Alessandro blinked. He’d braced himself when she’d opened her mouth to speak, half expecting a cut-glass English accent. But when the words came out in that slow, laid-back Australian way, still unfamiliar to his ear, he relaxed slightly.
The similarities between this woman and his dead wife were startling on the surface.
No wonder Julian had been glued to her side.
But looking at the fresh-faced woman before him, he knew that’s where the similarities ended. This woman exuded an openness, a friendliness, Camilla never had. Then there was her appearance. Her hair had been dragged back into its band, rather hurriedly by the look of it, with strands wisping out everywhere, not neatly coiffed and primped until every hair was in place.
And Camilla wouldn’t have dared leave the house without make-up.
This woman… Nat… was more the girl-next-door version of Camilla. Not the posh English version he’d married. Even her perfume was different. Camilla had always favoured heavy, spicy perfumes that lingered after she’d left the room. Nat Davies smelled like an orchard in bloom.
Most importantly, her gaze was free of artifice, of agenda, and he felt instantly more relaxed around her than he’d ever felt around his wife.
Alessandro took the proffered hand and gave it a brief shake before extracting his own. ‘Alessandro Lombardi.’
She looked at him for a beat or two as if she was trying to figure him out, which was discombobulating given her eerie similarities to Camilla. But then, as if realising she’d been staring at him for too long, she dragged her gaze to Julian, who was inspecting the floor.
‘Julian, matey, would you like to takePossum Magichome? It’s part of our library. Maybe your papa could read it to you before bed tonight.’
Julian glanced hesitantly at him, his solemn features heartbreakingly unhopeful, and Alessandro castigated himself for his earlier curtness. He nodded. ‘Si.’
Passing the book to Julian with a smile she said, ‘Why don’t you go and find Sharyn? She’ll show you how to fill out the library card.’
He watched Julian walk towards the pink-haired boss of the creche, clutching the book like it was his last meal but hyperaware of Nat’s gaze on his profile, scrutinising him intensely.
‘Signor Lombardi, I was?—’
‘Mr, please,’ he interrupted as he switched his attention to the woman who had given him such a shock tonight, surprised to hear her address him in Italian and at the accuracy of her accent. ‘Or Doctor. Julian knows little Italian. His mother…’ Alessandro paused, surprised how much even mentioning Camilla still packed a kick to his chest. ‘His mother was English. It was her wish that it be his primary language.’
If she was surprised, she didn’t say, just continued. ‘Dr Lombardi, I was wondering if Julian had a special toy or a teddy bear? Something familiar from home to help him feel a little less alone in this new environment?’
Alessandro stiffened. A toy. Of course, Camilla would have known that. There was that mangy-looking rabbit that he used to drag around with him everywhere. Somewhere…
‘I’ve been very busy. Our things only arrived a few days ago and there’s been no chance to unpack. We’re still living out of boxes.’
She blinked at him. A blink that seemed to say,too busy to surround your child with things that are dear to him in this strange new place?Or maybe that was just his guilty conscience…
‘This is none of my business, of course, and I don’t want to overstep,’ she said, her voice soft, ‘but I understand you were recently widowed.’
Alessandro saw the compassion in her eyes and wanted to yell at her to stop. He didn’t deserve her pity. Instead, he gave a brief, controlled nod. ‘Si.’
She paused as if hoping he might elaborate. He did not but that didn’t stop her from forging ahead. ‘I was wondering if Julian had had any kind of counselling? He seems quite… withdrawn. I can highly recommend the counselling service they run here through St Auburn’s. The child psychologist is excellent. We could make an appointment?’
A sudden hot rise of blood thumped through Alessandro’s temples. He did not need some woman who barely knew Julian and his circumstances poking her nose in where it didn’t belong. He had it under control. ‘You’re right,’ he muttered, his voice scratchy in his throat it was so damn low. ‘This is none of your business.’ He turned to locate his son. ‘Come, Julian.’
Stalking towards his son, he collected him and his things and left without a backward glance at the nosy Camilla lookalike who had mostdefinitelyoverstepped.
Nat watched them go feeling completely out of her depth. The small forlorn boy and the broodingly intense hulk of a man with a voice that could freeze a volcano. Julian gave her a small wave and a sad smile, and a lump swelled in her throat. They disappeared out the door side by side but somehow utterly separate.
DrLombardi hadn’t picked Julian up, or ruffled his hair or even placed a guiding hand on his back. Something –anything– that said, even on a subliminal level, I love you, I’m here for you.
Nat hoped for Julian’s sake that it was grief causing this strange father–son disconnectedness and not a deeper issue,because there was something unbearably sad about a four-year-old with no emotional expectations.
Having grown up with a father who’d distanced himself emotionally after he’d walked out on her and her mother, Nat knew too well how soul destroying it could be. How often had she’d yearned for his touch, his smile, his praise after he’d left? Something he’d given so freely prior to leaving. And how often had he let her down, too busy with his new family, with hisboys. Even at thirty-three she was still looking for his love and she couldn’t bear to see it happening to a child in her care.
But something inside her recognised that Alessandro Lombardi was hurting too. Knew that it was harsh to judge him. The way he’d faltered when he’d talked about his wife: the hesitation, the emptiness. He was obviously still grieving. And maybe in his grief he was just trying to do the right thing by his dead wife? Trying to keep things going exactly as they had been for Julian’s sake.
Or desperately trying to hang on to a way of life that had been totally shattered.
