A Year at 32 September Way Page 13

  He’d smiled, tipped his hat to her and walked through the piazza and down the street that led to the Casa de Giulietta. Carlisle assumed that would be the last she’d see of him. After all, Verona was a big city, and the chances of running into a stranger a third time were probably slim. Plus, she had turned him down twice. So it was much to her surprise when the third encounter happened.

  “I was sitting at a corner table at the Filarmonico Caffee, sheltered beneath the large green awning,” she began to tell Eva. “I’d ordered a cappuccino and was just watching the locals go about their business on a lazy afternoon.” Carlisle went on to explain what transpired next: she was engrossed in an Italian newspaper, trying to read some of the words, when the waiter brought out her cappuccino. Initially, she didn’t even look up. She simply thanked him and kept reading.

  A moment later, the man cleared his throat, and she looked up to see Roberto standing there. “Oh, it’s you! I didn’t know you worked here,” Carlisle exclaimed.

  “No, Signorina, I do not work here. I saw you here and gave the waiter a tip so I could deliver your cappuccino. And now, since you already have a cappuccino, I will ask you to come dance with me later this week.” He smiled sweetly, and she could see he was harmless. She couldn’t bear to turn him down a third time.

  “Okay. Yes, Roberto, I will go dancing with you! I’m Carlisle, by the way.” She invited him to sit down and join her with a cappuccino. They made small talk about the café, and Roberto told her that many musicians and famous opera singers came there to celebrate after performing at the arena in the summertime. He was charming and friendly, perhaps not exactly her type, but she was pleased when they parted ways with plans to meet up a few nights later for dancing.

  Eva clapped her hands with joy for her friend. “I love it! Your first date in Italy! You didn’t even tell me about his Italian good looks…tell me!”

  “Well”, laughed Carlisle, “he’s about my height, 5 feet 5 inches, and a little bit portly…so, he’s not exactly an Italian stallion. But he’s very friendly. It’s Italy; why not?”

  The two friends laughed as they agreed. The Italians lived life to the fullest. Why shouldn’t they?

  ***

  It was the second day in a row she hadn’t visited the rehabilitation center, and Eva felt out of place in her own apartment. Marcello had transitioned from the hospital to the rehab center easily, and the doctors suggested that some independence might help him with his recovery. Eva had urged Marcello to focus on getting better, assuring him that she would remain in Verona and that they could spend more time talking about their relationship later.

  For the past two months, her life had consisted of running back and forth from the hospital. She’d spent very little time exploring Verona and had had only a handful of opportunities to spend time with her friends. One benefit of being at the hospital all the time was the opportunity to get to know Sofia and the rest of Marcello’s family better. It had been uncomfortable at first, but over time it was clear to all of them that she was far more devoted to him than Carlotta had ever been.

  Eva was content to push relationship issues aside for now because the stress wasn’t good for Marcello. Her love for him was constant; she was sure of her feelings for him and felt certain he loved her. But the majority of their relationship had been built on lies and deception. If they had any hope of a future together, their relationship would have to go through a rehab and rebuilding process, just like Marcello’s body. But at that point, Eva wasn’t sure she even wanted to rebuild her relationship with Marcello.

  Finding ways to keep herself busy had become a lost art over the past couple months; one that Eva would have to regain. Spending more time with Carlisle was one way to fill time, and the two women became even closer. But there would still be a lot of time to fill between socializing with friends and visiting Marcello every other day.

  From her vantage point in the overstuffed chair of her sitting area, Eva glanced toward the tall bookshelf to see if a particular favorite happened to catch her eye. Instead, she remembered the hidden room behind the bookshelf she’d explored once and had long since forgotten. Maybe a more thorough exploration was just the ticket to filling time and staving off boredom.

  ***

  The rain pitter-pattered rhythmically on the roof of the aluminum trailer that served as Josh’s quiet area for breaks or rests between filming. Normally, the tinny sound lulled him into a peaceful state, but not today. Instead it punctuated every thought running through his head, magnifying their weight. Things had been going so well the past two years, or at least he’d thought so.

  He’d had his suspicions for a while; Nicolette was often out until the wee hours of the morning on nights when he got home early. They were still spending the entire weekend together, but she’d grown increasingly withdrawn and detached. And then there was the weight loss.

  Josh’s wife was a beautiful woman, drop-dead gorgeous, in fact. She had the lean, toned build of a statuesque ballerina and barely had to do anything other than yoga to stay that way. But lately, he’d noticed how her clothes hung on her, rather than accentuating her beautiful body. When they’d made love four weeks ago, he was shocked to see how thin she’d become. His gasp of surprise and concerned comments had been enough to put Nicolette on the defensive, and they hadn’t been intimate since. In their few years together, no matter what happened, they always reconnected by making love. Now she refused; the connection to her, it seemed, was lost.

  Snooping around and looking through her things was the last thing Josh wanted to do. “But when you live with a recovering addict, sometimes you end up doing things you’d rather not,” he’d reminded himself the day he decided to find out if his suspicions were true. With every fiber of his being, Josh hoped he was wrong. He hoped Nicolette wasn’t using drugs again. If the stress of moving to a new country was causing her to behave strangely and grow distant, he knew he could help her. He knew they could handle something like that together. Anything to spare them from repeating the horror and heartbreak of two years ago when Nicolette went to rehab.

  Josh waited as Nicolette got ready to go pick up a bottle of wine and some cheese for their dinner. “I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind,” he’d said, feigning tiredness, “and you can have a few minutes’ peace and quiet.” He chuckled; he’d been talking her ear off the entire day, partially out of nervousness over whatever was going on and also in an attempt to connect with her again. Nothing seemed to work, and her lack of response to his efforts told him it was time to know for sure.

  Finally, she was gone. Josh waited for her to walk down the street and turn the corner. He searched the usual spots, the ones she’d used last time. He found nothing in any of the bathroom drawers or cupboards, and nothing tucked in the stack of clean towels. The single drawer of her bedside table revealed the usual things…hand cream, a nail file, lip balm and the odd bits of scrap paper. Only one item caught his attention—a square-shaped, black, nylon envelope. Josh had never seen anything like it before. As much as he hated having to stoop to rifling through his wife’s things, he knew it was important. Without any further thought, he carefully opened the small envelope to make sure it wasn’t concealing her drug stash.

  There was no powdery, white substance inside the nylon envelope, but the contents were equally upsetting. And seeing them felt even more hurtful than discovering drugs. Finding the pack of birth control pills inside the envelope threw him off balance like a sudden slap across the face. All this time, she’d gone along with his excitement about having a family. Each month when she hadn’t become pregnant, Nicolette reassured him they would just keep trying and soon it would happen. And all the while she was taking birth control. The magnitude of the deceit and lies pressed against Josh’s chest like a ton of bricks, making it difficult to for him to breathe. It was almost enough to make him stop searching, to give in and give up. But the need to know the truth, once and for all, prevailed.

  Josh put the pack of b
irth control pills back in its place and moved on to the kitchen area. “If I was Nicolette and I wanted to hide a stash of cocaine, where would I hide it?” he asked himself. Cooking was not something Nicolette enjoyed. To be honest, neither was eating, really. Josh knew she seldom spent time in the kitchen except to make coffee or tea, or to pour a glass of wine. The logical place to hide drugs would be in a place where she knew Josh wouldn’t look…somewhere amongst the unused cooking utensils or tucked away between the collection of cookbooks whose bindings had barely been cracked.

  Knowing there wasn’t much time left to search, Josh tore through the drawers without worrying about whether or not everything was in place afterwards. He opened containers, shuffled canned goods around and looked in the cookbooks. He was stumped; the usual places revealed nothing. Perhaps he’d been wrong all along, Josh thought as he sat down at the table. Guilt started to creep in, mingling with the sadness and disappointment over discovering the birth control pills. It was all enough to cause a knot in the pit of his stomach. As he stood to make himself some tea, his too-long legs banged the underside of the table, and he heard a faint crinkling noise. Josh reached under the table, feeling around for the source of the sound. His fingertips brushed something plastic. He felt along the plastic, searching for the edge, until he found some tape. Gently, he peeled the tape away from the wood until a small, flat plastic bag dropped to the floor. There was the white powdery substance he’d been searching for.

  A mixture of sadness and relief washed over him, just as they had the first time Josh had confirmed his suspicions about Nicolette’s drug use. He felt disappointed to be right and, at the same time, relieved to have found proof that he was. Stooping down, he reached under the table to grasp the small packet just as the door opened, and Nicolette walked in. “What on earth are you doing down there?” she laughed before she saw what he held in his hand and the laughter caught in her throat.

  “I think we need to talk, Nic,” Josh responded in a cool, even tone. “It’s time for us to be honest. About a lot of things.”

  ***

  Crimson, heart-shaped balloons hung over the streets, and the old-fashioned streetlamps were festooned with opaque red covers. A string quartet played in a distant corner of the Piazza dei Signori, wooing passersby with romantic songs from long ago. A large red heart made of carpeting filled the entire center of the piazza, signaling to all that the week of Valentine’s Day had arrived in the City of Love.

  Charles and Sofia decided to spend Valentine’s Day evening being tourists near their own neighborhood. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the temperature wasn’t cold quite as early in the evening…both sure signs that spring was on its way. Charles let Sofia select the museum they would visit, and he was in charge of dinner. Charles had made reservations at the Trattoria al Pompiere the week before because he was sure the place—a mere stone’s throw away from the House of Juliet—would be packed for Valentine’s Day. It was a smart decision, as the maître d’ informed him there was only one window table still available. The restaurant wasn’t fancy but it had atmosphere, something they both enjoyed.

  Nearly three months had passed since Charles had planned to take Sofia to the winter performance at the Arena di Verona. When she didn’t show up, he was beyond devastated until he learned that her father had been shot. As the details of the shooting unfolded, Charles knew he had to be there for Sofia however he could. A lot had transpired since that day in early December and, thankfully, Marcello was slowly on the mend. As for the two of them, they had grown closer as Charles remained a loyal and devoted friend during the most difficult time of Sofia’s life.

  It was only during the last couple weeks that they were finally able to resume spending more time together. In a way it was meant to be, Charles often thought, that circumstances had caused him to delay asking Sofia to be his girlfriend until Valentine’s Day. As he thought about it, he knew no other time of year could be more perfect in the City of Love than Valentine’s Day. And so he’d arranged their dinner reservations to be as close as possible to the Casa de Giulietta so he could walk Sofia over to one of the most romantic spots in Verona after dinner and tell her how he felt about her, as the bronze statue of Juliet looked on.

  They dined by the window with the glimmer of candlelight reflecting off the glass. The small table for two with its red checkered tablecloth was laden with bruschetta, a large Caesar salad, a delicious bottle of chilled white wine and large bowl of spaghetti with mussels, olive oil and fresh basil. A lone violinist played his way through the restaurant, much to the diners’ delight. Charles and Sofia capped off their delicious dinner with the traditional cups of espresso and just enough limoncello to enhance their happy feelings.

  “Well, it’s been a lovely evening,” Sofia sighed as they stepped out onto the cobblestone street.

  “Yes it has,” replied Charles, “and it’s not over yet. Come with me.” He held out his hand to Sofia, and she smiled as she took it. In just a few steps across the cobblestone street, they found themselves walking through the arched entryway into Juliet’s courtyard. All around them, small folded pieces of paper poked out of the stone wall crevices. Eventually, they would all be plucked away to be read in private by the Secretaries of Juliet. This small but special group was trusted to read the heartfelt and soul-baring stories of those who had loved and lost, those who had found the love of their lives and felt thankful, and those who dared to hope and dream of a love not yet found.

  The courtyard, with its lush green vines beginning to make their way up the stone walls for the new spring season, was unusually empty for Valentine’s evening. Charles had anticipated standing shoulder to shoulder with tourists and locals, so he was pleased to have brought Sofia over at just the right moment when the only other company in the courtyard was two elderly nuns and a couple in their fifties.

  “You know it’s good luck if you rub Juliet’s breast, Charles,” Sofia teased him.

  He cleared his throat in response, hoping to stave off the blush he could feel burning in his cheeks. “Right, well, shall we do that together then?”

  The two touched the spot that had been rubbed to a shine by tens of thousands of tourists and locals, and then stood back to admire the bronze statue of Juliet and the stone balcony perched above it. Charles knew it was time to tell Sofia how he felt; after all, he’d waited so long. He cleared his throat nervously and waited a moment as the nuns walked by to rub Juliet’s breast for good luck. Sofia let out a chuckle at the sight of them, and Charles couldn’t help following suit.

  “Oh, Sofia,” he laughed. “We have such fun together, and you are so dear to me. I treasure our friendship, but I’m afraid I’m no longer satisfied with it.”

  “Oh dear,” Sofia responded with a worried look on her face.

  “No, I don’t mean that our friendship has become unsatisfactory,” he stammered. “Quite the contrary, really. You see, our friendship has grown to be so special that I can’t help but imagine how much more special it could be. If we were more than friends, that is.”

  Charles shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”

  “No, you’re actually doing quite fine,” Sofia responded as she held his gaze. “Please go on.”

  “Alright, then I’ll just get on with it. I’d like you to be my girlfriend, if you would,” he stated with the slightest hint of nervousness still lingering in his voice. “That is, would you be my girlfriend, Sofia?”

  Sofia grasped both of his hands and looked into his soulful eyes. “I thought you’d never ask me, Charles Winsdorth. And I certainly hope I won’t have to wait just as long for you to kiss me!”

  “Never keep a lady waiting, is what I say,” Charles responded with a smile. He bent down to meet Sofia’s upturned face and pressed his lips against hers. The bronze Juliet looked on approvingly as they lingered, enjoying their first kiss. Arm in arm, the nuns walked out of the courtyard, glancing back at the kissing cou
ple with a smile. “Amore,” the gray-haired one said, gesturing toward Charles and Sofia, “amore.”

  Chapter 15

  The foggy, gray weather typical of wintertime in Verona had finally conceded to spring’s demands for day-long sunlight. Although he was used to the gray, dreary weather that lingered year-round in London, Charles was relieved to see the sun return from its winter break. The air remained cool and crisp but became more comfortable as its dampness dissipated under the relentlessness of the sun’s rays.

  Charles pushed Marcello’s wheelchair through the Giusti Gardens, and Sofia walked alongside, holding her father’s hand. Together, the three had started a Sunday tradition of spending the day roaming around Verona. It was good for Marcello to leave the rehabilitation center for a while, and it gave him and Charles an opportunity to get to know one another. The two men were a bit wary at first…Charles knew of Marcello’s reputation for being feisty and demanding, and Marcello intended to keep a close eye on anyone who dated his daughter.

  The two men were able to bond and build their relationship based on their mutual love for Sofia. Each man loved her dearly and, truth be told, Marcello was thankful to still have Sofia in Verona because being near her was good for his heart. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of these gardens, Papa,” Sofia sighed as she gazed at a neatly manicured topiary.

  “Amazing, aren’t they?” Marcello replied. “And to think they’ve been here for more than 500 years.”

  Charles looked on, thankful to be part of the moment. The relationship Sofia had with her father was quite different from the one he and his father had, and it made Charles realize how much he yearned for that. Perhaps it would be wise for him and Marcello to have the best relationship possible. He already knew he wanted to marry Sofia one day and would need her father’s permission. And it was clear how much there was to be gained for all three of them by building a good father-in-law/son-in-law relationship.