by Gail Mencini
Sophie reached over and patted Will’s knee. “It was a long time ago. Wartime. I’m sorry we haven’t found Francesca.”
Will bit his lip and looked away.
Sophie hesitated. She hated what this meant. “Now that Joe is gone, we don’t have local transportation. Perhaps we should think about whether it’s time to go home.” Even as she said it, her heart ached—for Will and for herself. Going home means leaving Niccolò.
Will’s eyes dampened with tears. He reached for his handkerchief.
Niccolò leaned forward and spoke to Will. “Let me take you tomorrow. I’m caught up on my work and can easily take the day off. One last trip, wherever you want to go, Will.”
Sophie kissed Niccolò’s cheek. “Thank you.” One more day together.
“Would you like to go for a drive tomorrow? Do you feel up to it?” Sophie worried about Will’s strength and health.
“Hell, yes, I’m up to it.” Will pushed up from the chair. His face paled at the sudden change in posture.
“Will—” Sophie stood and reached for him.
He raised his hand to stop her and sank back down into the chair. “I’d go right this second except you two lovebirds have hardly put a dent in that wine. You may need help with it.” His lips curled up in a weak smile.
“Where would you like to go?” Niccolò asked.
“Maybe we want to try heading over toward Montalcino again.” Will scratched his head. “I’ll look at the map tonight and come up with a plan.”
Does he remember something about Montalcino? Or does Will merely want to keep looking, however fruitless the search?
Sophie’s hand rested on Niccolò’s thigh. An overwhelming desire to spend every moment with him swept over her.
Can I blame Will for wanting to find Francesca?
No, I understand his passion. The truth is, I’m falling in love with Niccolò.
72
The bright morning sun that bathed the piazza greeted Sophie and Will.
Niccolò drove into the piazza moments later in Isabella’s Mercedes. He got out of the car and greeted them by kissing both of Will’s cheeks and Sophie’s lips.
Will described today’s route to Niccolò. It wound through the countryside and ended at Montalcino.
They stopped at Pienza for an espresso and hard roll. Will insisted on sitting at an outdoor table. “The chilly air is refreshing,” he said. Will studied each person who walked past them.
Sophie sipped her espresso. “Do you think Francesca might live here?”
“Don’t know. But I figure we should keep an eye out. We might get lucky.”
Sophie exchanged a glance with Niccolò.
Will had no interest in walking the streets or talking to the shopkeepers who bustled around and opened their stores.
“Let’s drive on.” Will paid for their drinks and food over Niccolò’s objection and started off toward the car.
Sophie hung back with Niccolò. She looped her arm inside his. “I’m afraid this is a feeble exercise. A half-hearted attempt at continuing the search, but not likely to discover anything.”
Niccolò stopped walking and turned to face Sophie. “Can you blame him? Not wanting to give up on reuniting with his love?” He bent his head and kissed her. His voice turned raspy with emotion. “I can understand why he won’t let go.”
Sophie wanted to sink into his arms and stay there for weeks. Or longer. She fought the urge to cling to him here in the square. “I understand, too.”
Niccolò draped his arm around her. “His route heads to San Quirico next.”
Will directed Niccolò to detour and follow the gravel road to the Chapel of Our Lady of Vitaleta.
Sparks raced over Sophie’s neck and chest. There must be something here that Will remembered. Something he kept secret.
They drove as close to the building as possible and walked the rest of the way.
“Look,” Sophie said, “it’s open.” She and Niccolò walked faster.
A veined brownish material covered the facade of the church. Sophie stopped and ran her hand over it. “The stone is lovely.”
“It’s Rapolano from Tuscany. Travertine. I love the stones and marbles of Italy. Someday, I’d like to incorporate some of them into my home.”
Sophie cocked her head. “You know about both Tuscan wines and rocks?”
He blushed. “I love architecture and the building elements that give it character. I’m a geek that way.”
“Not a geek. Oh, look.” Sophie pointed above the door’s lintel, where a small rose window graced the space. “A rose makes sense for a chapel that held a statue of Our Lady.”
They tiptoed into the dark cavern. It held a single nave. Out of reverence, Sophie made the sign of the cross before she walked down the aisle. Niccolò did the same.
He walked beside her and grasped her hand.
“Sophie! Niccolò! I need you!” Will’s loud voice came from somewhere outside.
They bolted out.
Will wasn’t near the car. They ran around the building to the back. Will knelt by one of the cypress trees, head bowed.
Sophie dropped to her knees next to him.
Tears ran down Will’s cheeks.
Sophie placed her hand on Will’s back. “What is it? Does your chest hurt?”
Will’s trembling lips gasped air. “They’re gone. They’re gone, Sophie.”
She clutched his arm. Niccolò knelt on the other side of Will. Will’s back shook with sobs. Niccolò wrapped his arm around the frail, elderly man.
“We’ll help you to the car, Will. Get you to a doctor.” Sophie tried to assess his condition.
“No.” Will grabbed Sophie’s hand. “The flowers. The flowers I left for Francesca are gone.”
73
Will swiped at his tears.
Sophie and Niccolò helped him to his feet.
Will asked Joe to return here. He left flowers for Francesca.
She wanted to pummel him with questions but held them for now. Sophie led Will to the chapel.
Will stood inside the entry and blinked his eyes, to adjust to the change in light. He walked up to the front of the nave.
I joined you on this crazy mission to Italy, Will. But you didn’t tell me everything.
“Have you been in here before?”
“No.”
She walked up and put her hand on Will’s shoulder. “Let’s go outside. The fresh air might be better for you. You can sit on the step in front. We need to talk.”
Will faced her. His stern face broadcast a warning. “I guess so.” They moved outside and he sank down on the steps, gazing at his hands clasped in his lap.
Sophie stood in front of Will. Be careful or he’ll withdraw. “Did you leave blossoms here yesterday when you came with Joe?”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t one of you tell me?”
“Joe was sleeping. He didn’t see me pick the wildflowers.”
Sophie blew out an exasperated breath. “You left wildflowers by a country chapel that you’ve never seen before in the hopes Francesca might find them?”
Will lowered his eyes. His chin dropped to his chest.
Her words hurt him. Sophie knelt by her neighbor.
“Will.” Sophie rested one hand on his knee. “I’m sorry.”
She softened her voice. “You said you didn’t remember this chapel, yet you left flowers here. Why this place?”
He didn’t answer.
“Will, it may not have been Francesca. It’s possible whoever opened the building saw a wilted bouquet and threw it away. If you weren’t in this spot during the war, she would have no reason to be here.”
He raised his eyes with a defiant look on his face.
“Francesca had every reason to come here.” He stood, caught his breath, and stomped away.
“Will, wait.”
Niccolò stepped in front of her. He wound his fingers through hers. “Let him be. It goes against his grain to share the details of his ti
me with Francesca. He’s kept his past secret for seventy-five years.”
Seventy-five years. A long time to love one person.
She nodded in agreement. Will needs time before he’ll agree to reveal more about this place.
Niccolò kissed the tip of her nose. “Blame destiny, not Will. What if you had come here first and found Francesca before I met you?”
Sophie caught her breath. Never meet Niccolò?
“Will,” Niccolò called out to him, “we’re going to head back inside for a few minutes. When you’re ready, come get us.”
Will bent to pick a new handful of wild blooms.
Niccolò rubbed his palm over Sophie’s back. “He’s too frail to walk to any town. I have the car keys. Let’s go inside and give him some privacy.”
They walked inside.
Niccolò brought her to him and lowered his lips to hers. Sophie wanted it to never end.
After he pulled his mouth away, his thumbs traced tiny circles on her skin. “I would never lie to you in a church.”
“Don’t you always tell me the truth?” A sense of panic rose in her.
“Of course, I do.”
“Why did you say that? About a holy place forcing you to be honest?”
“Shh.” He touched her lips with his fingertips. “I have always spoken the truth.” He stopped to think. A grin spread over his face. “Except about your cooking skills.”
She relaxed and chuckled. “That’s fair.”
“I want to talk about us. About what happens when you return to the States.”
This is it. It’s over. She blinked three times in succession.
“You look sad. Why?”
“I don’t want this—us—to end.” Sophie choked back a sob.
“Why do you say that?” Alarm underscored his words.
Can I tell him my secret? The horrible thing about me that no one knows?
Her words spilled out. “I know this magical thing between us will end.” She swallowed with effort. “If ...if distance doesn’t kill our relationship, then I will.”
“You would do that? Why?”
She embraced him in a swift movement and backed away. “I don’t want to be apart from you. I want ‘us’ to continue.” Her lower lip trembled. “But I’ll do something, or more likely say something, that drives you away from me.” Tears trickled down her cheeks.
His face showed his confusion. “Why do you think this will happen?”
“Because I drove away every person I ever cared about.”
“No, it can’t be true. And even if it were, I’m different. I’m strong.”
“You need to understand this about me, Niccolò.” She let her tears fall unchecked. “I finally figured it out this year.”
He brushed the water off her cheeks. “Figured what out?”
“Something happened when I was a child. It wasn’t a one-off. I drive away everyone I care about.”
“I’m not everyone.”
“The boyfriend I had at the first of the year? Well, I fell hard for him. Opened up to him.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Sophie waved him into silence.
“I told him I wanted to marry him and have four kids.” She ached with the humiliation of Russ proposing to someone else after she bared her soul to him.
“Do you still care for him that way?”
“No.” She did imagine a possible future with Niccolò but had learned to keep her mouth shut regarding dreams of marriage and children.
“Sophie, you’re not the first woman, or man, who has said something like that to a lover prematurely.”
“Oh, but I do this—I say or do something—and chase away every boyfriend.”
“I’m sorry. You can’t own this. There are two people involved.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t mean to, and I hate the consequences, but I’m horrible. I do it. I drive people away. Somebody always gets hurt.”
“I’ll take the risk. Now can we talk about what happens after you go back to the U.S.?”
Her breath quickened as the damning truth created waves of nausea in her stomach. She ran to one of the windows to hide her face from him. Her shoulders shook. She sobbed into her hands.
He moved behind her and encircled her waist with his arms. His warm breath brushed her ear. “Let’s talk about us. You and me.”
“I’m horrendous. You don’t want to be with me.”
“I do want to be with you. Now and in the future.”
“You don’t know what I did.”
“Tell me.”
She inhaled a long, deep breath. “I killed my parents.”
74
Niccolò kept his arms around her middle. He snuggled her closer against his chest and whispered in her ear, “Tell me.”
“I was eight and an only child. I didn’t consider myself spoiled, but I was. We lived in Chicago. I had a four-day school holiday over Martin Luther King weekend. We planned to go to Telluride, Colorado, for two days of skiing.”
Sophie’s spine turned into railroad tracks for the Icy Express. “A girl from school asked three friends to her home for a sleepover. I wasn’t one of the popular kids. I had never been invited to stay overnight with a friend.
“I begged my parents to postpone the ski trip.
“Dad had made all the arrangements, including flights on a charter airplane. He gave my mother the getaway as a Christmas gift.
“I told them to go without me. That I’d...” Sophie’s voice broke. “I’d rather be with my friends than go with them.”
Sophie stared out the window. The scene was not a field dotted with wildflowers, but frosted glass and snow-covered shrubs and trees. Her parents walked to a black car parked in front of their house. They turned around, looked back at her, and waved good-bye while she watched through the dining room window. Sophie felt her aunt’s hand on her shoulder. She shamefully remembered what she had asked her aunt. “Can you drive me right now to my friend’s house?”
Niccolò didn’t move or speak.
“The worst thing? I accused them of not loving me.” She bowed her head. “The night was awful. The other girls played games but didn’t teach me the rules, and they gossiped about kids in a mean way. I called my parents from my friend’s house and pleaded with them to come home the next day, two days early.”
She shivered. Niccolò’s arms tightened around her.
“I found out later the news stations forecast snow for the day I wanted them to leave. My parents insisted on coming home. The pilot’s family wrote a letter to me a month later. My mother convinced the reluctant pilot to ignore the storm warnings.
“Sleet peppered the wings and windshield minutes before they boarded it. The maintenance man who cleared the flight for takeoff said he’d seen similar conditions and those other pilots managed to get above the storms without mishap.
“Mom and Dad’s charter crashed on takeoff.
“Years later, I checked the Telluride newspapers. Sunny, calm skies blessed the original day they were to return home.”
Tears she thought she had exhausted long ago coursed across her face. “I never told them I loved them.”
She clamped her eyes shut, but she couldn’t escape the truth. “I killed them.”
Niccolò pivoted her body to face him. He kissed her eyelids. “You didn’t need to say that you loved them. They knew you did. Horrible accidents happen every day. You didn’t cause it.”
She nestled her face in his neck and sobbed. He held her and rubbed her back. The warmth of his body seeped into hers.
He lifted her face. His solemn eyes commanded her attention. “Their death was not your fault. They loved you more than anything, and you loved them back. It was a tragic accident. You are a good person, Sophie. You can forget all that nonsense about driving me away. I won’t let you.”
They turned at the sound of Will’s cough. He stood in the entry. “I’m ready to tell you about Francesca. About why I know she might come here.”
Sophie murmured her thanks and swiped her cheeks with the white, pressed cloth. She patted her face to clear it of tears.
“Let’s go.” Will walked outside to where they had found him earlier. A fresh handpicked bouquet lay on the ground. Behind Will, a cypress tree stretched toward the sky like a ballerina.
Will moistened his lips with his tongue. “Francesca’s brother drove me to this area from up north, after the battles on Riva Ridge. He rejoined his buddies near Montepulciano. Anthony asked Francesca to tend to my wounds until I regained my strength.
“Partisans stashed Italian deserters in sheds, cellars, and in the woods all around here. I was the first Yank Francesca had seen.
“There were two of us she nursed and protected—a Brit and me. German fire brought the Brit’s bomber down. Nazi bullets wounded him after he crash-landed.”
A sliver of a smile flickered on Will’s lips. “Partisans repaid those Germans and left none to tell the tale. I asked Francesca, and she admitted she shot her share of those Germans.
“I adored that girl. Of course, I wanted to sleep with her.”
He pursed his lips. “Now don’t you go thinking that I was a rake, only wanting in Francesca’s britches. I loved her, and she loved me back. War can snuff out life in a second. You don’t dillydally around with silly things like a courtship.”
Will squatted by his arrangement and put the brightest blooms on top. He stood and spoke in a raspy voice that broadcast his emotion. “Francesca was a good Catholic girl. She wouldn’t make love with me because we weren’t married. I tried to explain that we might die the next day or the next hour, but she wouldn’t change her mind.
“Her brother and his friends headed for the mountains up north. Anthony told me about points of interest nearby before he left. He described where the Germans bunked and concealed themselves for ambushes, the La Foce estate, a handful of other farms, and the nearest cities. He also mentioned this church.”
Will gazed at the fields. He spoke in a slow cadence. “I asked Francesca to bring me here after dark. The building was locked, but we came here—to the outdoor chapel formed by these trees. I convinced her that we could bend the rules in wartime. We said our own vows in God’s presence.” His chin dipped in one firm nod. “We married each other right here, in this spot.”
