A Year at 32 September Way Read online

  The piazza faded into the background as Charles strode past the shops flanking the marble-paved walkway of the shopping district. His shoes made a rhythmic click-clack sound on the cold stone surface. Glancing toward a suit that was on display in a shop window, Charles caught a glimpse of his own reflection. At first he thought maybe it was someone else’s, but then he looked around to find no one else there. Could it really have been his?

  The tall man had been walking with a spring in his step. Now, standing squarely in front of the store window, he stood straight and tall with air of confidence. The worried creases above his brow were gone, and a peaceful smile gently teased his lips apart. The Charles who stood in front of the store window was not the same one who’d arrived in Verona just three months before. Slowly, he’d been transforming into the man who stood before him today without even realizing it. Coming to Verona had been good for him, and having Sofia in his life had made it even better.

  With a subtle nod toward his reflection in the window, Charles turned on his heels and continued down the street. A narrow section of the ancient limestone amphitheater came into view as he turned the corner and walked toward the Piazza Bra. What a special and magical place it would be to tell Sofia how he felt about her and how grateful he was to have her in his life.

  Chapter 10

  Eva was familiar with the bus route from Verona to Bardolino, thanks to her monthly excursions around Lake Garda. She pushed up the cuff of her jacket and glanced at her watch; it was nearly 12:30, and Bardolino was only ten minutes away. Once she exited the bus, she’d need another ten minutes to walk to the restaurant Marcello had mentioned earlier. A smile spread across her face as she thought about the surprised look on his face when she showed up. Eva didn’t have many opportunities to surprise Marcello, but today she wanted to cheer him up. He’d been nervous and on edge for weeks.

  Marcello was a complicated man, for sure, but Eva knew he loved her. Theirs wasn’t an easy relationship, and his roller-coaster emotions could be exhausting. Yet she was drawn to him like she’d never been to anyone else. Differences in age, country or culture sometimes complicated things, but they certainly wouldn’t hold Eva back from being with the man she loved.

  The first few months in Verona had been challenging, with a more difficult adjustment period for her (and for them) than Eva had anticipated. His empty promises had left her hanging more than once, and she’d been just about ready to call it quits. But their near-breakup, followed by Marcello being hit by a speeding scooter, made her realize how important he was to her and how much she wanted things to work out for them.

  Since the scooter accident, they’d spent less time together, but when Marcello said he would come, he did. The days of empty promises seemed to have ended, allowing a new bond of trust to grow between them. Their lovemaking became sweeter and more intimate, and Eva could see that Marcello cherished their time together. Something was changing in him, though she couldn’t be sure what it was. Whatever was going on, it was definitely for the better, and Eva was glad she’d given him one more chance.

  “Bardolino,” called the bus driver as he pulled to a stop. A teenage boy with iPod music blaring in his ears and an elderly couple exited the bus ahead of Eva. The other three passengers walked down the first side street, heading directly toward the downtown area. Eva continued on until she reached the third side street—a little detour that would allow her to walk along the boardwalk for a few minutes before heading to the restaurant. The December air was crisp and cool, and she loved listening to the waves crashing against the stone embankment between the water and the boardwalk. Similar to the old stones that had become smoother with time, the rough edges of her relationship with Marcello were slowly being smoothed away. Eva felt as invigorated by her thoughts about their future as she was by the mist of cold lake water that travelled on the wind, landing softly against her cheeks.

  ***

  Ever punctual, Carlotta strode down the street toward the restaurant at exactly the time she’d said she would. Marcello caught a glimpse of her from about two blocks away and watched her figure drawing near. The glass of white wine had eased his nerves some, but he knew he’d feel better once this luncheon was over. Making social appearances to keep the town gossips quiet was not his style, and the growing tension between him and Carlotta left Marcello wanting to spend less time along the lake or in the vineyards of Bardolino.

  Even as a middle-aged woman, Carlotta was beautiful. The slender, curvaceous body she’d had when they’d first met had filled out a bit over the years, but she was far from fat. “Soft” was probably a better word for it, Marcello thought. Her hair still fell to her shoulder blades when she wore it down, and it was as jet-black as ever, although he knew she colored it to hide the increasing number of gray hairs. By appearances, no one would ever know how wild and ugly Carlotta had become on the inside.

  Marcello knew the years had changed them both. It seemed that, finally, the changes had grown to be too much for them to bear as a couple. In the past, no matter how busy Carlotta had been with the children or with the wine business and regardless of how busy Marcello had been with either family’s business, they had always found time to spend together. A few days each week were relegated for family time, and a few nights each week were spent alone together, sipping wine, talking about the week and making love.

  “Where did it all disappear to?” Marcello wondered to himself. Wherever it was, he knew it was irretrievable now. All that was holding him and Carlotta together was the vineyard, the three children they’d brought into the world and pressure from her family. But with Marcos, Lorenzo and Sofia grown and out on their own, even they were no longer a sufficient reason to keep trying to repair the crumbling bits of their marriage.

  Carlotta approached the table, and Marcello rose to greet her properly. They exchanged the traditional kiss on each other’s cheeks before Carlotta reached up with her right hand to caress Marcello’s cheek and kiss him tenderly on the lips. It was all for show, he knew it, but for a moment he remembered the times when kisses like that were sincere.

  “A bottle of wine and two glasses,” Marcello said as he and Carlotta retreated indoors to another table. They sat near a window and made small talk about old acquaintances, new businesses in town and the upcoming holidays. To the outside world, they’d have looked like any other married couple enjoying a lunch out together.

  “Some things will be changing soon,” Carlotta said quietly as she shifted away from small talk. The tension that had receded earlier began to rise again, yet her plastered-on smile remained in place. Her eyes gazed out the front door, toward the waves in the lake. As Carlotta continued talking to him, it almost seemed as though she’d become disconnected from the conversation and even from herself.

  “Several years ago my father gave you permission to indulge in an occasional indiscretion or two. I knew about this,” Carlotta continued without meeting his gaze, “because my father and I speak about many things. It’s an accepted practice in my family for the husband to have his little flings now and then, as long as they don’t cause the wife any problems or embarrassment.”

  To punctuate her last statement, Carlotta turned her head abruptly and looked Marcello square in the face. “I have recently been embarrassed after learning that we’ve been the source of gossip in the town my family helped to build. This will not go on, Marcello, and there will be no further indiscretions on your part. No matter how small they may be.”

  Being confronted about an affair was one thing, but the response to that confrontation differed from family to family. In Carlotta’s and Marcello’s families, the agreement had always been to let sleeping dogs lie. Affairs were never spoken about or admitted to, and Marcello had every intention of sticking to the rule that had governed the issue in both of their families for generations. It was there for a reason, and he wouldn’t defy that now because of the town gossips.

  “My dear, you have no worries there,” he reassured his wi
fe, stretching his hand toward hers.

  “I will not be patronized or cajoled,” Carlotta practically spewed under her breath, while still somehow managing to maintain a strained smile. “The little whores you like to frequent will have to find someone else to do dirty little deeds with.”

  She had said “little whores,” noted Marcello. Clearly, his wife knew only of occasional affairs, but not the long-term one he’d been having with Eva. Deep down, he breathed a sigh of relief. Yet he could see that Carlotta was not just expressing the anger of a woman scorned. Her demands were serious; Marcello’s head began to spin as he tried to figure out how he’d be able to continue having sweet Eva in his life.

  Carlotta took one last sip of wine, patted her lips with her cloth napkin and laid it across her plate. She bent toward Marcello to kiss him on the cheek and whispered into his ear: “The consequences of going against my wishes will far exceed anything you’ve already experienced at the hands of my family.”

  She straightened her back and glanced toward the door. The wind had whipped up a bit, and the waves started crashing more loudly against the embankment. “Perhaps I’ll use the bathroom before I leave.” Then she turned from the table and walked toward the back of the restaurant.

  Tilting his head back, Marcello swallowed the last swig of wine in his glass and poured himself another one. He tried to process the conversation, but it all seemed so surreal. Thoughts of what he would say to Eva carried him so far away from where he sat that he didn’t even realize someone was standing next to him until he looked up and saw Eva there.

  “Eva, what are you doing here?” Marcello stammered as he snapped back to reality.

  A giggle escaped her lips. “I had some unexpected free time and wanted to surprise you, darling!”

  She bent down and kissed him gently on the cheek. The warmth of her breath on his face calmed his nerves for but a second before he heard Carlotta’s voice hissing in his other ear.

  “I knew if I was patient enough I’d stumble on something juicy to lord over you for the rest of your life,” Carlotta seethed. She planted an exaggerated kiss on Marcello’s other cheek and then stood up to face Eva. The young German woman, the woman Marcello had grown to love, stood next to the table still as a statue with a mixture of confusion, hurt and horror on her face.

  “And you, you little whore,” Carlotta spat at Eva, “my husband’s philandering days are over. There will be no more one-night stands. You can go home now. Go!”

  “Your husband?” Eva stammered as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked from Carlotta to Marcello and back, trying to make sense of it all. Surely this horrible woman must be lying. She and Marcello had been together for more than a year now; she would know if he was married. Wouldn’t she?

  Eva returned her gaze to Marcello. Surely he had a logical explanation; she just knew it. He would reassure her that this older woman was a stranger or a jealous ex-girlfriend. “Marcello?” she said, waiting for the answer she was sure would put a stop to the pain that filled her heart.

  The wait felt like forever, even though it had only been a few seconds. Not a word came as he looked up at her with pleading and sorrow-filled eyes before turning away and looking at the ground. A tiny gasp escaped Eva’s lips before she burst into tears and ran out of the restaurant. The two other couples in the restaurant watched the scene in silence, and the wait staff hovered around the back of the restaurant, pretending to be busy.

  “The bill has been paid, and we are leaving. Get out of your chair now and walk out of the restaurant,” spat Carlotta. She stepped alongside him, and Marcello felt something hard and cold being thrust into his right side. “Move and keep walking along with me until I tell you to do otherwise.”

  The couple walked out of the restaurant and toward the boardwalk. Anyone who saw them would think they were just another local couple enjoying an afternoon walk together along the lake. Marcello’s mind raced as he tried to absorb the scene that had just played out in the restaurant while frantically trying to figure out how to calm his wife before she did something stupid and hurt one or both of them. Meanwhile, Carlotta kept the gun pushed firmly into his side, and there was no doubt in his mind that she would use it. Her behavior lately had been aggressive, often crazed. Yet he’d never felt that his life might be at-risk until now.

  The same fake, thin smile stretched the skin of Carlotta’s face taut. She began to speak in a low, hushed tone that reminded Marcello of the way the lake water calmed down right before a storm hit. Shivers ran down his spine as he listened. “I’ve accepted many things over the years. I turned the other cheek. I did my wifely duty and provided you with three children. And though I denied you my body these last years, I never embarrassed or shamed you in public. Nobody shames me!”

  Carlotta’s voice echoed down the boardwalk as if it were being carried by the wind. Her increasing volume drifted toward the steps fifty feet away where Eva sat crying behind some bushes and a large tuft of decorative grass. Her hunched shoulders straightened and she peered around the grass to find the source of the wretched voice that yelled at her just moments ago. There she saw Carlotta and Marcello standing face to face on the boardwalk. The shorter, smartly dressed Italian woman’s jet-black hair whipped around in the wind as she repeatedly thrust an accusing finger into Marcello’s chest to punctuate her words.

  Marcello, who stood with his back to the beauty of Lake Garda, didn’t move an inch. But he showed none of the confidence and strength he’d always exhibited with Eva. Standing a short distance from where she was hiding, she saw a man who looked scared—the color drained from his cheeks and a look of horror in his eyes. He’d betrayed her; for more than a year he betrayed her. Yet, she felt compelled to stay where she was and see what happened next. Whatever happened, she needed to know that he would be okay. Even though he’d made it clear with his behavior that he didn’t care about her…that he’d never cared about her…she still cared about him. Once Eva could see that he was okay, she would walk away and out of his life forever.

  “Nobody shames me!” Carlotta repeated, this time yelling at the top of her lungs, knowing the sound of the waves crashing against the embankment would drown out her voice. She leaned back as if to gain momentum before ricocheting forward to spit in Marcello’s face. The gesture was enough to jolt him out of his fear.

  From her vantage point 50 feet away, Eva could hear nothing over the loud crashing of the waves. It was as if she were watching a silent movie play out before her. Carlotta’s mouth contorted and opened wide, and it looked like she was yelling at the top of her lungs. Then she’d reeled back before springing forward toward Marcello again. Had she spit at him? She couldn’t have, but then Eva saw him push Carlotta back and move to wipe something off his face—something that clearly disgusted him, judging by the way his face twisted.

  The situation was quickly escalating, Eva could see that. No one else was around. No one else was there to step in and break things up. From behind the tall ornamental grass, the young woman wondered if perhaps she should intervene. But then again, what would she do? And why would she even consider doing it?

  Snapping herself back to reality, she peered around the tall grass once more. Marcello was tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket. He glanced up from his pants pocket to Carlotta and said something. Eva couldn’t figure out what, but she noticed that his entire demeanor had changed. Gesturing around quickly with his hands the way he did when he wanted to emphasize the importance of what he was saying, Marcello spoke to Carlotta again. Neither anger nor fear registered on his face. Acceptance. Acceptance was what Eva saw; he was accepting the situation or whatever Carlotta had said to him.

  Eva ducked back behind the grass when Marcello turned in her direction, but then he stopped and faced Carlotta squarely. They exchanged more words, and then Eva saw the man she’d loved so deeply brush his hands, one against the other, as if he were wiping off a few errant crumbs. Then he turned in the other direction and started
to walk away.

  The waves died down just enough for Eva to hear Carlotta scream, “Don’t you walk away from me!” Reaching down into her left coat pocket, the older Italian woman drew out something that glinted bright and silver as a ray of sun broke through the clouds and shone directly on it. At first, Eva had no idea what the object was; she could only see its bright reflection.

  Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion as she realized, too late, what Carlotta held in her left hand. Eva sprang from the steps to the boardwalk and yelled, “No!”

  At that very moment, Carlotta and Marcello turned to see Eva running toward them down the boardwalk. Carlotta looked from Eva to Marcello, her jet-black hair waving wildly in the wind.

  “Stop!” cried Eva, “Stop!” And she saw the expression on Marcello’s face change as he caught the first glimpse of the gun in his wife’s hand. He lunged toward Carlotta as Eva drew nearer, both of them yelling, and then all was silenced by a loud and sudden bang.

  Chapter 11

  Sirens wailed loudly, and the lights from the police car and ambulance flashed along a distant stretch of the lakefront. Screams of shock and terror matched the cacophony of sirens. A small crowd of nearby restaurant owners and locals who’d been window-shopping gathered several feet above the boardwalk.

  “Please help, please help!” they heard the voice wailing from below. Eva lay in a crumpled heap on the frigid concrete as spray from the cold lake water came to rest in tiny beads on her hair. The waves had grown choppier in the last few minutes, and the single ray of sun that had broken through the clouds had long since disappeared.