21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

I t was afternoon, that was all I knew, but that was enough for right now. Well, that and knowing Donvino was okay and Earnest was safely back at the villa with Se?orina Capello and her two hairless Chihuahuas.

The ride to the chosen hospital of the Bonettis in the heart of Florence had been unpleasant, to say the least. The ambulance attendees were lovely. It was just that I was in pain and mentally fatigued. Mentally fatigued in this instance, meaning tap dancing around a full-blown anxiety attack. If not for Donvino riding along with me from Valle Sicuro to Florence, I would have lost all my remaining shit.

Thankfully, our canine hero was well. Seemed Earnest and the Chihuahuas were getting on fine after a short scrap where Earnest showed them just what kind of chutzpah a terrier truly possessed. Did I mention that I loved that dog? Lucia and Earnest had hit it off well, the cat giving the dog a feline look and rubbing her head on his nose. So things on the animal front were peaceful. Oh, how I wished I were at the villa instead of in this hospital room. As posh as it was, a hospital room was still a hospital room.

My aunt was sitting at my side, patting my hand, as I rested. Donvino and I were being treated for first-degree burns on our backs, cuts, abrasions, and mild smoke inhalation. I'd plucked off the oxygen mask so I could speak to my roommate. Donvino rested on the bed beside mine, also clad in a darling white hospital gown with blue dots. He looked exhausted, sooty, and mentally done in. A larger and hunkier mirror image of myself, I was sure.

I'd made a rather big stink about my boyfriend and me rooming together not that long ago. He lacked insurance and so was going to be put in a larger public ward. I demanded that he room with me in a private room. Things got heated. My aunt stepped in, tapped the floor with her cane, and reminded the uptight man in the suit that the Bonettis had donated millions of euros to the cancer wing, and if he wished to continue seeing such generous donations, he had best have a bed wheeled into this room immediately.

"I want to be you when I grow up," I had said to her as the administrator called for a nurse to bring Signor Marini to my room.

"Perhaps if you study hard one day you shall," she had replied, retaking her seat like the magnificent grand dame she was. "Rest. You are wheezing still."

I calmed down as soon as my man arrived. We held hands for a moment and then he was rolled into place a few feet to my left. Knowing he was there helped me relax and soon I had drifted off, the pain in my ankle and my pink back easing enough after treatment to let me snooze. I'd blinked awake just a few moments ago, groggy, gritty, and uncomfortable. Sitting up, I removed my mask again. The raspy breathing had eased up as I had napped. My aunt looked up from her book, a paperback non-fiction, and smiled at me. I smiled back, then peeked at the bed beside mine. Donvino was out, snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling evenly. I could have lost him last night. We both could have died. It was thanks to Earnest that we were here at all. I vowed to adopt him legally as soon as I could leave the hospital. I'd throw him a parade. I'd build him a doghouse that would sit in the shade of that old spindly pine he liked so well in the front—

Oh. Oh no, I would not put his doggie condo there. The house and all the trees were gone. I battled back the urge to cry. I wasn't sure I had any more tears left to shed.

"Any news from Lowell?" I softly asked so as not to rouse Donvino, for he had breathed in more of the smoke than I had since he had made me leave the house first. Such a hero. Him and Earnest both.

"No, nothing yet. He will report in as soon as the police have something to tell him. For now, I have him at the villa walking the dogs so Vittoria can calm herself. She gave both Signora Britta and Giada quite a difficult time insisting that she come to see her favorite student."

"She's an angel," I whispered, wondering if I should not have mentioned heavenly things when we had no clue when Vittoria might become one.

"Yes, that she is. She and I have been the best of friends for many years. My heart will break when she joins our father in heaven," she confided, a rare admission for the stately, stoic woman. "But for now, she is having a light dinner with Donvino's grandmother. Giada and Alessio will come after things are quiet at the villa to see their grandson. Giada was beside herself with worry for the boy. She prayed for both of you."

"Huh, I wasn't sure she would pray for me since I led Donvino down such a prickly path."

"Your ribald humor is ill-placed, Arlo."

"Sorry, my back burns, my ankle hurts, and I'm hungry."

"We will ring the nurse to bring some food." She waved at the little gizmo resting beside me. I pushed a few buttons. Within seconds, a pudgy woman in sparkling white appeared at my bedside. Dinner was ordered via the nurse who took my vitals and left the room after helping me to pee in a bottle. It was humiliating but better than having a catheter. Once the curtain was back in place, I glanced past my aunt who had returned to her book to see dark, dark clouds blotting out the sun. I sat up straighter, wincing at the pull at the mega-sunburn on my back, and watched as a splatter of rain hit the large window. Then another. Then another. Then another. Thunder rolled. It was a deep growl accompanied by a bolt of lightning that lit up the evening sky.

"It's raining." Talk about stating the obvious. My aunt nodded, her eyes leaving her novel to watch the storm moving low and slow over Florence. "Where was this rain last night? Maybe it would have helped with the fires." My mind kept leaping back to the flames chasing us, the heat scalding our backs, the swim through the sluggish river. "I can't stop thinking about it. Are you sure none of the workers were harmed?"

"I am sure. All the people who showed up to fight the fire are safe. They finally extinguished the last of the flames just two hours ago, according to the last call from Lowell. The police are now making a full investigation into what took place. We have turned over all the security footage to law enforcement. You look piqued still. Place your worry aside, Arlo. Lowell is making our wishes known to the police that we wish to have answers to our questions quickly."

I stared at her for a long moment. "You suspect foul play."

She nodded. Her neat hair sprayed so well it didn't budge. "I do. There was no lightning last night to spark things. And two fires in different places seem unnatural to me. I have suspicions. That is all I will say for now. Please, try to rest until your dinner arrives."

Rest she says. As if a mind as active as mine would just shut down and—

I woke up to the door of my room opening. I blinked at the shape entering as my stomach growled loudly. Right, dinner. This was probably the night nurse delivering food for Donvino and me.

"Finally," my aunt said as the shape bustled into the room. I yawned, throat dry and sore, and pushed myself up to sit, eyes bleary, the room darkened with just a small light for my aunt to read by sitting on the table next to her.

"The storms over Florence stalled our landing," my father replied, tossing a wet coat to the floor to stride over to the bed. "Arlo, oh my gods, my son."

"Dad," I managed to squeak out before I was in his arms. Tears started to flow. And here I thought I'd wept them all away. I burrowed my face into his neck, more desperate for this embrace than I could have possibly known. Wind whipped a torrent of rain into the side of the Hospital of the Blessed Lady of Lourdes as we clung to each other. He pulled back, cupping my face in his hands, his dark eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Arlo, my boy, you're okay, yes?" he asked, his carefully cultured American accent slipping as he looked me over as if he were able to suss out injuries with his x-ray vision or something.

"I'm okay, Dad, just sore mostly," I replied, throat thick with emotion. I cleared it and he took the plastic cup of water Ginerva passed to him.

"Drink, where is the doctor?" he asked as he pushed the cup into my hand, his voice losing the quaver it had for a moment. "Did he come in today to examine the boys?"

"He will make rounds soon. Stop blustering, you will wake Donvino," Ginerva chided.

"I'm awake," I heard Donvino say, his words scratchy still. I wiggled about to glance around my father to my boyfriend. A sight for sore eyes if ever there was one. Yes, he was haggard, scratched up, and talking like a frog, but he was alive. "Forgive me for intruding into a family moment," he added and coughed up a nasty black slug.

"You are just as much family as anyone who carries the Bonetti name," my father announced, giving my cheek a pat before walking over to hug Donvino. "You saved my son's life and for that, I am eternally in your debt," he said as he clasped Donvino to him. "Ask and it is yours."

"I need no thanks, Signor Bonetti. I love your son. I would run through fires every day for him," Donvino replied and then fell into a coughing fit that winded him badly. Dad released him, looked at my aunt, and then went to find the doctor. He met the nurse coming in with our dinners, late as it was, and directed her to check us both closely, for he did not like the way Donvino sounded. I threw a wobbly smile at my boyfriend.

"See where I get my bossy genes from?" I asked with a wave of my hand at my aunt and father who had the good graces to look a little ashamed.

Donvino nodded softly, his eyes warm as he looked at me over his meal. We ate well, the food was delicious, obviously purchased and delivered from a restaurant for us. Not going to lie, being rich and powerful had some bennies. Dad and Ginerva talked as we chowed down. The conversation was mostly about the fire and their suspicions about what had started them. The longer they talked, the more I wondered if something evil had visited us last night.

"Excuse me, signora and signor," Donvino said, wiping at his mouth with a cloth napkin that had come with the meal. "Are you suspecting foul play?"

"I'm suspecting it, yes, Donvino, and please, call me Tommaso. You and my son are dating. You got him out of a burning building before getting yourself out. You helped him to the river, into it, and across it, then hoisted him to safety on the other side. If that does not earn you the right to use my first name, I honestly do not know what would," Dad stated matter-of-factly.

I nodded, sipped at the cool nectarine juice bottle that had come with our food, and glanced at Donvino. My boyfriend seemed uncomfortable with such familiarity but inclined his head.

"You will address me as Signora Bonetti," Aunt Ginerva announced. No surprise there, but she did temper her words with a kind look at Donvino.

"You should tell them about what Piravino said to you," Donvino said as he pushed his tray away, his unease over using first names morphing into something angry and dark.

My father and aunt's gaze flew from Donvino to me. I took another nervous sip of my juice.

"Arlo, what did Piravino say to you?" Dad enquired, leaning up in his chair, sharp gaze riveted to me and me alone. That was the look that always made me testy, nervous, and snappy, just like one of those sweater-wearing Chihuahuas of Se?orina Cappello's. The look that said I had done something incredibly stupid, and he was ashamed of me. Again.

"Nothing. It was stupid. He was just upset that I took his place at the mill," I replied with a carefree attitude that I did not feel. "Some bullshit about eradicating cursed souls or something. Very old school biblical shit that I didn't think was important. If I worried about every Bible quote nonsense some hater slung my way, I'd never get out of bed."

"Arlo, that should have been put into a report for HR immediately," Dad snarled, and I bristled like a cocky Bantam rooster instantly.

"Instead of sending Lowell, maybe you should have taken a few days of your own precious time to spend time at the mill with me when you forced me into this position. Seems pretty damn sad to me that the only way I get to see you is when I nearly die."

The room went silent as a tomb. A crack of thunder shook the skies and the hospital as if Zeus himself was pissed at my comeback. Now that it was out, I wasn't exactly proud of it either, but there it was, floating in the air like a rancid poison cloud. Toxic AF it was.

"Arlo, that was unkind," Ginerva scolded, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she gripped her cane tightly. "I think your father deserves an apology."

"No, zia, no, he's right." He looked right at me. "I should have flown over. I should have worked beside you instead of Lowell. I should have heard the hate thrown at you by one of our own and punched him in the face for his impudence. I should have done so much, son, over the years. Sometimes it takes a close call to drive home…" He paused, ran his hands through his hair, and then drew in a shaky breath. "I should have learned when we lost your mother. She always said you were a child that required more than most, but I had no clue how to give you that. More. How could I give you more when I didn't know how to give you the minimum that you required?" He glanced at Ginerva, who stiffened in her seat, chin rising. "Our family is not known for hands-on child rearing."

"Weak children grow into weak adults," Ginerva stated as rain buffeted the window behind her. "I was raised to be strong, and so I raised you, Tommaso, to be formidable as well. These young people today are scared to venture forth into the world unless they have safe places to run to as if they were living in war times. Life is not gentle or kind. It is filled with hazards and pitfalls that must be navigated. As a child, I lived through great losses during the Second World War, lost many relatives, saw my fellow playmates wither away as starvation roamed the lands like death's wolves. Even my own family, rich as we were, were impacted greatly as were our workers. We survived because we were resilient. The weak fell away. I raised you to be powerful, Tommaso, and I will raise you to be tenacious as well, Arlo. Call me what you wish, but we are not weaklings, and nor will I allow any Bonetti to be!"

She cracked her cane to the floor, the sound like a starter's pistol. Her words echoed around the room.

"We need to stop yelling at each other," I finally said. Donvino was stunned into silence, his eyes flitting from one Bonetti to another. I drew in a breath. "I'm sorry for being a jerk, Dad. I didn't mean what I said."

"Yes, you did, and it was fair. I have much to make up for, Arlo, and I hope I can do so, but for this moment we need to know exactly what it was that Signor Piravino said to you. Then, when we are home and safe, we will talk about us and how we can make bad things better."

I bobbed my head. He was right. This was not the time or place to pull all of our familial skeletons out of the Bonetti closet. Instead of airing more dirty laundry, I told all, leaving nothing out about the showdown with Piravino. Before I was halfway done, my father was on the phone with Lowell telling him to inform the police of this new information about a possible suspect in the arson case.

I threw a look at my aunt sitting in her chair, prim and proper, in a gray Gucci suit. "Arson? When was that word used? Why have I not heard that word connected to the fire before?"

"We thought it best to let you rest and recover. The police are working on things. You and Donvino may be released tomorrow, but only if you do not overreact."

"I never overreact!" I snapped but heard Donvino coughing lightly. Whether that hack was to bring up some black goo in his lungs or because he found my comment amusing, I didn't know. Probably the latter. Which took a lot of the air out of my indignation dirigible. "Fine, maybe I do respond to some things with more vim than others."

"Vim, yes, you are full of vim," Donvino whispered as he slid from his bed, IV attached to his forearm, to come sit with me. I took his hand in mine, lifted it to my scruffy cheek, and rubbed my lips over his knuckles like a love-starved cat. "I love your vim."

"And I love your vim too."

"The police will be here in the morning to speak with both of you. They wanted to come now, but I refused. You two need to sleep." Dad rose as he spoke, moving to the bed where we both sat in our gowns. "We'll find some clothes for you two to wear back to the villa tomorrow. Tonight, sleep, heal, and remember that we love you."

Dad patted my shoulder. Ginerva came over to pat my cheek and Donvino's before Dad took her elbow and escorted her out. The nurse hustled in, cleared our plates, and told us we had a little time before it was lights out. She gave our vitals a check, told Donvino to use the mask overnight, and then left us alone.

"Can you sleep here?" I asked, moving to the side of the bed. "I'm not sure I can fall asleep without you close. We almost—"

"Shh, don't think about that right now," he whispered and stole a kiss, his soft lips on mine, clearing the anxiety away like a warm breeze. Outside the rain fell, sheets and sheets of it, the sound joyous to be sure. "It will be cramped," he commented as he slid under the sheets and coverlet, his bare legs tangling with mine as we situated ourselves. I let my cheek come to rest on his chest, the steady thumping of his heart the best lullaby ever created. I could hear the faint rasp in his breathing, which made the memories flare up brightly. Squeezing my eyes closed, I willed them away, focusing on the feel of his body close to mine. Relaxation crept in, softening my muscles, clearing my mind…

"I like being cramped with you." I sighed as sleep stole whatever it was I had planned to say next. Probably how much I loved him. I'd just have to say it twice as many times tomorrow.

***

The following morning was sunny, the city of flowers washed clean from the deluge of storms last night. The doctor had made his rounds, erring on the side of caution for Donvino. The doc said he wished for him to stay another day. My boyfriend declined, promising to rest when he found a place to do so. My father entered then, looking like he'd been pulled through the gutter. Jet lag and stress did bad things to Bonetti men. He was carrying two fat travel bags and he placed them at the foot of our beds, one for each of us.

"You'll be staying at the villa," Dad said matter-of-factly. Donvino started to politely argue. Dad walked to my bed, placed his hand on my shoulders, and bent down to kiss both of my whiskery cheeks. Then he turned to Donvino. "There is no sense in arguing. Ginerva has already had Giada freshen up the green room for your convalescence, something that your grandmother was quite tickled about. So you can heal your lungs while four old women cluck over you like mother hens."

"Four?" I asked, pushing my empty breakfast tray away.

"Ginerva, Vittoria, Giada, and you, Arlo," Dad teased, lowering himself to sit on the side of my bed. I rolled my eyes but smiled just a bit. "Now, as for other less pleasant things. There are two gentlemen from the police waiting outside to speak to you both. Lowell has been busy passing along the information about the threats to both of you to the law. They are searching for Piravino as we speak, but so far, he's given them the slip. His wife has not seen him, he has not shown up for work at the Pisa mill, and his banking accounts have been drained. Needless to say, Signora Piravino is in a state of red rage over being left without funds for her or the four children they have together."

"So he just took off with all the cash?" I asked, glancing at Donvino with concern. His lips flattened, but my boyfriend said nothing. He was processing, it seemed. "What a total jerk."

"Mm, that's one word for him. I would use a few others, including arsonist." My eyes flared. Dad nodded sadly. "Yes, someone seemingly got into the main office at mill 20 and disabled most of the security cameras we have set up at various points around the orchards. Mostly to keep an eye on vandals or those stealing crops." That happened quite frequently, to be honest. People would see an olive orchard and just hop out of their cars, fill up a hat or a bucket, and drive off. Most of the time, we did nothing about that. But the vandals were another story. At times people dicked with the bees. Other times, protesters had cut down trees, so we did have cameras scattered about here and there. "There was no sign of forced entry, therefore we are assuming it was someone with a key. If it was Piravino, he obviously had duplicate keys made before he turned his in on his last day."

"That sneaky shit," I snarled while Donvino mumbled something unfriendly.

"He was quite thorough," Dad commented. "The video from the front door of the office had been deleted for the entire day and almost every camera on the main feed had been turned off around midnight. The bastard forgot about one small feed, though. There are two cameras on the corners of the manager's house."

"What used to be the manager's house," Donvino muttered as his dark eyes sparked with anger.

Dad sadly nodded. "Yes, what used to be the manager's home. He seemed to think that they were so overgrown that they'd not be a concern, we suspect. And that would have been true if someone who liked to garden hadn't put some work in along the fence line."

Dad and I both stared at Donvino, who seemed to be completely flabbergasted before he huffed out a rough bark of a laugh.

"I was thinking of making a nice garden for Arlo and me to rest in," Donvino confessed rather sheepishly.

"Well, your work on the garden paid off because that loop shows someone creeping into the house and setting it on fire."

"No," I gasped, my scrambled eggs flipping over in my stomach. "Was it him? Was it Piravino?"

"The police won't say, but they are now searching for him as a person of interest," Dad said as he took my shaking hand in his. "They'll find him, Arlo. It seems they have some pretty conclusive evidence that they're not telling Lowell about it at the moment, so we'll have to ride this out. This is another reason for you two to stay at the villa. It's got state-of-the-art security. We're going to make sure you're well protected until this case is solved."

"This is what hate breeds," I shakily said, gripping my father's hand tightly. "That kind of loathing of someone for simply being different. God, what a mess."

"Hate is a powerful thing, sadly many people are blinded by old doctrines about what is evil and what is good. So, I have brought you some clothes. You may both shower, shave, and dress before you talk with the police. The company attorney is on her way to sit in while the police speak with you, just to ensure they play by our rules. I will not allow them to try to shame you boys in any way."

"Thank you, signor," Donvino said from his bed, his gaze woeful. I let Donvino go first. The clothes in my bag and the personal essentials such as soap, toothbrush, and razor were all new. Everything I had brought to Italy with me had been moved into that soft yellow villa beside the Tiber. Now it was all gone. Every last bit. Even my steamer trunks.

"I want you to know that I think Donvino is a good match for you," Dad confided while Donvino was showering.

"I love him," I admitted and got a smile from my father.

"Yes, we can tell. And he adores you. Hold on to that love. It will get you through anything life throws at you."

"I'm sorry about being such a prick for so long," I said, my voice shaky. The sound of rubber-soled shoes on the tiled hall moved past. Dad patted my thigh. "I know this is terrible, but maybe we can start over? I'd like to not be that asshole kid who pushed you so far that you sent him away."

"And I do not want to ever push you away again. That was wrong of me. Instead of putting in the difficult work, I shoved it, and you, aside. Much like I have the grief of losing your mother. Sometimes, despite what Ginerva says, being stoic isn't always the best way of handling things."

"We both have work to do," I confessed, then glanced to the side to see Donvino leaving the bath, steam broiling out behind him, looking much better than he had when he had entered. His shorts were a little tight around the ass, but I wasn't going to complain.

"My turn." I limped into the bath, unwrapped the gauze around my ankle, and slowly turned in front of the mirror. Looking over my shoulder, I could see that the skin on my back was bright red, like a severe sunburn, and was already blistering. If the man on the video setting fire to our little house was Piravino, I was going to spit in his eye when I saw him. He could have killed us, and Earnest the Hero Pooch. What kind of twisted mind did such things?!

Easing under the shower was both glorious and tortuous. The water jets hitting my back stung like a thousand bee stings. The poor bees…

I washed and shampooed, doing my best to keep my front to the spray, and exited the bath wearing a loose tee, some dark purple leggings, and socks. Not my usual wardrobe but given the state of my back loose was much better than a tight vest. Waiting for me was my father, Donvino, a nurse, an older woman in a business suit, and two dour-looking members of the Polizia de Stato. Introductions were made as I sat down next to Donvino on his bed. The older woman in the power suit was our attorney, or avvocato, Signora Vappechi. The nurse re-wrapped my sprained ankle and then took our vitals yet again.

The cops were polite if distant, keeping to the facts of the case, both seemingly undisturbed by the fact that Donvino and I were gay lovers. This would have been tough titties if they were since I was holding my boyfriend's hand during the whole interview. The questions were typical, and we both replied with honesty, even reciting the entire incident outside the office of mill 20 when Piravino had tried to accost me. My father grew more and more tense as the details of that showdown came to light. When the police were satisfied with our statements, they left, with nods to my father, as did the lawyer.

"Arlo, why did you not report this confrontation to me as soon as it happened?" Dad demanded the moment we were alone.

"If I told you about every time someone had said they wished all the fags would die, I'd be doing nothing but running to you."

Dad turned from us to glare at the sun streaming into the window. His shoulders tightened, then dropped as he exhaled.

"It saddens me to hear that so much has changed in this world and yet so little has changed." He moved to the window and then faced us, the sun warming the silver strands in his dark hair. "As soon as the doctor arrives, we'll get you two boys home. I suspect there will be a feast and a half awaiting you both."

Dinner with the family sounded incredible and just what we both needed to start the healing process, both physically and mentally. Funny how having those you loved the most around you when dark times arrived helped to keep the worst of the world at bay.

Maybe I had learned something during my time here other than how to ask where the bathroom was in Italian. Who would have thunk it?