Taming Mariella Page 16

  Mariella’s relationship with Ian progressed more smoothly. They spent much of their time traveling to museums and galleries. On one weekend, Ian called Mariella and told her to pack a bag for at least two nights. He picked her up and drove to Washington, D.C., where they visited several museums including the Spy Museum and the National Gallery of Art. All too soon winter turned into spring and Mariella decided to visit her sister Isabella in upstate New York.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me coming?” Ian asked.

  “No, I want you to meet them.”

  Ian could gauge the distance to the house by the excitement on Mariella’s face. He was better able to read her moods these days. Someone else would see a cool woman in a sports jacket and jeans, but he saw the slight softening of her mouth and the brightness of her eyes. She looked like a young girl on a trip to a fantasy land. He hid a smile. “You’re really happy about this. But you saw your sister in December.”

  “I know, but I never tire of seeing them. I can’t wait to surprise her.”

  Ian looked at her, alarmed. “She doesn’t know you’re coming?”

  “No.”

  “She might not be home.”

  “She’ll be home. She would have just finished playing the piano for Nicodemus.”

  “Nicodemus?”

  “Yes.”

  Before he could ask more questions she said, “Turn here.”

  He did and was soon greeted by the sight of a large Victorian house. He parked and Mariella jumped out of the car and raced up the stairs then stopped and stood in front of the door.

  Ian slowly climbed the stairs, sending her an odd look. “Why won’t you knock?”

  “Hear that piano?”

  He nodded, the melodious sound coming through the open window.

  “I don’t want to disturb her. She’ll be done in a minute.”

  “But—”

  “Nicodemus doesn’t like it when a song doesn’t reach the end.” She tilted her head and listened. “There’s the last note.” She raised her hand and knocked. Moments later a petite woman answered. Her eyes widened and she threw herself at Mariella as though she hadn’t seen her in years.

  “Mariella!” she said, her slender arms wrapped around her sister in a big hug. She stepped back. “I can’t believe you’re here. It’s so good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too.”

  The woman directed her bright brown eyes on Ian. “And who might you be?”

  Mariella turned to him. “This is Ian Cooper.”

  She shook his hand. “Yes, I know. I was only being polite.” Although Isabella didn’t have her sister’s exquisite beauty, she was captivating and her intelligent, assessing gaze made heat steal into his cheeks.

  He released her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You play the piano beautifully.”

  “Hmm.” She turned and looked down at the white cat who sat in the middle of the hallway. “Tell that to him.”

  Ian looked around. “To who?”

  She pointed at the cat. “Nicodemus.”

  “You play for a cat?”

  Isabella raised a finger to her lips. “Shh, I’m not always sure that he is one.”

  Ian sent Mariella a curious look, but she just grinned. The cat looked up at them, then walked past and out the door.

  “Don’t ask, come on in.”

  “Where’s Kati?” Mariella asked.

  “Out with her dad. They’ll be back soon.” She looped her arm through Mariella’s. “Now you have to tell me all that you’ve been up to.”

  Ian followed the pair into the living room, but they talked so fast he couldn’t catch what they were saying. Instead he looked around the house at the pictures on the wall. He saw four young women in front of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Another photograph was of a young woman who looked like a chubby version of Mariella, an older man and two small children. He spotted some other pictures of Mariella and her three sisters with their father. What he found curious was that in most of the pictures, Mariella was either on her father’s lap or at his side. Mariella was as exquisite then as she was now, but looked a lot happier as though the world was her private playground. Interestingly Ian didn’t see that happy girl in later pictures. It was as if that little girl was taken away after the death of her father.

  Ian turned when he heard the front door close.

  “Alex,” Isabella called. “We have visitors.”

  “Who?”

  “Mariella and Ian. Ian’s around here somewhere. I’m afraid we made him feel a bit excluded.”

  Ian knew that was his cue to emerge from the hallway. He walked into the room and saw a tall, strikingly handsome young man holding a little girl. The little girl had the Duvall look—her features both broad and fine, clear brown eyes surrounded by a perfect row of curled lashes.

  Isabella rushed up to him and pulled him forward. He was too stunned by her boldness to refuse. “Alex, this is Ian Cooper. Ian, my husband Alex.”

  They shook hands.

  “And this is Kati.”

  Ian went to shake her hand, but she moved away, and hugged her father’s neck. “She takes a while to warm up to people,” Alex said.

  Ian shrugged. “That’s okay.”

  “Cooper, your name sounds familiar to me. Were you the one who did that feature story in Time about the condition of Aborigines in Australia?”

  “That was a while back, but yes, that was me.”

  “Impressive piece of journalism. It actually encouraged people to see if they could help make a difference. They’re developing schools in the area from what I understand.”

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  Alex sat down, placing Kati on his lap. “What are you working on now?”

  “Nothing.”

  Mariella filled in for him. “He is the owner of Flash magazine.”

  Alex nodded. “Oh.”

  Ian saw some of his interest dim and sighed. He saw the little girl wiggle off her father’s lap then find her doll in the corner and start to talk to it. “It started out as my father’s company,” he said, feeling the need to explain.

  “Really,” Alex said with renewed interest. “And you took over?”

  “Yes, he asked me to.”

  “He must be proud.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Isabella hit him in the arm. “I told you that.”

  Alex rubbed his arm. “I forgot.”

  “You weren’t listening.”

  He grinned. “Yes, that too.”

  Mariella spoke up. “His father was Jeremiah Cooper, the renowned photographer. But of course I wouldn’t have expected you to know him.”

  Alex raised a brow. “Because I just have money, but no class?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do you want me to share what I think about you?”

  “Alex,” Isabella said in warning.

  “Please do,” Mariella said. “Enlighten me.” She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I always find it fascinating to know what thoughts you manage to put together when you’re not busy hammering something.”

  “I enjoy hammering. I just pretend I’m closing your mouth.”

  “Stop it, you two,” Isabella said. “You’re making Ian nervous. He doesn’t know you’re joking.”

  Alex looked at Mariella. “Are we joking?”

  Mariella checked her manicure. “I was being serious. I think you’re uncouth.”

  “And I think you’re a spoiled brat.”

  Ian watched the interplay of teasing with fascination. He’d never experienced such banter in his own family. His family used cutting remarks and put-downs when they spoke to each other. “How long have you known Mariella?”

  “Too long.”

  Isabella hit him. “Alex, stop it.”

  “You’re going to leave me with bruises.”

  “Then behave yourself.”<
br />
  “I’m just answering honestly.”

  “Careful,” Mariella said in a sweet tone. “I knew you when you were still sucking on your mother’s—”

  Alex glared at her. “Watch it.”

  Isabella smiled at Ian. “Just ignore them. We basically all grew up together. And as you can see we get along famously.” Isabella stood. “I’m going to call Velma. You two must stay for dinner.”

  They did. Not that Ian felt they had a chance to say no. He tried to be cordial though he felt a little uneasy when Alex’s mother Velma arrived. The older woman watched him with suspicious eyes. She dressed well, but had the hands of a woman who’d worked all her life. He attempted to relieve any of her suspicions by joining in, but most of the time he remained an observer as they all talked and laughed. They sat for a long time gathered around the dinner table piled high with a selection of food: jerk chicken, a pot of greens, jambalaya, done right, fried plantains and rice. During dinner there was a lively discussion between Mariella, Isabella and Alex about their other siblings. Ian was captivated by it all.

  He wondered about how easy and friendly their relationship was. There didn’t appear to be any competition between them. He’d always thought these happy families weren’t real—that they were staged, a trick of the light. But it was clear that they all genuinely cared for each other.

  They had a special bond that was real and true. Ian felt like an intruder. At that moment he wished for the sanctity of his darkroom. The joy and beauty around him was almost painful. Like someone not used to light stepping out into the sun. After dinner as everyone gathered in the conservatory, Ian slipped outside. He stared out at the backyard, still showing signs of the setting sun over the grass.

  Inside, Mariella watched him.

  “I’d be careful of that one,” Velma said.

  Mariella turned to her, surprised. “You don’t like him?”

  “I didn’t say I don’t like him, I just said be careful.”

  Mariella looked at Isabella. “What do you think?”

  “He seems very nice.”

  “How do you know?” Velma countered. “He’s hardly said anything.”

  Alex who’d been quietly watching the exchange spoke up. “I don’t think it’s fair to pull the poor guy to shreds in his absence. He didn’t come to get analyzed.”

  Isabella smiled at her husband then blew him a kiss. “I love you. You’re still so young and innocent.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Why else would Mariella have brought him here?”

  Alex looked blank then began to understand. “Oh.”

  “So what do you think?”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Well, I think he’s a good guy except for one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I question his taste in women.”

  Isabella picked up a couch pillow and threw it at him. “Go away.”

  He stood up and laughed. “With pleasure.”

  Once Alex had left the room, the women resumed their discussion. “It isn’t about what we think, dear,” Velma said. “It’s what you think.”

  “She loves him,” Isabella said. “It’s obvious to me.”

  Velma looked grim. “Then you’ve chosen one strange man to fall in love with. I’m not saying there’s anything clearly wrong with him. He’s attractive.”

  “He’s gorgeous,” Isabella said.

  “Hey!” a male voice said from the hallway.

  “Alex, stop listening in or I’ll describe in detail just how gorgeous I think he is.”

  Alex stuck his head inside. “Go ahead.”

  “Stop it,” Mariella said. “Let Velma finish what she was saying.”

  Isabella nodded. “You’re right, go ahead, Velma.”

  Velma straightened. “Yes, even though he’s attractive, and successful you must understand that you do not marry that man.”

  Isabella glanced at Mariella, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you can marry a man who is loyal to his employees and disloyal to his wife. A man who is attractive to the world and ugly to his family. Mariella, if you are in love with this man I hope you’ve fallen in love with the man and not just the image he gives you. Because he seems the type of man who is adept at showing the right image.”

  “People misunderstand him. He really is kind and smart and…you remember those pictures of children that I have over my bed? He took those pictures when he was younger.”

  Velma took her hand. “Yes, but that was when he was younger. What is he like now?”

  Isabella jumped to her feet. “I’ve got an idea.”

  The two women looked at her. “What?”

  “Kati and I are going to go for a walk.”

  Chapter 18

  Outside, Ian stood mesmerized by the sight of a family of rabbits. He didn’t hear Isabella at the door until she spoke. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said, noticing that she held Kati’s hand.

  “We’re going for a walk to take some pictures,” she said, gesturing to the camera in her other hand. “Dad used to do that with us all the time. You might like it. Would you like to come?”

  “No thanks.”

  She sent him a considering look then rubbed her arms. “Brr, it’s a little colder than I thought.” She quickly retreated inside. “I’d better go get a jacket. Could you just watch her for a moment? I’ll be back in a second.” She handed him the camera, then dashed back inside before he could reply.

  Ian looked down at Kati, who stood desolate on the porch. She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. Then her face crumpled up.

  Dread gripped him. “No, please don’t do this to me.”

  She let out a big wail.

  Ian looked helplessly at the closed door. “Mommy’s coming back. Don’t cry.” He knelt down in front of her. “Please don’t cry.”

  She didn’t hear him, filling up her little lungs for another wail.

  He lifted the camera. “Would you like me to take your picture? Huh? I’ll take your picture so you can be like Aunt Mariella?”

  The name of her aunt seemed to catch her attention. Her crying immediately stopped, becoming sniffles.

  He waved the camera. “Do you want your picture taken?”

  She pointed to it. “Picwur,” she said. Although her pronunciation wasn’t accurate, Ian knew exactly what she meant.

  Ian let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, let me take your picture.” He lifted up the camera and looked at her through the LCD monitor. Without any direction Kati placed her hands on her hips, posed and smiled.

  He grinned, then snapped the photo. “You like getting your picture taken, don’t you?” He turned the screen to her so that she could see her image. She giggled.

  At that moment Isabella appeared. “I’m sorry. Her jacket was buried in the closet.” She took Kati’s hand. “Come on, poppet.”

  Kati defiantly yanked her hand away. “No.”

  Isabella rolled her eyes. “They weren’t kidding you about the terrible twos.” She took her daughter’s hand again. “Come on.”

  Kati tried to yank her hand free again. When she couldn’t she began to cry. “Picwur, picwur.”

  Isabella stared down at her at a loss. “What?”

  “She wants her picture taken,” Ian said.

  “Of course you would, you vain little thing. All right.” She gave Ian a knowing look.

  Soon Kati was all smiles again. She ran in front of Ian and took a striking pose looking out from behind an evergreen. Ian looked at Isabella and shrugged.

  “Go ahead. As you have discovered, she loves having her picture taken.”

  He did. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Shh, we’re trying to keep it a secret from her.”

  Ian laughed as Kati struck another pose. “I think she already knows.”

  “She loves fashion and pictures of her Aunt Ma-La-La. She hasn’t gotten ‘Mariella’ down yet.”
>
  Ian took more pictures of her playing in the front lawn picking up buttercups then throwing them up in the air and laughing when they fell on her face, falling back on the ground and twirling around, her joy contagious.

  From a distance Mariella and Velma watched them.

  “I suppose he has possibilities,” Velma said, watching Ian tuck the bouquet of buttercups Kati had given him in his jacket pocket.

  “Yes,” Mariella said softly. “I think so.”

  Kati glanced up. When she saw Mariella, she ran over to her and grabbed her hand then pointed at Ian. “Picwur. Picwur.”

  Mariella lifted Kati up in her arms. “That sounds like fun.” She winked at Ian. “Can you manage two beautiful people?”

  He clicked the shutter button. “I’ll do my best.”

  For the next half hour, he took pictures of Mariella with Kati and some with Isabella, although she preferred not to be in the picture. When he had finished, Ian knelt next to Kati, who had been standing patiently to see herself and showed her all the pictures.

  “You’re amazing,” Isabella said next to him. “These are very good.”

  “You could send these to a modeling agency,” Mariella said.

  “Kati is not going to model.”

  Mariella shrugged, unperturbed. “Just a thought.”

  “But I definitely have to have them framed. They’re works of art.”

  “More, more,” Kati demanded.

  Isabella shook her head. “No more. That’s enough now.”

  “No. I want picwurs!”

  “We are going to go inside.” Isabella bent down until she was at eye level with Kati. “Now.”

  Kati scrunched up her face, tears building in her eyes.

  “And if you cry, I’ll tell Aunt Mariella not to tuck you in.”

  Kati folded her arms then marched into the house. Isabella watched her, shaking her head, then looked at her sister. “Does she remind you of anyone?”

  Mariella feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Ian grinned. “I do.”