“So then, what do you have in mind?” she asked.
“Certainly nothing that involves either you or my father flying anywhere. Have you never heard of video-conferencing?” he asked, brushing back a strand of hair that had slipped from its anchor behind her ear, to swing into her face. He always did little things like that lately; he was always touching her, petting her, and after her initial discomfort with all the contact, Theresa now barely noticed it and just enjoyed the pampering.
“That thing where you have a meeting and you can see people on the other side of the world on a monitor in the room?” she asked vaguely, and he grinned.
“Yes…I often speak to my family in Italy by that means,” he revealed.
“Okay.” She nodded slowly. “So when do you want to do it?”
“I was thinking tonight?” he asked, and her stomach did a slow, nervous roll before she nodded again.
“Okay,” she said again, actually physically incapable of saying much else.
“They’re going to love you,” he reassured, squeezing her hand.
“They?” she asked queasily, suddenly filled with doubts. “I thought it would be only your father.”
“My mother and grandmother will probably be there and maybe a couple of my sisters too. With my father so sick, they’re probably all there.”
“Your father’s at home?”
He nodded, his eyes darkening again.
“He refuses to be hospitalized. He says that if he’s going to die, he wants to do it at home. He has the best medical care and facilities money has to offer to him at home.”
“That’s understandable.” She nodded sympathetically. “He’s waited so long to go back home.” There was a moment of awkward silence.
“I’m really glad you could get it back for him, Sandro,” she blurted impulsively. “Even if it cost you more than it should have.” Again the silence, before he nodded tautly, his grim face looking hewn from rock.
“So do they know I’ll be…are they expecting to meet me?” She broke the uncomfortable silence a few moments later and he cleared his throat.
“I’ve been making noises about wanting them to meet you for a while now,” he informed. “So they won’t be too surprised by it.”
“Always thinking ahead aren’t you?” she asked with a hint of resentment.
“If you mean that I’d anticipated having to introduce you to my dying father by these less than ideal means, then no, I wasn’t really preparing for this eventuality!” he snapped irritably.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered defensively.
“Of course you didn’t,” he agreed sarcastically. Stung, she managed to lever her bulky form up from the sofa, ignoring him when he jumped up lithely to offer assistance.
“I’m tired, I think I’ll take a nap before dinner,” she said wearily. “I’ll see you later.” She left him behind without a single backward look, just plain sick and tired of the constant tension that they both had to live with.
“Are you ready?” he asked her quietly a few hours later. They were both in his huge study where he had set up the computer and camera for the video conference. No simple webcam and computer screen for Sandro, he had a proper video camera with a large television screen set up. He explained that it would enable his family to see both of them at the same time, further explaining that his parents had a similar setup at their home.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” She nodded nervously, and he led her to a large, comfortable sofa that was facing the camera. He made sure she was sitting comfortably before kneeling in front of her unexpectedly.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said softly, his dark eyes piercing as they stared intently into hers. “Being around you is a curiously humbling experience. I do not believe I have ever apologized this much to one person in my entire life before. I always seem to be getting it wrong with you.”
“You’re under a lot of emotional strain at the moment, Sandro, and I know that I probably wasn’t making it any easier on you. Please just forget about it.” He sighed deeply before nodding and sitting down next to her. He picked up a small remote control from the coffee table in front of them and started up the camera, indicating toward the blinking red light that he had told her would mean that the camera was on. An image of an elderly couple suddenly filled the previously blank screen of the big television to the left of the camera. Broad smiles suddenly lit up their faces and they both started chattering at the same time. Theresa knew that they were his parents from the pictures she had seen in Sandro’s study. His father looked a lot frailer and more tired than the robust man in the photographs, though, and Theresa could see from the sallow skin and sunken eyes how very ill the older man was.
Sandro was smiling warmly as his parents continued to chatter, before he finally raised a hand and they reluctantly fell silent. He said something to them in Italian, before indicating Theresa, who sat with a frozen smile on her face. She wasn’t sure what to do or what to say; she wasn’t even sure if they spoke English.
“Mama, papa…I know this has been a long time in coming,” he said, in heavily accented English. “But this is Theresa…mia moglie, my wife.”
“Piacevole per incontrarli,” she murmured haltingly, not sure if she had said it right or if they even understood her, but the smile Sandro directed down at her was filled with so much overwhelming pride and tenderness that Theresa felt bathed in its warmth. He entwined the long, lean fingers of one hand with hers, but she didn’t understand why he felt the need to make the gesture when their hands were out of the camera’s sight.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” she repeated in English, in case the couple hadn’t understood her, which seemed likely if their baffled expressions were anything to go by. His mother’s lips pursed in what looked like disapproval but his father’s smile broadened and he said something in rapid-fire Italian that Theresa didn’t stand a chance of understanding.
“My father says that you are truly beautiful,” Sandro translated for her. “And that he is very happy to finally meet you.” Her eyes flooded with tears and she nodded slightly.
“Thank you…grazie.” She smiled warmly at the fragile-looking old man, and he looked delighted by it. He once again said something in high-speed Italian, and Sandro chuckled before responding in an amused voice. It was obvious that they were talking about her, and she turned to Sandro, waiting for the translation. When it didn’t look like it was forthcoming, she prodded him with a nudge from her shoulder, and he grinned before saying something in a wry voice to his mother and father before turning to her with that same warm humor in his eyes.
“My father says that while you look as sweet and docile as an angel he does not imagine that a woman with your red hair can be easy to live with. He believes that the angelic exterior must hide a fiery temper.”
“Oh?” she asked in a deceptively calm voice, even while she narrowed her eyes at him. “And what did you say?”
“I told him that he definitely knows women a lot better than I do because when I married you I thought that the angel was all there was, until I provoked the fiery demoness into showing herself, to my detriment.”
“Demoness?” she asked in a highly offended voice and both his father and he chuckled simultaneously.
“Easy, cara.” He lifted his free hand in a gesture of surrender, and his father burst into warm, genuine laughter, the sound so happy and carefree that for an instant everyone, including his wife, stared at him with huge smiles. The older man brought his laughter under control and said something in Italian, which seemed to be aimed at Theresa. She looked at Sandro for a translation, and he hesitated for a millisecond before clearing his throat and turning back toward Theresa.
“My father says that it’s great to see me with a woman who isn’t intimidated by me and who can give as good as she gets. He thinks we will have strong sons and daughters.” He cleared his throat before continuing, even though the huskiness persisted. “He is honored to call you daughter and is proud that his son’s children will come from a worthy woman like you.”
“Oh…” Theresa whispered, her hand going up to cover her mouth, and her eyes flooding with tears. “Oh God.”
“Cara.” His soft voice in her ear pleaded with her to keep it together and she nodded, closing her eyes briefly to keep her surging emotions under control, before bracing herself and opening her eyes to meet the wise, old eyes of a man who was halfway across the world.
“Thank you,” she told him again. “You are so very kind to say that. I am equally proud to know that my child comes from a strong family such as yours. I look forward to the day I can present my son to you, sir.”
“Or daughter,” Sandro inserted smoothly, before translating what she had said to the beaming older man.
“You are…lovely girl. I sorry for all trouble,” the man suddenly said in broken but understandable English, and Theresa’s lips trembled with emotion. “You make my boy happy. I see this…grazie. I so worry…but I see now, he very happy with you. Very much love here. I see.”