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This is it, she thought, glancing around, trying to remember all the details. The color blue. The painted fish. The crisp white bookshelves.
This is where Joe would sleep at night, safe, secure, protected.
This is where he’d grow up, adored, loved.
It was good that she was leaving him here. It was good he’d be raised by such a strong, moral, compassionate father.
Now all she had to do was go. Her bag was packed. The car was waiting. The only thing remaining was to walk out the door, and close it, and leave her husband and baby behind.
Imagining walking away from Joe made her knees buckle. She put out a hand, touched the wall, took a deep shuddering breath.
You can do this, she told herself. You have to.
Joe was too innocent and beautiful for the life she’d lived these past fourteen years. Joe was too innocent to be caught up in her family’s darkness and turmoil.
With a last glance around the bright cheerful nursery, she saw how the warm sunlight shone through the windows and fell onto the crib. The light was good. The warmth even better. Leaving Joe here was the right thing to do.
Jillian went down the stairs to the front door where Maria was waiting with Joe and the luggage. The lump in her throat was beyond horrendous. It was murder to swallow and her eyes felt scalded but she would not let the tears fall.
Vittorio would be angry. He’d be so furious that she’d left them. But she hoped one day he’d understand. She hoped one day he’d realize she was doing this to protect them, not hurt them.
“I’ve one last thing to do,” Jillian told Maria, her voice cracking. “Can you take the baby for a quick walk around the terrace? Let him touch the roses. He loves the flowers. And then he and I will go.”
Jill didn’t kiss Joe, or make a sound, as Maria carried Joe out, because God knew, she couldn’t leave if Joe started crying. But Joe didn’t cry. He was happy to go outside, loved the pretty roses, and as Maria carried him, he looked over Maria’s shoulder and smiled at his mother, waving, bye-bye.
Bye-bye.
Bye-bye, my love. Bye-bye, my baby. For a split second Jillian nearly screamed with the pain. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. There was no way…
And then she lifted her hand and smiled and waved back to her boy. Bye-bye, my heart.
And as the door to the terrace closed behind Maria, Jillian picked up her own suitcase, leaving Joe’s two small bags on the gleaming floor, and headed out the front door to climb into the car.
Vittorio wrapped up his meeting early and headed straight for the executive airport, anxious to see Jillian and Joe and be on their way for their three-day holiday. But on reaching the airport in Catania, he discovered his driver hadn’t arrived yet.
He waited ten minutes then called his driver. His driver immediately answered. “How far away are you?” Vitt asked, glancing at his watch.
“I’ve just returned to Paterno,” his driver said. “I dropped Signore off at the airport.”
“But I’m at the airport. I’ve been here. The jet’s fueled and waiting.”
“Signore said I was to take her to the public airport.”
“What?”
“She said there had been a change of plans.”
A change of plans? Why would there be a change of plans? Vittorio reeled from shock and struggled to speak. “Where is my son?”
“Here in Paterno, at home.”
Thank God. Vittorio exhaled. “But the Signore?”
“She is gone.”
Vittorio immediately jumped into his car and drove home, unable to believe that Jillian had really gone.
As he drove through the gates of his estate, he played his last conversation with Jillian over and over in his head. She’d said she was looking forward to Capri. Said she was happy with him.
