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Orla saw Antonio smile and felt emotion surge because there was no trepidation or doubt in his eyes any more. They were due an influx of visitors tomorrow—his family. It was becoming an annual pilgrimage.
It had taken a while for him to feel comfortable around his brothers and sisters again, the weight of guilt a heavy thing to throw off overnight. But getting to know them again had helped.
It hadn’t been easy, yet over the years Antonio had begun to develop a strong relationship with his father, who had even apologised to Antonio for being so hard on him.
Antonio twirled some of Orla’s hair around his finger. ‘You’re a force to be reckoned with, you know that, Mrs Kennedy-Chatsfield? And I couldn’t care less that you can’t cook a boiled egg without burning the water.’
And then more seriously Orla asked, ‘How was it?’
Antonio tucked the lock of hair he’d been playing with behind her ear and said, ‘Good. The physiotherapy unit is ready to be opened tomorrow, and not a moment too soon with ten more soldiers due to arrive by the end of the week.’
Orla felt pride squeeze up into her throat, constricting it for a minute. Antonio’s project—the Soldiers Rehabilitation Clinic, as it was now known—had opened six months previously. It was a great success with a huge waiting list already and talk of more centres being opened up.
Antonio was a different man these days, lighter. There had been a lot of healing in the past few years, for them both.
When Orla could speak, she said huskily, ‘I’m so proud of you.’
Antonio shook his head, his hand cupping her jaw. ‘It wouldn’t exist … I wouldn’t exist … without you.’
And then, pulling her closer, he growled softly, ‘Do you think Marie-Ange will miss us if we disappear for a short while?’
Orla gave him a stern but explicit look. ‘Very short. The poor woman has been slaving over a hot stove all day.’
With that, Antonio took Orla’s hand and all but dragged her into the house and they had just enough time to work on making a son before a familiar plaintive cry started up in the distance: ‘Dada!’
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