The Last Promise (8 page)

As they walked back toward the villa, Ross glanced back once more at the woman by the pool. She was looking up at him and for a brief moment they again shared eye contact. This time he was the first to turn away. He walked back to the car in silence. He had just made a decision on where he would live for the next year, and all he could think about was some woman he didn’t know. He did not believe in love at first sight or any such foolishness. She had barely even acknowledged his presence. Yet there was something that drew him to her.

He couldn’t say what it was. For all he knew it was the pull of the moon on the Italian countryside. All he was certain of was that he hoped to see her again soon.

—Italian Proverb

 

 

 

 

 

A
nna stood in the gravel driveway and watched the Punto vanish down the drive beneath a line of swaying cypress. On its way out of Rendola the car passed a postal scooter driving to the villa. Anna heard the thin, familiar whine of the scooter’s engine and waited. The postal worker stopped her scooter just an arm’s length away from Anna, turned and took from her mail pouch a small stack of mail, which she handed to Anna. It was a familiar ritual and the whole of their conversation consisted of three words:

Anna sorted through the mail as she walked back to the pool. She set the stack of envelopes on the ground next to Eliana. “It’s all for you,” she said. Then she sat down on a reclining chair, took off her glasses and wiped the sweat from the bridge of her nose.

“Come stai?”
Anna asked.
How are you?

“Abbastanza bene,”
Eliana replied.
Good enough.

Though Eliana had been teaching English to Anna for more than three years, she was an unmotivated student and the women only spoke Italian in conversation. Anna scratched the back of her head. “We have a new tenant. He will move in tomorrow.”

“Good.” She turned to Alessio. “Why don’t you get in the pool, honey?”

“You come too, Mommy.”

“Not today. I’ll just watch. Take your towel with you.”

Alessio stood up and walked to the shallow end of the pool, where he sat on its edge, dangling his legs in the pool, deciding whether or not to get in.

“We need some art for the new tenant,” Anna said, watching Alessio. “The Germans purchased all of the pictures you put in last time. They wanted all of them. I have money for you.”

“That’s good.”

“You are very good, Eliana. Better than you know. You should charge more for your paintings. They didn’t haggle over the cost. I think they would have paid
il doppio
.”

“You know I don’t paint for the money,” she said.

She rolled to her back. “I have some landscapes that will look nice in the apartment.”

“He’s
americano
,” Anna said.

“Who’s
americano
?”

“The new tenant.”

“He didn’t look American.”

“
Sì.
He’s
americano
.” Her voice held a trace of excitement. “And he’s single.”

Eliana grinned. Anna talked to her as if she were single rather than a married woman. Even more peculiar was that Eliana was Anna’s
cognata
, her sister-in-law. Anna sat back in the chair, her eyes closed, the sun in her face. “He was
bello
, no?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Trust me. He was
bello
.”

Eliana let Anna’s remark dissipate with the breeze that swept over them. Then she said, “I think Alessio’s coming down with something.”

“In the summer?”

“Where’s Manuela? Isn’t she supposed to be watching Alessio today?”

“She’s still sick. She’s had the influenza.”

“She probably gave it to Alessio.”

“I hope he doesn’t have it.” She looked over at her son. He still hadn’t climbed into the water, which in itself she found peculiar. She looked back at Anna. “Are you still leaving for the sea Friday?”

“Yes. Are you still decided not to join me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am. It means I’ll be alone with my boring cousin Claudia.” She sighed. “Can I do anything for you before I go? I could shop for groceries for you.”

“No,
grazie.
I have enough food for the week. When Manuela comes I will go shopping. Besides I need to get out of the house. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“
Sì,
you need to get out more. I will watch Alessio this afternoon and you can go out. Go into Florence and buy yourself something pretty. I will give you the money from your paintings.”

“No, Anna. You keep the money for your vacation. Besides, you have much to do before you leave. You have a new tenant coming.”

Anna sighed.
“Vero, vero.” True.
Anna would be gone on holiday for three weeks and she still hadn’t finished packing. Now she also needed to see the apartment cleaned and purchase new linens for the bed.

“I will hang the paintings after Alessio naps,” Eliana said. “Just leave the door unlocked.”

“
Grazie.
When does
il cretino
return?”

“You shouldn’t call him that. I don’t know. He said tomorrow, but I doubt it.”

Anna shook her head.
“Che cretino.”

The women seldom spoke of Maurizio. His neglect of his family and his numerous infidelities were too unpleasant a subject. Even though he was her brother, Maurizio was an embarrassment to Anna, and the two of them had argued on more occasions than Eliana could number. Now they spoke only as necessitated by the family business. Though Anna managed the villa, as the oldest son Maurizio ultimately controlled the estate.

Anna sided with Eliana not just because they were best friends, but because she understood, in part, what Eliana was going through. Anna’s own husband had left her for a young Swiss woman she discovered he had been having an affair with for more than seven years. Eliana had been her support during the time of their divorce.

Anna sighed.
“Devo andare.” I must go.
“I’ve still much to do.” She pushed herself up from the chair.

“Anna, do not leave for the sea without saying goodbye.”

“You know I don’t say goodbye.” She smiled.

“We’ll take coffee tomorrow morning.”

“
Ciao,
Anna.”

Anna leaned over and kissed Eliana’s cheeks.
“Ciao, bella.”
Then she waved to Alessio.

“Ciao, zia,”
he replied.

She walked to the end of the pool, stopped and picked a handful of sage leaves, then disappeared into the villa.

Eliana lay back and sifted through the mail. Mostly bills. One of the letters was postmarked USA. She immediately recognized the careful handwriting of her mother. She opened the letter.

Eliana set the letter down. It was like a broadcast from an alien planet. She missed her mother. Her mother hadn’t seen Alessio since he was five years old, and Eliana knew it hurt her more than she would ever let on. Even though she often spoke to Alessio of his
Grandma in America
she wondered how much he actually remembered of her. The thought made her sad. These were years neither of them could reclaim.

Her mother had offered to fly to Italy, but Eliana wouldn’t let her. Her mother’s first airplane ride was at the age of fifty-seven, and even though it was a short flight of only an hour, it had terrified her so much that the flight attendants gave her a sedative. It took her nearly a week to calm down, and she took a bus back home. There was no way she could make a four-hour flight to New York followed by a ten-hour flight to Italy, at night, over the ocean.

Eliana looked over at Alessio still kicking his feet in the water without getting in. She walked over and sat down on the tile next to him, her slender, bare legs perpendicular to the edge of the pool. The sun refracted off the water in long, weblike streaks.

“Are you going to get in, little man?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“I could push you in,” she teased.

Alessio turned to her with a grin. “I’ll push you in.”

She smiled. “I better not then.” She rubbed his head. “Hey, guess what? I got a letter from Grandma.”

“Oh.”

“She says she misses you. They just had the big Pioneer Days rodeo. Everyone in town was there. She said that she wished you were there too.”

Alessio kicked at a leaf that floated near him on the water’s surface.

“You know, the rodeo was always my favorite time of the year. Right up there with Christmas. We’d all dress up in our jeans and boots and cowboy hats. Some of the guys had belt buckles this big.” She brought her hands together at her waist to form an oval only slightly exaggerated to the size of a football. “We’d play games and eat. We’d have barbecue beef sandwiches and apple pie and drink root beer until we were sick. Then after the sun would go down we’d all go to the arena for the rodeo. Maybe in a few years we’ll be able to go back for the summer and do that. Does that sound like fun?”

Alessio nodded halfheartedly. His feet moved slowly in the water, barely turning a wake. After a moment he looked up at his mother. “Mom, what’s a rodeo?”

—Ross Story’s diary

 

 

 

 

 

T
he next morning Ross led a Catholic choir group from Boston through the Uffizi. The group had just come up from Rome the night before and was still excited from their trip to the Vatican and their audience with the pope.

After the tour, Ross reported to Francesca, then walked back across the Ponte Vecchio to his hotel. He had already checked out of his room, and his backpack, which had only grown slightly in weight since his arrival in Florence, and a small cardboard box waited on the floor next to the front counter.

He sat down on the steps of the hotel to read a copy of the paper while he waited for Luigi. When he arrived, they stowed Ross’s things on the backseat of Luigi’s car and drove off to Rendola.