Miracle for the Girl Next Door / Mother of the Bride: Miracle for the Girl Next Door

Depleted physically and emotionally by the distressing revelation, she let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes, aching for Valentino’s pain and wishing the treatments didn’t take so long. But she couldn’t complain, not when they were keeping her alive.

While she lay there on top of the cot fully dressed, she heard the door open. The clinician checked on her every little while. With her eyes still closed she said, “I’m doing fine, Serena.”

“That’s music to my ears,” sounded a deep, familiar male voice.

Her eyelids flew open at the same time her heart clapped inside her chest. She discovered Valentino bigger than life, standing at the side of her bed opposite the machine. He removed his sunglasses and scarf, revealing disheveled dark brown hair. It only added to his potent male appeal.

“You followed me!” she cried in a combination of anger and exasperation.

“Guilty as charged.”

No one had ever looked less penitent. “How did you get in here?”

“They weren’t going to let me in, but I found your clinician. When I told her I was your fiancé she took pity on me.”

Of course she did. Serena was a female. No woman was immune to Valentino’s charm.

Clara should have been furious he’d found out her secret, but it was so like Valentino to go where angels feared to tread when he wanted answers to questions, she started to laugh and couldn’t stop. Maybe it was contagious because he laughed, too. Soon the tears actually trickled from the corners of both their eyes.

They were still laughing when a smiling Serena poked her head inside the door. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. There’s nothing like a fiancé showing up to turn your world around, eh, Clara? I didn’t know you had such a gorgeous one. You’re a dark horse, you know that?”

After giving Valentino another once-over, she grinned and shut the door again. It wouldn’t be long before Serena connected his looks with the legend that preceded him and would know it was all a lie. But right now Clara didn’t care.

Those intelligent dark eyes of his searched hers for endless seconds. His expression grew solemn. “How long have you been undergoing these treatments, piccola?” he whispered in a shaky voice.

“Three weeks.”

He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her with his tanned hands clasped between strong legs. She saw him looking at the graft below the place where she’d rolled up her sleeve. The loop had been surgically inserted in her right arm where her blood was drained and bathed in solution to separate the impurities before returning to her bloodstream.

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Is this the reason you’ve lost so much weight?”

“No. I was perfectly healthy until two months ago when I cut my leg on one of the thorny twigs of a lemon tree at the farm. It developed into a blood infection that led to hemolytic uremic syndrome. That caused an acute failure of my kidneys.”

A pulse throbbed at the corner of his hard, male mouth. “They don’t function at all?”

Clara shook her head. “I have what’s known as ESRD.”

A bleak look entered his eyes. After a long pause, “Does this mean a kidney transplant is the only cure?” She felt his solemn tone in every sick atom of her body.

“Yes, provided it’s the right match. My parents and siblings have tried to donate theirs, but because of weight problems or high blood pressure or pregnancy, they’ve been turned down.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Tell me you’re on a waiting list—”

“Of course.”

“What kind of time are you talking here?” He fired comments and questions at her so fast she was dizzy. In fact she’d never known him to be this intense. The businessman in him had come out.

“I don’t know. Waiting for a suitable match is a complicated process. You think there’s one available, but then, for one reason or another, it can’t or doesn’t happen.”

“You have a big extended family. Surely there’s someone.”

“Two of my relatives would be matches, but they have diabetes so that rules them out. One of my aunts was prepared to go through tests, but she has had cancer in the past and the risk is too high for her. My best chance is to receive a kidney from an altruistic donor, but they’re hard to come by when thousands of people ahead of me are waiting for one.”

“Tell me what you mean by altruistic.”

“A non-related person who wants to give a kidney to a loved one, but it’s not a match, so they still donate a kidney to someone who is. There are chains of groups of people who do this, but it’s a case of finding them and linking up so their serum can be tested against my PRA.”

He frowned. “PRA?”

“It means my serum has been mixed with a panel of sixty random donors to see the reaction to the antibodies. Mine is fairly low which is a plus. Kidney allocations are based on a mathematical formula. It awards points for factors that affect a successful transplant.”

“What are the other factors?”

“Age and good health. I have all those things going for me.”

He reached out to grasp her free hand. “How often do you come here?”

“Three times a week.”

“That’s virtually every other day—” He sounded aghast.

“It’s not so bad when you consider there’s no other way for my blood to get filtered.”

“Why isn’t someone in your family driving you here and picking you up?”

“I don’t want to be a burden to them.”

He seemed to have trouble sitting there. “You’ve never been a burden to anyone in your whole life.”

Unbidden tears filled her eyes. “I am now. Everyone works so hard at the farm. It’s bad enough that I can only do my part on the farm three days a week. There’s Nonna who needs taking care of now that she’s in a wheelchair and learning to talk again. Bianca has a baby and another one on the way, and Maria’s expecting for the fourth time.”

Valentino squeezed her fingers gently. “I’ve upset you when I didn’t mean to. Every time we’ve been together, you’ve always had to leave. It has been so unlike the Clara I used to know, I’ve been at a loss. Because you didn’t explain your condition to me, I had to find out the truth for myself. Forgive me for bursting in on you like this?”

His pained eyes were so imploring, she didn’t want him to feel bad. After the painful experience he’d had with his father the other morning, she didn’t want to add to it. “There’s nothing to forgive. I didn’t say anything because I’ve loved spending time with someone who didn’t know about my condition and treated me like a normal, healthy person. If anything, I’m the one who needs to ask your forgiveness.”

“Clara…”

She smiled at him. “You wouldn’t be Tino if you hadn’t made up your mind to do something no one else would think of doing to get inside this room.”

“How did all this start?”

“You don’t want to hear all this.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

She moved her head back and forth. “Are you sure?”

Lines hardened his features. “You know me well enough to realize I never do anything I don’t want to do.”

Perhaps that was true once. She had no way of knowing what he was like now, but, since he showed no signs of leaving her bedside, she decided to humor him.

“After I got sick, I had to leave Lia’s to come home. The doctor sent me to a specialist, who diagnosed my condition. One thing led to another and I was forced to drop out of school.”

A shadow crossed over his handsome features before he found her hand again and kissed the fingertips one by one. His touch melted her like a serving of gelato left in the hot sun. “I’m going to let you rest. Before I leave, is there anything I can do for you?”

She knew it. Now that he’d learned about her condition, he was going to start treating her like all the others. In a matter of seconds she’d gone from being his fun-loving friend to invalid. He’d never held her hand and kissed it before. She couldn’t bear it now. Not from him.

“Yes,” she said brightly, removing it. “Will you open my purse and bring me the book I brought to read? It’s on that table.”

Within seconds the task was accomplished. He glanced at the title. “I’ve heard this is good.”

“I hope so.” She took it from his hand. “Thank you.”

Before he left, taking all the excitement with him, he put on his sunglasses and tied the scarf around his head. “Think I’ll still fool the paparazzi?” He flashed her a dazzling white smile, reminding her of the French fictional character Marius who went to sea in the story from Pagnol’s Fanny.

At the time, she could see that Valentino totally related to the young man who dreamed of seeing the world. Clara, on the other hand, could totally relate to Fanny, who loved him, but knew she had to let him go in order for him to be happy. It was one of their favorite books in lit class. “But of course! Au revoir, Marius!”

Marius?

Valentino forced a grin, not having thought about that story or their involved discussions of the characters in a long time. Her humor in spite of her condition humbled him, but inside he was dying.

She looked so damned beautiful and helpless lying there, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The urge to do many things for her was so great, he needed to get out of the room in order to hold onto his sanity.

“A presto,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Once he left her room, he saw Serena and headed in her direction. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“By all means.”

“I lied to you before.”

She smiled. “I know. If I hadn’t recognized you as Valentino Casali, you would never have made it in to see Clara. The way you two were laughing in there, I knew I’d done the right thing. It’s the best medicine for her.”

He nodded. “Thank you for allowing me in. Would you do me one more favor and give me the name and number of her specialist?”

“Come over to the desk and I’ll write it down. Dr. Arno’s office is in Rome, but he’s overseeing Clara’s case.”

Once Valentino had it in hand, he thanked her again. After leaving the clinic, he quickly found the secret alleyways through the upper region of the town, not stopping until he reached the villa.

When he checked his watch, he realized Dr. Arno would be in his office for hours yet, that was if it were a normal day for him. No matter what, Valentino needed to talk to him.

The receptionist at his office in Rome answered. When Valentino explained the nature of his emergency, she said the doctor was on vacation and wouldn’t be returning for a few more days. But she’d make certain he got back to Valentino ASAP.

Wild with pain, he needed a lot of information pronto! After hanging up, he put in a call to Dr. Rimbaud, his own doctor in Monaco, asking him to phone him back. While he waited for the call, he showered and changed into chinos and a sport shirt. He was drinking some coffee when his phone rang. Valentino grabbed for it.

“Dr. Rimbaud—thanks for getting back to me so fast.”

“I thought I’d better in case you’ve been in another crash,” he kidded him.

“Not this time.”

“You sound serious, not like yourself. What’s wrong?”

“Will you tell me what you can about kidney failure?”

“Uh oh. Anyone I know?”

“No. It’s a close friend of mine.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Give me a few particulars.”

Once Valentino had unloaded about Clara, the doctor told him what he could. “Those treatments take between four and five hours. Afterward she’ll be weak and need rest. Sometimes the patient suffers a sudden loss in blood pressure or gets muscle cramps. One or all of those reasons was why she’d been in a hurry to get on the bus the other day.”

“Of course.” Valentino had read all the signs wrong. She’d run from him because she wasn’t well, and because she had her pride. The Rossettis possessed that in abundance. Clara wouldn’t even let her family drive her to the clinic and back.

“Depending on her individual health, she probably needs to eat more animal protein. If necessary she might have to cut milk, cheese, salt and soft drinks. She’ll do better on the day after each dialysis treatment. That explains her ability to work at her family’s fruit stand.”

“How long can she go on like this?”

“Most patients live longer on dialysis these days, but her End Stage Renal Disorder might be more severe. Perhaps she’s been diagnosed with anemia. There could be other problems, too, like bone disease, nerve damage or high blood pressure. These are complications you’ll have to discuss with her specialist. Naturally the most desired thing would be to find a compatible donor for a transplant as soon as possible.”

He closed his eyes tightly. Dr. Arno couldn’t call him back fast enough. In the meantime, Valentino intended to be there for her in every conceivable way.

“Thank you, Dr. Rimbaud. What you’ve told me helps a lot.”

“Call me anytime.”

As soon as he hung up, he phoned for a taxi to take him to the local market. Once there he did some shopping, satisfied that the paparazzi would be looking in vain for his Ferrari. Until further notice it would stay in the garage. He would wait outside the doors to the clinic in the taxi until she emerged, then offer her a ride home.

“Signore?” the chauffeur called to him. “We’ve arrived.”

“So we have.”

He instructed him to wait in the loading zone. His pulse picked up speed when he finally saw Clara start out the clinic doors. She looked good, not as pale as she’d been last evening. He stepped out of the taxi into her path so she had to stop.

“How come you keep following me?” he baited her gently.

She lifted her beautiful head so he could see the green flecks in her eyes.

“Tino—”she cried in shock, but her eyes lit up. This was a bonus he hadn’t expected after barging in on her treatment.

“Come on. I’ve brought cold fruit juice and a chicken sandwich for you. You can eat it on the way back to the farm.”

He could tell she wanted to argue with him, but she didn’t have the kind of strength she needed for that. “Where’s the Ferrari?” she asked as he helped her into the backseat.

After he gave the driver directions, he handed her a sandwich and a drink before sitting back to answer her question. “It’s out of sight for a variety of reasons.”

“That will drive the paparazzi crazy.” She took several bites of her sandwich. “I have to admit this tastes delicious. You’re spoiling me with good food again.”

He’d bought himself a fruit drink and drained most of it. “I wonder how many hundreds of times you shared your lunch with me at school because I was too busy doing some project to stop and eat. Your mother made the best lunches in Monta Correnti.”

A trace of a smile hovered on her lips as she continued to eat. “Our family carried around the excess pounds to prove it.”

He flashed her a sweeping glance. “Not any longer.”

She avoided his gaze and drank more juice.

“Does your mother know she kept me alive with her cooking?”

“I didn’t dare tell her.”

Valentino chuckled. “You’re lucky you’ve had her in your life all these years. Do you want to know a secret?”

Clara’s head turned in his direction. She’d finished the last of her sandwich. He was thankful she’d had an appetite. “What is it?”

“I was jealous you had a mother who fussed over you every day. You and Bianca always seemed so happy. You didn’t know it, but having two parents who were alive and loved you gave you a confidence I would have given anything to feel.”

Her expression sobered. “I understand that now, but you did have Luca.”

“Yes, and he indulged me without limits.”

“That was only natural. After your mother died, he would have tried to play both roles. He loved you, Tino. I know he did. Otherwise his marriage to your mother wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I guess he wanted her badly enough to include her excess baggage.”

In a surprise gesture she covered his hand with her own and squeezed it gently. “I’m so sorry you’ve carried this pain with you all these years. I often sensed something was wrong, but you never opened up about it.”

“I couldn’t.”

Her head was bowed. “None of us is exempt from problems, but somehow we deal with them because we have no choice, right?”

He marveled at her courage. “ì.”

She let go of his hand. “We’re almost to the farm.”

Valentino told the driver to turn onto the private road where you could see the sign advertising produce at the Rossetti farm. He told him to follow it all the way in to the farmhouse and pull to a stop.

The minute the taxi slowed down, Clara had the door open. He knew better than to ask her to stay with him and talk. She was probably craving her bed.

“Thank you for the food and the ride, Tino. You saved my life today.”

Would that were possible.

“I always enjoy being with you.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Where are you going now?”

“Home to work on the Web site.”

“What did your father say about your ideas?”

“I’ve decided to wait until I have all the facts at hand, then present them in one go and see how he reacts.”

“I think you’ll be surprised how accepting he is of your ideas.”

“We’ll see. Your optimism gives me hope.”

“That’s good,” came her fervent reply.

He leaned toward her. “I’m going to come by for you in the truck after you’re off work tomorrow.”

Clara felt her pulse race. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we’d drive to Gaeta—we went there once, remember? We’ll enjoy a meal on the coast. It’s not too far. We’ll take it in stages. If you feel like sleeping on the way, you can.”

He still wanted to be with her?

“I’d love it!” she broke in. To go to the sea with him sounded divine.

His mouth broke into a satisfied smile. “I’m happy to hear it. Get a good sleep. I’ll be by about three.”

“All right. Ciao.”

Clara entered the kitchen feeling more lighthearted than she’d been in days. Who else but Valentino would have pretended to be her fiancé so he could gain access to the treatment room? She’d noticed that none of the workers at the clinic were immune to his compelling personality and looks. He’d been the talk of the place. Serena had been totally won over.

As for the taxi waiting for her, it might as well have been a golden coach whisking her away from the castle with her dashing prince while he fed her on the way. Because of his kindness, her body didn’t get a chance to feel depleted as it did when she had to walk down to the piazza and then wait for the bus.

She’d been utterly shocked to see him outside the doors. And grateful…He could have no idea how wonderful it was to just get in the car and be waited on as if she were a princess.

Though he’d told her earlier that he had no interest in knowing the identity of the man who’d had an affair with his mother, Clara couldn’t help but think his birthfather must have been an extraordinary person with exceptional looks and drive. Otherwise Valentino wouldn’t have turned out to be such a brilliant entrepreneur and heartthrob.

“What’s the great Valentino Casali doing bringing you home in a taxi?” Silvio had just walked in the kitchen. He wasn’t usually home this early.

“He was thoughtful enough to give me a lift from town.”

Her brother grimaced. “Did he think that by not bringing you in the Ferrari, the family wouldn’t notice?”

“Why would he be concerned about that?” she asked, attempting to control her temper without much success. “If he didn’t choose to drive it, it was probably because he was tired of the paparazzi following him every second of his life.”

“Why do you let him do it?” he demanded. “Don’t you get it?”

“You can stop worrying. It hardly smacks of the kind of attention you’re talking about. I’m a dying woman.”

“Don’t ever say that again!” he cried.

“But I am dying, Silvio. You have to face it. We’re all going to die some time. I just happen to know that without a new kidney, it will happen to me sooner than later.”

“How can you talk that way?”

“How can I not? You’ve got to stop being angry about it. As things get worse, Mamma and Papa are going to need your strength, not your rage.”

His eyes grew moist. “You’ve been so brave. If the almighty Casali had any idea what you’re dealing with now—”

“Actually he does. In fact he sat with me in the clinic today while I was getting my treatment.”

“I don’t believe it,” his voice shook. “You told him you have ESRD?”

“No. We met in town before my appointment. After I said goodbye to him, he followed me to the clinic and pretended to be…a relative.” She caught herself in time. “He did that so he could get in to see me. At the end of the treatment he brought me home so I wouldn’t have to take the bus. He even brought food and drinks because he knew I needed it after dialysis.”

Silvio looked dumbfounded.

“Please let’s not argue over him. He’s been nothing but kind to me and now I’m tired.” She felt his eyes on her as she left the kitchen to go upstairs. All she wanted to do was go to bed and dream about tomorrow when he came for her.

One more outing, then she’d tell him that, as much as she enjoyed his company, her illness was slowly draining her to the point that any social life had to end. She was hurtling through space toward a black void from which there could be no return. Where she was going, he couldn’t go.

She knew Valentino well enough to know his compassion for her condition would prompt him to continue making himself available to her. She also knew herself well enough to know she would cling more and more to him because he was life to her.

Clara couldn’t think of a worse scenario for a man whose freedom meant everything to him.

On the way back to town, Valentino had to admit it was getting more difficult to drive away after they’d been together. When he thought about it, he’d never liked parting company with Clara. Until he heard from the doctor, he was going to be on tenterhooks.

In the meantime he needed to keep so busy he wouldn’t be able to think. But he soon discovered that work was no panacea for his heartache. Nothing could take it away. It went so deep, he couldn’t find solace.

Every time he thought about her pain and what she was facing, he was pierced to the quick. His agony drove him to get in his car. He started driving through the countryside with no destination in mind. While he was en route, the wildflowers seemed to flaunt their fragrance in the night air as if to impress upon him the delights Clara might not be able to enjoy much longer.

Crazed by the thought that a life as sweet and innocent as hers could be coming to an end, he found himself headed for the church. Eventually he pulled up in front of the rectory. It was after nine p.m. when he levered himself from the car and was made instantly aware of the sound of crickets chirping. Tonight all his senses had come alive to nature, sending bittersweet pains through his body.

He took the steep steps two at a time to gain the porch, not hesitating to tug on the bell pull. In a few minutes, a much younger priest he didn’t recognize opened the door.

“Yes?”

“I’m here on an emergency to see Father Orsini. Is he still awake?”

“I believe so.”

“Will you tell him it’s Valentino Casali? If he can see me, tell him I’ll be out here waiting for him.”

The other man studied him for a brief moment. “Bene,” he said before shutting the door.

Unable to remain still, Valentino walked to the wrought-iron railing and looked out over Monta Correnti. The lights of the town with its red-tiled roofs and centuries-old palazzos spilled over the undulating hills, creating a fairyland illusion. In the distance, the Rossetti farm made up part of the magical landscape.