The House by the River

by Lena Manta

  Their conversation hadn’t reassured her at all. On the contrary. She began to be more observant, and she soon realized that in addition to watching Peter, guards also watched the house and herself—even Magdalini. Still she didn’t say anything to Peter. Meanwhile she was filled with anxiety and fear. She was almost certain that her husband had gotten mixed up in something, and the fact that the Mafia had spread its tentacles everywhere was an open secret.

  On New Year’s Eve they were invited to the house of some people Anna didn’t know, something that also made her anxious. For years now, they’d spent New Year’s Eve with friends and neighbors. But Peter had announced the invitation quite a while before Thanksgiving and he had given precise instructions to his wife about their dress. It would be a formal party, and they’d find themselves among some government people as well as artists, so it would be quite different from their usual parties. Aunt and niece wore their feet out trying to find suitable evening dresses. Although she usually enjoyed shopping with Magdalini, Anna, her head full of unpleasant thoughts and her heart overcome with fear, felt dissatisfied. The girl looked like a movie star in a pale-yellow evening gown that she had fallen in love with at first sight and bought, but Anna hardly noticed. Peter, on the other hand, sighed with satisfaction when he saw his niece wrapped in yellow lace with her hair up, a fact that didn’t escape Anna. A nasty foreboding began to grow in her. Peter’s sigh was unwarranted. His look confused her. It wasn’t admiration she saw in his eyes. Her husband behaved to her as if he were reviewing some merchandise, as if he were expecting to make a great deal . . . but how? She began to be annoyed with herself for her suspicions. She reached the point of asking herself if she was losing her mind and seeing bad things all around her, so she tried to drive away her concerns but it proved impossible.

  Peter had hired a huge limousine for the evening and Magdalini laughed happily when she saw it. She sat on one of the comfortable back seats and accepted the glass of champagne that her uncle offered her from the bar of the car.

  “Uncle, is there anything in America that’s small?” she asked him, wrinkling her nose at her first contact with the bubbly drink.

  Peter smiled broadly at her. “Hmm, let me think. No, I don’t think so. Everything in America is big, Lyn. Even dreams. If you’re satisfied with small dreams, your life will be small, and that doesn’t fit with the country.” He then turned to his wife, who was looking absently out the window. “What do you say, Anna?”

  “What? I didn’t hear what you were saying.”

  “What’s the matter, Auntie?” Magdalini asked. “You look so beautiful, everything’s so lovely, but you’re not in a good mood.”

  Anna hurried to reassure her niece. “No darling, I’m not in a bad mood—I’m just a little confused.”

  She realized that her suspicions were spoiling the family’s fun. She looked at her husband, who was now talking to Magdalini about the evening ahead. It had been a long time since Anna had seen him so relaxed—and the strangeness of it made her even more uncomfortable.

  The limousine stopped in front of a huge, brightly lit house. Neither Magdalini nor her aunt had ever seen anything like it.

  “What’s this?” Anna asked her husband.

  “The house where we’ll welcome in the New Year,” he explained cheerfully. “Didn’t I promised you a New Year’s Eve out of a fairy tale?”

  “Yes, but this is even more than a fairy tale. Who does the house belong to, Peter?” Anna’s voice didn’t hide the fact that she was unhappy.

  “You don’t know him. His name is Matthew Bowden, and he’s regarded as the king of gold.”

  “And how do you know him?”

  “Just what is all this, Anna? Are you interrogating me? Do you think you should already know all my friends and colleagues?”

  “So do you work with this Bowden?”

  “This whole game is becoming tiresome, my sweet. Shall we get out, or will we wait for the New Year in the car?”

  Peter got out of the limousine without saying any more, then reached out to his wife to help her down. At first Anna hesitated, then she took her husband’s hand and got out of the car. Behind her, Magdalini was still looking, enchanted, at the palace that awaited them. The inside really dazzled her. She had to half close her eyes at the brilliance of the reception room that seemed endless, it was so big. Great chandeliers hung from the ceilings, which were decorated with gold leaf. The furniture was also decorated with gold, the wooden floor shone, and wherever there were carpets they were so thick that Magdalini wondered how far her feet would sink if she trod on them.

  The host and hostess greeted them at the entrance. Bowden seemed to be impressed by Magdalini and gave an inquiring glance at Peter, which Anna noticed. A small wrinkle of dissatisfaction formed between her eyebrows. She decided not to take her eyes off Magdalini the whole evening. These two men shared some secret, and it must concern her niece. Nor did she like Bowden. After the necessary introductions and greetings, they moved into an enormous room full of people. Some of them didn’t make a good impression; in particular the ones who approached her husband worried her. Despite their formal attire, she recognized quite a few who had crossed her doorstep, and their carefully groomed appearance didn’t improve the opinion she’d formed of them.

  Magdalini seemed to be living in a mythical world full of princes and princesses. She looked around her, intrigued. Her face glowed, and Anna could see how unbelievably beautiful she was that evening. None of the other guests compared to her beauty in its youth and freshness.

  “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Magdalini gushed as she took in the room.

  “I knew you would like it,” Peter answered. “What do you say? Will you dance with your old uncle and give me the satisfaction of being envied by everyone in the room?”

  Magdalini laughed happily and gave him her hand so he could lead her onto the floor. They began to whirl around to the sounds of a waltz and indeed, all eyes were fixed on the beautiful girl that old Peter was holding in his arms. When they returned to Anna, both smiling, she felt bad that she couldn’t enjoy the moment. If it were up to her, she would have taken Magdalini out of here by now. Everything in the place seemed suspicious to her. An alarm was sounding in her head and wouldn’t stop.

  When Franco approached them, Anna wanted to start shouting for reasons she couldn’t explain. He was surprisingly handsome, she had to admit, even if such good looks in a man were too much for her taste. Very tall, with a muscular body, black hair, and intensely black eyes, he must have been a little over thirty. His movements had something catlike about them. Bowden stood beside him, ready to make the introductions. Franco Giotto—that was his name—greeted Peter formally, Anna politely and respectfully. But when he turned to Magdalini, he seemed to be dazzled. He appeared mesmerized by her blond beauty and transparent white skin. And Anna noticed unhappily that Magdalini didn’t seem indifferent to him. Her eyes lit up and her mouth half opened in a sweet smile. At that moment she looked just like spring, filled with juices and perfumes.

  As the men conversed, Anna was able to observe them at her leisure. Bowden and Peter talked about the stock exchange in a satisfied way that gave her the impression they shared some sort of success she knew nothing about. It was quite obvious that Franco was half listening to the conversation. His glance kept resting on Magdalini, and Anna realized that whatever secret the other two were sharing, he was on the outside. For the time being she relaxed. Her mind kept returning to his surname, which she seemed to recognize, but she couldn’t remember where from. Finally she gave up.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I think we’ve been ignoring two beautiful ladies for quite a while now, and it’s a shame.” It was Franco who’d spoken, and immediately afterward he turned to Magdalini. “I hope you’ll agree to dance with me,” he said, and held out his hand to her.

  Magdalini had the impression that if she touched his hand, she’d catch fire. Her heart was beating loudly an
d she knew she was blushing, so, although she was dying to be held in his arms, she hesitated.

  Peter extricated her from this difficult situation. “Franco’s right. We came here to have fun and we forgot ourselves, talking about work. Come on, Lyn. Don’t keep Franco in agony. Go and dance, and when I’ve excused myself from Matthew, I’ll follow too, with my beautiful wife.”

  Matthew nodded in agreement and moved away, while Peter led Anna onto the floor. But Franco and Magdalini remained in the same place, his hand still outstretched toward hers. Time seemed to have stopped, the people around them disappeared. Only the sweet music succeeded in breaking the spell, provoking them to embrace. As they danced, Magdalini was grateful for his strong lead—otherwise she wasn’t sure she would have been capable of taking a step. Her feet didn’t obey the dictates of her brain, which only followed the beating of her heart.

  The couple whirled on the dance floor with all eyes fixed on them. They were beautiful together and well matched by their contrasting features—she tall, delicate, and blond, like a wood nymph; he tall, muscular, and dark. He held her tight, his lips resting in her hair, and he seemed intoxicated by her smell. He didn’t dare look at her. If he had seen her face so close to him, he couldn’t have resisted kissing her. He wanted to touch her lips; he knew they must be sweet. Magdalini was still holding her breath. She was trying to commit to memory the feel of his hands on her body and his scent. They understood that they were both on fire, and hoped no one else in the room had noticed it. She prayed for the dance not to stop, for the music to last an eternity. When it did stop she wanted to cry, but despite the fact that not a note could be heard, Franco didn’t let her out of his arms until a new piece began, then he continued to lead her to its tune. She dared to look at him and he smiled meaningfully at her. For the first time in his life he felt his heart ready to stop from his desire for a woman; for the first time, burning lava ran through his body. And although she was like cool water in his arms, he couldn’t drink greedily like he wanted to.

  “Maybe you’re tired?” he asked her in a low voice. “Do you want us to stop?”

  It was only a simple question, but he understood that her answer would determine whether he lost his reason or not. He didn’t know what he’d do if she answered yes, if she left his arms, if someone else claimed the privilege of holding her close and smelling her perfume.

  “No,” Magdalini replied. “I’m not tired at all. It’s so beautiful here tonight.”

  “Beautiful? In here, the only truly beautiful thing is you,” he whispered.

  Her long eyelashes tenderly swept downward over her golden eyes; a little lower down, her rosy lips half opened softly. Franco felt as if he was losing his mind.

  The host provided a solution to the impasse. He interrupted the music and invited the guests to follow him into the garden. The New Year was close and the fireworks would signal its entrance into their lives. Franco led Magdalini out onto a small balcony, far away from the others. He wanted her only for himself during those magic moments when the tired old year would give way to a small, newborn year which, the pages of its days unwritten, would begin its journey. Without speaking, the two of them knew that nothing would be the same for either of them. That evening had changed everything, sweeping it away.

  Magdalini was trembling, but it wasn’t from the cold. She wondered what it would be like if he kissed her. Franco put his arm around her shoulders a few seconds before the dark sky exploded with fiery flowers, colored umbrellas, and golden ribbons, transforming it into a rare spectacle.

  “Happy New Year!” he wished her gently.

  “Yes,” Magdalini stammered softly. “Happy New Year!” The words came out with difficulty.

  He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He bent toward her and kissed her. His lips made hers catch fire as if she were one of the fireworks that still shook the air. She felt as if an explosion had dissolved her. She clung to Franco and his kiss became harder, his hands held her tightly to him. He felt as if he was drowning and only she had the necessary oxygen that would allow him to go on living. Magdalini pulled back first, not because she wanted to but because she was suddenly ashamed. What sort of behavior was this and how could she have acted so outrageously? Her aunt and uncle would certainly ask her why she was kissing a man she had only met a few hours earlier.

  “I’m sorry,” Franco murmured, but the word sounded so silly in his ears, so false. What was he saying sorry for? Because he was thirsty and drank water? Because he was drowning and she gave him breath?

  Magdalini looked pale now, as her eyes rested on the marble floor of the terrace. “I think . . . I think we had better go back inside,” she suggested in a low voice. “My family will be looking for me. It’s not right.”

  “Lyn, look at me.” His voice ordered her, but at the same time an almost imperceptible tone pleaded with her. Magdalini slowly raised her eyes and stopped when they met his, which even in the dark were shining. “Do you feel bad about what happened?” he asked her tenderly.

  “I think we got carried away,” she answered honestly. “We only just met tonight. It wasn’t right . . . I don’t know.”

  She was ready to cry and Franco was even more shaken. Her honesty wasn’t in doubt, but the extent of her innocence seemed unreal in the world where he was accustomed to living. He raised a hand and touched her cheek. The feeling of velvet extended from the tips of his fingers to his brain.

  “I wasn’t just carried away,” he said softly. “From the moment I met you I wanted to do that. But if I offended you, I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  Magdalini nodded and a shy smile adorned the corners of her lips.

  Franco took a deep breath. “You’re right, Lyn. We had better go inside. If we stay out here alone, I’m not sure I won’t do something that I’d have to apologize for again.”

  Magdalini hurried to transform herself before they went back into the brightly lit room, her heart still beating disobediently and an imperceptible sadness in her eyes for something that had stopped and might never happen again. She rejoined her aunt and uncle and felt bad when she saw the uneasiness on her aunt’s face.

  “Where were you, my girl?” Anna called out as soon as she saw her. “We’ve been looking for you for ages. Where did you disappear to?”

  She wasn’t sure she could answer without the tremor in her voice giving her away. She thanked Franco with a glance as he undertook very calmly to explain.

  “I’m sorry we frightened you,” he said cheerfully. “Mr. Bowden announced the New Year very suddenly and we hurried to go outside. We found a balcony where we could watch the fireworks. Lyn’s fine, even though she may have a cold tomorrow. We didn’t have time to get her coat.”

  Magdalini could only nod her head in agreement, and making a superhuman effort, she managed to smile. When Franco said good night and left her side, she felt like everything had lost its luster, its beauty, becoming dull and uninteresting. Before her eyes a distorting mirror made the room stifling and tasteless, the voices and laughter echoed loudly and annoyingly. Fortunately Anna asked to go home. She had put up with this crowd long enough. Peter agreed to leave without any discussion.

  Only afterward, sitting in the dark and quiet of her room, did Magdalini have enough time to go over all that had happened on that strange evening. The sky was clear, and in her imagination, she replayed on it, minute by minute, all those fireworks. She could feel all the sensations that his kiss had provoked, and she analyzed all the changes that their meeting had brought about. No one had ever kissed her. She’d never wanted anyone to touch her, and yet Franco had changed all that. She didn’t know if she would see him again. He hadn’t asked to see her; he hadn’t even asked her where she lived or what her telephone number was. Maybe, for such a handsome man, she was just a momentary amusement. She happened to be next to him, so it was she that he kissed. But for her, the simple memory of that kiss made her whole body come alive; she certainly wouldn’t forget him.
The woman inside her had woken completely and was asking for more, for everything.

  In the next room Anna was awake, tossing and turning, to the point where Peter sat up in bed irritably.

  “Really, what’s the matter with you?” he asked his wife. “What’s making you worry so much?”

  “Do you really have to ask, after what happened tonight? Magdalini disappeared with that fellow who we don’t even know, and when she came back she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.”

  “I don’t agree. Lyn was fine!”

  “Peter, you’re playing the fool again. That Franco Giotto doesn’t seem like much of a trustworthy type to me.”

  “You’re not being fair to him. He’s a nice fellow—good looking, educated. And if he singled out Lyn—and he was quite right about that—it’s not such a bad thing. She’s a young woman. It’s time she had a friend. Apart from Judy and Alex, who does she hang around with?”

  “Where do you even know this gentleman from?” Sitting up with her arms crossed on her chest, Anna seemed to be annoyed now.

  “I’ve heard a lot about him from Matthew.”

  “And how do you know Matthew and for how long?”

  “Not this again! I’m in the import business. I know lots of people. What’s gotten into you?”

  Suddenly deflated, Anna fell back on the bed. “I don’t know, Peter,” she answered sadly. “I have the feeling that something is happening around me, and I can’t understand what it is. I feel something bad surrounding us and I can’t intervene and stop it from hurting us.”

  “What are you saying, my dear? What bad thing? We’ve never been better. And if Franco, as things appear, is interested in Lyn, you should be pleased. They’re young. Love is the air that young people need. Don’t you remember how we were, once upon a time?”

  Peter put his arms around Anna and she curled up against him, tired.

  “If I could believe you . . . if I wasn’t afraid you were hiding something.”