(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Fourteen: "For a Moondance"

I could always remember.

I shivered in my fur coat as I linked my arm through Gregory's. "I'll never eat again," I murmured, my heels clicking along the cobblestones as we walked back to the hotel. It would be a miracle if I didn't lose a heel to the cracks between the ancient stones. Gregory's laugh seemed louder in the winter air as he glanced over me. A maroon scarf was knotted around his neck, a touch of European flair to my thoroughly American husband. "What?" I asked, laughing in return.

"I'm surprised you ate it at all."

I leaned into him, letting his right arm go around my shoulders. "Why is that?"

"The mushroom risotto. You-"

"Risotto ai funghi," I corrected, glancing up in time to see the way his eyes rolled.

"Yes. That. You were so sick after eating it on our honeymoon that you swore off the dish for life."

I chuckled and shook my head slightly. "Gregory, that was more than forty years ago! Far too long to hold a grudge against something so delicious." The full moon overhead caught my attention and I stopped walking as I openly gaped at the night sky. Gregory's bare hand found my own and he squeezed gently. He always hated gloves and almost never wore them. "Oh, darling. Look."

"I've seen the moon before," he whispered as he drew me against his chest. One of his hands cupped my face, directing its gaze until our eyes met. He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against mine.

My arms went around his neck as our kiss deepened. "But, when was the last time you saw the Italian moon?" I murmured against his lips. "La luna."

He chuckled, his breath crystallizing in the frigid air. I smirked as he brushed my hair back from my face, his fingers lingering on my ear lobe. "Come on, Diana," he said teasingly as he gently tugged my hand, imploring me to follow him. "Bedtime."


I remember.

I tightened the towel wrapped around my body and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. With a sigh, I reached out and wiped away the steam clouding the mirror. I frowned at the reflection looking back at me, illuminated by the white morning sunlight. The fine wrinkles around my eyes and mouth. The crepe skin of my neck. The tiny hint of a liver spot on my collarbone. "You're frowning," Gregory said from behind me. His voice echoed in the cavernous room, bouncing off the marble.

I scoffed as I watched him through the reflection. Steam from the bath water billowed around him like silver tendrils as he lay in the tub. "You don't know that. Your eyes are closed."

"You think I need to see you to know what you're doing?" he murmured, squinting his eyes open.

With a shrug, I reached for the tube of moisturizer and squeezed a dime-sized drop into my palm. "You're looking now," I pointed out as I turned around, rubbing the cream onto my face and throat. "Besides, I wouldn't be frowning at my reflection if you weren't so opposed to Botox." With a grumbling sigh, he closed his eyes again and sank lower in the water. As I wiped the excess cream from my hands, I moved nearer to him and sat on the edge of the deep tub. I placed my index finger on the furrowed spot between his eyebrows and pressed gently. Slowly, he opened both eyes and looked up at me. "You have a headache," I whispered as the pad of my finger rubbed a circle into his flesh.

"Maybe a shot of Botox will make it go away," he muttered and I ignored the dig as I slid off the tub to kneel on the floor behind him. Blessedly, he couldn't see the way I grimaced as I bent down. Old age was not for the seemingly young at heart.

As my fingers pressed through his hair and gently massaged his scalp, I leaned close to his ear and asked softly, "Should I call Sofia and reschedule the tour for this afternoon?" Thank God our real estate agent was fluent in English. I was sure that reschedule was beyond my very limited proficiency in Italian.

A long moment went by before he shook his head. "No, let's just get it over with."

Slowly, I reached out, wrapping my arms around him from behind. "I'm sorry, darling," I whispered as his chin rested on my arm. "It's the last one we have to look at and it's the one I like the most."

With a grunt, he wrenched around and looked up at me. The tension from his headache glinted in his eyes, but beyond that was the sentiment as familiar to me as breathing and one I once took for granted: that Gregory would do anything to make me happy. As I leaned forward and kissed his forehead, I heard him say, "But, if you decide you hate it when you see it with your own eyes, we're still leaving for Milan tomorrow."

With a barely there laugh sufficing as my reply, I rested my head against his. "Yes, I promised you a long weekend in Milano," I sighed with a happy smile. "While we're gone, Sofia will have plenty of time to dig up more listings."

His arm emerged from the steamy bath water and covered my hands with his own. "Liv, I don't think there's a villa left in Florence we haven't already toured."

Our laughter echoed together and I closed my eyes, my head still resting against his as I drew him close.


I remember.

Sofia's accented English seemed louder and more musical in the vast expanse of the empty 19th century villa 30 minutes outside of Florence. As Gregory asked her about the olive groves and lake which came with the property, I wandered over to the wood and glass doors which led to the stone patio. The view faced south and I couldn't help but gasp as I took in the rolling hillsides that went on for miles. It was perfect. It was the view I had dreamed about for more than a year.

As I turned back around, my eyes flickered over the silk wallpaper and down to the tile floor. We'd need to put down carpets. There's no way anyone could walk barefoot on them during the winter. "Well?" Gregory asked, his question low, despite having dismissed Sofia.

I was unable to keep the ear-to-ear smile from flashing before I covered my mouth with both hands. His pleased expression was impossible to miss as I gushed, "Oh, darling, it's perfect. Perfect."

"This is the one?" he asked as his hands crept beneath my fur coat to latch onto my hips. "Finally?"

I nodded as he drew me in, our chests pressed together. "It has enough bedrooms for everyone. More than enough! Bette can even have a bedroom! It doesn't need any major renovations. It's not too far from town by car. It has a pool, so Evy will be pleased. Did she say if there were fish in the lake? Harrison and Greg will want to know if they can fish there." Gregory's crooked smile was barely enough to slow me down as I grabbed his hand and dragged him back to my spot by the window. "Look," I murmured as we looked out at the view. "It's like a painting."

His hand was warm against the back of my neck as he whispered, "It's the view you were waiting for." With a bashful smile, I nodded as he continued softly, "I'm going to offer twenty thousand below asking price, but they won't be too disappointed because it's a cash deal."

With a grateful sigh in my throat, I threw my arms around him. "And, we'll close by March, at the latest? I want to be settled in before Easter."

"I'll make it a condition of the offer," he said simply as he chucked my chin. Simply and decisively.

I leaned against him as he led us out the salon, my body trembling with excitement. "Easter in Italy. Everyone has their passports. There's no reason why they can't all come."

As we turned into the entrance hall, Sofia looked up and her expression suggested she already knew our decision. "Evy's spring break is in March," he reminded me softly. "She'll have a hard time getting away from her classes for a week in April too."

I groaned softly as Sofia clasped her hands and met us in the center of the grand foyer. "Well?" she asked with a knowing smile.


I remember.

"Just think, darling. These Cypress trees will one day be as familiar as Ocean Avenue." With a chuckle, and our new hilltop villa behind us, Gregory turned out on the main road from the private drive. "And, this means you'll finally need to learn Italian."

"I'm fine with you speaking for me," he said before he sighed deeply.

His tone suggested he was irritated, but I know that's not it. I know his mind is going through everything that needs to take place for us to move in by the end of March. His hand rested on the gear shift and I reached out, placing mine over his. "What that sigh for?" I teased, pressing my fingers into the spaces between his.

He smirked as he drove down the winding hillside road. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

My tongue clicked against the roof of my mouth. "Liar," I whispered.

I watched him sigh and shake his head, feigning annoyance. "I'm an American driving a German car through the Italian countryside with my British wife as we listen to a Russian opera."

I glanced casually at the until-now-forgotten satellite radio. Of course, he would notice the music droning in the background. I reached up and tapped on the presets until something in English wafted out of the speakers. "There. Is that better?"

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes

He sighed again, seemingly unimpressed. "Now, we're listening to an Irish singer."

The rented Mercedes hugged the tight curve of the road, the spindly branches on the naked trees dancing in the breeze. With the coquettish giggle of the schoolgirl I hadn't been in decades, I leaned across the console. As my lips brushed against his ear, I murmured, "What a time to be alive, darling."

My fingers combed through the fine hair at the nape of his neck as he glanced over, amusement lighting up his expression. Slowly, I pulled my hand back and leaned back into the passenger seat. "Watch the road," I teased. "God forbid you forget your favorite piece of driving advice. God forbid there was ever a time when I was driving when you didn't remind me of it."

The car suddenly slowed and I looked up as Gregory swore beneath his breath. "Olivia, what the hell does that say?"

Men in reflective vests stood next to a bright yellow sign pointing in the direction of a side road. "Deviazione?" I pronounced carefully, squinting to decipher the unfamiliar word. My eye sight had weakened in the last year or so, but I stubbornly refused to wear the reading glasses I was supposed to use.

"They weren't here when we came this way before."

I watched as the men pointed at the sign and gestured to the narrow side road on our right. "Well, they're here now. Perhaps there was a car accident further up?"

"Maybe," he sighed, nodding at them as he slowed the car and made the right onto the side road.

La, la, la, la
In the moonlight


I remember.

"I swear to God, we're going back up into the hills," Gregory growled several minutes later.

I shrugged and looked up from my iPhone long enough to glance around. Not that the surroundings were in any way familiar. "I'm sure the road is just looping us around the other side of the hill to meet the main road." Suddenly, I had an idea. I leaned forward and strained to see up through the angle of the windshield. "I wonder if we can see the house from here?"

His reply was lost in the sound of a crash, metal grinding and crunching against metal. We lurched forward, my hands slamming into the dashboard. I looked over my shoulder, seeing a large black SUV dangerously close to us. "Gregory!" Our car swerved, jerking from one side of the road to the other. The tires squealed against the road and I shrieked as we were hit again. A moment later, I was weightless as our car spun to the left, careening off the road and down the hillside.


I remember.

Banging.

I heard something banging.

My eyes flickered open and I blinked slowly through the darkness. I was wedged against the passenger door and it was a moment later before I felt the sticky warmth dripping down my face and throat. My vision spun as I struggled to lift my head, groaning at the movement. To look left. To see Gregory.

"Flip it now!"

A moment later, the car groaned as it rolled right side up. My body bounced against the seat and I cried out as a searing pain went through the right side of my body. Nausea rose in my throat and my vision blurred. I narrowed my eyes, squinting through the dizziness to see Gregory unconscious in the driver's seat. "Darling…" My left hand clumsily fumbled with the seat belt lock, but it wouldn't budge. "Gregory," I gasped, reaching out to him, my fingers grazing the sleeve of his coat.

"Careful with her! The car rolled further than we thought! She might have broken bones!"

The car shook as the passenger door groaned and opened, bitterly cold air sweeping through the car. Hands wearing black leather gloves reached in, tugging at the jammed seatbelt. My right shoulder was jostled and I screamed as another deeper pain rolled through me. "Watch it! She isn't supposed to be hurt more than necessary!"

My vision swam as the pain settled deep into my core, but it was still Gregory I struggled to focus on. Ugly red blood spilled out from a gash above his eye and I sobbed his name as an arm slipped beneath my legs. My fingers scratched against the material of his coat as I was lifted into the arms of someone dressed in black. My right side pressed into their chest and the pain flamed again, harder and longer than before. As I coughed on vomit and my eyes rolled back into my head, I heard, "Get him out! Then, douse the car and light it up!"

The stark white winter sky was the last thing I saw before everything went black.


Olivia

My skull throbbed as newfound memories played like rapid fire. I squeezed my eyes shut, reliving them all at once. The glow from the moon surrounding us. The steamy water lapping against the tub. The way our voices echoed in the empty villa. The way my lips brushed across his skin as I leaned across the car's console. The weightless feeling as the car tumbled down the hill. "Oh, God. I remember," I groaned, my hands clenched to my head. "I remember…everything."

"What, Mom?" Evy's voice sounded very far away and the weight of someone's hand on my arm brought me back.

I squinted my eyes open as a shudder went through my body. "Your father had a headache. I should have cancelled the tour." A sob rose in my throat as I gasped, "But we liked the villa. He put in an offer. He didn't want to learn Italian. Diana. He called me Diana. I saw the moon and ate the risotto."

"Mom?" Evy's hands were on my knees as she crouched before me.

"I asked about fish in the lake for Harrison and Greg. There was a sign. We followed the road." I sat up, my voice sharp as I looked down at her. "It was big. The other car. It hit us again and again."

"Morris, what is she talking about?" Evy shrieked.

"Olivia, look at me." He was suddenly there next to me, worried.

I shook my head. "I remember! The people in black! They took us out of the car. Me first and then Gregory! They rescued him too!"

"Mom, no," my daughter sighed and I shook my head. "Dad died and-"

"Who were they, Olivia?" Morris interrupted, holding tight to my hands. "Who were they?"

"I- I don't…" I faltered and squeezed my eyes shut. "They said I wasn't supposed to be hurt. They said to get Gregory out. Douse it and light it up."

"I'm calling the doctor," I heard Casey say and I wrenched around in the patio chair. I saw Diana leading the children into the house, hugging Nicola to her."

"No, call the police!" I insisted. I turned back to Evy and Morris as I gasped, "They took Gregory!" I reached for Morris' hands and squeezed them insistently. "I remember, Morris! They took him out of the car! They took him out!"

He was the only one who nodded. Evy sobbed as she stood and turned into Benjy's chest. "I'm calling the doctor," Casey repeated and I cried out, frustrated.

Why weren't they listening?

"I remember, Morris," I whimpered. "He was watching the road. He was!"

"I believe you, Olivia."

I shook my head and leaned forward, slumping against him as he hugged me close. My head continued to pound as I rested it on his shoulder. "He offered less than the asking price. I got him to wear a cashmere scarf. It was the view I was waiting for."

I remembered everything.

Everything.


A/N: The lyrics (and the titles of the story and each chapter) are from "Moondance" (written by Van Morrison).