These Tangled Vines(77)

“I’ll get it for you.” He left, and she sat down again.

While he was gone, she sat in a numb stupor. A siren wailed somewhere outside. A janitor dipped a mop into a bucket on wheels, then made his way down the wide hallway, swirling the mop in a series of figure eights, back and forth, cleaning the floor.

A short while later, Anton returned and handed Lillian a cup of coffee. She sipped it slowly until the nurse came in and asked for her insurance information. She dug into her purse, withdrew her wallet, and handed the nurse a card with a US telephone number to call. Then she followed the nurse to a phone that she could use to call Freddie’s parents and her mother.

The hospital had a hazy, dreamlike quality to it. Nothing seemed quite real. She felt adrift and displaced as she relayed the news to the family.

Later, when she returned to the waiting area, time seemed to crawl, sluggish like a worm.

Before long, the distant din of a helicopter engine in the sky woke her from her trance. She stood when it landed, its blades beating against the air.

Lillian turned and met Anton’s troubled gaze. “I need to follow it to Turin.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I’ll tell Francesco. We’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”

“Thank you.”

He walked out, and she felt as if all the air had been extracted from the room.



Lillian waited until Freddie was evacuated to the air ambulance, and then she exited the hospital through the main entrance, where the black Mercedes was waiting at the curb. Francesco sat behind the wheel. Anton got out of the passenger seat and held the door open for her.

“I’d prefer to ride in the back, if it’s all the same to you,” she said. “I think I’m in shock. I need to lie down and rest.”

He helped her into the back, and they drove five hours to Turin in somber silence.

When they finally arrived, Anton got out of the car and opened the back door for Lillian. “Let me come inside with you,” he said.

Squinting into the bright sunlight beyond the shaded overhang, she shook her head. “No, you should go home with Francesco.”

Anton’s eyes seemed almost frantic. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Freddie. He needs me, and his father is coming. He’s trying to get here by tomorrow.”

“Lillian . . .” Anton’s voice was gruff and broken. “This is the last thing I wanted to happen. I need you to believe that it was an accident. I was worried about you. That’s why I was going so fast.”

Her nerves tightened to the point that she feared they might snap. “I know, and I believe you, Anton. I do.”

Love had not made her blind. It had helped her to see further and more clearly than she had ever seen before.

“But it doesn’t matter,” she continued. “Either way, I can’t be with you right now. I need to be with Freddie.”

With a pained expression, Anton bowed his head. “I’ll book a hotel room for you. Stay there as long as you need to. I’ll make sure it’s walking distance from the hospital.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she said.

“Yes, I do. I need to do something , because I blame myself for this. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. It wasn’t my place to tell him you were leaving him. He was probably distracted when he was walking back and . . .” Anton bowed his head again.

Sadly, Lillian had no words of comfort to offer Anton—or to anyone else other than Freddie, because he needed all her support, and she felt completely emptied out. “I need to go inside.” Bending slightly to peer into the car, she spoke to Francesco. “Thank you for the ride. You’re a good man, Francesco.”

“I will pray for you and your husband.”

“Grazie .”

Anton was holding the top of the car door, his expression darkening with grief. “I’ll call the hospital and leave a message for you with the hotel information,” he said.

She recognized his pain and couldn’t manage to look him in the eye. It was too much for her to bear. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I need to go now.”

Without any further gesture of good-bye, Lillian turned and walked away from him. She did not permit herself to look back.



Six hours later, Lillian sat down at Freddie’s bedside in the ICU, moments before he was taken into surgery.

His prognosis was the same. He had no sensation in his hands or feet, which meant the likelihood of him ever walking again was slim.

All was calm for a time while Freddie slept and Lillian sat next to him, her mind awash with regret. If only she had stayed in bed the night before and waited until morning to go and see Anton. If she hadn’t sneaked out in the middle of the night, Freddie would be back at the winery, sitting by the pool perhaps, basking in the pride of his completed manuscript, plotting his next novel.

She would never get over the guilt of that decision, not as long as she lived.

Freddie groaned in the bed, and Lillian practically leaped out of her chair. “I’m here, darling. Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

His brow furrowed with agony, and he mumbled unintelligibly. “I couldn’t bear it.” He was drifting in and out. “Please, don’t leave me. I’ll die if you leave me.”