Chapter 7

The next morning when my alarm went off, I was laying on the floor in my bedroom next to my bed, where my mother was sleeping fitfully. I pushed the thin sheet off of my legs and stood, wincing at the achiness that comes from having slept on the floor.

Ray would be getting up soon, and I needed to make myself disappear. But as I looked upon the face of my mother, I felt pity for her and a longing to stay with her.

I unlocked the bedroom door and went to the bathroom, carrying the bowl I had quietly retrieved from the kitchen the night before.

I filled it with cold water and returned to the bedroom, where I dipped a rag in it and used it to gently wipe the sweat from my mother's face.

I left the bowl beside the bed and locked the door again to change out of my pajamas. Then I went to the kitchen, passing Ray asleep on the living room floor.

I quickly made myself a breakfast shake and was about to leave when Ray walked in. I jumped and took a quick step backwards.

"Sit," he said shakily, pointing to the kitchen table. I hesitated, but when he moved toward me I quickly took a seat.

He sat across from me and irritably slammed the bottle in his hand on the table.

"Who was the boy you were with yesterday?"

I took a long drink from the breakfast shake, considering his question. Why did he want to know about Piero? Ray slammed his fist on the table, making me jump.

"Don't toy with me, girl!"

I quickly lowered the drink.

"His name is Piero."

"Why was he here?"

"He was taking me to a concert. His concert. He's a singer."

"A singer? He sounds like a sissy. Real men work with their hands. I'm talking manual labor."

I eyed the bottle in his hands.

Like you? I don't ever want someone like you.

He reached across the table and shoved me backwards. I fell out of my chair in sprawling shock, dumping the shake over the ground and gasping.

I reached up and grasped the table, pulling myself to my feet.

"It was obvious what you were thinking," he snapped.

He was always angry when he was hungover, and I moved fearfully away from the table.

"I know that boy saw me throw a beer bottle. Tell him that if…"

He paused and turned to the window. I heard the sound of a car pulling up, and my eyes widened. Ray glanced at my expression, then stood up and sauntered shakily through the kitchen to the front door.

"Leave him alone!" I cried, running after him.

He flung open the front door, and Piero jumped upon seeing him. Ray stepped through the frame, getting up close to Piero, who raised his eyebrows and stepped back. I stepped through the door and reached out to tug on the bottom of Ray's beer-soaked shirt.

"Ray-"

He turned sharply to me and glared contemptuously.

"Shut up, Julia!"

I drew back and he turned back to Piero, who was watching me with wide eyes as I cowered from Ray. Ray stepped closer to him, forcing him to retreat down the porch steps.

"You listen, boy, I discipline Julia in the way that I see fit, and you better keep out of things or there's going to be trouble for you, understand!? Whatever happens here is my business! Keep your mouth shut about it, you hear me!?"

Piero stood up straight and adjusted his glasses. His dark eyes, which normally shone good-naturedly, were dark and stern.

"I can't guarantee that," he said coolly.

Ray took in a sharp intake of breath.

"Piero…" I warned quietly. Ray turned quickly to me and I shrunk back, and he glared at me.

"Stay out of this!"

"Leave him alone!" I cried.

Ray stepped quickly toward me and raised his hand threateningly. I gasped and drew back as Piero's hand shot out and tightened around Ray's arm.

"Don't." Piero said, as he pulled Ray around to face him, "Touch. Her."

Ray looked in surprise at Piero, and then his eyes narrowed. He stepped up closer to him, and the two stood nose-to-nose.

"Are you telling me how to treat her?"

"I'm telling you to treat her with respect."

"I'll treat her however I want. She's my step-daughter!"

"I'm not your step-daughter!" I protested, and Ray didn't turn to me. He glared challengingly at Piero, who wordlessly accepted and stared back. The two were locked in a tense standoff. Ray's expression was threatening, his eyes narrowed, daring Piero to defy him again. Piero stared back, his firm gaze cool and unblinking. I was frightened, and I watched silently, praying that Ray wouldn't move to hurt Piero.

Piero suddenly moved defiantly past Ray and stepped protectively in front of me, his arms reaching out at his sides to keep me behind him. His gaze was still interlocked with Ray's, sending him a firm message. I fearfully reached out to gingerly touch Piero's arm. He broke out of the stare-down and looked over his shoulder at me. I looked pleadingly up at him, and his face softened.

"Come on, Julia," he said, reaching back and taking me around the waist. "Let's go."

He led me past Ray and through the front yard. I looked back at Ray, who was staring wildly at Piero. As I watched, he threw down the beer bottle in his hand, which shattered, throwing glass everywhere. Then he looked up and started yelling, shouting curses at the two of us, and Piero ushered me more quickly toward his car. We both hurriedly got in, and Piero backed out of the long driveway.

I was frightened and shaking, and Piero's eyes were narrowed, his expression serious, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. We were quiet for a while as he drove. I didn't even know where he was going, but I didn't object to wherever it was. I was too busy watching him chew his lip and glare stormily at the road. I wanted to say something to get him to relax, but I didn't know what. Nothing I could say could diffuse the situation.

"I can't believe he treats you that way!" Piero burst out suddenly, and I jumped. "It makes me so angry! I don't understand how he can look at you and then raise a hand to hurt you."

I watched him quietly, and he turned to look at me.

"Thank you Piero," I said softly, "For coming to check on me this morning."

His face softened.

"Sure, Julia. What nerve he had, telling me to keep my mouth shut!"

"I'm sorry, Piero. I should have left earlier this morning. I didn't leave before he woke up, and that's why this happened. Usually I'd be gone by then."

He shook his head.

"It's not your fault."

He started muttering to himself, and I watched him, admiring him in silence.

"Julia?"

He turned to look at me, and his eyes were serious and expectant. Oh, no. He was going to ask more questions. He felt as if he had to become a part of the mess. He didn't realize it wasn't his responsibility to protect me.

"Why do you stay there?" he asked softly.

I didn't answer, and my eyes filled with tears.

He saw them and his expression shifted to concern.

"Oh, mi amor, tell me what you're thinking."

I shook my head quickly.

"You won't understand Piero. You'll think my reason for staying is stupid!"

"I won't, I won't! Julia, you're going to make me cry!"

I wiped my eyes with my fist and breathed deeply to calm myself. My lip trembled and I turned and looked at my reflection in the car window. Piero relented in his questioning, but his face was etched with longing for answers.

We were quiet for several minutes, and we both calmed down significantly.

When the tears had subsided, I asked, "Piero, where are we going?"

"My home, I guess. I don't know where else to take you."

"Can we go to the children's hospital?"

"What? But it's Saturday. You don't have to work today, do you?"

"No, but I want to. I promised some of the children I'd see them today."

"Alright, if that's where you want to go. I'll drop you off."

"Come in with me."

"Come in with you!? And do what!? I'm not a doctor!"

I smiled and said gently, "People with degrees aren't the only ones who can heal."

He looked at me with raised eyebrows and then smiled warmly, his sweet candor returning.

We went to the hospital, and I was greeted by several nurses.

"I'm going to work today," I said cheerfully, and they nodded and told me to do whatever I saw fit.

I wanted to visit Gracie first, the sweet five-year-old who had discovered she liked to be rocked, and now always longed for me to rock her. I encouraged Piero to go to the room next door and visit a boy named Lucas, who always wanted a playmate. He was a little too rough for me and was always breaking things, and I thought maybe he could relate to Piero's playfulness. I took Gracie into my arms and rocked her, and as she drifted to sleep I heard the sounds of roughhousing from the next room. I didn't worry about Lucas getting hurt, as I trusted Piero to be gentle. Just before I was about to get up and tuck Gracie into bed, I discovered Piero in the doorway, watching me.

He smiled, and I smiled back.

"What a beautiful sight," he said softly, and I smiled down at the girl in my arms as the rocker began to slow. I gently put her into the bed and pulled the sheet up to her chest. I leaned down to kiss her cheek as Piero watched.

Then I went about my rounds with Piero following, administering medicine, checking bandages and stats, and giving pep talks. Piero was very good with the children. He hugged them and kissed their cheeks and made them laugh, but he shied away whenever I began anything medical. I carefully treated child after child, softly talking to them and distracting them from their illnesses.

"They're like my own children," I admitted to Piero as we walked down the hallway together. "All of them, the mischievous ones, the uncaring ones, even Sofia, who doesn't speak a word of-" I turned suddenly to Piero in realization, and he stopped walking, looking at me in surprise. "That's it! Sofia!" I exclaimed, grabbing his hand. I began to run down the hallway, pulling him along with me.

"Where are we going!?" he asked.

"To Sofia!"

I led him straight into the seven-year-old's room, where she was laying in the bed gazing forlornly out the window. She turned to us and smiled weakly at me. I knew she felt alone, and I went to the bed to hug her. I had to be especially gentle with her, because she wore a pained expression of loneliness.

"This is Sofia," I explained to Piero, "Her mother speaks English, but she doesn't. At all. Only Spanish, and she feels alone because her mother can't be here most of the time. She's been having a few operations over the past week, and she can't speak to anyone. But you speak Spanish, Piero!"

I got up from the bed and went up to Piero, taking his hands eagerly.

"Talk to her, Piero, please!?"

He nodded at me, and I stepped aside to watch.

He pulled a chair up beside the bed, and she watched him quietly. I watched Piero's face, shining with earnest interest in the little girl. He opened his mouth, and beautiful Spanish words tumbled out.

Sofia's eyes lit up, and she threw her arms around Piero's neck, silencing him. Eyes shining, she pulled back and gently touched his face, speaking in rapid Spanish as he nodded sweetly at her and answered back.

I stood watching them for a few moments, and then slipped out the door to continue with my rounds, leaving Piero in the company of little Sofia.

I went to Rebecca and showed her how to hold a pencil in her shaking hands. I went to John and told him a story as I changed his bandages. I went to David and encouraged him to take his medicine. I went to Mandy, who refused to talk but liked to lay her head on my shoulder. I brought Paul the books he'd been asking for. Then I checked on Piero and found him still talking with Sofia. She was hugging him, and she looked so happy…

After I had made my rounds, I went to a new patient, a two-year-old named Sarah. I was able to get her to take her medicine, but when I gave her a physical exam she fussed and wrestled with me. She was straining herself, and I was desperate to get her calm.

I picked her up and held her on my hip, singing softly to her. Eventually she relaxed somewhat, but she whimpered and refused to sleep. As I was holding her and trying to be patient with her, Piero came to find me. His face was glowing with happiness, and he told me excitedly about his conversation with Sofia. I listened as best as I could while I bounced the fussy child on my hip. I told Piero we would go as soon as Sarah was asleep, and he sat in the corner to wait. I rocked Sarah and bounced her and sang to her and whispered to her, but she refused to close her eyes.

Her mother eventually came in to visit her and took her from me. She repeated the same motions I had gone through, but I watched in quiet fascination as Sarah's little face relaxed and her eyes slowly closed. She fell asleep, and I watched her mother smile down at her precious little girl and kiss the top of her head. I felt Piero's eyes on me, and I took in the sight of Sarah and her mother until he took my hand and pulled me from my reverie. We left the room and walked down the long hallway out of the hospital while I was lost in my thoughts.

When we were outside in the sunlight, I blinked rapidly, trying to suppress the emotion rising in my throat. Piero noticed the look in my eyes and moved closer to me, turning me gently toward him and putting his arms around my back.

"What is it, Julia?"

I looked away quickly, but then turned my face back up to his as the feelings in my chest rose.

"That's why," I admitted tearfully.

"What?"

"That's why I don't leave my home. Sometimes, no matter what I do to help those children, nothing can ever replace a mother's love."

"Oh, Julia."

I buried my face in his soft gray sweatshirt, and he hugged me and gently rubbed my back. In his grip I felt safe, and I clung to him, feeling his secure arms around me.

"I love my mother, Piero!" I said, muffled, into his shirt. I turned my face up to him. "More than anything I want her to love me back. She says she does, and she shows she does sometimes. But…keeping Ray around shows otherwise."

Piero took a strong hand from my back and wiped the tear running down my cheek with his thumb.

"She's my mother, Piero! I want her to be safe and happy! I just want to be with her! I think if I left it would tear her apart, and I don't want to do that to her! Not to mention that once I'm gone, Ray would treat her horribly, because I wouldn't be in the way to interfere with her poor reasoning! She'd be all his; his possession!"

More tears were coming, and I buried my face in his sweatshirt again. He stroked my hair and rubbed my back and didn't speak.

"When we first moved here," I said reminiscently, "It was just her and me. We lived together, just us, for a long time. It was wonderful, and I keep hoping it'll go back to that."

"Oh, my tenderhearted girl," he murmured, cupping my cheek in his hand. "I'm so sorry. It'll be okay soon."

"How?"

"I'll think of something. I'll find a way to help you."

I quickly shook my head and pushed away from him, feeling selfish.

"No, Piero!" I said. "It's my problem. You don't have to worry about it. I'm sorry."

He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. He held it up to his lips and kissed the back of my hand.

"I just want to help you," he said.

I was quiet, looking into his earnest eyes. Maybe it was selfish that I told him about my mother. Now he would feel as if he had to help me.

He reached out and hugged me again, and my mind went blank. I loved the feeling of being in his arms, safe and warm and sheltered. He released me and led me to the car.

He took me to lunch, where he told me stories that gradually cheered me up, and then he brought me to his house, though at that time I figured I could return home.

He took me to the piano and played it for me, and sang to me. I watched him quietly, smiling at his joyful expression and shining eyes.

After every song he played and sang he asked me what I thought, and I told him each time that it was wonderful. His voice was powerful and sweet, and I loved listening to him.

The music demanded my full attention, and I was happy to sit quietly and take it all in. It made me feel lighthearted and peaceful.

When he started to play a melody that had no singing involved, I reached out and timidly touched his face, turning it toward mine. I longed to feel his arms around me again, and his hands obligingly released the keys and reached out for me instead, gently going around my back.

He turned to me, straddling the piano bench, and pulled me to him so my side was against his chest. I leaned my head against his shoulder and breathed in deeply, taking in his scent, and he leaned forward to softly kiss my neck. I lifted my head and he kissed my lips, brushing my hair back and holding me firmly. He smiled at me, his eyes shimmering, and leaned in for another kiss.

He was warm and safe and comfortable, and I straddled the bench like he had done, and he gently adjusted my legs to hang over his thighs and dangle over the sides of the piano bench. His hands moved over my back, gently caressing me. He kissed me over and over again, and stopped every now and then to gaze sweetly at me. I touched his soft cheeks and ran my hands through his hair, which was really as soft as it looked. I laid my head on his shoulder and he held me. We sat still, in each other's arms, in the quiet calm of the house. After a moment he started to sing softly to me an Italian song that I recognized as "Questo Amore," and I smiled and listened blissfully to his powerful voice, feeling his chest rise and fall against me as he sang.