A Taste Of Italy: Midwife, Mother...Italian's Wife. Fiona McArthur
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seemed to love. She didn’t understand it but could see that Jack was delighted with the rough and tumble.
Leon looked and acted so big and tough and yet he was so good with the boys. She wished she’d been spared this memory. Jack was sent rolling away and Paulo dived on his father. She was sure someone would be hurt soon. Then it would all end in tears. The table was ready, almost groaning under the tablecloth full of ham and silverside rolls and the mountains of cold savouries she suddenly didn’t have the stomach for.
She called to the boys. ‘Come and eat.’
It took a minute for her voice to soak into the huddle on the ground but then they brushed themselves off and walked back towards her, all smiling and filthy. She pointed to the wipes she opened at the edge of the food.
‘You can all wash your hands.’
‘Yes, Mama,’ Leon said as he shook his head at the spread. ‘I think we need to put out a sign and invite people to share.’
She began to pour drinks. ‘That happens. If you see anyone, wave them over.’
Leon believed her. This past week had shown him a town full of generosity and warmth and the concept of sharing was in every connection he made. He bit back the tinge of jealousy that wasn’t worthy of him. His own life was different, and he wasn’t able to function like this self-sufficient small town could. He had responsibilities, people depending on him and his family business to continue to grow to provide a service for those in need.
He was glad they had the chance today to do something normal. Though the taste of this magical interlude would no doubt come back to haunt in his and Paulo’s emptily spacious apartment in Rome.
By the time they’d finished what they could, the boys were groaning and tottering back to their ball and Leon had subsided with a sigh onto the picnic rug.
‘Had enough?’ Tammy teased, and she looked over at him with satisfaction. When you don’t know what to do with a man, you could always overfeed him.
Before she’d been foolish enough to sleep with him he’d taken up a huge portion of her day even when he wasn’t there in person. Now, with so many memories in all dimensions, he would be everywhere.
Tonight he would be gone and the long nights ahead promised little rest at all. She was such a fool. But the opportunity for further foolishness was drawing to a close and when he invited her with a questioning look, she eased down beside him on the rug until their shoulders touched. She had no problem imagining more. Her ears heated with the need to tell him her secret.
Last night, in the dark, after he’d warmed her in a way she would never forget, he’d whispered again to her in his native tongue and the burden of her deceit had grown impossible.
He’d whispered softly how being able to hold her in his arms had been the only thing that had kept him sane while the boys were missing.
That his guilt for drawing her into this mess had been very hard and her forgiveness so precious.
How hard it would be to fit back into his life as he remembered the feel of her weight against his chest and how much he savoured the little time they’d had together and the gift she’d given him.
All soul-exposing statements he didn’t know she understood.
Maybe it could have been different if he didn’t live on the other side of the world. She could never leave the lake, take Jack from his grandparents, leave her friends and her work and, if she was honest, her independence, and just move in with Leon. Not that he’d asked her.
But she knew she’d be unable to go to Rome and not be in his arms again.
‘Do you think you will come to Italy next month? For the maternity wing.’ It was as if he’d read her mind without looking. He shifted his attention back to her and it was her turn to look out across the water.
The smile fell off her face. ‘Perhaps.’ No, she didn’t think so.
He slid his finger beneath her chin and turned her face towards him. ‘You do not seem too sure.’
She met his eyes. ‘I’m not. I need to think about the idea when my head isn’t full of kidnappings and work crises and other—’ she grimaced ‘—emotionally charged events I’m not sure what to think of.’
He nodded and let her chin go. ‘I won’t pressure you. Though I’d like to. Perhaps you will think about it. I know my new sister-in-law would be pleased.’
Bring in the big guns, why don’t you, Tammy thought with a sigh. Emma would understand though.
She looked back across the lake so he couldn’t read her eyes. ‘We’ll see.’
The boys returned and fell down beside them. She saw the glances they exchanged at the closeness between Leon and herself and she ached for their naiveté. She’d wondered if Jack would be wary of Leon but he seemed to accept that the big man had a place in his mother’s attention. Maybe because he knew that place had come to an end?
In the few minutes they all lay there before packing up, the simple pleasures of the morning rolled over them. Even the boys were silent and peace stole over their blanket.
The blue sky through the leaves overhead hurt her eyes it was so bright—or that’s what Tammy told herself, why her eyes stung—and small puffy clouds skittered and were reflected in the lake that stretched away through the trees.
It was a perfect day for their overseas visitors to see before they left. The thought bounced around like an echo in her head. That’s what they were. Visitors. Tammy felt the emotion and the hopelessness of the dream overwhelm her.
She heard the sharply indrawn breath of Leon beside her, and turned to see a small brown bird poke an inquisitive head out of the bush across from them.
A lyrebird, his beady brown eyes unblinking, tilted his beak at Leon and then stepped fearlessly out into the open less than ten feet from where they lay. The boys froze and covered their mouths with their hands, their little chests almost bursting with suppressed excitement.
The lyrebird lifted his brown, curved tail until it stood behind him like a fan, then shivered and shifted his feathers, until the upright display was to his satisfaction.
Only then did he strut and pivot in a stately dance to show them his glory.
When he opened his mouth the unexpected sound poured out. ‘Coo-ee.’ The notes from the lyrebird soared across the lake and bounced back at them. Strong and sure and perfectly mimicked on the boys earlier. ‘Coo-ee,’ the lyrebird trilled again, and he stared at them all as if he’d just given them a very important message. Then his tail fell and with regal disregard for politeness he disappeared back into the bush.
Tammy felt the air ease from her lungs, and the collective sigh almost lifted the paper napkins into the air. Jack whispered, ‘A lyrebird. Grandpa told me about them.’
‘It copied our call.’ Paulo, too, was whispering.
‘That’s what they do. They imitate noises,’ Tammy said quietly. ‘They can copy anything. Even a baby crying.’ She felt like crying herself it had been so magical. She sighed and somehow the load seemed a little lighter. ‘We’d better pack up.’
Leon stared at the bush, his mind strangely less cluttered by the past. But no doubt that was because the present had been so chaotic. The bird had looked at him, and of all the memories of this place he would take with him today, that bird, and these people spellbound by his dance and song, would remain with him.
It was time for the Bonmaritos to leave. They’d said goodbye to Ben and Misty and Louisa already.
The fierceness of Paulo’s hug surprised Tammy, as did her own in return. The lump in her throat grew as she hugged him back.
Paulo’s beautiful dark eyes, so like his father’s, so serious and young, seemed dreadfully in need of a mother. Her heart ached for him, and for Jack, and the loss of