Her Italian Soldier

Now Guilio’s faith in her being attractive enough to grace his ads gave her another shot of confidence her damaged self-esteem had been needing.

“You will stay at my home with my wife, Maria, and me. I’m eager to introduce you to my brothers and my two married stepsons, who work for me. They and their families live nearby.”

“I’d love to meet all of them, but I couldn’t impose on you and your wife that way.”

“Hmm. I can see you’re stubborn like my son. All right. I’ll put you up in Ravello’s finest hotel.”

“No hotel. If I’m going to be in Italy, I want to stay in some quaint, modest bed-and-breakfast where it’s quiet, away from people and I can soak in the atmosphere. Here in Los Angeles we’re constantly hemmed in by each other.”

He turned to Mel. “You won’t mind loaning her to me? This is business.”

Mel smiled. “Not if you send her back soon. I couldn’t get along without her. She’s the reason I haven’t had another heart attack.”

Guilio smacked his own head. “Cielo! We don’t want that.”

All three of them had laughed.

Eight weeks ago she’d agreed to model for him and now, having completed her first four days of work in Rome, she found herself transported to Ravello, home to the Cavezzali family and the Amalfi car, a design as spectacular as the Amalfi coast itself.

Perched high above the water, Ravello was more like a giant garden than a town. Guilio, who had his own villas here, called it the crown jewel of the Sorrentine Peninsula. Princes, movies stars and sheikhs, among others, were drawn to the cluster of colorful cliff side villages and sparkling harbors dotting the world-famous stretch of Italian coastline.

This was her first vacation since her honeymoon to Mexico four years ago. After telling Guilio she wanted to stay in one of those charming little Italian farmhouses like she’d seen in films and on television, the kind that made you dream about the countryside, he’d installed her here.

She’d learned this house sat on the little farm his first wife had left to his son Lucca. It had stood vacant for fifteen years. She was welcome to stay here.

The exterior was orangy-pink with jade shutters. The only door to the house was on the side and led into the kitchen. Pure enchantment. Since leaving the bustle of Rome earlier in the day, nothing could have delighted her more.

While its terrace overlooked the brilliant blue Tyrrhenian Sea, an explosion of white daisies reached for the sky and pushed their way through the bars of the railing. It was as if the house had been planted inside a basket of blossoms. She couldn’t wait to go exploring the area in the morning, before her driver came by for her at eleven.

After taking off her clothes, she stepped in the shower. It felt good to wash her hair and emerge later feeling fresh and clean after traveling most of the day. She threw on her well-worn navy robe and plugged in the adaptor before turning on the blow dryer. When the strands weren’t quite as damp, she pinned them to the top of her head. Tomorrow the hairdresser would decide what he wanted to do with her shoulder-length hair for the photo shoot.

Another glance in the mirror proved that the Amalfi Girl was gone for the night.

Was twenty-six still young enough for her to be called a girl? Did her daily makeover at the hands of experts hide the traces of the betrayed widow? The camera would tell the truth, but Guilio believed in what he was doing. He believed in her. She already cared for him so much, she wanted this campaign to be a huge success and was determined to cooperate every way she could.

When Lucca learned what his father had done in his honor, he’d be touched beyond belief. It was very sweet really. Guilio was about as excited as a father who’d put his child’s most wanted gift under the Christmas tree and couldn’t wait for him to open it.

Unfortunately it was only June. Annabelle wondered how he was going to be able to wait until August when the car was finally out in the showrooms. The timing would coincide with his son’s next leave and the grand unveiling would take place in Milan.

Guilio intended to fly her back over for the special event, which would be covered by Italian television and other media sources. “We’ll do a blitz!” Guilio proclaimed with excitement. “Nothing’s too good for my Lucca.”

Annabelle imagined his bachelor son had the same Cavezzali drive and charm. She admitted to a growing curiosity about him. Guilio had told her the den at his villa was full of pictures showing his son at every stage of his life. The latest ones showed Lucca receiving commendations and ribbons. She was eager to see them along with everything else.

After stretching her arms, she smiled wryly to herself, still unable to believe that she was in the most glorious place on earth, enjoying a free vacation while she modeled, and having the time of her life. In a few weeks she would have to go home, but she refused to think about that right now.

Once she’d brushed her teeth, she turned out the light and padded down the beamed hall to the larger of the two bedrooms made ready for her. The cozy feel of the old house, which was filled with old family pictures and furnishings, enveloped her. So many stories these fieldstone walls would tell if they could speak.

Annabelle climbed under the covers of the double bed. With a sigh she sank back against the pillow and closed her eyes, more tired than she realized. On such a beautiful June night, she wished she could leave the windows open, but Guilio had warned her against it.

“You can’t ever be too careful.”

Annabelle knew he was right.

“Tomorrow after the shoot, I’ll give you a car so you can come and go as you please.”

“Thank you for everything, Guilio. I guess you know you’ve brought me to heaven.”

“Ravello is the closest thing to it. Call me if you need anything. Sleep well, Annabelle. Ciao.”

“Ciao.”

She didn’t know why, but as she nestled into a more comfortable position, she had a feeling that love and laughter had filled this house years ago. Some marriages lasted. Her eyes misted. How nice for those lucky people…

At the base of the tiny farm bordering the serpentine road, Lucca Cavezzali got an urge to go on foot from here and told the driver he’d hired to stop the car. After paying the man, he got out of the backseat with some difficulty and reached for his duffel bag.

There was a full moon overhead. Anyone up at two in the morning would see him and wonder who was trespassing on private property. He took a long look around. In the next instant the perfumed breeze brought back memories from the past. The scent of orange blossoms hung heavily in the air, recalling his childhood, which had been idyllic when his mother had been alive.

After her death, everything changed. Lucca had watched his father turn into a different man, who soon after her death married a widow with two sons. At fourteen years of age Lucca couldn’t forgive him for that and pretty well closed up on him.

Uninterested in going into the family car business like his stepbrothers and cousins, he’d left to join the military at eighteen. His grandfather Lorenzo had served in the Second World War. Lucca had made the old farmer out to be a hero and had romanticized about going off to war himself.

That decision had caused a serious rift between him and Guilio, who raged that Lucca might not be as lucky as his grandfather and not make it back at all. Still, nothing had dissuaded Lucca from leaving. But as he grew into a man and had firsthand knowledge of what war was really like, understanding of a lot of things caught up to him, like his father’s fears for his only son’s safety, and Guilio’s need for love and companionship after losing Lucca’s mother.

Lucca had long since let go of his teenage hang-ups. Over the years he’d mended the breech between them and had come to like his stepmother. She’d been good for his father, who was married to his work building up the Amalfi car industry.

If there was anything left over from the past, it was his guilt for not having been around the last fifteen years for his father. But the hospital psychiatrist had worked through those issues with him as well as his survivor’s guilt. The doctor had told him most career servicemen and women suffered the same problems. Guilt went with the territory.

The only issue that Lucca didn’t want to see turn into a problem had arisen on his last leave. He’d found out his father was considering selling off the two remaining farm properties from his mother’s side of the family that were in sore need of care. Lucca had immediately made an offer for them.

His father looked at him as if he were crazy. If Lucca wanted to build up some investments, it would be a better use of his money to buy a prime piece of business real estate in town. Guilio was a shrewd businessman and considered his opinion to be the final word on the subject.

Rather than get into a full-blown argument as they’d done too often in those early years, Lucca decided to leave it alone for the time being. All he asked was that his father not do anything about the properties until he came home on his next leave in August, when they had more time for a business discussion.

But since their last meeting, he’d undergone a life-changing experience that had altered his timetable.

Four months ago Lucca had been shot down and it had ended his military career. Guilio didn’t know about the crash that had left Lucca permanently injured, or that he’d been in the hospital all this time.

Aware how his father would have suffered for him had he known about the operation on his leg and the long rehabilitation, not to mention his post-traumatic stress disorder, Lucca made certain no news had leaked out from his superiors or doctors. It was a time he preferred to forget.

Tomorrow he would show up at his father’s house after a good night’s sleep. That’s when he had less pain. He wanted to feel rested when he told Guilio about his future plans to be a full-time farmer. It was possible he’d meet with the same negative reaction of years ago, but Lucca had to try.

Before turning eighteen, Lucca had talked to his father and told him that he wanted to be a farmer, but Guilio had thrown up his hands. “For your mother’s family, farming was fine. But no son of mine is going to do that kind of work! You’re a Cavezzali with a superior brain!

“Our family has been designing and manufacturing cars since World War Two. There’s no distinction in being a farmer who’s always subject to the elements and works all hours of the day and night with little to show for it. No, Lucca. You listen to your father!”

After Guilio’s tirade, Lucca kept the dream to himself. Instead of joining the Amalfi car business after graduation, he went into the military. Not to spite his father, but because he had plans to be a farmer one day and that ambition meant he would have to make some real money at a job that appealed to him first. Being a fighter pilot satisfied that need.

Now that he was out of the service, he planned to work with the soil and revive the farm. Since he intended to be successful and make a substantial profit, he needed more parcels of land. Along with this farm and those two properties to which he’d always been sentimentally attached, he could make a good start and go from there.