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Authors: Rosemary Pollock

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BOOK: Song Above the Clouds
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A ...
nun?”

“Yes. But why are we talking about Caterina?”

She wasn’t thinking clearly enough to dissemble. “I

I thought you were going to marry her.”

For several seconds there was silence, while he stared down into her face. Then he spoke, softly and huskily. “You thought I was going to marry Caterina?”

“Yes.” She was afraid to look at him.

“But
... Candy, Caterina and I have been close friends since we were children. That is why she came here with me, and why she will wait—at least until to-morrow before going back to Rome. But we have never been anything but friends. During the last few months she has slowly been coming to a decision about her vocation, and because she and I are like brother and sister we have spent a great deal of time discussing it together. It has been a difficult time for her.
She needed to tell her thoughts to someone. But there has never been anything more than that between us.”

So that was it! It accounted for everything—even the time Caterina and Michele had spent together on Christmas night. For the simple reason that she couldn’t do anything to prevent it, her lower lip started to tremble, and without looking up she knew that Michele had noticed.

And then she was in his arms, and he was holding her so tightly that she couldn’t breathe. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and she hid her face against him.

“Oh, Candy ...
carina
!
” His sensitive fingers stroked her hair unsteadily. “I was so afraid—so afraid you didn’t want me! I thought you only wanted your music. That was what I wanted for you at first—I had seen how Ryland had made you suffer, and I vowed to myself that I would teach you to live for your heavenly voice—to spread your wings and soar out of reach of everything that could bring a cloud into your eyes. But it was no good—I fell so desperately in love with you!”

Dizzy and unbelieving, she looked up, and as he bent his head and kissed her the world was dissolved in light, and a peace such as she had never dreamed of enveloped her like a mantle. “I love you,” she whispered. “Oh, Michele, I love you more than anything on earth—more than life! Music means nothing t
o
me by comparison with you.”

He laid his cheek against her hair, and when he spoke his voice quivered with remorse.

“I didn’t mean to say anything until
...
unless...

It wasn’t necessary for him to finish,

“Oh, darling!” She lifted her eyes to his, and although in their depths there was anguish there was also a brilliant, glowing light.
“I’m
so glad you did.”

They were silent for what seemed a very long time. And then at last he lifted his head and looked down at her.

“Candy, you know that during the next twenty-four
hours everything will be—well, in the hands of God.”

She nodded.

“It is just that I worry about you. If—if anything should happen
... if the future doesn’t work out for us...

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say that. Everything is going to be all right—I know it is. But even if
.
.. Michele, some time, somewhere, we’ll be together. Whatever happens.”

And as he bent and kissed her hair he knew that she was right. For them there would never be any parting.

 

CHAPTER TEN

THE operation was scheduled to begin at ten a.m. the following day, and just before that time Candy and the Contessa di Lucca, together with Marco, arrived at the clinic. Candy was very pale, but absolutely calm. Nobody had asked her any questions about what had happened between her and Michele the previous morning, but everybody had guessed without the smallest difficulty, and had been exceptionally gentle with her ever since.

At the clinic they met Caterina, whom they had also seen the previous afternoon, and as Candy kissed her she felt all over again the overwhelming wonder she had felt when she first heard the truth about the relationship between the other girl and Michele. Without revealing anything else, she let Caterina know that she had been told about her plans, and they talked for a long time. The
c
onversation
acted as a sort of opiate, through which Candy felt the anguish of icy fear hovering about her all the time, striving to take her over, body and soul.

The authorities at the clinic didn’t seem to think it in the least odd that no fewer than four close relatives and
friends should wish to wait on the premises for news
of
the Conte di Lucca, and they were allotted a pleasant private sitting-room overlooking not the mountains but the tranquil woods and gardens behind the building.

Candy noticed that for most of the time Anna and her brother-in-law sat close together, and it was obvious that at last the gulf between them had been bridged. For Anna the presence of Marco was the source of all comfort, and for
Marco ... Candy
watched him with fascination as, his face transformed by solicitude—and something much stronger than solicitude—he hovered protectively about the woman he had loved for so long.

Anna
had told her that everything had been put right, too, between herself and Michele, and for that Candy was profoundly grateful.

Slowly the minutes dragged by and became hours. Coffee was served to them and
then more coffee, but Candy didn’t drink any of it. She had faith—she knew she had faith, and every so often she closed her eyes and tried to shut everything but that faith out of her mind, but still the icy fingers of fear reached out and clasped at her heart, and she was obsessed by a feeling that she was walking the edge of a high precipice. When she tried to speak her voice and throat were dry, and when she tried to move her whole body felt stiff. It was understandable, she told herself. It wasn’t only Michele’s life that hung in the balance: it was her own as well.

All at once, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Caterina spoke to her.

“Did you know,” she asked softly, “that when Michele first met you he had just seen the London specialist who gave him no hope?”

Candy shook her head.

“Well, it’s true. That day was a black one for him. He has told me he felt surrounded by darkness. But
then he met you, and he says you became for him a ray of light in the darkness.”

“Oh
!
” It was a quivering whisper.

“At first he wished only to help you sing. So he arranged everything .
.
. your corning to Rome, Signor Galleo—everything. Whatever story they told you about it was not true. Michele did it all.” She stopped. “I tell you,” she said quietly, “because I know it will make you happy, not ashamed.”

Candy’s eyes glowed. So she owed everything to him! He was behind everything in her life that had any value.

“Yes,” she said after a pause, “it makes me very happy.”

Ten minutes later, at exactly twenty-seven minutes past one, the door opened and the senior specialist whom Anna and Marco had seen the day before appeared on the threshold. He was looking at Anna.

“Madame,” he said quietly, “may I speak with you?” The Contessa stood up slowly. Her eyes were terrible. Marco di Lucca accompanied her to the door, and they both went out with the doctor.

Candy, unable to say anything, turned her head to look at the older girl beside her. Caterina, her face a mask of serenity, was whispering a prayer, and even in that moment Candy was conscious of a profound admiration for an unusual and dedicated spirit.

In after years she never did know how long they waited for somebody to come back and join them in the quiet room
,
but it seemed like ten years. A dreadful conviction had her
in its grip, a conviction that she couldn’t shake off, and by the time the door opened again her hands were wet with perspiration, her whole body chilled.

It was Anna who opened the door, and she looked straight across at
Candy
.


Cara
,”
she said in an odd voice, “you must hurry upstairs. Don’t keep him waiting. He is asking for you!”

The white-walled, grey-carpeted room with its picture windows was still sunlit, still reminiscent of something in a luxury hotel. But this time Candy didn’t even notice.

The only things
she saw were a narrow, clinical bed, and a figure whose warm brown eyes lit like lamps at the sight of her. Scarcely able to see for the mist in front of her eyes, she dropped to her knees beside the bed, and one of Michele’s hands came out to clasp hers with amazing strength.


Carina
,”
he murmured. “There are no more clouds!”

“No, darling.” Still crying, she pressed her lips to the back of his hand.

He looked at her as if she were the most wonderful thing he would ever hope to see on earth. “There’s a song in your eyes,” he said slowly. “All this time, I’ve felt that you were singing above the clouds.”

She gave him a smile that was like sunlight. And she knew that for the rest of their, lives as long as she could be with him, something inside her would always be singing.

BOOK: Song Above the Clouds
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