by Nina Singh
Maya turned to him in question. “I don’t understand?”
“Tell me what you see.” He reached for her then, and she could swear the blood stopped pounding in her heart. He touched a gentle finger to her temple. “What do you see in here?” Then his hand dropped to her collarbone, then lower to the area of her heart. “And in here?”
* * *
“Come, let’s walk along the Grand Canal side,” Vito said close to two hours later when they were back outside.
The tour of the palace had taken longer than she would have thought. But Maya would have spent days and days in there if given the opportunity. The visual magnificence of the venue was beyond anything she’d seen before. Now, as they stood back, Maya was still in the process of absorbing all the wonders she’d observed in both the basilica and palazzo.
“There’s something else you need to see,” Vito informed her.
Moments later they were standing atop a bridge around the corner looking up at yet another bridge—the arched structure that connected the Doge’s Palace with another building—the Prigioni Nuove, the prison. Maya recognized it immediately. “The Bridge of Sighs.”
“Another stunning work of Venetian architecture,” Vito supplied.
That was one doozy of an understatement. The detail in the architecture alone was a sight to behold.
“The windows are so small. Why did they even bother with them?”
“Those poor prisoners from centuries ago had to have one last view of the city before they were doomed to incarceration.”
“Yes. But it seems terribly unfair that the last view of Venice those poor ancient prisoners saw before being sent to their cells had to be through those small holes.”
Vito rubbed his chin. “What else do you see? Look closely, beyond the basic structure.”
Maya studied the bridge, squinting to make out the details. It was magnificent. But she wasn’t sure what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. Then it struck her. Several ornamental carvings in the surface. “Are those faces?”
“Good eye.”
That wasn’t the first time he’d said that to her. Each time had sent a childish surge of pleasure through her chest straight to her toes. It had to mean something, didn’t it? If a professional artist of Vito’s caliber complimented you on your observational skills?
“They’re meant to ward off evil spirits. And to guard the bridge as well as the two buildings it connects.”
“As far as the prison goes, were the faces meant to keep evil in or keep it out?”
“That’s the question, now, isn’t it? I’m sure the poor souls passing through it on their way to their foul new residence contemplated that very thing.”
Maya felt an involuntary shiver down her spine. Both the bridge and the jail must harbor the ghosts of angry and despondent souls who’d been sentenced to a term of misery.
Vito noticed her reaction. “Come now. Don’t focus so much on the sadness of it.”
“Hard to help it.”
“Ah, but it isn’t all doom and gloom. There’s a romantic story linked to the bridge, as well.”
“There is?” In all her readings regarding Venice, she didn’t recall anything romantic associated with the famous bridge which led to dark and solitary prison cells.
“Certainly.”
She would have to hear this to believe it. “Please, do tell.”
Vito crossed his arms and leaned over the railing of the bridge they stood on. “There’s a local legend that says under a precise set of circumstances, a couple that kisses under the Bridge of Sighs is destined for a lifetime of love and happiness.”
Maya raised her eyebrows at him in question. She was definitely intrigued. “What are these circumstances?”
“That’s the difficult part. The chances of all the variables falling into place are highly unlikely. Yet I hear it does happen.”
“Oh?”
“See, if a couple can get it right, they can look forward to a bright and fruitful future together full of love and affection. That is, if they manage to time it so that they’re under the bridge right at sunset just as the bells of San Marco ring out. If so, they will be granted eternal love and a lifetime of bliss.”
“You’re right. That’s a lot of pieces that need to fall into place.”
He nodded. “Adding to the uncertainty is the fact that St. Mark’s bells don’t even ring every hour. Still, couples do try.”
As luck would have it, they watched as a gondola slowly glided under the bridge at that very moment. The two couples on board embraced and each shared a loving kiss.
“They’ve obviously heard of the legend,” Vito remarked.
“Obviously.”
“I don’t hear any bells, though. Plus, it’s not quite sunset.”
Maya wasn’t sure any of that mattered. Both couples looked like they were having the time of their lives.
Would she ever have that? she wondered. She realized now that she had never had it with Matt. Not for the first time since arriving in Italy, she couldn’t help but wonder if Matt hadn’t, in fact, done her a huge favor. Maya had no doubt he would have betrayed her after they’d gotten married. Once a cheater...and all that. Better that she find out and deal with it now, before she took his name. Or became a parent with him. She didn’t know if she would have had the strength to leave him once she became his wife. Or the mother of his children.
Her gaze traveled to the man standing next to her. It was hard not to compare him with Matt. On the surface, they both seemed to exude confidence. But when it came to substance, she had to acknowledge that Matt didn’t have much of the genuine quality. She didn’t know all that much about Vito but he seemed successful on his own terms. Whereas Matt had made never made a secret of the fact that he’d used his father’s connections and clout as a businessman to get to where he was in life. Matt actually regarded that with pride. He liked presenting himself as the deserving son of a prominent and wealthy Brahmin family. Upon inspection now, she could see the image he wanted to create must have included a doting spouse.
In contrast, Vito seemed very much self-made. Everything he’d achieved, he would have had to do on his own. Professional artists couldn’t rely on family connections. They either had the talent or they didn’t.
Vito seemed deep in thought, as well. Deep creases lined his face; his lips had drawn tight. Maya had no doubt he was thinking of his late spouse. She had to wonder what she might have been like, what type of woman was able to attract the attention of someone like Vito Rameri. She must have been quite something.
Maya might have lost the future she’d planned. A development that had brought her to her knees several days ago, but one that she was gradually but surely recovering from.
Vito, on the other hand, had lost the love of his life.
* * *
Vito didn’t know how long they’d stood there in silence, simply watching the steady flow of gondolas drifting under the Bridge of Sighs. In a scene that could have been straight out of a stormy painting, all too suddenly, the sky grew several shades darker. Clouds that Vito could have sworn weren’t there mere seconds before suddenly burst open and released a torrent of heavy rain.
What the...? Nowhere in the forecast had there been any prediction of rain, let alone the downpour they currently found themselves in.
The shrieks of fellow visitors filled the air around them as they ran to find shelter. Maya was reacting differently, though—she was laughing hysterically, in a manner the Americans would call “cracking up.”
“What exactly is so funny?” he asked with an answering smile of his own, once they’d run off their perch and reached the large umbrella of a flower vendor nearby.
“Oh, I’m just wondering why it is that the fates have decreed that I need to get soaked to the skin every couple of days in Venice. And that you’re certa
in to be around to witness the spectacle for some reason.”
He returned her laughter with a chuckle of his own. “You know, the very thought had just occurred to me, as well.”
“Scusa, flowers for the beautiful young lady?” the vendor was asking.
Vito didn’t hesitate. He motioned to a wrapped bouquet of budding pink roses. A purchase was the least he could do; they were taking advantage of the man’s shelter, after all.
Something told him he might have bought Maya flowers in any case.
Maya didn’t say anything as he handed them to her. But her cheeks flushed a shade of pink not unlike the roses she currently sniffed.
“They’re beautiful. Thanks, Vito,” she said with a pleased smile, ducking her head shyly.
He hadn’t forgotten the last time he’d bought flowers for a woman. How could he?
That particular flower purchase hadn’t been quite as pleasant as this one. The day seemed a lifetime ago. But he replayed it clearly in his mind. He and Marina had had yet another heated exchange in a long line of chaotic and dramatic arguments—like so many that had plagued their marriage toward the end. Marina had snatched the bouquet out of his hands and thrown it in the bin.
Her voice, shaking with anger and disgust, resonated in his brain. Do you think such a futile gesture would make up for the way you’ve been ignoring me for all these weeks?
Vito pushed the memories away. What good was it to dwell on them now? He’d have plenty of time later, when he was alone. When he was sitting at his round wooden table in the apartment he occupied above the art studio, staring off into space and contemplating all the ways things had gone so horribly wrong in his life.
His gaze fell to where Maya stood admiring her roses. Her thick curls had escaped the sensible ponytail she’d shown up with this morning. Her eyes were bright, sparkling with merriment. Perhaps it was the artist in him but Vito could swear there was a visible aura around her. An aura full of light and laughter. He had to acknowledge that she’d brought both light and laughter back into his existence these past few days. A lightheartedness he didn’t think he’d experience again.
Too bad it was all so temporary.
“I guess I should make my way back to the hotel,” Maya said, interrupting his thoughts.
He couldn’t let her walk or take a boat, as soaked as she was. “My studio is much closer, cara. Let’s go get you dried off. Once again.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue. He simply took advantage of the lull in the rain to take her by the hand and lead her back to his place.
* * *
“I’m having a profound sense of déjà vu.” Maya wiped the wetness from her face after they arrived back at Vito’s studio. “Only this time I’m much more sober.”
So why did she feel so light-headed? Slightly dizzy? The afternoon had grown considerably darker. Shadows fell over Vito’s features, the overall effect lending his face a mysterious, brooding quality that sent a small tremor down her back.
Vito handed her a large rag that he pulled out of a wooden cabinet against the wall. Maya took it gratefully and started to dry off.
“I can offer you refreshment of a more warming variety, if you’re interested. You look like you might be chilled,” he added with a playful wink.
She motioned to her wet clothes and did a little mini swirl. “You think so, huh?”
He shrugged. “Just a guess.”
“I’m definitely interested in anything that may warm me up. What did you have in mind?”
He pointed to the ceiling. “I have an espresso maker in my apartment upstairs.”
Was that an invitation? If so, was she prepared to take him up on it? His next question put her in the exact position of having to make that decision.
“You’re welcome to come up there, of course,” Vito offered. “Or I’d be happy to bring a cup down here when it’s ready.”
He was leaving the ball completely in her court. So what was she going to do? She didn’t relish the idea of sitting down here in the darkened studio by herself. And she’d already spent an afternoon alone with him the previous day. Despite having just met him, Maya felt an unwavering sense that she could trust this man. Enough to be alone in his apartment with him.
“I’d love to help you make the espressos upstairs, Vito.”
She didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she watched the drop of his shoulders as he released it. What exactly did that mean? Probably nothing. There she went, trying to read into things again.
“Just one thing first?” she asked.
“What’s that?”
She tugged at the collar of her damp dress. “Do you have any more of those smocks I might be able to borrow?”
* * *
Vito watched as Maya sat in the middle of his small, cozy kitchen, sipping on her espresso as if the cup had been sent to her straight from heaven. Her curls had all completely escaped at this point; the elastic in her hair had either fallen out or it was lost somewhere in her tresses for all he knew. Her cheeks had gone from a rosy pink to a deeper, more reddish color. The smock he’d given her hung like a shapeless curtain over her frame.
Still, he found her to be achingly beautiful. How the woman managed to look so attractive after getting caught in a rainstorm and while wearing a painter’s smock was truly beyond him.
Whatever her appeal, it behooved him to ignore it. She’d be gone from Italy and out of his life in a few short days. Not that it would matter one iota if her stay here had been a permanent one. Vito wasn’t at a point in his life where he could entertain any type of attraction to a woman. Permanent or otherwise. He had to pull his life back together. He had too much baggage, too much to figure out about himself and how he’d let the woman he’d married down so tragically.
Not to mention, Maya was pulling together the pieces of her own broken heart. The last thing she needed complicating her reality right now was a short and meaningless fling.
Vito sucked in a breath at the direction his thoughts had suddenly taken. A fling shouldn’t have even crossed his mind. What was wrong with him? Was he desperate for female companionship?
He had to get a grip.
“I think the chill has finally left my skin. Thank you for letting me dry out, Vito. Once again. I’ll have quite a repayment to make if you ever find yourself in Boston.”
“If I’m ever there, I will take you up on that,” Vito replied, simply out of politeness. He had no desire or inclination to travel outside of Europe at this stage of his life. If only he’d been able to temper some of his wanderlust before Marina had grown so fed up with his absences. Both his physical and mental ones. He’d not only withdrawn from her physically, he’d done so emotionally, as well. His only excuse was that he’d needed solitude and distance in order to create his art.
He made himself push away the useless thoughts.
“So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” he asked to try and change the subject before Maya could pursue any kind of questioning about the possibility of him going to the States.
She clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “It’s quite exciting. I’m to visit a glass blower’s shop. Followed by some shopping near the Rialto Bridge.”
“Sounds like quite a day. And how about the evening?”
The excitement immediately drained out of her. Her eyes suddenly darted to the ground while a frown creased her lips. She fought valiantly to replace it with a smile, but the effect only served to lend a tight, forced set to her mouth. “Oh. That’s to be another very exciting excursion.” Despite her words, her tone was flat and rather empty.
Vito lifted an eyebrow in question. He could guess the reason for her poor attempt to hide her disappointment. The evening no doubt held another romantic activity meant for two. “What’s the plan?”
Maya swallowed and nodded with enthusia
sm. Too much enthusiasm, in fact. “Something I wouldn’t miss for all the gold on the planet.”
He’d guessed right. Whatever had been on her agenda, it was meant for a couple to enjoy together. He found himself reaching for her over the round glass coffee table between them, and taking her small, delicate hand in his. How could her fiancé have let this woman go?
“Tell me, cara. What is this exciting excursion you have planned?”
“One of the highlights of the trip,” she repeated. “A sunset dinner cruise along the Grand Canal. Complete with champagne and authentic Italian gourmet cuisine. It was one of the activities that most thrilled me when I first found out about the itinerary.”
Vito gave her hand a small squeeze. “Your fiancé is a fool of a man,” he bit out, with more vehemence than he’d intended.
Maya sucked her bottom lip. “Thank you for saying that. Fool or not, there’s no way I’m going to miss out on such an experience myself. Matt has no idea what he’s missing. I thought I might ask around at the hotel to see if there’d be any takers for the extra voucher. You know, just so it doesn’t go to waste. Not that I mind going alone.” It was another clear instance of the lady doth protest too much. Vito kept that thought to himself.
“You have your heart set on this outing, I can tell.”
She gave a small shrug. “Yeah, I do.” He wasn’t imagining the sudden sheen of wetness in her eyes. Vito didn’t want to examine too closely the feeling that came over him at the sight. Pure anger and outrage on her behalf. “Not quite what I initially imagined it would be like, being alone and all. But still, an experience of a lifetime.” Her lips trembled slightly as she forced a smile.
“I’m sorry, bella,” Vito said softly, then wanted to kick himself. Maya was not the type to appreciate any kind of pity directed toward her.
Her next words confirmed that suspicion. “Oh, don’t say that! I know how lucky I am to have this chance, regardless of the circumstances. How many people can say they’ve dined aboard a glamorous ship while sailing the Venetian waters? I refuse to let anything mar the experience for me.”
