while this was happening?”
“I had been in my room studying when the argument began. I came out to help my mother just as he grabbed her with both hands and tossed her headfirst. I ran to help, but he slammed me against the wall and told me to stay upstairs.” He hated that he’d been so afraid he hadn’t stood up to his father. He should have gone to their bedroom and grabbed the gun that his father kept. And killed the beast as he’d sworn he do if his father ever touched his mother again. He’d never outlive the shame that still haunted him over it. He hoped to God Rachel never found out what a coward he’d been. He’d rather she hate him for leaving her than know the truth of that night.
Gina turned the car onto a small dirt road and pulled over. After she shut off the engine, she pulled out a notebook from her backpack and scribbled something inside. When she was done, she asked, “Did you? Stay upstairs?”
He hated thinking about that day. It always made him physically ill.
After rolling the window down for some air, he said, “He was busy watching and hoping my mother would die, probably so he could marry his mistress, so I snuck to his bedroom and called the police. I told them my mother had fallen and to please hurry.” Thankfully, he’d finally drummed up enough courage to make the call. But he should have grabbed that gun, dammit.
Gina flipped through her notes, read something, and then looked up. “Why didn’t you tell the emergency dispatch your father had been responsible for the fall?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose to keep his emotions in check. “My mother had been hurt by him many times. But she told me to never tell the police, or he would kill her. And me.”
Gina shook her head and wrote a few more notes. “Did he hear you make the call?”
“My father found me just as I hung up. I tried to run, but he blocked the door. He was twice my size when I was sixteen. He asked me what I said on the phone, and then told me that I had to tell the policeman that I pushed my mother. He said I wouldn’t go to jail because I was just a boy. And if I didn’t confess to the crime, he’d kill me. I believed him.”
Gina dug an apple from her backpack and offered it to him, but his stomach was in knots, so he shook his head.
She went back to her notes and scribbled some more. “You were scrawny back then. Nothing like you are now.” After she took a bite of apple, a frown split her forehead. “Fourteen is the cutoff age for being a child, and therefore not punishable. Your father had to have known that.”
He grunted. “Yes. But I didn’t back then.”
“I saw your booking pictures. You’d been badly beaten.” She stared directly into his eyes while she waited for his response to her statement.
“Yes.” He looked out the window rather than see the pity on her face for a boy who couldn’t protect himself or his mother that day. Helplessly standing in the hallway watching as his mother fought for her life. The monster standing over her while she suffered, and yelling that he’d just made sure she’d never defy him again. “My father had become enraged because I’d called the police. He beat and choked me while he threatened to kill me if I didn’t confess for his crime.”
He cleared the emotion from his throat and studied his fisted hands. “When the police arrived, he told them he’d come home from work, found my mother, who’d said I pushed her, then said he heard me upstairs and caught me stealing money in his bedroom. He told them he’d gone back to help my mother and told me to call for help. He said he’d beaten me for what I’d done to his wife in anger. They believed him. And they believed my confession.”
“Hmmm.” Gina finished off her apple while she flipped through her notes again, stopping to read occasionally. “Who helped you escape from the station the next night?”
“The guard must’ve forgotten to lock the door after he brought me dinner and went home. Later that evening, I pressed on the bars, and they swung open. So, I ran.” That was a lie, but he’d never implicate his aunt. She’d still had a key from when she used to clean the police station many years earlier.
“Right, so with no money and no passport, you were able to get out of Italy unnoticed and travel to the US?” Gina’s right brow arched as she slapped her notebook closed. “Luckily, too many years have passed to worry about that part.”
“But you don’t believe any of my story, do you?” He wouldn’t expect her to. It was a wonder she even remembered him. He’d been as meek and quiet as a mouse back then. Always afraid of angering his father and getting another beating, so he’d learned to be invisible.
Without answering, Gina started the car. After she pulled onto the paved two-lane road again, she said, “I don’t believe the part about how you escaped, but I believe the rest. I was two years behind you in school, remember? Maybe all the teachers were too afraid to defy your father because most of their husbands worked for him at the factory, but I saw the bruises you tried to hide. All the kids did. I know your father hurt you. Often. And I’d be willing to testify for you.”
He turned and faced her. “You would? Why?”
“Because you were always kind to my brother when most weren’t, and also because we’re family of sorts now.” She held up her hand to show off her ring. “I married your cousin Matteo, but I kept my name. He told me everyone in your family was secretly terrified of your father. How he acted charming but strict at the factory, and then turned violent at home. They all speculated your father had busted you out of jail and killed you so you’d never tell what really happened. Your family knew you’d never hurt your mother.”
A glimmer of hope filled him. “So will you also help me find a good lawyer?” With her testimony, maybe he’d be able to get the charges dropped. And he’d be with Rachel again. If she’d take him back.
“Yes, of course. But . . . ” Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “Something isn’t right. When I called to tell my superiors that you were coming back with me, they asked me to drop you at the judge’s house first. To discuss the reduced sentence. Then he would arrange for you to be booked afterward. I was sent to arrest you, so I should book you before you speak to anyone. That, and it’s no secret your father and the judge are friends.”
All the hope he’d just mustered quickly slipped away. The judge and his father were friends? His village was a small one, where their judge traveled to other towns too to hear cases. Not like a big city with rules that weren’t easily bent or broken.
He was probably destined for a very long stay in jail after all.