She had been, hadn’t she? She had been the first runner-up in the Miss Vernal Pioneer Days beauty pageant. The thought made her grin. Even then she had hated the idea of the thing: women being judged like cattle (in fact they were paraded before the judges on the same reinforced plywood stage the cattle were brought up on an hour later; same judges too). But at the time it was what all girls did. She didn’t know which was more pathetic: that she had participated in the pageant or that she now looked to it for validation.

She took a sip of her tea, then set the cup to the side of the tub and stepped into the water. It was too hot, but bearable. She turned off the faucet then let herself slowly slip into the porcelain tub until it covered all of her body up to her neck. Then she bent her knees and slid deeper into the water until it was on her chin. She closed her eyes and let the water soothe her. She just wanted to dissolve into the hot water, like sugar. Into something else. Something that didn’t hurt or tire or bruise. Another day in paradise, she thought. And then, a few minutes later, as her thoughts began to calm, she heard Alessio’s cry.

CHAPTER 8

“Amore la spinge e tira, non per elezion ma per destino.” Love drives on not by choice but by destiny.

—Italian Proverb

Ross had only taken three bites of his dinner when there was forceful pounding on his front door. He got up from his dinner and opened the door to find Eliana standing there. Her hair was stringy and wet and she was wearing a light jacket over a nightshirt. Her face was bent with desperation.

“Can you help me? I need to get my son to the hospital.” She sounded panicked.

“I only have a scooter.”

“My car’s already out front. My son’s inside.” Ross followed her out. A forest green BMW was idling outside the villa’s walls, its headlamps illuminated. She slid into the back of the car, lifting Alessio’s head onto her lap. Ross climbed into the driver’s seat and quickly oriented himself to the controls.

“Hurry, please. He can’t breathe.”

Ross grabbed the gearshift then looked back over his shoulder to turn the car around and saw the little boy. He reminded Ross of a fish fallen out of its tank. The wheezing of his strained lungs was harrowing.

“Breathe, Alessio. Come on, son. Breathe easy, not too fast.” She took an inhaler from a small plastic sack. “You’ll be okay,” she said as she inserted the device into his mouth. “This will help. This will help.”

Ross spun the car around. He pulled out a little too quickly, and the back wheels spewed gravel as the car lurched forward, bouncing over the rough drive.

Ross said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know the way to the hospital.”