‘He has wonderful memories of the place—or at least he used to,’ Maurice said. ‘Sometimes those memories are the only ones he can recall. This is his last chance to walk in the gardens again. We’re leaving Italy in a couple of days. We tried to contact the new owner for permission but were unsuccessful.’
Of course they had been. Rafe never would have taken his call. Did Rafe even know Leonard was sick?
She hesitated, torn, because she knew exactly what it was like to wish for a few moments of lucidity to have a moment of remembrance with an old man. But this was Rafael’s place. And he wouldn’t want them here.
‘Please.’
Gracie looked into the car at Leonard again and saw just how frail the old man was. Frailer than Alex.
Rafael was away and she could explain it to him—the man was old and sick and surely he’d feel the compassion she did? Rafael had been hurt, but he was still human. Surely he could forgive this ill old man? It was only a small request.
She turned to Maurice. ‘Just five minutes, okay? Five.’
‘Thank you.’
She opened the gate and cycled up the driveway ahead of their car. While Maurice parked she leaned her bike against one of the pillars.
‘Is it the roses he remembers?’ Gracie asked as Maurice walked around the car to open the door for his father.
‘I’m not sure,’ Maurice answered gruffly. ‘There’s not a lot he seems to remember at all.’
She nodded and stepped back as the old man emerged from the car.
‘Shall we walk through the roses, Father?’
They had just walked to the lawns when a frosty voice sliced through the warm air.
‘May I help you?’
Gracie froze in horror and slowly turned. He was standing on the edge of the grass. He looked impeccable—and impregnable. His dark grey suit was like perfectly tailored armour. And the aggression in his stance, his eyes, his voice rippled through the air.
‘Rafael,’ she croaked. ‘I didn’t realise you were back.’
Why hadn’t he been in touch already? Why hadn’t she thought to tell him of the incident in the pasticceria the other morning? But she’d been distracted—by him—at the time.
‘Clearly.’ He glared at her, anger apparent in every part of him. He didn’t say anything to the men standing beside her.
She understood then that his relationship with his half-brother was so broken they couldn’t even speak politely about nothings, couldn’t stand to be in the same space. They were unable to push beyond the hurt of the past.
‘These men wanted to see the grounds before they leave Italy. It’s the last opportunity—’
‘It’s okay,’ Maurice interrupted her. ‘We’ll leave.’ He was actually flushed. ‘We didn’t mean to intrude, Rafael. I wouldn’t have had I known you were in residence. I believed you weren’t home.’
Wincing internally, Gracie glanced at Rafe. He shot a look back at her—accusation stabbing from his eyes.
‘Your father is already intruding,’ he said stiffly.
Gracie turned to look. Leonard had already walked past the path towards the roses and was slowly walking towards the boat shed.
‘Father?’ Maurice hurried after him.
The old man was moving surprisingly swiftly now, and even from this distance Gracie could hear him muttering.
Rafael wasn’t looking at her but she could feel the emotion coming off him in waves. He stalked silently after the men. For a moment she wavered indecisively. But it didn’t feel right to leave them alone. She needed to explain to him how this had happened.
Leonard had got as far as the boat shed. He opened the door before Rafe could say anything or stop him. Gracie hurried in after him. Leonard was staring at the vintage speedboat she and Rafe had taken out the other day. It felt like for ever ago now.
‘Rosabella,’ he said quietly.
Maurice looked astounded as he walked the length of the shed to read the name on the back of the boat—where Leonard couldn’t see.
‘He remembers the boat?’ He shook his head.
‘Rosabella.’ The smile on Leonard’s face was huge. He said nothing else, just happily sat and stroked the smooth hull.
* * *
Rafael knew within two minutes that his half-brother Leonard was extremely unwell. He’d hardly spoken and clearly hadn’t recognised him and there was a vacant look in his eyes that revealed more than mere forgetfulness. This was disease.
Bitterness burned. He should have felt pleasure that he was the one who owned the place. That they should’ve asked his permission when they’d denied him everything. Even when he’d pretended to himself that he didn’t care, he still did. He’d wanted this power for so long. He wanted all the experiences that he’d never had. The fun. The laughter. His father.
He wanted everything that they’d withheld from him.
Raw resentment descended with the realisation that even now he was cheated—his half-brother couldn’t remember anything, couldn’t tell him anything, even if they had been on better terms. Disappointment dissolved his bones like acid. But it wasn’t even them who had hurt him this time. It was Gracie.
‘Take as long as you like,’ he said roughly. He stalked out of the boat shed, unable to watch any more.
Ten minutes later Leonard and Maurice emerged, Gracie walking a pace behind them. Betrayal swept over him. It was so severe he simply couldn’t stand to look at her.
‘Thank you,’ Maurice said stiltedly. ‘I know you weren’t expecting us. You understand Leonard is—’
‘I get it,’ he snapped.
‘Okay.’ Maurice cleared his throat. ‘But thank you again.’ He turned away but suddenly swung back. ‘Roland loved this place too. He’d be pleased you’re looking after it.’
Rage stained his vision red. He didn’t want or need this man’s approval. He didn’t need him to say what his father would have liked—he already knew his father would be pleased he owned the place. It had been the dream of theirs—an old man and a young boy, dreaming of a beautiful lake and gelato, of all things...
Rafe just knew there was a pleading look in Gracie’s eyes as his nephew spoke but he said nothing more. He didn’t dare, fearing the emotion swirling within would spew forth like a fountain. He couldn’t risk that. He never wanted them to know they still had any kind of power over him. He refused to care.
Not quickly enough, the
men walked to the car. Unable to bear it, Rafe strode to the lake.
The fury that rose in him as he heard her step behind him was too much. He whirled to face her. She had her hands on her hips and her chin tilted high, like a warrior princess ready to defend her territory.
‘I didn’t know you were home,’ she said. ‘I thought...’ She trailed off as she realised what she’d been about to say.
‘You thought you could get away with it,’ he finished for her coldly. Would she have lied to him always? ‘Would you ever have told me? Could you ever have been honest?’ he snarled. ‘You went behind my back.’
And with him—Leonard. The half-brother who’d rejected him, who’d denied him his father’s name, denied his blood, who’d banished his mother and turned his back on her when she’d needed help. Who’d bullied Rafe for years. All the hurt that he’d thought he’d buried burst back as if it had just happened.
‘It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t deliberate,’ she said quickly. ‘They pulled up at the gate when I arrived. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘And why did you arrive?’ he snapped, drawing his own conclusions. ‘Because you’d met them before today. You planned this.’
She paled, but she didn’t walk away. ‘I did meet them. Leonard wandered past the café early the other morning. He was clearly lost. I sat him down and gave him a drink. I couldn’t ignore him when he’s clearly unwell.’
All those years ago Leonard had ignored him—when he’d been a vulnerable child. Then Leonard had gone on to do worse than ignore him.
‘But I didn’t plan this,’ Gracie continued. ‘I came because I left my watch here the other day and it’s irritating me not to have it. It was coincidence that they were outside when I arrived.’
Rafe didn’t believe in coincidences. And Gracie obviously got the message because her face flushed.
‘Believe me or don’t, Rafe, but I’m being honest,’ she said. ‘And that man is dying. No fight is worth denying someone their dying wish.’
He’d never felt this cold—it was a relief, because all that old agony that he hated might hopefully freeze too. He loathed the truth she spoke. He couldn’t bear to have all this history dredged up.