A Year at 32 September Way Read online

  ***

  “Are you certain that’s what you want to do, my love?” Charles asked Sofia as they lay in each other’s arms enjoying the moment after making love under the soft light of the full moon. Sofia had told him she thought she should transfer back to Verona from the office in London to be closer to her father during his ongoing recovery. She explained her idea about possible living arrangements for Marcello, and Charles agreed it sounded like a good idea.

  “And what do we do when my one year here is up?” Charles mused as he thought ahead to the end of August. The year was already more than halfway over, and he knew the next five months would fly by as if they were no more than a minute.

  “Well, we will take turns visiting one another in London or Verona,” offered Sofia. “Or, I have an even better idea.”

  Charles rolled over to his side and kissed his way from Sofia’s collarbone to her neck, then up to her jawline and lips. “Is your idea as good as mine?” he asked as he kissed his way down toward her breasts.

  Sofia smiled and chuckled as a slight gasp escaped her lips. “Let’s just say it would certainly allow for more of this.”

  “Then I’m all ears,” he answered enthusiastically as he continued to kiss and caress her, “and lips…and hands.”

  “I do have a serious idea to share with you, if you’re not too busy to listen,” she teased him.

  Charles propped himself up on one elbow and looked into the eyes of the woman he felt lucky enough to love. These past few years, he’d pushed aside even the slightest bit of hope that he might ever know love again and, now, he was looking at the woman he knew he could love for the rest of his life. “Of course I want to hear your idea,” he smiled as he leaned in and kissed her.

  “This is a bit forward of me, I realize, Charles and I hope you’ll forgive me for that,” Sofia began. “But everything has happened so fast these past few months, and my father’s situation has forced me to realize how fragile life can be.”

  Charles nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, it truly can be fragile.”

  Sofia continued, “It’s early days, I know, but we get on famously and I know I love you….”

  “And I love you too,” added Charles, whispering the words he enjoyed saying to her.

  “So, perhaps we might consider living together. Perhaps you might consider staying in Italy with me, even when the year is over,” Sofia blurted out before her courage was lost.

  Charles pulled her into his arms, inhaling the fresh smell of her hair and relishing the warmth of her body against his. It was because of this woman that he’d come as far as he had during his time in Verona. After a rough start, he’d learned to embrace a new city, a new culture and even a new language. His confidence had grown and he’d even been surprised to discover that he enjoyed the impromptu adventures they took in Verona and the surrounding cities. If someone had suggested living together to Charles a mere seven months ago, he’d have run in the other direction, afraid to take a risk that could lead to loss and pain. But now he was a different man, and the fear and self-doubt had been replaced by hope and confidence.

  “Sweetheart, I believe that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” he whispered before showering her with passionate kisses. “I cannot think of any place I’d rather be in the world than wherever you are.”

  ***

  The late spring sun felt warm on her back as Carlisle walked toward the café. She was ten minutes early, and Franco was just opening up for the day after arriving from Sunday morning Mass.

  “Buongiorno, Signorina Carlisle!” he called to her as she strode toward the café. “You look beautiful today, as every day.”

  Carlisle responded to his compliment by playfully twirling around in her daffodil-colored A-line spring dress. She laughed at herself and returned the café owner’s morning greeting. After the crazy dating experiences she’d had recently, she was feeling surprisingly relaxed at the prospect of having a blind date with another American in Verona, all of which had been set up by a café owner she knew only from brief conversations at the café.

  “The usual?” the café owner double-checked before going in to prepare her cappuccino.

  It was a gorgeous early April morning. The days were getting longer, and the dreary, gray weather of winter was all but a memory. Carlisle’s chosen table in the sun allowed her to bathe in its warmth, while a cool breeze playfully tickled the back of her neck.

  She sipped her cappuccino quietly and enjoyed the quiet game she often played in her mind while people-watching. In this game, which she’d been playing since childhood, she chose a man and woman from different areas of the crowd. In real life, they would be in no way connected but, in her game, she created a story of them meeting and falling in love. Sometimes, she pretended they were spies on a covert mission and, once in a while, she chose children from the crowd to become part of the story, too.

  Imagination got the best of her and, before she knew it, she’d developed an entire story about one tall, thin man and a very short, plump woman who walked the streets as commoners but were really spies for the king and queen of some long-lost land. The tale would have continued to develop in her mind had the clock tower across the street not ding-donged once to indicate the half hour.

  “Oh, 9:30 already?” Carlisle noted out loud. Her blind date was supposed to be there at 9 o’clock, or so the café owner had said. Perhaps he was running late on this lazy Sunday morning. Carlisle had nothing pressing planned, so she decided to enjoy the fresh air, sunshine and the delicious cappuccino Franco had made for her. She’d wait another half hour to see if the mystery man showed up and, if he didn’t, then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Besides, she was in no hurry to have another date that left her feeling like a participant in the latest hidden-camera show.

  As if reading her thoughts, Franco came out of the café fifteen minutes later and commented, “I can’t imagine where he is. He’s been coming here faithfully every Sunday morning for the last several months.”

  “It’s no problem,” Carlisle reassured him as she enjoyed the last sip of her cappuccino. “Maybe we just weren’t meant to meet.” She smiled at Franco to let him know it really was okay. The afternoon and evening lay before her, and she looked forward to working on her book for a while before meeting her neighbors for a potluck dinner to celebrate their first springtime in Verona.

  ***

  Springtime was just a tad warmer in Siena than it was in Verona, and the rolling hills were lush with the beginnings of this year’s crops of wheat and corn. The white oak, lemon and chestnut trees in the nearby orchards and groves were full and round with their dark green foliage and the promise of the fruits they’d bear later in the year. Josh walked up the gravel-covered trail toward the five-star hotel he was staying at for the weekend.

  When the crew finished filming for the week, he was packed and ready to go back to his apartment in Verona. Then, at the last minute, he decided to remain in Tuscany for the weekend. There was nothing to go back to except for an empty apartment, and he didn’t feel like facing the deafening sound of silence all weekend. His neighbors had contacted him about a dinner together on the weekend and he’d happily accepted. But he’d since changed his mind, and he really wasn’t in the mood to put on a brave face for his neighbors.

  Josh was never one to change his mind, back and forth, and then back and forth again. In the past, he’d always come up with an idea, thought it through, made a decision and stuck with it. It was easy to stick with his plans because he always felt certain and sure of himself. Now, nothing in his life seemed certain except for the time he spent working. Although he’d been sent to Italy for the film, he’d really hoped it would be a fresh start and a new beginning for him and Nicolette. He’d longed to put the stresses of the past behind them and begin preparing for a future.

  But those dreams were broken the day he found that packet of cocaine, and they died a slow, painful death in the weeks that followed as he waited to see if Nicol
ette would return. When she went back to Los Angeles, choosing her old life over him, the pain seared his heart and felt raw, even weeks after she’d left.

  Josh sat down at a table on the veranda and looked out over the olive trees and grapevines that looked like a thick, lush carpet covering the sides of the hills. He knew letting her go had been the right thing to do. There was no way he could be drawn into the madness of Nicolette’s addiction again. But he couldn’t believe their relationship had come to an end, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get over it.

  ***

  “To springtime in Verona,” Charles said, as everyone raised their glasses.

  “To springtime in Verona!” they all answered together.

  Despite the cooler evening air, Sofia, Eva and Carlisle were all decked out and looking beautiful in their spring-themed dresses and skirt ensembles with the addition of a thin sweater or shawl to stave off the chill. Charles and Marcello both wore dress pants and shirts topped off by casual sports jackets. Even the table was dressed up with a white linen tablecloth illuminated by tea lights floating in water-filled glass bowls surrounded by colorful beads and baubles that played with the light.

  “I’m feeling a bit like a fifth wheel tonight,” Carlisle interjected, noting that she was the only one there who wasn’t a part of a couple. “Where are Josh and Nicolette this evening?”

  Sofia met Carlisle’s inquiring gaze with a sad look in her eyes. “I’m afraid our neighbors have fallen on rough times. Josh called us earlier in the day to say he wouldn’t make it to the dinner tonight. He’s staying in Tuscany for the weekend.” She reached for Charles’ hand, thankful to have him in her life. “I don’t know the details, but Josh and Nicolette have split up, and Nicolette has returned to California. He sounded rather sad on the phone.”

  Everyone agreed that it was a sad situation, no matter what had transpired. Carlisle and Eva told the others about their attempts to befriend Nicolette, explaining that all efforts had fallen flat. “There was one incident I never told you about,” Carlisle said, looking at Eva, “but I did talk to Josh about it.”

  “What happened?” Eva asked with genuine curiosity.

  “Oh, I don’t want to gossip. It would be for Josh to say, if and when he ever wanted to talk about it.” She paused thoughtfully and took a sip of her wine. “Suffice to say that it may have led to their breakup. If so, I can understand how he might feel devastated.”

  For the remainder of the evening, the five friends enjoyed the dinner courses they’d each contributed. Wine glasses were emptied and refilled so frequently it seemed the wine bottle never sat still for more than a moment before being passed to a different person. They laughed at one another’s cultural mishaps and language mistakes, and Carlisle had them all in stitches with her dating stories.

  When the subject of Marcello’s rehabilitation and recent long-term prognosis came up, they all became quiet for a moment. Charles was the first to speak up and break the silence, “I just want to say how much I admire this man.” He gestured toward Marcello. “I’ve observed him now for months, and he never gives up. He’s an example to us all, no matter what we face. To Marcello!”

  “Hear, hear,” the other three responded as they raised their glasses. “To Marcello!”

  As the evening came to an end, the five friends made a pact to share dinner together once each month for the remainder of their year in Verona. They also vowed they’d keep in touch even after they parted ways and returned home at the end of the summer. But in the back of their minds and beneath the wine-induced haze, they knew how promises to stay in touch were often broken unintentionally. More than likely, the only thing that would remain at the end of their year in Verona would be the memories of the time spent and the friendships they’d made.

  Chapter 17

  The days were growing longer and the temperatures continued to rise, indicating the early arrival of summer was just around the corner. Carlisle and Eva had enjoyed a day of shopping together and had just returned to the apartment for dinner. “Do you have a date this evening?” Eva asked as they stood outside in the courtyard.

  “Goodness sakes, no!” responded Carlisle. “I’m due for a break from the kinds of dates I’ve been having lately. What do you have planned?”

  “Absolutely nothing!” Eva smiled at her friend “Why don’t you come up, and we can cook dinner together at my place?” The previous days had been quiet and somewhat boring for the young woman from Germany. Marcello was in Venice with his family for the week as they continued to contemplate his living arrangements. Spending a little more time with her good friend would be a good diversion for Eva, giving her mind a break from the serious thought she and Marcello were putting into their future.

  Together, the women chatted and laughed as they made a simple dinner of spaghetti with olive oil, basil, fresh garlic and braised cherry tomatoes, along with a fresh tossed salad. “I have the perfect bottle of wine to go with this,” Carlisle realized. “I’m going to run down and get it; I’ll be right back.”

  When the pasta was al dente, the salad tossed and the wine poured, the two fast friends sat down to enjoy their meal together. “What are you doing with yourself these days while Marcello is in Venice?” Carlisle asked her friend.

  “Not enough, apparently,” Eva responded. “I’m getting really bored.”

  “My life has been a bit mundane this week, too,” Carlisle added, “although honestly, I cannot believe I’m living in Verona and saying that my life has become mundane.” She thought about it a moment and half-jokingly said, “We need an adventure, Eva. That’s what we need.”

  Eva’s mind immediately found its way back to the secret door hidden behind the tall bookcase in her living room. Twice she’d been in there, but she still had no idea what was stored in the room beneath the layers of dust and the dingy, white sheets. “We do need an adventure,” she thought out loud, “and I have just the thing.” Eva went on to tell Carlisle about the night she discovered the hidden door behind her bookcase. She recreated the night and formed pictures in her friend’s head with details of moving the large bookcase out of the way, prying the secret door open and discovering the hidden room behind it.

  “Wow,” Carlisle responded in amazement. “It sounds like something you’d read in a book. What did you do after you got the door open?”

  The tall German woman told her American friend about the contents of the room, the boxes, crates and dust-covered odds and ends. She regaled her with the discovery of another door on the far side of the room, which ultimately led her to discover that other people lived in the building.

  “What? You never knew there were other neighbors in the building?” Carlisle was dumbfounded by Eva’s admission. “How could anyone possibly live in the building and not realize there were others here?”

  Eva told her friend about the lengths Marcello had gone to at the time to keep her isolated from everyone else so his antics wouldn’t be found out. The two friends shook their heads together in disbelief and disappointment at the memories. “Our relationship at that time was not a healthy one,” Eva admitted. “But we have come a long way and, at this point, I’ve chosen to forgive him many things…for him and for me. Whether we stay together or not remains to be seen.”

  Slowly, they redirected the conversation back to the topic of the hidden room. Carlisle’s overactive imagination conjured up a thousand possibilities for what might be hidden in the boxes and crates. When Eva asked her if she might like to see the hidden room, Carlisle pounced on the opportunity like a cat on a mouse.

  “This is absolutely amazing!” she gushed as Eva opened the door so they could step into the dimly lit room. She held up the flashlight they’d brought in with them and made a slow sweeping motion with it, from one side of the room to the other. “I can only imagine what’s in these boxes and crates,” Carlisle thought out loud, “Does Marcello know what’s in them?”

  “No, he has no idea. Only that it’s something his in-laws n
eeded to store here for their business,” Eva responded. “He knows I’ve been in the room and wasn’t too happy about it. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Eva chuckled.

  The two looked around the room, trying to decide where they should start. After a moment, their eyes settled on a large container sitting in the corner, off to their right. Made of some sort of plastic to protect the contents, the box stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison to the wooden crates stacked around the room. This particular box also had less dust and cobwebs covering it, indicating that it was a recent addition to the storage space.

  “I hope we don’t find a dead body in there,” Carlisle said in a spooky voice.

  “Don’t say that!” Eva retorted, and her friend laughed.

  Carefully, they removed the tape sealing the edges of the lid. A small cloud of dust rose into the air as the lid was released and banged against the dust-covered studs behind it.

  “Papers?” questioned Eva. “Is that all that’s in here? Only papers?” She and Carlisle glanced over several stacks of papers, holding onto the last shred of hope that they might find something exciting in the hidden room.

  “They seem to be some kind of financial papers,” Carlisle murmured as she glanced over the pages with their neat columns of words and numbers. “But my Italian isn’t good enough to know what they say. Must be some kind of business records,” she surmised.

  Disappointed, the two placed the papers back in the box and took care to seal the cover. Eva fetched some tape from her kitchen drawer and was just getting ready to wrap it around the edge of the lid when her cellphone rang. “Oh, hi darling.” She moved the phone away from her face and mouthed Marcello’s name to Carlisle. “Not too much. Just enjoying a late dinner with Carlisle.”

  The two quietly tiptoed out of the hidden room, hoping none of the floorboards would squeak while Marcello was on the phone. The hidden room had turned out to be a bit of flop for the two adventurers. “Some things are best left to the imagination,” Carlisle mused as they wished each other a good night’s rest and parted ways.