A pretty short chapter. :) I thought they needed a sweet one.
Well Pancake, I just thought that, well, Italians were family-oriented, and I thought Francesco would be a lot more protective in the 'new life'. *heh*
There are a lot more authors that write better than me, Mere. :) The trick is to read, read, bread!
Chapter Fourteen
That evening, the pair returned to the Bernoulli home. Francesco was nowhere to be seen. Miguel left Margo to her own devices to find Marlene.
"Señora Bernoulli?" he called softly as he entered the baby room.
Marlene kissed Franco good night before leaving the room. "Buona sera, Miguel," the R8 replied. "Is there anything you need?"
"If I may talk to you…about Margo," he said carefully.
"Come," she told him as she led the way down the hall.
"I was wondering what Francesco has against Margo."
"I am," she corrected gently. "You'd have known before hand by then." He chuckled sheepishly, and she only replied, "It's alright; nobody's perfect." She drove on, unfazed by his question, to the gardens outside. Crickets sang to the near-full moon.
"Miguel, you have to understand that Francesco is only being protective, and nothing else," she started fiercely. He only nodded quietly and briskly in reply, eyes wide with shock and fear. He saw her relax, and gaze out into the night.
"In the years she's been with us, Margo has been a…valuable asset…to us: working to keep us on our toes when Francesco hasn't a race weekend, helping to take care of Gianfranco, and pitching in the housework. As far as I know, I don't think we can take it if she falls into depression."
"…I don't see—"
"If you've felt heartbreak before, then perhaps you would know."
He swallowed as emotions and memories flooded through him: betrayal, anger, jealousy and sorrow. He nodded after a long moment, eyes low.
"Francesco doesn't want her to be with anybody not because he doesn't want to lose his best caretaker, but more because he doesn't want her to feel that way. He's very affectionate with her since they shared common interests, and, well, he loves her like a father should."
To Miguel, the last statement explained everything, and he nodded again, more prominent this time. He understood now. "But how come Margo looked like she doesn't know?"
"Because Francesco hasn't told her yet."
This startled the grand tourer. "Why not?"
"He's still in this stage where he can't seem to communicate his feelings to the outside world yet. At least, to anyone but me, and in his case, it's Margo."
"Ah," he said in understanding. "A man's pride."
She nodded, and grimaced slightly. It was one of the worst weaknesses a car can have, especially with the men. Miguel couldn't deny he also had this attribute, though.
"So tell me," Marlene started, "why her?"
Alarm surged through him, sowing in his widened eyes, until he relaxed. "How much do you know?"
"Very little; she's afraid to discuss things like that," she said sadly. "But I've seen the way she stares at you; I've heard the way she talks to you, and I know how she acts when she's—forgive me—itching to get back to you."
For a moment he couldn't believe how obvious her infatuation was.
"But I don't think I haven't seen you staring at her, she clipped, amusement in her mint green gaze. "Your incessant staring and displays of affection are necessary."
Miguel glanced down, headlights bright in the night, and Marlene chuckled.
"So, why her?" the R8 prodded.
"I…I don't rally know," he replied slowly. "She…she's shown me much: how to slow down, how to appreciate the finer things in life."
"Ah," Marlene said knowingly, smiling the same way. "You've had a rough life too, I presume?"
Miguel chuckled. "Was Francesco the same way?"
"Well, yes," she told him, "but the details might be different."
He knew better than to pry. "Probably different," he agreed.
"…that was the same reason Francesco loved me," she said. "That I'd, say, slow him down, I mean."
Miguel smiled, not looking at her.
"It felt…nice to know he appreciated me in return for the way I appreciated him."
"What was the way you appreciated him, Señora?" he asked her.
She stared back at him. "He showed me what I wanted and disproved many of my beliefs against him, as well as beliefs in what I wanted."
"What did you want?"
"Ah, well, what a youngster always wanted," "To know what love is."
Miguel blinked. He knew this made sense.
Marlene's mint gaze shone with amusement. "And you know how much alike my cousin and I are."
"Now it made enough sense. Now he knew what he could do for her. At this realization his face lit with a wide, ecstatic smile as he stared at the mother-cousin.
The R8 nodded. "Go on," she told him.
"Gracias, Señora!" he squeaked before turning to leave.
"This one's pretty," she murmured.
"Why don't you try it on?"
"Rodrigo, I don't even have money."
He stared at her. "That doesn't mean you can't see it on," he replied.
She sighed. "Fine."
Just like her cousin before her, Margo had been brought to a jewelry store. The only difference was they were just looking.
As her run was fitted with an intricate ring, topaz gems embedded in the silver, both glanced into a three-way mirror.
"It's prettier on you," he murmured.
"Tigil!" he heard her squeak. At his confused expression she clarified for him. "It means 'stop', sorry," she murmured. "I forgot you can't understand Filipino."
"No problem; I'm sure I'll learn."
She smiled softly, her gaze not meeting his. His tire brushed hers, and she giggled.
A sunny day had been bestowed upon Porto Corsa, and it was not only about the sun; everyone seemed happy as tourists had nearly doubled since the day before. So far that day they drove around, talking about the past and telling him about her old home.
He enjoyed life like this: warm weather, a good story, and someone he loved. He had absolutely forgotten his past, as well as his problems; he was happy.
Yet, his friend Tercio had always been right every step of the way: nothing, not even his happiness, was permanent.
