The Last Promise (34 page)

Despite all that she had been through, she was suddenly filled with deep sadness. She wanted to weep for both of them. He stepped forward. He touched her hair, lifting it in his hand; then he stooped and kissed her forehead. He looked at Alessio for a moment. “Be a good boy, son. Obey your mother. She is a good mother.”

Alessio looked up at him, then back at Eliana, as if for an explanation.

“Bye,
amore.
” Maurizio smiled, then added,
“Tesoro mio.”

Eliana remembered when he had first spoken those words to her. It was the first time he had told her that he loved her. The circle was complete. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she smiled and he smiled back. Then he walked from the room. Eliana laid her head down on the bed next to her son and cried.

—Italian Proverb

 

 

 

 

 

A
s soon as Alessio was sleeping, Eliana called Ross’s cell phone from one of the hospital’s pay phones. He didn’t answer. In all she called six times before she took Alessio back to Rendola the following afternoon. After he was settled in and watching a video, Eliana left him with Manuela and drove down to Ponte Alle Grazie, where she parked her car and ran to Ross’s apartment. She found his name and apartment number on a lobby mailbox and knocked on his door. A stout, elderly woman answered.

“
Mi scusi, signora.
I am looking for Mr. Ross Story.”

The woman looked at her blankly.

“The man who lived here.”

“Whoever was here has gone.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“No,
signorina.
Why would I know that?”

“May I look through his apartment?”

“No,
signorina.
You will have to ask the landlord. But there’s nothing in here.”

“Where can I find the landlord?”

“
Sotto.
On the ground level, apartment seven.”

Five minutes later Eliana knocked on the landlord’s door. A woman, pale skinned, broad as a wine barrel, opened.
“Cosa vuole?”

“I’m looking for one of your residents.
Signor
Ross Story. Room five twelve.”

“Mr. Story moved out.”

“Do you know where I might find him?”

She gazed at Eliana for a moment.

“No. He left yesterday. He gave me his key and left. He seemed to be in a hurry. He didn’t even wait for his deposit.”

“Do you have a forwarding address?”

“No,
signorina.
”

“Anything at all with an address? A check or something?”

“No, he paid in cash. He’s paid up to the end of the month.” She noticed the desperation in Eliana’s face. “I’m sorry,
signorina.
I would help if I could. He just came and went. Sometimes men do that.”

In the street Eliana hailed another cab and directed it to the Uffizi. They stopped in the courtyard and she ran out, past the crowds to the man standing guard at the entrance.

“Excuse me,
signore,
I need to speak with one of your tour guides. It’s very important.”

“There are many tour guides,
signorina.
You will have to make a reservation inside. Do you have a reservation number?”

“I’m looking for someone in particular. Ross Story.”

The man’s expression lightened. “Ross.”

“You know Ross?”

“
Sì.
Only Ross doesn’t work here anymore. He has left Florence.”

“Did he say where he might be going?”

“No,
signora.
” He parted the rope. “You ask inside. There’s an office past the gift shop.”

“Thank you.” She went inside, found the office and knocked. Patrizia answered the door.

“May I help you?”

“
Mi scusi.
I’m looking for a man who used to work here. His name is Ross Story.”

“Ross has left.”

“I know. Did he leave a forwarding address?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Maybe a bank number.” The woman continued shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“Anything?” she asked desperately.

“I’m sorry,
signorina.
”

“But you must have some record of him.”

“No, Ross was an
abusivo.
”

“An
abusivo
?”

“It means that he did not have a permit from the
Comune
to work here. He helped out Francesca, one of our tour guides. They had an arrangement. I think she must have his cell phone number.”

Eliana frowned. “I’ve tried that.”

“I was sad to see Ross go. I liked him. Maybe Francesca can help you. She is here; would you like me to ask?”

Eliana nodded.

Patrizia left the room. She returned a few minutes later. “If you can wait for twenty minutes, Francesca will speak with you. She is leading a tour right now.”

“I’ll wait.
Grazie
.”

“I was just leaving. You can wait in here if you like. Please shut the door behind you when you go.”

The woman finished gathering her things.
“Buona fortuna.”

Eliana breathed in deeply. There was hope. Ross had mentioned Francesca. They were close. This woman would know something about his whereabouts. Wouldn’t she? She paced the quiet office until a half hour later there was a light knock and the door opened. Francesca walked in.

“I am Francesca,” she said in coarse English.

Eliana spoke back in Italian. “
Buona sera.
I am Eliana Ferrini. I am looking for a friend of mine.”

“
Sì.
Ross.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“No,
signorina.
Ross left Florence yesterday.”

“Did he tell you where he might be going?”

She shook her head. “Only that he was leaving Italy for good. He gave me the key to his scooter.”

“That’s all he said?”

Eliana looked away. A lump rose in her throat. The woman watched her. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

Eliana looked up.

“You’re the reason he left. He said you might come looking for him someday.”

At this she bowed her head, fighting back the sadness welling up inside. Francesca watched her for a moment, then excused herself. “I am very sorry,
signorina.
For both of us.” Then, as if on second thought, she touched Eliana’s shoulder. “Have hope. Love sees to itself.”

 

Eliana stopped in the ladies’ room on the way out and washed her face; then she walked out to the courtyard, lonely in the burgeoning crowd, oblivious to the bustle of the
cortile
, out to the walkway overlooking the Arno. She could see below to the grass where she and Ross had lain together. Where they had spent that wonderful night entangled in each other’s arms and warmth and dreams. Where they had witnessed a dawning of a new day unlike any other. She remembered the hope that had filled her then, and it seemed impossible that he was really gone.

A brisk, autumn wind swept down the
Lungarni
, down the stone terraces toward the river, where it rippled the water in thin, white-edged plates. Winter was coming to Florence. Soon the lush countryside would be barren, the sensuality of the city and her people cloaked beneath thick coats and mufflers.

Eliana pulled her cloak tightly around herself even though her coldness was more than an autumn chill. She had suffered enough in the last week, but somehow this loss hurt most of all. For this hurt would haunt her the rest of her life. The one man she loved—the man who had taught her how to be loved—had disappeared like a drop of rain in the ocean. And the last promise she had asked him to make was to never find her again.

—Italian Proverb

 

 

 

 

 

A
nna sat on the large roller suitcase in the center of the Florence train station, like a rock in the middle of a stream, a torrent of travelers flowing around her. Alessio played within the reach of her voice, energized by the motion of the station. Each time the train departure board changed, the letters flipping like decks of cards, he would shout and point. Eliana suddenly emerged from the bustle holding a ticket in her hand.

“The next train to Rome is in fifteen minutes. We’re on track nine.” She choked on the words. Fifteen minutes was not enough time to say all she felt for Anna. Anna stood and hugged her.

“
Allora.
I hate goodbyes. Don’t I always say I don’t say goodbye?”

“You always say that,” Eliana said. She hugged her again. “Can you believe it’s been six years, Anna? Where did it go?”

Anna looked at Alessio and her eyes watered. “It went to him.”

Eliana smiled and did not look at Anna because she did not want to cry. At least not yet.

“He was just a baby when we came.”

“My little Alessio. How will I live without him? Rendola will not be the same.” She lifted a handkerchief. “I hate goodbyes,” she said again.

“How will we live without you?” Eliana said. “I could not have made it without you. You have been with me through all the hard times. You’re my best friend. I will miss you every day.”

A lump rose in Anna’s throat and she changed the subject. “Did Maurizio call?”

“Last night. He wanted to say goodbye to us. He talked to Alessio for nearly a half hour.”

“God works in mysterious ways.”

“He does, Anna.”

“Have you heard from Ross?”

Eliana shook her head.

“I’m sorry.” She touched her arm. “Have hope, sister. No one can leave Rendola forever.”

Eliana smiled. “And I’ll be back for your wedding.”

“If any of us live that long,” Anna said.

Eliana waved to Alessio, who was staring at a rack of magazines. “Alessio, come now.”

He sauntered up to them, and Anna crouched down and put her arms around him and kissed his head. “Don’t grow up too fast. Promise?”

“I can’t help it, Aunt Anna.” He looked to his mother. “Can we get an ice cream cone at McDonald’s?”

“No, honey. We haven’t time. We’ll get one in Rome.”

“Sure you have time,” Anna said, digging out her change purse. “I’ll be right back.”

“No, Anna.”

She ran off to the McDonald’s in the station. Eliana sat down on the suitcase to wait. A gypsy woman walked by and stood before them holding out a paper cup. Eliana surrendered the last of her Italian coins and the woman blessed her and walked away. She glanced down at her watch.

“Oh my, there’s only three minutes.” She lifted her bag and took Alessio by the hand. “We need to go, Alessio.”

“But Aunt Anna went to get me a cone.”

“I know, sweetheart, but we can’t miss our train.”

She quickly validated their tickets, then walked down the boarding platform, pulling Alessio by one hand and the suitcase with the other, while she kept glancing back.
Come on, Anna.
When they got to their car, Eliana stowed her suitcase on the entryway rack then helped Alessio up into the train.

“But Aunt Anna . . .”

“I know, sweetie.”

Eliana waited on the step until the porter blew his whistle and Eliana was forced to step back inside while the doors shut. Suddenly Anna came running by frantically looking for them. Eliana pounded on the door’s glass and Anna stopped. She walked up to the side of the train, outside the closed door holding the ice cream cone. Tears rolled down Anna’s cheeks. She blew them a kiss. Eliana kissed her fingers and waved back to her. Then the train lurched forward, and for a ways Anna walked along with it, waving and blowing kisses. Then the platform ended and the train left, taking them away from each other, filling Eliana with sadness. “You always said you’d never say goodbye, Anna
. Arrivederci,
my sister.”