Brave Hearts

By Samantha L'Ile

Francesca is a confident thirty-year-old who dances through life and relationships at her own rules, as free as the sea and as light as the wind. She has always lived for her art and without any ties save for her two friends but when Margherita moves to Japan and Sabrina keeps at a distance, Francesca suddenly finds herself alone.

It’s by chance that Francesca meets Leonardo, a young man who faces life with joy despite a terrible accident that has forced him on a wheelchair. They immediately fall into an easy friendship, but perhaps the tenderness between them can turn into something more and together they will find the courage to love each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Oct 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781507133231

Book preview

Prologue

June 6th, 2013 - Gavirate

Saying goodbye to someone you love as they go off on a long journey is really hard, especially if that person is one of the best friends you have in the whole world. I’ve known Margherita for many years now and if someone had ever told me that one day she’d drop everything to go and live in Japan, I would have burst out laughing. Yet there she is, moving on towards a new and exciting life ten thousand kilometers away. Sure, the Tazio factor is not be underestimated. Her colleague and best friend for years, now they are finally together. Megs is hopelessly in love and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for her. Should he ever cheat on her or betray her, I’ll fly on Japanese soil and hang him to the Tokyo Tower by his balls!

Anyway here I am, looking on as my predictable friend jumps right into an adventure while I’m staying home to take care of renting out her apartment. Why she asked me of all people is a mystery. I was sure that she would entrust this task to Sabrina, our best friend, who is as precise and as perfect as she is. Or to her parents, or to her unpleasant future brother-in-law, or to anyone else really. Yet this task has befallen me, the unpredictable and unreliable Francesca Mare!

Chapter One

The last couple that came by to see the apartment was the worst of all: an aspiring drummer who wants to turn the smaller bedroom into a rehearsal room and a dancer who wants to install a pole there to practice pole dancing. I would take them on as tenants just to see how Tommasina – the lady who lives upstairs – would react. It would truly be fun to watch the struggle between a lively eighty-year-old and those two pseudo-artists. Really, the only thing that stops me from giving in to temptation is that the apartment belongs to one of my best friends.

Before moving to Tokyo with her boyfriend, Megs begged me to look on the agency that was going to deal with renting out her apartment and choose carefully. She’s quite attached to it because that is the apartment that she bought as a sign of independence after a bad breakup with her ex. He was the biggest jerk that ever lived and I would willingly have castrated him and chopped him into pieces but luckily Megs had both me and Sabrina to comfort her, and her guy best friend to cuddle her and make her fall head over heels in love with him.

I wish them well but, truth be told, I don’t believe in soul mates and happy endings. They are nothing but fairy tales invented for children and I would know – I learned it from a man, the very one who I thought was a white knight, fearless and charming.

The bells from the church in Gavirate chimed. It’s six o’clock, and I’m late. I had an appointment at the real estate agency thirty minutes ago, but I know I’ll be forgiven.

Good evening, Francesca.

Hello, Mario. Sorry I’m late.

Never mind, I did some paperwork while I was waiting.

Sure enough, dealing with men quite easy as they are simple and predictable creatures. I have more problems with women, but that’s only because they like competing with each other and don’t like to lose.

You’re in great shape, as always. How are you?

Very well, thanks. Have you set a viewing tonight?

Yes. We’re just in time to get to the house.

You had set everything knowing I wouldn’t get here in time... You know me so well now.

Of course, my dear: you are as late as ever. But you’re also too nice to be scolded. Shall we?

Mario opens the door and lets me through, and I follow him as he heads towards the apartment. He’s the owner of the estate agency that Megs has hired. The office is located a few steps from the apartment so it is easy for employees to make appointments with potential tenants. At the beginning – a month ago now – Massimo was the one taking care of things but he was young and newly hired, and when I saw how hard it was for him to look at people in the eye, I knew that he would never make it. But Megs needs the rent money to pay the mortgage so I had to step in.

I knew that I would find a solution – getting men to do what I want is something so easy it is almost boring sometimes. Persuading the director to personally take care of the case was a breeze. Mario is the classic 50-year-old family man suffering from midlife crisis, and he started drooling after me as soon as I walked through the door of his office. He merely throws longing glances in my direction and pays me compliments, but he won’t go beyond because he’s not the type to cheat on his wife. All in all he’s a good man, but I don’t envy his wife.

Tonight we’ll meet a special person; I think he’s the right one. Unfortunately he’s on a wheelchair, but I have personally verified the measurements and the apartment is suitable.

The image of a great-looking boy zooming away on the bike path in his wheelchair fills my mind. I only saw him twice and on both occasions I was struck like lightning, and at the moment I'm getting nervous at the thought of seeing him again. His name is Leonardo and I'm sure it's him. Mario continues to babble about running boards for the kitchen and small adjustments to the bathroom, assuring me that the changes that are needed to make the apartment perfect for a wheelchair-bound person are minimal and reversible. I barely register his words until Mario says his name. Leo is a great guy, very reliable.

How old is he?

Twenty-four. He's younger than your friend’s requirements but I guarantee you that he will treat the apartment with the utmost care.

Among Megs’s requests were details on age and marital status, which absolutely excluded single men. The document she drafted is longer and goes more in depth than the technical specifications of a NASA telescope, and following it to the letter is an impossible mission. So I have reasonably decided to ignore it, obviously without telling Megs or she wouldn’t sleep for worry. My questions actually have a more selfish purpose – that of satisfying my curiosity.

Does he want to live alone or with a girlfriend?

No, he’s single. But his mother and other relatives will help him manage the house.

Do you know his family?

They are very well known in the community; an admirable family. His mother does volunteer work as do his two older sisters, and one is part of the church choir. Leo was a promising athlete before the accident.

What happened to him?

I can’t help asking questions even though I already know the story: he was in a car crash with a drunk driver when he was only twenty-two. I can’t imagine how anyone could live in a wheelchair and keep smiling yet he radiates joy and looks like the happiest person in the world.

Mario follows more or less my train of thought, and adds that Tommasina would be glad to have him as a neighbor, an advantage that should not be underestimated given that she owns the other three apartments in the building and can really be hostile to those she doesn’t like. I see him as soon as we arrive in front of the house, amiably chatting with Tommasina in front of the gate.

He is even better looking than I remembered, with straight black hair and eyes as blue as a  mountain lake. His skin is tanned, and his smile so genuine that you feel immediately at ease. He looks tall, with muscular chest and arms which are visible through a tight T-shirt with elbow-length sleeves. His skinny legs are hidden by a pair of baggy pants.

He smiles at us in greeting while Mario smiles back and greets him in a cheerful voice, turning to the 80-year-old Tommasina as well. I walk over and shake his hand. His grip is hot and strong while mine unfortunately is awkward.

Nice to meet you, I'm Leonardo Ghini.

Francesca Mare. The pleasure is mine.

He doesn’t remember that we glimpsed each other twice already and this bothers me. A man usually doesn’t forget about me that quickly.

The apartment belongs to a friend of yours, doesn’t it? I think I saw her around, but we never talked to each other.

Yes, it’s hers. She’s abroad now, and I’m trying to rent it. Well, Mario is, actually.

Hearing Megs name, Tommasina intrudes into our conversation immediately, eyes shining. I really miss Margherita, but I'm happy she is with Tazio Federico. He’s the one and I hope to attend their wedding soon.

Then you’ll be happy to know that Taz proposed.

"Oh, but I know all about it, my dear. We e-mail. Her pronouncing the word as it is written makes me smile and Tommasina is slightly annoyed, thinking I’m making fun of her. I'm not so out of the world and technology as you think, my dear."

This time, the endearment doesn’t sound very affectionate and Mario saves me by suggesting we start our tour of the apartment. We walk into all the rooms and, although Mario’s tone is more casual, the script is the same. Two large, airy rooms, kitchen, living room, spacious bathroom with a huge shower, a useful utility room, and a garden on two sides. I don’t care much about the external boiler installed just five years ago but I’m attracted to the part about the southeast exposure. Mario focuses on it, pulling out a compass and presenting it as a treasure to the customer. In fact, the light ought to be beautiful and I’m sorry Megs has painted all the walls white.

So what do you think, Leo?

I like it a lot and the location is great. My only concern is about the yearly contract. I’m looking for a stable solution, and I wouldn’t want to move in twelve months’ time.

As I explained on the phone, it is a condition set by the owner, but it's just a precaution. She actually plans on renewing the lease from year to year if all goes well.

Megs’s endless list of requirements always makes poor Mario sweat as he tries to get around them despite knowing that are set in stone.

I don’t know. I would like to add some personal touch, and I would feel better with a four-year contract.

Megs has subjected me to a quick but exhaustive training course before giving me this task and the word changes sets off an alarm. What kind of changes would you have in mind? My friend cares a lot about the house and the furniture.

Nothing major: small adjustments to suit my needs and then I would like to add some color. This minimalism doesn’t suit to me; I would like more warmth. Some paintings on the walls and flowers in the garden. Maybe repaint the kitchen in a warm color.

You're right, this white is too serious. Go ahead and don’t worry: Megs will be in Tokyo for three years and I doubt she will never return to live here. This apartment is only her anchor, a kind of mental lifesaver, but she will never live within these walls again.

Mario is like a man reborn and regains confidence in the success of the deal. In fact, he immediately launches in a new attack. Well, did you hear that, Leo? I knew it was the right place for you. Are we done?

When Leo nods and smiles, I am dazzled as well as relieved and happy. Megs will be satisfied and I'm glad that he will move in here, although I don’t know why.

Perfect, then we can make an appointment at the agency and sign the papers. When would you like to move in?

Immediately, or as soon as possible. I can’t wait. Thank you, Mario.

They shake hands and the matter has come to an end. One less thing for me to do.

Chapter Two

All week I thought of Leo, the move and especially his words about the colors that he would like to add to the apartment. Ever since he mentioned his wish to hang paintings, all I do is see things  that I'd like to paint. A myriad of images perfect for him whirls in my mind and it is a ridiculous situation because I don’t even know him and I have no idea what he might like.

Maybe he's the kind of guy that hangs cheap posters depicting famous paintings, or maybe he likes photographs. He was an athlete and maybe he wanted to cover the walls with shots of famous victories: a runner crossing the finish line or a cyclist in the final sprint. I would have been greatly disappointed if he did, and my need to know the truth at all costs pushed me to visit him and ask him directly.

I decide to use the excuse of the set of keys that I forgot to hand in at the agency; it wouldn’t be right to keep a copy now that the house has been rented. My reflection in the rearview mirror winks seductively: I don’t want to impress, but my pride is still smarting from the fact that Leo has forgotten about me. He might not have known my name, but no one had ever forgotten my face before. I don’t want to be vain but neither am I a hypocrite: redheads always attract attention and I’ve always been a looker, as my Dad used to say. Your pretty face will be a powerful weapon when you grow up, my sweet. Don’t hesitate to use it because this is a harsh world.

He kept telling me and I learned the lesson well. Beauty might not open all doors and it might not be enough to succeed, but it certainly does not hurt.

The apple-green linen suit I’m wearing is perfect to make a good impression on charming Leo: it’s short enough and tight where it should be. The name on the buzzer confirms that the move has taken place already. Yesterday Leo spent the first night in his new home – who knows if he was alone or with others. The second time I saw him he was with a very pretty girl, at least for those who prefer the blonde, girl-next-door type.

For a second my confidence falters. Maybe I was too impulsive and it was wrong to come here. My finger seems disconnected from my brain and decides to ring – it’s too late now. But maybe Leo isn’t home; it’s nearing cocktail