Cristina’s dying words: No child should have been left to feel so much. No man forced to feel so little.
A man who has so little to offer.
Those words taunted him most of all. He cut through the black water angrily now, swimming farther from shore. When he sensed he was just past the breakers, he paused, lifting his head. Water surged up and hit him in the face.
The memory of Adrian’s pale, frightened face leapt like a lion into his consciousness.
Help . . . Van . . . I can’t . . .
And then Adrian was sinking beneath the slate-blue, churning water, and so was Vanni, pulled under by the strength of his hold on Adrian’s hand, sucked beneath by the force of his love for his twin. Adrian and he were one there. Under the waves, it’d been shockingly peaceful.
He hadn’t been afraid.
Vanni never understood what had happened next or how. He hadn’t let go . . . but suddenly he’d broken the surface, oxygen burning his lungs as he gulped it greedily.
And they were two.
He gasped and sputtered in the present, the lights of the Breakers sparkling on the distant horizon. He had a crystal-clear image of Emma with the Mediterranean sparkling behind her, an ocean of compassion in her dark eyes.
Adrian may have died, but part of him is in you. It always has been, Vanni.
And then . . .
When the time came, he wasn’t afraid. Please believe me. I’m sure enough for both of us.
He remembered Adrian’s hand letting go . . . releasing him. For the first time, Vanni realized it hadn’t been a weakening gesture, but a firm, decisive one. He’d grasped for Adrian desperately, but only water filled his hand, and he was rising to the surface like a buoy.
Why hadn’t he recalled that until now?
Vanni realized he could make out the outline of the bluffs and his house now. Dawn was breaking behind him. He took a shuddering gasp and plunged into the water again, swimming toward shore.
* * *
He walked back into the Breakers, soaking wet and naked. His mind was clear, though. He’d find Emma. He’d make her understand. It was different now than it had been when he’d tried to see her and Amanda stopped him several nights ago.
He was different.
He was shivering when he stepped into the kitchen to make himself some tea for fortification. It was Emma’s drink, and just that thought warmed him.
What if I can’t convince her that I really can offer her more?
You’ll do it. One step at a time.
He took heart from that steady, patient voice in his head. It was new, and yet it was achingly familiar.
Part of him is in you. It always has been, Vanni.
He opened the refrigerator to get some milk while the kettle heated on the stove. His gaze landed on the bottle of champagne on the shelf. He withdrew it and just stared at the label for several seconds, his brow furrowed.
A moment later, he flipped off the burner on the stove and strode out of the kitchen determinedly.
* * *
Realizing it was too early to go to Emma’s yet, he stopped at a coffee shop in Evanston. He dialed Vera’s number as he sat at a booth.
“Vanni?” his aunt answered on the second ring.
“Did you see Emma? Last Tuesday night?” he asked without a greeting. “Did you talk to her at the Breakers before I got home from France?”