The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(132)

Papa DiGratia released his arms. He began gathering up his books, Gray’s Anatomy and other heavy tomes Quillan had no better use for than to work his muscles. He started for the door, then stopped, looked over his shoulder. “You don’t need to learn Italian. You already speak the language of Carina’s heart.”





TWENTY-EIGHT

What jaunts the path of life does make, what least the heart foresees Beware oh careless traveler of life’s tempestuous seas, Lest path should turn and waves rise up, and you be blown upon life’s breeze.

—Quillan

AT THE SOUND OF raucous male voices, Carina headed for Quillan’s porch. He had to be there, but she could not see him with all her brothers crowded in. Joseph was nearest her, and she tapped his arm. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Nothing to worry you.” He held his position.

“Uno . . . due . . .”

She tried to press past him and see what they were counting, but Tony’s back prevented her. She nudged his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Tony half turned. “Don’t push. There’s no room.”

Angelo’s voice rose up. “You can’t do better than that? Carina could swing as well.” Laughter from them all.

She could not hear Quillan’s answer over her brothers’ laughter. What were they up to? She pushed Tony again. “Let me in. What’s going on?”

Tony spoke over his shoulder. “We’re just helping.”

Helping? She rose to tiptoes and caught a glimpse of Vittorio waving Angelo back.

“Give him a moment.” He held an arm up toward Lorenzo, as well.

“Tired, eh?” Angelo swung playfully, and Quillan, sitting on a stool in the middle of the room, blocked it. Her brother swung again with his left arm and caught Quillan in the shoulder. Quillan grabbed his wrist and jerked his arm down, but Angelo twisted free, grinning. “Tre for you.”

Carina frowned. There was a time Quillan could have taken Angelo to the floor with no effort at all. Lorenzo feinted toward him, and again Quillan blocked the blow. Two on one, it wasn’t fair.

“Stop it.” Carina pushed between Tony and Joseph and into the space around Quillan, where Angelo and Lorenzo both danced in and out aiming slaps and pokes. “What do you think you’re doing?” She glared at Vittorio, who certainly should have known better after all the time he’d spent nursing Quillan.

He gave her a level glance. “Don’t get your hackles up. We’re training his reflexes. Building his nerves back.”

Angelo swung his palm and smacked Quillan’s right arm. Quillan’s eyes stormed, but he warned Carina off with a glance. She put her hands to her hips and glared at Vittorio. “How is this helping?”

“He needs to use his arms.” Vittorio crossed his own over his chest.

“He does use them. He lifts the pail.”

“This is different. Instant motion forces the mind to talk to the arm, and the arm to respond.”

Lorenzo moved swiftly and poked Quillan’s chest. He darted again, but Quillan smacked him away. At the same time, he blocked Angelo’s swing.

Tony caught her arm. “Stop interfering. They’re not hurting him.”

Angelo flicked the back of Quillan’s head, grunting when Quillan elbowed his chest hard. “Quattro. That was four.” But even as he spoke, he swung again. “Against my twenty.”

Quillan caught Angelo’s shirt and pulled him close. “You keep score now; I’ll settle it later.”

“Is that a threat?”

Quillan cocked his head. “A reminder. Once my arms are back . . .”

Lorenzo slapped from the left and caught Quillan above the elbow. Quillan twisted and landed a jab in Lorenzo’s belly. Lorenzo staggered into the bookcase and caught his breath with a gasp. Tony and Joseph cheered. “Cinque! Five hits.”

“You see?” Angelo turned on her. “He doesn’t need you. Go stitch some lace.”

Carina raised her chin. “I will not.” She pressed in toward Quillan’s side. “Go aw—” But before she could finish, Angelo bent and caught her up over his shoulder. She pounded his back, but her brothers parted for his exit far more easily than they had for her entrance.

He deposited her in the hall, caught her jaw with his palm, and grinned. “Stay out of it, Carina.” Then he kissed her cheek and went back into the porch room.

Fists at her sides, she started to force her way back in, though she knew they’d be more difficult yet.

“Carina.” Tia Marta spoke from the end of the hall. “Come dye this thread with me.”

Carina turned. “Do you know what they’re doing?”

Her aunt nodded. “They’re welcoming your husband to the family.”

“Welcoming!” Carina planted her hands on her hips.

“You know how it is, Carina. Have you been away so long?” Marta clicked her tongue. “It is a passage. They would not bother if he didn’t matter. And it will help him heal.”

“Not if he’s bruised all over again.”

Tia Marta took her arm and led her away from the porch where a fresh wave of cheering rose up, no telling for whom. “They won’t hurt him. Your papa told them not to.”