Power of a Woman (35 page)

“She really chose the doctor?”

“Yes. He was the son of a friend.”

“I didn’t know.”

“And what else did she say?”

“She questioned your morals…especially when you got pregnant with Chloe.”

“That’s typical of her.” Stevie got up, went and sat on the love seat next to him. “
Did
she kill your love for me, Nigel?”

“Not entirely, no, Mother. But she did damage it, I’ve got to admit that. You see, she made me believe you wanted the business for yourself, for your own devious ends. She said that you’d kick me out one day. Take Jardine’s away from me.”

“And you believed her?”

“I was very young, just a kid.”

“I know you were. And impressionable. She was wicked, Nigel, a really wicked woman.”

Power of a Woman / 389

“I’m so sorry, Mother.”

“I know. And remember, my love for you has never changed, or altered in any way. I hope you realize that, realize how much I
do
love you, Nigel.”

“I’m beginning to understand, Mam.”

Stevie smiled hugely, and it was her first real smile in weeks.

“What is it?’ he asked, frowning again.

“You probably don’t realize it, but you keep calling me Mam, as you used to when you were a little boy.”

He did not respond. Unexpectedly, he reached out for her, took hold of her, held her tightly in his arms.

“How will you ever be able to forgive me for what I did to you?” he asked against her hair.

“Oh, I already have, Nigel. Weeks ago.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

“By going back to Jardine’s tomorrow.”

“I don’t know how to redeem myself in your eyes,”

he said, drawing away, searching her face.

“By doing a good job at the store. By looking after your children and loving them well. By loving your brothers and sister. By loving Derek, Blair, and Bruce. By standing tall, Nigel, and being the man I know you can be.”

“I will try. No, I
will
do it. I
will
.”

She smiled at him, her gray-green eyes spilling her love for her eldest son. She touched his cheek gently.

“Love is so important in all of

390 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

our lives…and I mean all kinds of love, Nigel, not just the romantic kind. Love has such tremendous healing powers.”

“Yes, I know it does. I’ve witnessed it with you and Chloe. What progress she’s made, and it’s all because of you.”

“And the rehabilitation hospital. And Bruce and Derek and Blair. And Miles and Gideon and Lenore.

And you too, Nigel, and the children. The entire family has been part of her healing, as they will also be part of yours.”

O
N WEDNESDAY MORNING OF THE FOLLOWING

week, Stevie drove to Heathrow and took a plane to Italy. The flight was relatively short, only an hour and forty minutes from London to Milan.

Now, as the British Airways jet approached the Linate Airport runway, Stevie moved her watch one hour ahead, in order to conform with European time. It was exactly ten-forty.

After leaving the plane, everything went very quickly; within twenty minutes she was sitting in the limousine she had picked up at the airport, heading into Milan.

She leaned back against the car seat, feeling relaxed, and much calmer than she had been for some time. Since the shooting, in fact.

Nigel had gone back to Jardine’s the day after she had had her heart-to-heart talk with him, almost a week ago now, and already he seemed much better in spirits. Work had been important 392 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

to him all his life, and just as she had predicted, being at the store again was helping him to adjust to the tragedy that had befallen him. It would take him a long time to recover from Tamara’s death, but she knew now that he had a good chance of getting back on his feet. Work was a great antidote to sorrow; she had discovered that for herself. And he had his children. They, too, would help to sustain him, and, because of their need for him, give meaning to his existence, a reason to live.

As for Chloe, she was improving daily, growing stronger and healthier after her five-week stay at Northwick Park Hospital. The therapy had been necessary, had helped to bring her back to normal, and Valentin Longdon was pleased with her progress. He had seen Chloe only last week and pronounced her fit and well, but he had recommended to Stevie that they stay in England for another month. After that, he had said, they could travel back to the States. Or anywhere else they wanted.

I’ve been lucky, Stevie thought, staring out of the car window, her mind focused on her daughter.

Chloe could have died, or remained in a coma, or been left totally paralyzed. God
did
give me an Easter miracle. For Chloe, at least, but not for Tamara. Whenever she thought of her daughter-in-law, her heart ached and she filled with sadness.

She would miss Tam for as long as she lived; there would always be a hole in her heart now that her son’s wife was gone.

Power of a Woman / 393

Within twenty minutes of leaving Linate Airport, the car was entering Milan’s Centro, the city center, where the hotel she had selected was located. As usual, the city center was busy with traffic, but within seconds the car was pulling up outside the Four Seasons on Via Gesù, near Via Montenapo-leone. Once a cloister, the old monastery had been tastefully renovated, the fifteenth-century building updated to become a beautiful hotel, filled with sunlight streaming in through the large windows.

As she walked through the lobby to the registra-tion desk, Stevie glanced around, liking the ambiance, the airiness, the sense of spaciousness that prevailed.

Once she was settled in her suite, she unpacked the suitcase she had brought and hung up her clothes. Seating herself at the desk, she called Jardine’s. After speaking to her secretary, she then talked to Nigel and Gideon respectively before phoning the flat in Eaton Square to check on Chloe, make sure she was all right.

Her phone calls finally out of the way, Stevie refreshed her makeup and changed out of the black pants suit she had traveled in. For her appointment that afternoon she chose a dark gray flannel suit and a white silk shirt. Her only jewelry was her double strand of pearls, pearl earrings, and a watch. After glancing at herself quickly in the mirror, she picked up her handbag and left the suite.

394 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

Stevie walked to the Caracelli offices located on the Via della Spiga, enjoying being outside on this lovely May afternoon. It was sunny, the sky was blue and cloudless, and the weather was balmy, a nice bonus after the dampness of London.

As she walked she did a little window shopping, looking at the beautiful clothes and accessories in the chic boutiques. Milan was the fashion center of the world, and she decided she would do some shopping later if she had time. Perhaps she would find some pretty things here for Chloe as well as for herself.

When she finally reached the large Caracelli building, Stevie looked at her watch. It was a few minutes before two; she was exactly on time for her meeting.

As she sat waiting in the elegant reception area, Stevie leafed through a couple of fashion magazines to pass the time. Eventually, a pretty young woman came to get her, made some pleasant remarks in English, and led her down a corridor. A moment later she was being shown into Signore Caracelli’s office.

He was sitting behind his desk angled across a corner, facing the door. He rose at once and came around the desk to greet her, smiling broadly.

Stevie felt her stomach tightening. The calmness of earlier, which had so bolstered her self-confidence, instantly disappeared. She was suddenly Power of a Woman / 395

tense and nervous, shaking inside as she stood in the center of his office.

Striding across the floor, the smile intact, he came to a stop in front of her, took her hand in his, and held it for a moment. Looking down at her, he said finally, in his slightly accented English, “Stephanie.

How nice to see you again. Such a pleasant surprise when you telephoned me on Monday.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” she replied, and she was surprised that her voice sounded so normal.

“I’m glad you weren’t away, that you were able to give me this appointment at such short notice.”

He nodded, and, still holding her hand, he led her over to the seating arrangement near the window. “May I offer you some refreshment? Coffee?

A drink? Tea, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “Thank you, no. I’m fine.”

He smiled again, showing his perfect teeth, very white against his tanned complexion. Seating himself opposite her, he crossed his long legs and leaned back against the sofa, staring at her intently. His undisguised curiosity and interest in her was very apparent. Suddenly he made a sharp gesture with his hand, a chopping motion, and exclaimed, “Forgive me! I am being thoughtless. I should have asked you about your son. How is he?”

“He’s doing better,” Stevie responded.

“I read in the London
Times
that your daughter-in-law was fatally shot. Such a tragedy.”

396 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“It’s been very difficult,” Stevie admitted. “A painful time for him, for all of us. But he’s…well, he’s holding his own. He has two small children and they keep him…sane.”

“Yes. I understand….” There was a short pause before he continued. “To lose someone you love when they are so young…it is a terrible thing. And in such ghastly circumstances for you. Tragic, so tragic. I am very sorry, Stephanie.”

“Thank you.” Stevie bit her lip, hesitating, and then she said quickly, in a rush of words, “My daughter was injured in the shooting. I’m lucky she’s alive.”

A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Daughter?”

Stevie nodded. “She was with Tamara when the shooting occurred…at our house on the Yorkshire moors. A bullet lodged in her brain. She was in a coma for a week.”

“Good God! She is all right?” He sat back, his expression sympathetic.

“Yes. She had a brain operation to remove the bullet. Thankfully, she recovered.”

“I am glad.” He had been riddled with curiosity about her since the moment she had arrived in his office, and now it got the better of him. He gave her an odd look and said, “I did not know you had a daughter.” His eyes went to her left hand, then swung to her face. “How old is she, Stephanie?”

“Eighteen. She’ll be nineteen in July.”

Power of a Woman / 397

“Eighteen…”

Stevie nodded.

“What is her name?”

“Chloe.”

“
Chloe
.” He repeated the name so vehemently Stevie almost jumped out of her skin.

His eyes impaled hers and he said in a gentler tone, “She is eighteen, almost nineteen. Her name is Chloe. Is she…she is mine, isn’t she? She is my daughter, Stephanie.”

“Yes, Gianni, she is.”

Stunned, momentarily floundering, he sat staring at her speechlessly. Then he said at last, “Why didn’t you tell me then, when we were together, all those years ago?”

“You were married…a married man with a family.

And you were so well known, a big industrialist. I also knew that as a Catholic, you could not divorce.

I thought it better that I just end it.”

“Oh, Stephanie.” The look he gave her was re-proachful, full of dismay, and he experienced a rush of sadness so acute, he was startled.

Stevie saw that he was emotionally affected, and this took her aback. She exclaimed, “I ended it, yes, but you accepted it—”

Interrupting her, he said somewhat heatedly,

“Because I knew that to continue our relationship would cause you problems. I did not wish to make further trouble for you. With the Jardines. I knew what Bruce was like. And Alfreda. Tough. Hard.

Difficult people. Without heart. I accepted your 398 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

decision because…” He did not finish his sentence, but his eyes did not leave her face.

“Because
what?
”

Softening his tone, he replied, “Because I loved you very much, Stephanie. I could not bear your unhappiness. Your pain because we could not be together was like a knife in my heart. I was caught in a trap. A bad marriage. A dying father. A huge company to run. Two children dependent on me. I wanted you. But I could not have you. And so I let you go.” A shadow crossed his face; pain lodged in his dark eyes.

Stevie could not fail to notice this, and she knew he was sincere in everything he said. He had always been a sincere and genuine man, and he had not changed. She moved slightly on the sofa, crossed her legs, but made no comment.

Again Gianni said, “It was wrong of you to keep it from me.”

“I had to, Gianni.”

“You did my thinking for me. That was a mistake, Stephanie. I can think for myself.”

“I know you can. It was the best thing for me to do. Or so I thought then.”

“How did you explain your child,
our
child?”

“I never did. I refused to name the father.”

“The Jardines…did they accept this?”

“Yes. In fact, everyone did. I simply refused to budge from my stance.”

“Amazing.”

“There was nothing anyone could do, or say, Power of a Woman / 399

Gianni. Besides, the Jardines had no choice. They needed me. At least, Bruce needed me to run the company.”

“You’ve done a remarkable job with Jardine’s. I’ve been proud of you as I’ve watched it grow.” Leaning forward, his manner intense, he asked, “Why have you come to tell me about…our daughter? About Chloe? Now, after all this time. Because of the shooting?”

“Absolutely. When Chloe was in a coma, I made a vow. A vow that I would tell her the truth about her father if she recovered. I want to do that, Gianni; I want to tell her about you. And I want you to come to London to see her. It’s very important to me that you do. Long before the shooting, she was desperate to know about the man who had fathered her. That’s only natural now that she’s reached young woman-hood.”

“It is. Of course it is. I understand that. You have still not told her about me?”

“No, not yet. I know it’s a problem for you, and I don’t want to intrude on your life and on your family. Look, I don’t want to cause you problems of any kind, or—”