The Canal House
Page 36
She stood up when I approached and we both looked at each other. Just my presence there reminded her of Daniel and I could see that she was struggling to control her grief. I felt damned forever, responsible for what had happened.
“Good to see you, Nicky.” Her voice was strained, but she wasn’t going to cry.
“Maybe I should come back later.”
“No. I’m glad you’re here. I left messages at your hotel in London.”
We sat down on two chunks of marble while a hawk drifted across the sky. “Tell me what happened after I left Timor,” she said. “Even the smallest thing.”
I told her about Daniel’s funeral and the crowd at the cemetery. I told her that Jenkins and his men had tracked down the militia and that Daniel’s wristwatch and passport were in the car. I didn’t mention Richard’s betrayal. Some other time, I thought. Not this afternoon.
“And what happened to you?” I asked. “Did Richard take you to Westgate Castle?”
“No. They put me in a private hospital in West London. It was the sort of place where the staff wears pink T-shirts and you call the doctors by their first names. I saw a cabinet minister and a rock star shuffling down the hallway in their pajamas.”
“What did they do to you?”
“Drugged me for a week or so, then brought me out of it. A psychiatrist came into my room twice a day and we had these bizarre conversations. He kept asking me to visualize my grief. Was it an animal? What kind of animal? Nonsense like that. When I told him to go to hell, they changed my medication.”
“Could you leave?”
“No. It was a lockdown facility and I had actually signed myself in. After another week of being in a haze, I faked swallowing the pills and became a bit more coherent. I borrowed ten pounds from the woman who served the meal trays and slipped out the back entrance. Then I took a cab to Laura’s apartment, borrowed some more money, and flew to Italy. I kept crying the whole time, in the airport lounge, in the women’s room, in the back of the taxicab. When I finally got here, La Signora put me to bed and I slept for two days. She’s been wonderful.”
Julia bent down and picked up a smooth white pebble. She rubbed the surface with her thumb, then tossed it away. “I’m going to stay in Bracciano. I’m not going to leave. I feel like Daniel is here. Sometimes he’s right beside me. Sometimes he’s in the house or up in the orchard. And there’s another thing, too.” She looked up at me and smiled for the first time. “I’m pregnant, Nicky. La Signora seemed to know before I did. I think she’s a bit of a sorceress.”
“That’s wonderful, Julia. Congratulations. Daniel would be very happy.”
“I plan to have the baby here. I’ll run out of money in a few months, but I’ve applied for a special certificate to practice medicine in Italy. They need a doctor in the village so everyone is fairly positive about the idea.”
We were both silent for a moment and I thought about the child. Then we looked at each other and we both remembered Daniel and the pain came again.
“I better go.”
“Please don’t, Nicky. I’m glad you’re here.”
“We remind each other of what happened.”
“And it did happen. When I was in the hospital, I pretended that he wasn’t dead, but of course that’s not true. We were all on that beach together. Cristiano was going to kill everyone there and Daniel saved our lives. No matter what happened afterward, he made the right decision at that moment. I don’t think he’d take it back.”
“No. He wouldn’t. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”
“God, I wish I knew all the answers or just a few of them. But I don’t, Nicky. All I know is that I’m still in love with Daniel. That hasn’t changed.”
We sat quietly. The sun was warm and a light wind made the grass sway back and forth. A few yards down the slope, a brown finch was pecking out the seeds from a sunflower. I forgot about myself, who I was and what I wanted to do.
La Signora shouted something in Italian. I looked up the hill and saw the old lady standing beneath the arbor on the patio. There were plates of food and loaves of bread on the table and she waved her right arm, summoning us to the feast.
Julia glanced at me and smiled. “Are you hungry, Nicky?”
“Sure.”
“La Signora wants me to eat all the time. She says it’s good for the baby.”
We walked up the hill together. “So?” she asked. “Will you stay for a while?”
I nodded. “For a few days.”
Julia seemed pleased. “Wonder if it’s a boy or girl. I bet La Signora knows, but she’s not telling.”
“Maybe she’ll tell me.”
I glanced at Julia; she held her head up slightly and looked forward as if she was about to start a long journey. And the world felt larger, it seemed to expand around us so that I was aware of the farm and the bridge and the distant hills. I pulled out my camera and raised it to my eye, then decided not to take the picture.
WHEN I FIRST became a photographer, I was only aware of the sun over my shoulder and the flash on my camera. Then I got older and began to notice the shadows that touched all of us. Now I realize that every object in this world reflects and absorbs light. We are created by light, shaped by light, and we burn our image into the hearts of others.
Published by
Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill
Post Office Box 2225
Chapel Hill, North Carolina 27515-2225
a division of
Workman Publishing
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New York, New York 10014
© 2003 by Mark Lee. All rights reserved.
Published simultaneously in Canada by Thomas Allen & Son Limited.
Design by Anne Winslow.
Frontispiece illustration © 2002 by Stephen Sedam.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No reference to any real person is intended or should be inferred.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available for a previous edition of this work.
eISBN 9781565128576