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“Oh,tesoro, I am so sorry. That is so difficult.”
She cut him off, feeling the tricks pricking her eyes already. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. We’re doing what we can for him.”
“Of course you are. He is your father.”
The statement irritated her for some reason, but she pushed it aside. Her emotions were all over the place.
“What can I do?” he asked. “Do you need some financial help?”
“No,” she said sharply and then softened her tone. “No, but thank you, Giancarlo. It’s fine, really. All taken care of. We’re moving him back here, to the house, today. I’m going to look after him. I’m going to stay…as long as necessary.” She didn’t want to even try to put a deadline to the amount of time she would be here. She couldn’t think about it.
“You are going to nurse him? Can you hire one instead? I’d be happy to arrange it.”
“No, no,” she said, the sharp tone returning. She understood he wanted to pay for it, but it seemed out of the question. It wasn’t his responsibility. “He’s my father, Giancarlo. I want to take care of him myself.”
“But it will be difficult for you, darling. You are not a nurse, and surely it would be best to have someone with the expertise, for both your sakes.”
Another flash of irritation rose. This time it lingered for a few moments until she forced it away.
“No, there’s no need. I’ll do it. It’ll be fine. Tom and I can organize it if we need to.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to say that you wouldn’t help as well. I just wanted to make it easier for you.”
She felt herself soften, guilty for her tone. “I’m sorry, Giancarlo. It’s all just a shock at the moment. I’m still trying to take it in.”
“No need to apologize,” he said. “It is overwhelming, I’m sure. Can I send you anything, then? Do you have enough clothes? Buy what you need, my darling. Use the card I gave you.”
She thought of the credit card he’d given her months before, now tucked up in a drawer back in Rome. Not that she would have used it. In some ways she was glad it was there, safe. Unused.
“I’m fine,” she told him. “I have plenty of clothes.”
“Do you have anything suitable for the New York gallery? You could go meet with Cassidy there, finalize arrangements.”
She bit back the remark that came to her. The gallery and her possible show was the last thing she wanted to think about. Giancarlo had continued to speak, waxing lyrical about the success of her current exhibition in Rome, which had been prompted by the recent sale of the remaining two works she’d had in the exhibition.
“I’m glad the works sold,” she forced herself to say. Really all it meant to her now was more pieces she’d have to complete if she did get the exhibition in New York. It might be better to forgo the whole thing. “Giancarlo, given everything, it might be best to withdraw the exhibition proposal from the New York gallery.”
Silence hung in the air between them for a moment. “Katerina,tesoro,I understand why it might be difficult for you to think long term, but it will do no one any good if you make decisions quickly. Give it a few days, and we will talk again. You’ll have had some time to think, consider everything and have a clearer picture of what to expect in the next few months.”
And that’s when she found herself agreeing. Anything to finish the conversation, move it on to a point where she could end the call, and turn her mind to matters that were much more important.
* * *
Kate heard the rumble of the motorcycle’s engine before she saw it. Not that she was looking out the window, waiting. But from her perch on the armchair, putting on her old Converse sneakers, she could easily see the motorcycle pull up in front of the house when it did appear. The sound alone sent her heart beating faster, something she argued with herself to assign to the impending visit to the hospital to see her father.
She watched Ethan dismount the bike, remove his gloves and make his way to the house, the pavement ringing with the sound of his boots that only grew as he mounted the wooden stairs to the porch. It was only then he took off his helmet, leaving his shaggy dark hair a disheveled mess. But with the weathered brown leather jacket, the dark jeans tucked into his boots, it was a look that was effortless, not from trying, but from a natural, unconscious approach. It was a look she remembered well, a look that had appealed to her from the first time she saw him. So easy, so comfortable in himself that everyone was drawn to him. And that charisma was still there, reeling her in even now. She sighed. This wasn’t the time.
She heard the knock on the door, and she saw him standing there, fist raised, his back holding the screen door open. The doorbell had long ceased to work, and now it made her laugh to think about the years her father promised himself he would fix it. But what need, when everyone just tapped on the door and opened it, shouting their “hellos” before going through to the kitchen or backyard, where her father was most likely to be. If the door was locked, then everyone knew Frank wasn’t home, and they should return later.
Before she reached the door, it opened, and Ethan walked through after calling out a brief hello, only to stop short, startled to see her in the living room.
“Oh, hey,” he said, his eyes bright blue in the light. He broke into a grin. “I wasn’t expecting you to be right here.”
She smiled, unable to resist the grin. “Just putting on my sneakers.” She looked down at her feet, frowning. “Not sure how good these will be, but it’s all I could find among the spoils of the past.”
She’d paired the Converse with her mother’s old jeans, unable to bring herself to even attempt to try on her old hipsters. The top she’d settled on was an old Henley with her mother’s mottled green suede jacket. It was worn bare in places, but she liked that about it, along with traces of her mother’s perfume that still clung to it. She’d opted for this combination after discarding the Dior cashmere sweater and soft casual pants that she’d brought with her. The decision to abandon most of the clothes she’d brought with her had prompted a visit to the attic, where she’d found some of her mother’s old clothes as well as hers.
Ethan surveyed the sneakers and then the rest of her, his brows raising slightly. “It all works,” he said. “At least I like it.”
