Chapter 27

When I finally awoke from my peaceful slumber, I was lying back on the couch with the blanket draped over me. I heard Piero moving around in the kitchen, presumably making breakfast. I listened to the sounds of him moving about, opening cabinets and closing them and heard the sizzling of a pot on the stove. There was a dull ache in my head and a persistent pain in my back.

I closed my eyes and somberly wondered how long all this pain was going to last. I rubbed my temple anxiously with my thumb and felt an emptiness in my belly. I took a deep breath and was struck by a pain in my ribs.

Piero began to sing, and the richness of his voice quickly turned my mind away from the pain in my body.

"Where do I begin…to tell the story of how great a love can be?"

I kept my eyes closed and mouthed the words as he sang, enjoying the powerful tones of his voice alongside the sizzle of whatever he was cooking. When he finished the song and his handsome voice fell silent, I heard him move out of the kitchen and come toward me. I wearily kept my eyes closed, and he sat on the coffee table and reached his arm across me, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"Julia?" he asked softly.

I felt his lips against mine and kissed him back, and opened my eyes when he pulled away and smiled at me.

I reached up and placed my hand on the back of his neck, tightening my grip and pulling him back down toward me for another kiss.

After he pulled away he sat back on the coffee table and gazed down at me.

"I made breakfast. Are you feeling hungry?"

I nodded.

"What did you make?"

"I fried some ham and wrapped it in toast. I wanted to give you something you could hold and eat yourself."

"Thank you, Piero."

He kissed my cheek and stood to lift me and place a pillow behind me to prop me up. The pain in my back worsened, and I rubbed my face anxiously with my hand as my eyes watered.

Piero was watching me closely.

"Are you hurting, mi amor?"

I nodded, and he reached out and cradled my face in his hand.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

I shook my head, and he frowned sadly.

"I'll give you some medicine after breakfast," he reassured me, and I nodded as he placed a plate on my lap. I daintily picked up the sandwich in my unbandaged hand and cautiously bit into it. It was good, the ham perfectly fried and seasoned, and the toast buttered and warm. I smiled and looked over at Piero, who was waiting for my reaction.

"It's very good, Piero!" I said eagerly, and he grinned in satisfaction as he watched me eat.

He got up and went to get a book from his shelf, leaving me to my breakfast. He went and sat in the armchair and opened the book, but did not read. Instead, he gazed out the window and chewed his tongue as he thought.

I smiled at his silly expression.

"Piero? What are you thinking?"

He looked over at me, and after a moment got up from the chair and came to kneel beside the sofa.

"There are some things I need to do, but I'd hate to leave you, especially if you're in pain."

"I'll be okay, Piero. You can go."

"Really?"

I nodded and brushed the crumbs off of my hands. Piero took the empty plate from me and placed it behind him on the coffee table. He looked doubtful.

"I'll get you your medicine," he said softly, and got up to get it. "This'll help with the pain, I guess," he said as he dispensed the pills into his palm, "But what about the phantoms? Will they return if I leave?"

"Maybe," I said, "But I might be able to handle them better now that we've talked about it."

He looked concerned for me, and his fearful eyes mirrored how I felt. I was nervous about him going, nervous about being alone in the house. I didn't want him to go, but I had to be brave and let him leave me every once in a while. I couldn't make him stay with me all the time.

"What hurts?" he asked.

"My head. I feel…foggy. And my back hurts."

"Let me give you a massage before I go."

That sounded wonderful.

"Okay," I agreed, and he helped me move to my side. His hands went to work, kneading and gently prodding the bone and muscle under my skin. He pushed at all the places that hurt, and successfully relieved some of the pain. His beautiful hands lovingly worked on my back for a long while, and I sensed he was stalling so he didn't have to leave. Though I longed for his gentle hands to keep working, I thanked him and pulled him close for a kiss, his signal that he could go.

"Julia?" he asked thoughtfully, "Would you like it if I put on some music?"

"Oh, yes!" I said, "Will you put on Il Volo? Then I can listen to you while you're gone."

He smiled and kissed my cheek, and went to the TV cabinet to find the CD. I asked for him to put on the first Il Volo CD, because I knew that "La Luna Hizo Esto" was on it. He complied and then left, promising to be back as soon as he could.

I lay propped up on pillows, looking about the house. Piero's voice on the CD absorbed the loneliness, and the voices of Gianluca and Ignazio perfectly blended with his. A trio of angels, a trio of princes.

My mind began to wander, and I thought of the night I was hurt. The thoughts were dark and threatening, and the horrific, painful images returned to my mind. I labeled each image as a powerless phantom and listened to the voice of Piero to comfort me and remind me of his love. Gradually, the thoughts accepted defeat and faded, realizing they were no match for the beauty of Il Volo's God-given voices. I was still fearful, but the music gradually coaxed me into serenity.

The house seemed empty, but I knew Piero would be home soon, and I had the music to be with me until then. I felt foggy still, and I decided to try to sleep it off, despite my restlessness.

I turned my head to the side to face the back of the sofa, and listened as "Smile" began to play. The music brought me into a peaceful silence, and as I listened, I eventually fell asleep to the rich sound of Piero's voice singing "La Luna Hizo Esto."

"Julia? Julia?" someone whispered. My heart jumped at the voice of Piero. I opened my eyes and saw his face above me.

"You're back!" I said sleepily, and reached up with both hands to pull him down to me for a kiss. He kissed me tenderly for a long moment, and then sat carefully beside me and handed me a small box.

"What's this?" I asked, opening the flaps and reaching inside. I pulled out a handful of papers, and a smile brightened my face. "Oh, Piero!"

They were stacks of cards from the kids at the hospital, brightly colored in crayon, with big loopy letters wishing for me to get better.

"Every last one of them made you a card," Piero said, smiling as he watched me. "They all wanted to give you something pretty."

"That explains all the glitter!" I said, laughing as a mound of it rained down from a card. "Oh, they're wonderful! I love them! Thank you for going to get them, Piero."

"I got you something too," Piero said, and left the couch momentarily. He returned with a vase of snow-white roses, and set it down beside the sofa.

"Oh, they're beautiful, Piero!" I said, reaching out and daintily picking one from the bunch. I held it on my chest, inhaling its fresh scent and stroking its velvety petals. "I love them," I said softly, and he leaned over me for a kiss.

"These too," he said, handing me a stack of papers.

I read over the first few lines in confusion as he explained, "I went by the apartment complex and picked up the forms for you. All you have to do is fill them all out, and soon the apartment will be yours."

"Oh, I'm so happy! Thank you, Piero!"

I pulled him down to me for a kiss and hugged him as tightly as I could in my weakened state. He grinned and knelt beside the couch.

"So, how were you while I was gone?" he asked.

I smiled.

"I was okay. The phantoms came, but then they went away. Maybe it was the music." I reached out my hand and rested it on the side of his head, his hair tickling my fingers. "Hearing your voice helped me."

He smiled softly.

"I'm happy to hear that."

I smiled and turned to the forms, flipping through them. Piero held out his hand for the papers, and I looked in confusion at him for a moment before handing them over.

He put them on the coffee table, out of my reach.

"Sorry I woke you up. I was just excited to give you the presents. Go back to sleep now."

I looked despairingly up at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, quickly crouching down beside me. "Do you feel alright?"

"I'm bored, Piero! I'm tired of being tired! I don't want to sleep anymore! I want something to do!"

He looked concerned.

"I don't want you to strain yourself, Julia."

"I feel so lazy!"

"No, Julia, you're not lazy. You're resting, and that's good! You need the rest to heal."

"I've been sleeping so much, Piero!" I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "I feel like a baby."

Piero grinned and kissed the tip of my nose.

"Well, you're my baby."

I smiled and reached up my hand to touch his face and feel his soft hair.

"Can't I take a break from resting?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Help me sit up."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Just for a little while."

"Okay…"

He gently moved his arms around me and moved me into a sitting position without me undergoing too much pain.

"Good?" he asked.

"Good."

I dangled my hurt foot off the couch and smiled at him.

"What now?" he asked.

"I think I'll fill out the forms now. Will you bring me a pen and a book to rest the papers on?"

He obediently went to get them for me, and on my command brought meLooking for Alaska.

"Now don't strain yourself, Julia. If you get tired, then I want you to stop."

"I'm filling out forms, Piero. How is that strenuous?"

"The doctor said you need "cognitive rest," as in, limiting your mental work."

"I'll stop if I get tired."

"Do you want me to put on a movie or something, or would you be too sensitive to the screen?"

"A movie sounds good. You pick one."

"All my favorites are in Italian."

"Then watch one in Italian. I really just want you to sit with me."

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss me. He went off to get a movie while I uncapped the pen and started on the forms. After he started it he came and sat beside me, and we sat shoulder to shoulder. As I worked, I listened to the pretty Italian words being spoken in the background, and I felt Piero watching me.

As I finally neared the end of the stack of paperwork, I began to feel the strain that Piero was talking about as a headache began to bother me. I pressed on with the work, ignoring it as it grew worse and worse. I decided to take a break to read some of the cards from the children at the hospital. They were adorable and thoughtful, and I showed the best ones to Piero, who grinned at the drawings and big, loopy letters. When I returned to the paperwork, I massaged my temple and frowned, determined to finish it. I began to feel tired in addition to the headache, but I pressed on.

I felt Piero watching me, and he took my hand away from my temple and held it in his. I looked in surprise at him.

"Why don't you stop for now?" he asked.

"I want to finish. I'm almost done."

I returned to the work, and he watched me nervously until I completed the forms and tossed the stack onto the coffee table with a flourish of finality.

"Done!" I said, leaning wearily against him.

He moved his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. I leaned against him and looked up at the bright screen, listening to the Italian being spoken. I rested my head against his shoulder and tried to ignore the pain in my temple.

I relaxed against him, and he moved his hand and began to rub my back. I closed my eyes, and he turned his head toward me to kiss my cheek. The volume of the TV lowered significantly, and gradually the headache lessened. Piero moved his hand up and down my back, and I drowsily opened my eyes and kissed his neck, then closed them again. I fell into a light sleep, and a little while later felt Piero wrap his arms around me and lower me into lying down on the sofa, with my feet in his lap. He held a pillow on his lap with my sprained foot on top, and he massaged my good foot with one hand, his other hand resting on my shin. The warmth of his palm radiated through me, and I contentedly fell into the resting that Piero had urged me to do.

I spent the rest of the day reading the cards and several chapters of Looking for Alaska, stopping every once in a while to rest, and listening to Piero singing as he busied himself throughout the house. I was constantly drowsy, but I was bored and longed for the pain to go away. I found that I could get myself into a sitting position on my own, not without difficulty, of course, but I was pleased that I could if I wanted to. The food Piero had made for me had restored much of my strength, and I found that I could hold a bowl on my lap and feed myself, though I had to be careful with my sprained wrist. When the evening came, Piero carried me to the bathroom so I could take another bath, and I rejoiced in the wonderful cleanliness and femininity that that my body washes brought.

While Piero took his shower, I discovered that he had left the TV remote on the sofa, wedged between the cushions, and I dug it out and turned on the TV. I flipped through a series of boring programs and infomercials, and at last settled on watching the Las Angeles news. I was glad to have something to watch, even if it was boring. I watched it, unamused and barely paying attention, until a picture of Ray came on the screen. I gasped, and then moaned at the pain in my ribs and fought to pay attention through it.

"…has been in custody for four days now. His victim, children's hospital worker Julia Clement, is now under the loving care of her boyfriend, who happens to be Piero Barone, the pop-opera singer from the trio known as Il Volo! We were denied access to her by Piero, but he assures us that she will be okay and then avoided further questioning. The other boys of Il Volo also refused to comment on the situation, along with any of the Il Volo producers."

That struck me as strange. Why would they speak to Gianluca and Ignazio? And what would the producers know about anything? I sat, confused, watching the pictures of Piero that flicked across the screen, along with footage of him walking from the children's hospital. I perked up when the reporter began to speak again.

"The victim's mother, when questioned, had this to say immediately following the arrest:"

A picture of my mother standing outside my old house replaced the one of Piero, and I watched with wide eyes as the cruel words tumbled from her lips.

"I'm upset that this happened. Ray is usually a good man, and I wish he would have acted differently so we wouldn't be in this mess."

I stared as the reporter rambled about when the trial would start, and showed more pictures of Ray in handcuffs, along with a smiling photo of me in my scrubs. My eyes blurred with tears, and suddenly a hand beside me snatched up the remote and switched off the TV. I looked up at Piero in surprise, as a tear rolled down my cheek, and he looked sadly down at me.

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting slowly down beside me. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and he gently pulled me onto his lap. He held me and rubbed my back as he spoke. "I didn't mean to leave the remote there. I wanted to protect you from seeing that. I didn't want you to know."

I cried quietly, the words of my mother echoing around me, without even a mention of my name. I saw Ray in handcuffs before me, and the smiling picture of me, the "victim" that was being shown to all of Las Angeles.

"I think it's my fault that they're talking about it on the news. They seem to focus on me just as much as they do on you. If I wasn't a part of the story, they probably wouldn't make such a big deal out of it."

"They questioned you?" I asked.

"They cornered me when I went to the children's hospital. I guess they were trying to talk to your coworkers or something. I called the police and made them leave, and your coworkers said they didn't want to speak to them."

I imagined my coworkers and my classmates from college hearing the news, and I was suddenly filled with fear. I pulled back from Piero and stared at him, wide-eyed.

"What, mi amor!? What's wrong?" he asked urgently.

He held me tightly, hands spread and pressed against my back as I fearfully tried to piece together my thoughts.

"The children, Piero! They're going to find out that I was beaten! They're going to be scared for me! I don't want them to know!"

"No," he said firmly, "They're not going to find out. The children are being told that you fell down the stairs. The hospital doesn't want them to know either. They know they'd be upset, so they're withholding the information from them. They're not going to know about Ray."

"Why are they being told I fell down the stairs? I'd rather them think I had the flu or something."

"I know, but they would catch on that that's not the case when you return to work bruised up and on crutches."

"Oh…" I sighed sadly, and then considered Piero's reassurances. "Okay…" I finally breathed, and nodded.

Piero hugged me and I buried my face in his shoulder. He smelled clean and nice, and his T-shirt was warm and soft. His hair was wet and tousled, and it dripped down his neck and onto my arms.

"Are you okay?" Piero asked after a few minutes of gentle silence.

I thought about it, and then nodded.

"I'm okay."

"Good," he said, and kissed me tenderly. He carefully set me down beside him on the sofa and stood up, running a hand through his wet hair as he smiled down at me. "I'll make dinner."