“Are you kidding me? I don’t believe in wasting one second.”
Mark laughed. “Good. I just wanted to make sure. Okay, now it’s your turn.” Mark got up and strode over to the Christmas tree. He returned to my side with a large box.
“Here’s your first gift, but it’s my favorite one—well, my favorite after the engagement ring. And that was your birthday gift. This is the first of your Christmas gifts.”
“No, it’s not. What about this trip and all the other wonderful surprises you’ve given me this week?”
“Ah! Those were just ‘I love you’ gifts.”
I kissed Mark on the tip of his nose. “You’re too adorable.”
“I know, but I never tire of hearing your compliments. So keep them coming!”
I opened the large box only to find it contained another slightly smaller wrapped box. I raised a questioning eyebrow in Mark’s direction, but he merely gestured for me to keep on going. But after I unwrapped the second box, another smaller one lay inside that one.
“Okay, this is a joke. Where’s the real gift?”
“Keep unwrapping.”
Sighing, I opened the next box and the next one, until I finally got to a very small box.
“Well, I know this has to be it since you can’t place another box inside this one.”
Mark remained silent, but I detected a smirk.
I removed the gift wrap from the small box and opened it, gasping when I saw what was inside—a white gold necklace with a stunning rainbow pendant made up of multicolored crystals.
“It’s absolutely breathtaking, Mark!”
“I bought it here in Innsbruck. Remember the day I left you alone to shop for your sweaters? I ran over to a crystal shop I had seen. They’re Austrian crystals, not Swarovski, though. The shop is owned by a local crystal artisan. All of his jewelry is one of a kind. I wanted you to have a custom-made piece that no one else would have.”
“I love it! Thank you so much.” I threw my arms around Mark’s shoulders and kissed him.
“Whenever you’re going through a tough time and are feeling sad or hopeless, I want you to look at this rainbow and think of my love for you. I want you to remember that no matter what obstacles might lie in our future, we can overcome them because we have each other. Promise me you’ll always remember that, Bianca?”
I nodded my head. “I promise.” We kissed again.
“Now I’m the one not looking forward to leaving Austria.” I exhaled deeply as I leaned back into Mark. He stroked my hair.
“Well, I have a confession to make.”
I pulled away from Mark, looking him in the eye.
“While you were sleeping last night, I went online and reserved a hotel for us in . . .” Mark’s voice trailed off.
“In where?” The suspense was killing me, and Mark knew it.
“Oh, in . . .”
“Mark!”
“In Lake Como!”
“You didn’t! I’ve always wanted to go there!” I covered my mouth with my hands. “But don’t you have to get back to work? I’ll be fine since I took two weeks off to take care of some things at home.”
“You forget, I own my business. I can do whatever I want.”
“We’re going to Lake Como!” I giggled like a schoolgirl who had just met Santa.
“We’ll take a bus to Lake Como. But don’t worry, it’s not one of those stuffy, crowded buses. It’s a luxury coach that only reserves smaller groups. We’ll be going over the Brenner Pass. Have you ever heard of it?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a highway that connects Austria and Italy. The views are astounding. That’s why I decided to reserve the bus tickets. This way I won’t have to worry about keeping my eyes on the road while driving. I can enjoy the sights with you. We’ll rent a car in Lake Como for the week.”
“You know you’re only making it that much harder for when we have to finally leave Austria?”
“I know. But who cares? After you said yes to my proposal, I felt we should celebrate and be together alone for another week. Is that so bad?”
“No, it’s not. I love you, Mark Vitale. And I’ll love you forever.”
“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to.”
While Mark helped me put on my necklace, I silently asked myself if it was really possible to be this happy.
“Is it all right, Bianca, if I jump into the shower before you? We need to hurry if we don’t want to be late for church.”
“Go right ahead.”
I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. I couldn’t stop staring at the sparkling crystals on my rainbow pendant. And then the oddest thing happened. Although I was the happiest I had ever been in my life, a brief flash of sadness washed over me. Maybe it was because as I stared at my necklace, Mark’s words about facing obstacles came back to me. But I had promised him if I ever felt sad, I would look at my rainbow charm and remember his love for me. And that’s what I did in that moment. The sadness lifted, yet I still felt a bit unsettled.
Chapter 7
Two days after Christmas, Mark and I were on the luxury bus en route to Lake Como. The bus hugged the curves of the cliffs like two lovers locked in a tight embrace, winding its way around the breathtaking Brenner Pass. The highway cut through the Alps along the Italian and Austrian border. Dramatic mountain peaks, waterfalls, and monastery upon monastery dotted the striking landscape. Frequent but brief showers were the norm at this elevation and were a welcome occurrence because of the rainbows that appeared once the rain ended.
I didn’t tell Mark this for fear of sounding corny, but it was ironic that he’d chosen a necklace with a rainbow pendant because I had always adored rainbows. And there were so many of them today as our bus traveled over the Brenner Pass. My mother used to tell me when I was a child that rainbows were proof of God’s existence, for only God could create such a magical phenomenon. She also told me that God was trying to show us that while there might be storms in our lives, there was always hope, much like what Mark wanted me to remember whenever I had to go through a difficult time.
Applause from the bus’s passengers startled me, taking me out of my thoughts. Whenever our driver snaked his way around a difficult, extra-narrow curve, the passengers stopped talking and remained quiet until we successfully cleared the bend. Then, once we did, cheers and applause filled the air. It had now become a game for the passengers.
A group of college students from Ireland were especially enthusiastic, yelling repeatedly, “Bravo! Bravo, maestro!” Our bus driver, Domenico, was from Italy. The students settled down only when Domenico gave a victorious wave.
“So, have you given any thought at all to our wedding?” Mark asked me.
“We’ve only been engaged for four days, Mark!”
“I know, but I also know how special weddings are for women. I’m sure you’ve had some idea of what you would like.”
I smiled shyly. Mark elbowed me. “Come on! Out with it.”
“Well, you’re going to think I’m a bit of a narcissist, but I always envisioned myself getting married in the thick of winter, and if it’s snowing, all the better.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised, since your name is Bianca and you were born during a blizzard on Christmas Eve. Why not come full circle and get married in the winter too?”
“When you put it that way, it makes me feel even more ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous. I think it’s beautiful—and fitting for you. My only reservation is that I’ll have to wait a year for you to become my wife.”
“I need time to plan the wedding—unless you’d like to elope?”
“Oh, no! Your parents would kill me for depriving them of seeing their only daughter get married. Your brothers would have my head too.”
“You got that right!” I laughed.
“So a winter wedding. Now we just have to pick a date.”
“Definitely not Christmas. I don’t want our anniversar
y to compete with the holiday and my birthday. I want it to be its own special day.”
“I wholeheartedly agree. So that leaves us with any week besides Christmas week in December or the months of January and February. If you hope that it snows, your better bet would be January or February. Then again, in Rhode Island we can be assured of getting snow in December as well.”
“Definitely not December. Again, it’s too reminiscent of Christmas. How about the first week in February? And February is the month of love because Valentine’s Day is celebrated then. It would hold some symbolic significance too.”
“Then why not get married on Valentine’s Day?”
“Too cliché. And again, I want to keep our anniversary separate from any other occasion.”
“Okay. The first week in February it is, then.”
Mark took my hand and kissed it, holding it against his chest. I could feel his heart beat. Whenever we lay in bed together, I fell asleep with my arm draped against his chest. The sound of his heart beating always comforted me.
The sky clouded over once again, and soon rain began falling in steady rivulets. We had another hour to go until we reached Italy. I prayed it would just be a passing shower since a heavier downpour would inevitably delay our trip. No sooner had this thought entered my mind than the rain suddenly came lashing down like arrows showered on a battlefield.
“Merda!” the bus driver whispered.
Since Mark and I were sitting in the front, we could hear Domenico cursing as he slowed his speed.
The Irish teens seemed oblivious to the rain and our need to go slower. Earlier, their laughter had subsided whenever Domenico had maneuvered around a tight curve. But now they trusted Domenico’s driving skills and continued chatting even after the last few twists in the road. For the next twenty minutes, the rain pelted down. Lightning flashed through the sky.
“Whoa! Would you bloody look at that?”
One of the Irish teens pointed at the bolt of lightning that had just struck. At this elevation in the Alps, the lightning storm was a spectacular show as several other flashes of light streaked the sky. Many of the tourists on the bus quickly snapped photos. A clap of thunder reverberated from the ground beneath the bus, causing a few of the young girls to shriek. The boys wasted no time in making fun of them.
“Basta! Calm down back there,” Domenico shouted at the kids.
“We’re just having a little fun!”
“Be nice to the girls, okay?” Domenico glanced in his rearview mirror.
I had turned my head to look at the kids behind us when, without warning, I felt the bus lurch forward a few feet before it came to a stop. When I looked out of the windshield, I saw Domenico had narrowly missed rear-ending the car in front of us. The driver blasted his horn at Domenico.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” one of the Irish teens shouted.
“Silenzio!” Domenico yelled back. The jolt the passengers had received a moment before made them heed Domenico’s order. He resumed driving. The storm had finally passed and the traffic was easing up.
“Are you all right?” Mark asked me.
“Yeah. I just got a little startled, like everyone else.”
“That definitely woke me up. I hadn’t been able to fully wake up yet.” Mark yawned.
“We should nap a bit before we get to Italy.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mark said as he rested his head on top of mine, which was propped against his chest.
I hadn’t realized how tired I was, but within minutes I felt myself falling asleep.
“Oh my God!”
I didn’t know how much time had elapsed before I was awakened by several passengers screaming. Before I could register what was happening, the bus swerved from side to side. I almost fell out of my seat, but Mark grabbed my arm, steadying me.
The rosary that hung from Domenico’s rearview mirror swung back and forth frantically, slamming against the windshield.
Mark braced my chest with one arm and with his free hand held the rail on the seat back in front of us. Our eyes locked for a moment before Domenico lost control of the bus.
Chapter 8
I wake up suddenly in a cold sweat. My heart is racing. It starts to slow down when I see Mark sitting at the foot of my bed.
“Are you having that nightmare again?” he asks me, concern written all over his features.
I nod my head. Lately, whenever I wake up, I feel extra foggy, more disoriented than usual. Today, a headache accompanies the fogginess. It must be the sleeping pills my doctor prescribed for my recent bout of insomnia.
Mark says, “Five years, Bianca.”
“I know.”
“Can you believe it?”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t believe it will be five years since we got engaged. It feels like only yesterday.”
“It’s time, Bianca.”
“Time for what?”
“You need to let me go.”
“How can I let you go if you’re already gone, Mark? You left me, remember?” My voice rises sharply.
“It wasn’t my choice. You know that.”
“The hell it wasn’t! If you hadn’t been so concerned about bracing me, you might’ve been saved.”
“You would’ve been killed too.”
“And I would’ve been with you . . . forever.” My eyes fill with tears as I turn away from Mark, not wanting him to see my pain, though I’m sure he must hear it in my voice.
“You are with me and will be with me forever.”
“I want you here with me in this life.” I turn back toward Mark, but he’s gone. And as always after he’s visited me, the despair deepens.
“Damn you!” I grab the glass of water on my night table and fling it in the direction in which Mark had been sitting. The glass crashes against my bed’s foot post. My rage soon turns to tears as I collapse on my bed and cry. Moments later, the phone rings sharply. I hesitate a moment before answering it.
“Hello.”
“Excuse me, miss. It’s the kitchen. We noticed you hadn’t placed a room service order for breakfast this morning. We just want to confirm you won’t be needing breakfast delivered today.”
I had forgotten. But I feel silly telling them that, so I merely say, “No, thank you. I won’t be having breakfast in my room this morning.”
I hang up and sigh deeply. I guess I’ll have to venture out earlier today so I can get a bite to eat. Not that it matters. My appetite has dwindled dramatically since the accident, and my mother never fails to remind me of all the weight I’ve lost.
Slowly getting out of bed, I walk over to the window and stare at the cascade of mountains that make up the Austrian Alps. Closing my eyes, I remember skiing down one of those slopes with Mark. I loved racing him in anything—running, swimming, skiing. When we skied that slope, I had caught up to him, but then, without any warning, he’d tumbled forward. He’d lain motionless in the snow until I reached him. I was terrified. But when I kneeled at his side to check his vitals, he lifted his head and stuck his tongue out at me. Before I could yell at him, he pulled me toward him and kissed me. We lay in the snow, oblivious to the cold, and kissed for what felt like hours.
Wiping away tears, I shake my head. This was a bad idea. I can’t believe I let Dr. Pierpont persuade me to take this trip. What was she thinking? What was I thinking? Dr. Pierpont was convinced it would help me to heal and finally move forward with my life if I came to Innsbruck and confronted my demons. Besides the psychic mediums I had consulted, Dr. Pierpont had been the only person in whom I’d confided about seeing Mark’s ghost everywhere. My family and friends were already worried about me. There’s no way I could—or would—ever tell them.
It wasn’t until about four months after the accident that Mark began visiting me. I’d been in a horrible state those four months until he came to me. At first, I thought I was dreaming. Then I thought I was losing my mind. I researched paranormal activity—in particular, ghost sightings—and was st
artled to learn of the many people who had seen the ghosts of loved ones who had departed. After getting over my initial shock and fear, I welcomed Mark’s visits. I felt happy again whenever I saw him. But the euphoria would always come crashing to a severe halt after he left. And his sudden exit would remind me he no longer belonged to my world. Every visit sent me into a deeper spiral of depression until I was reunited with him the next time. And while I was happy when Mark was with me, I also ached—for I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t kiss him or make love to him again.
Lately, anger had begun to set in, and I would lash out at Mark the way I had this morning. I was beginning to feel like he was taunting me by consoling me when I cried, reminding me of our love and the wonderful memories we’d shared. But then he would vanish almost as quickly as he had appeared.
And now I can’t help feeling troubled by what he’d said earlier. The last few visits, he’d kept bringing up that it was time for me to let him go. He was starting to sound like Dr. Pierpont. Lately, I’d even been considering ending my therapy sessions. While it had helped to confide in my shrink about Mark, and even to talk about my overwhelming grief, I didn’t like the direction my therapy was heading. Dr. Pierpont kept talking about how I needed to start going forward with my life and gain closure over Mark’s tragic death. Intellectually, I knew I couldn’t keep continuing like this. But in my heart, I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Mark.
This was now my third day in Austria, and instead of feeling better, I felt worse. Of course, Dr. Pierpont told me it would be difficult—extremely difficult. But she was convinced taking this trip would be the tipping point in my recovery. But the worst is yet to come. I still don’t know if I’ll be able to follow through on Dr. Pierpont’s last exercise for me while I’m here in Austria.
The past few days, I’d visited all the places I’d gone to with Mark when we were here five years ago—the Hungerburg Funicular, the restaurant at the top of the mountain in the village of Seegrube, the Old Town. I even took a horse-drawn carriage ride. Though I felt a little odd taking the ride by myself, I quickly forgot any awkwardness once the carriage went through Innsbruck and memories of Mark beside me returned.
When the Snow Falls Page 21
