The Italian Surgeon's Christmas Miracle (15 page)

B
Y THE
time Amy reached the foyer, the front door was wide open and sparkling, cold air was pouring into the house.

The sound of bells could be heard, getting louder and louder.

Amy reached the door. The children were all standing on the top step, a semicircle of faces that all had open mouths and wide eyes.

And no wonder!

Coming down the long driveway, covered in tinsel, was a small lorry. The shop name ‘Barkers’ could be seen beneath loops of tinsel, painted in old-fashioned lettering on the side, but it was no ordinary shop employee that climbed down from the driver’s seat.

He was wearing a red suit with white trim and he had ridiculously bushy eyebrows and a fluffy white beard that reached his chest.

‘Ho, ho, ho,’ he boomed. ‘Merry Christmas!’

He winked at the adults. ‘Sorry, I’m late. Lots of snow on the M1 last night.’

His gaze rested for just a fraction of a second on Amy.

Just long enough for her to know who was beneath the pillow stomach and bushy eyebrows.

Luca!

It was understandable that Rosa and the children didn’t recognise him, but Elaine seemed just as taken in. Because doing something like this was so out of character for the Harrington grandson and heir?

The back door of the lorry was folding down, the recorded bells still jingling merrily.

‘Come,’ Father Christmas invited the children. ‘Come and see what I’ve got.’

The children moved slowly down the steps. They stood in the driveway, staring into the back of the lorry, and the adults were not far behind.

‘Oh, my!’ Elaine breathed.

Amy blinked. And blinked again. The back of this lorry was full of brightly wrapped parcels. Hundreds of them, it seemed.

‘I forgot my sack,’ Father Christmas said. ‘Can someone show me where the tree is and give me a hand to get them all inside?’

Robert stepped forward and spoke in a steady, deep voice. ‘I can do that.’

The noise could have woken the dead.

Happy shouting. Laughter. Squeals of glee.

The gifts were amazing. Someone—possibly many people—had been given a list of those involved. Their ages and approximate sizes and the information that they had lost most of their belongings.

Many of the first packages contained clothes. Jeans and T-shirts and warm, fleecy jackets. Anoraks and gumboots in wonderful bright colours. Kyra’s were pink with lime-green spots.

‘Wow!’ she said. ‘These are
way
cool!’

Henry and Elaine and Beryl watched from the library door. Amy sat on the stairs, brushing tears form her cheeks on more than one occasion. Totally unable to wipe the smile from her face.

She was riveted by the scene. The generosity was overwhelming and the joy of the children heart-warming, but the real magic came from watching this Father Christmas. The joy
he
was getting, acting the part. Using Robert as his right-hand man.

‘You’re the chief elf!’ he boomed in that astonishingly deep, unrecognisable voice. ‘You get to find the next gift.’

Robert was scrupulously fair, making sure everyone had their turns.

It was Chantelle who pointed out when Robert was due for a gift. She tugged shyly at Santa’s sleeve.

‘It wouldn’t be fair, would it? If the chief elf got left out?’

‘You can be the deputy chief elf,’ Luke told her. ‘You get to find a present for Robert.’

‘How did you know all our names?’

‘I’m Father Christmas! I know everybody’s names.’

Chantelle sighed happily. ‘I love you, Santa.’

‘I love you, too, chicken.’

Amy’s joy overflowed and she gurgled with laughter. Father Christmas looked up and she knew
he
knew that she had recognised him. It was their secret and Amy could barely tear her gaze away from him as the gift distribution continued. She was waiting for each moment of connection.

Loving him more each time.

At one point she had to look up to blink away more tears and it was then that she saw the solitary figure standing to one side of the U at the top of the stairs, gripping the banister with one hand.

Lady Prudence Harrington looked dishevelled. She wore a dressing-gown and her hair was unbrushed. She didn’t see Amy’s shocked glance. She was too intent on watching her grandson and the children.

Amy saw something else, as well. Clutched beneath the old woman’s arm was the leather-bound scrapbook of Caroline’s. The knowledge that her gift had been accepted only added to the magic. Amy turned back to keep watching the seemingly endless stream of gifts.

There were toys galore. Lovely toys, like Lego for the twins and Meccano for Andrew. Robert had a telescope and books about astronomy. There were soft toy animals for Chantelle and a hair straightener and make-up for Kyra. There were even toys for Monty. A Frisbee and flinger. Rawhide treats and a huge, soft bed.

Rosa received perfume and chocolates and there was a beautiful mohair knee rug for Nonna. Parcels were put aside for Marcella and Summer. The massive pile of gifts was finally whittled down and the deputy elf tugged on Santa’s sleeve again, this time with more urgency.

‘But what about
Amy
?’ she demanded. ‘Where’s
her
present?’

‘Ah!’ Luke’s voice was still deep but it softened. ‘I have a very special present for Amy. It’s outside.’

Amy caught her breath. What could it be? Robert looked up from one of his books. ‘Can we come and see it?’

Father Christmas shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Why not?’ Chantelle asked. ‘We
love
Amy.’

‘I know, chicken. So do I.’

A sensation as though a bottle of champagne had been opened inside Amy sent its fizz right through her body. He loved her?

Chantelle seemed just as amazed.
‘Really?’
But then she nodded. ‘Because you love everybody, right?’

‘Yes. But
especially
Amy.’ He was looking directly at her and Amy couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

‘But why can’t we see her present?’ Robert took charge of the argument.

‘It’s not here.’

‘You said it was outside!’

‘Come,’ Father Christmas ordered. ‘You’ll see what I mean.’

He disappeared into the back of the lorry and there was the sound of an engine roaring into life.

Amy had been able to move after all. She stood with everybody else on the steps and was just as astonished to see Father Christmas emerge, driving carefully down the ramp on a two-seated snowmobile. He did a slow turn and then parked in front of the steps. His gaze was on Amy and she could tell he was smiling beneath the bushy beard because of the way his eyes crinkled.

‘Buon Natale,’
Father Christmas said in perfect Italian. He patted the seat beside him.
‘Vieni con me?’

Of course Amy would go with him.

Anywhere.

A ride into a blindingly white Christmas day, on a modern sleigh, wrapped in a faux fur blanket with one of Luke’s arms around her shoulders was too dreamlike to believe.

They went through a gate and up the long, gentle slope of a hill. At the top of the hill were some huge rocks, jumbled together like a pile of reject material from Stonehenge. A gap between two rocks formed an arch and it was beneath this that Luke parked. He switched off the machine’s motor so that all around them was that peculiar kind of silence a snow-clad landscape could produce, where the sounds of ordinary life were muffled and irrelevant.

‘Look,’ Luke pointed. ‘That’s Harrington village.’

Spread below them like a picture on a Christmas card was a church spire and a cluster of cottages. Amy could see the village green, a picturesque pub and a huddle of small shops. To one side of the village, buffered by woods and snow-covered fields, lay Harrington Manor. Smoke curled invitingly from more than one chimney. Somewhere in there were a group of children who were having the most exciting Christmas morning ever.

‘Thank you, Luca,’ she said softly. ‘What you did this morning was amazing. I can’t believe you’ve gone to so much trouble for us. You’d already done enough, you know—giving us a place to stay.’

‘Enough? I’ve barely started.’

Amy caught her breath. Could he mean what she thought he might mean? What she could dream he might mean?

‘Did you like it?’ Luke held her gaze.

Amy couldn’t smile because it was too big. ‘It was a whole collection of those moments,’ she said solemnly.

‘The ones that take your breath away?’

‘I felt as if I might never breathe again.’

Luke pulled his hat off, which got rid of the bushy eyebrows. Then he tugged his beard away and, looking like the man Amy had fallen in love with again, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.
‘Buono,’
he murmured.

Amy pulled back so she could see his face properly. ‘Since when did you start speaking Italian, Mr Harrington?’

In response he pulled her closer so that she was tucked into the circle of his arms. Cushioned on that ridiculous stomach. He kissed her hair but then raised his head to gaze at the scene below them.

‘I grew up with this,’ he told her. ‘My heritage. I used to come up here when I was a boy and look down at everything. It all had my name on it. Harrington village. Harrington school. Even the Harrington Arms. It felt as if the whole world belonged to me and yet I felt…’

Amy twisted a little to look up. ‘Lonely?’

‘Yes. Not that I understood it then, but I knew something was missing. I thought it was because I was an orphan, except I knew I wasn’t. I had a father who didn’t want me.’

Not true, but he hadn’t known that, had he? Amy slipped her arms over the top of Luke’s and pressed so that he was holding her more tightly.

‘I felt I deserved to be alone,’ Luke said quietly. ‘That there was something about me that meant I would always be alone.’

Amy had to swallow the lump in her throat. ‘You’re not alone, Luca. I’m here.’

‘Yes.’ He pressed his lips to her hair again and held her so closely it became another moment that took Amy’s breath away. ‘I don’t want to let you go,’ he confessed.

‘I don’t want you to let me go,’ Amy responded. ‘I love you, Luca Moretti.’

The sound Luke made was almost a groan. ‘That’s it,’ he murmured. ‘You turned my world inside out, Amy Phillips. Made me wonder who I actually was. You found the part of me that I knew was missing but could never identify. No…’ His voice caught. ‘You
are
the part of me that was missing.’

‘The Italian half?’

Luke shook his head. ‘Not entirely. It goes deeper than that. Do you remember what you said to me that first night we talked? When I said I intended demolishing the house?’

Amy could feel her cheeks flush. ‘I wasn’t very polite, was I?’

‘You said, “over my dead body” and I was shocked because you meant it. You were prepared to fight for what you were passionate about. To do anything.’

Amy was silent. Embarrassed. Had he really thought that was why she had gone to bed with him?

‘I couldn’t think of anything I could ever feel like that about,’ Luke continued softly. ‘Something I would be prepared to lay my life on the line for because life wouldn’t be worth living without it. Until…’ He drew in a long breath. ‘Until I made love to you, Amy. Until I lay there in your arms and felt as though I would never feel lonely again. I know it’s far too soon, but I love you.
Ti amo, Amy. Amore mio. Per sempre.
Is that “for ever”? My Italian is more than rusty.’

‘I love you, too, Luca.’ Amy blinked back her tears. ‘It’s not too soon and for ever sounds perfect to me, however you say it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I was sure the moment you gave me that box of old Christmas decorations.’

Luke kissed her again. Slowly. With infinite tenderness.

‘And I was sure that first time you smiled at me.’

‘When was that?’

‘When I went along with that lie. When you said I’d come to the house to see how Summer was because I was her doctor. When you were protecting the other children.’

Amy grinned. ‘You didn’t act like you were in love with me.’

‘I just hadn’t realised it. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I do now.’

‘I’m not sure I do.’ Amy wrapped her arms around Luca’s neck and brought her face close enough to kiss him. The tip of her nose touched his. ‘But maybe I don’t need to because it’s magic. Christmas magic.’

‘No.’ His nose moved beneath hers as he shook his head. ‘This magic is going to last a lifetime. So many Christmases you won’t be able to count them, and every one of them will be magic.’

Amy could feel his breath on her lips and she closed her eyes as she waited for his kiss.

‘Just like this,’ she murmured.

‘Always.’

Hours later. Many hours later, Luke was kissing Amy yet again. This time in the comfort of the glow the library fire was providing.

The house was almost as quiet as the hilltop had been because everyone else had long since gone to bed.

‘This has been the most amazing day of my life,’ Amy said, when she had a moment to catch her breath. ‘Thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For everything.’ Amy started to count the reasons off on her fingers. ‘For saving Summer and giving her a new chance of life. For bringing the children here. For that extraordinary pile of presents. For the Christmas dinner and having Mr Battersby here with those papers that gave the house to Mamma. For…
this
!’ Amy held up her left hand.

Luke groaned. ‘You’re not supposed to be wearing that. It came out of a Christmas cracker, for heaven’s sake. It’s rubbish!’

It was. A lurid, square, pink stone stuck to a gaudy gold band, but Luke had offered it to her. In front of everybody, and it had been his choice to slip it onto the third finger of her left hand. Nobody had missed the significance of that gesture and the fabulous meal had become a celebration of far more than Christmas.

‘I’m wearing it,’ Amy said stubbornly.

‘I’m replacing it, then,’ Luke said firmly. ‘With the real thing. As soon as the shops are open again. In fact, I’m sure Mr Barker wouldn’t mind doing me one more small favour and I believe they have a wonderful selection of jewellery. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.’