Autumn In Verona (Escape To Italy 2)

by Holly Greene

  He hailed a cab and returned to his hotel. Lying on the bed in his street clothes, he thought about everything he'd seen and done over the weekend. The camera sat in its case, waiting for him to move the pictures over to his hard drive, but he could handle that tomorrow. The last item on his to-do list before leaving Verona was to visit Juliet's house and balcony, a site he knew Hannah would have insisted on seeing, despite the press of tourists.

  It had been a very long time since he'd lingered on thoughts of Hannah without feeling sorrow. Now he felt a strange glow of happiness, as she mentally went back through all of their happiest moments together.

  There was an early one of Hannah, arriving to one of their first dates in a dress and runners. She'd never been a pretentious woman and she refused to wear high heels just to impress a date if she knew she wouldn't be comfortable. That down-to-earth attitude was one of the things that had made him fall in love with her to begin with. Later memories summoned a disastrous road trip that had ended with a broken-down car on the side of the road and a night spent in a cheap B&B waiting for the car to be repaired so they could go on; Hannah had somehow not been fazed in the least by this interruption to their vacation, and he thought that their night in the rundown B&B had been more relaxing than a stay at a five-star hotel.

  He continued flicking through his mental images. Hannah on their wedding day, finally bowing to pressure from her mother to wear ‘proper’ shoes, but kicking them off under her dress before their first dance and winking slyly at him as she pressed her bare toes onto the tips of his shoes on the dance floor. Hannah, whipping up dinner for friends in the tiny kitchen of their first apartment. Hannah, with paint on her nose and a roller in one hand, dithering over two shades of yellow as she painted the dining room of their newly purchased home.

  That was where Declan stopped. He wouldn't dwell on the sad memories, only on the happy ones. He would remember his wife as she was—warm, laughing, tousle-haired but still smiling when she woke in the morning—and hold those memories close as he drifted off to sleep.

  For once he wasn't drifting off as an escape, but with a smile on his lips. He could almost hear her voice whisper as he dozed off: I will always love you.

  18

  Sarah woke up somewhat early on Sunday morning to find that Nate was already up and trying to stealthily dress and leave the room without her noticing. She fumbled for the clock on her bedside table. “What time is it?”

  “Early,” he whispered, tiptoeing over to her and tucking the duvet around her shoulders. “Go back to sleep. I set the alarm for you. I'll be back soon.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled, too sleepy to ask questions about where he was going, and she rolled over into a cloud of dreams. When she woke a little later to the quiet chirp of the alarm clock, she realised that Nate still had not returned to the room. He'd pulled open the drapes at the windows and the balcony door, and early morning sunshine was filtering softly through the windows. Propping herself up one elbow, she noticed that he'd left a handwritten note by the alarm clock.

  Arise, fair sun, it read, and go out on the balcony. Your Romeo has a surprise for you.

  Sleepiness forgotten, Sarah tumbled out of bed and pulled on her robe in a hurry. Running across the room, she flung open the doors to the balcony and rushed outside. A flutter of wings startled her, and she looked up just in time to see a flock of pigeons whirl past her head and up onto the rooftops. She looked down over the railing to see Nate standing in the empty street, looking absurdly pleased with himself. “I couldn't get a hold of doves,” he explained happily, “but I found a local boy who helped me with the pigeons. Are you surprised?”

  “Very!” she laughed. “Is that why you were up so early?”

  “That's part of it,” he said. “Go back inside. I'll meet you in the room.”

  Sarah grinned and turned back inside, latching the door. She gasped in surprise. She'd been so excited about the note on the table that she hadn't even noticed a full bouquet of red roses sitting in a vase on the dresser. She picked up a note sitting next to them that read, A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but luckily for me they didn't have another name in Italian, so it was easy to find these at a local shop. I know how much you love them.

  The door opened and Nate entered the room. Sarah moved across and jumped into his arms for a hug. “I love them! Why all the romantic surprises so suddenly?”

  He hugged her tightly. “Because I've been thinking about us, and I realise I've goofed up a lot over the past few months. I've taken too much for granted, including our relationship. I've been too content to sit back and let things play out. But I'm not content to do that anymore. I love you, Sarah Parker, and I want to make sure you know it every minute of every day, no matter what's happening around us and no matter how crappy things seem at times. I don't want to lose this feeling we've had all weekend just because we go back home and go back to reality.”

  Sarah snuggled into his shoulder, her heart brimming full of emotion. “I've made mistakes too. I worry too much about everything that could go wrong, instead of focusing on what's going right. I'm going to change that.”

  They stood for a moment, locked in an embrace, then Nate suddenly let go and looked at his watch with an exclamation. “Not to rush you, my dearest darling, but you'd better get ready for the day. I have a full itinerary planned, and it starts in an hour.”

  That was all the motivation Sarah needed to hurry through dressing and grab her day bag. Nate had already made a stop at a cafe and picked up pastries and cappuccinos to go; they ate quickly and caught a cab to take them across town. Sarah looked excitedly out the window as they drove. “Where are we going?”

  “You'll see,” was all he would reply, but her question was soon answered when they stopped at a boating shop near the river. Nate explained that he'd managed to squeeze in a last-minute reservation for a rafting trip down the Adige River, which would afford them a different view altogether of Verona.

  “When did you find time to call them?” Sarah exclaimed, and he grinned, clearly proud of himself. “I did it while you were in the shower Saturday morning. I wanted it to be a total surprise.”

  “Well, I am totally surprised,” she said, joining the other tourists lining up for instructions on water safety and how to paddle their rafts. Soon the small company of guides and tourists was setting off down the gentle river for an alterative look at Verona.

  Sarah had thought she couldn't see the city any differently, but she'd been wrong. Floating gently on the water, she wondered if trade vessels had once had this same view of a more ancient Verona.

  She could see spires and church towers in the distance; the church bells were pealing softly. The red tiled roofs rose up on the gentle hills of the city, interspersed with trees; the morning sun reflected brightly off some of the whitewashed walls and illuminated the colorful paint or aging brick of other buildings. She could almost imagine sailing into this city from a distant country, laden down with items for trade before embarking on another exotic voyage. She supposed medieval sea journeys were not as romantic as they seemed in her head, but it was fun to imagine all the same.

  On the shore she could see people starting to emerge from homes and businesses, shaking off sleep and revelling in the sunshine. Their guide pointed out several famous sights as they drifted along, including the Castelvecchio that they'd visited earlier and the Torre dei Lamberti, a bell tower erected in the twelfth century.

  19

  The trip lasted a little over two hours, and by the end of it Sarah was ready to eat again.

  The couple stopped for a quick snack at a street vendor before moving on to the Lamberti. The view from the top encompassed all of Verona; outside of the city gentle country hills were covered with trees, and in the far distance they could see mountains.

  While there, they were taken aback when a strange man with a camera approached them to say that he’d taken a photograph of them a day or two earlier. Sarah was sure that it w
as some tourist scam, but then the man introduced himself and explained that he'd seen them together at the Piazza Bra on Friday and couldn't help snapping their picture. They’d reminded him of something he explained, looking almost sheepish. “I hope you don't mind? If you give me an e-mail address I can send it to you.”

  Though still a little caught off-guard at the notion, Sarah could tell that the man was genuine and there was a sadness in his eyes that made her warm to him. She assured him that they didn't mind in the least, and found a scrap of paper in her bag on which she jotted down her e-mail.

  “Are you visiting Verona alone, or with friends?” Nate asked him casually.

  For a moment the man’s face shuttered. “Alone,” he said, trying to smile. “My wife...died last year. She'd always wanted to visit this city. I'm visiting all the landmarks she would have wanted to see. I miss her.”

  The couple murmured their sympathies and Sarah felt a fresh pang for him. To lose a spouse would be hard enough, and she could only imagine how it must feel to visit a place like this without the love of your life.

  As they parted ways, Sarah felt a fresh wave of appreciation for Nate. Despite their problems, weren’t they blessed to both be still around to work them out? He seemed to be thinking the same thing as she felt him squeeze her hand as they looked out from the tower.

  Below the city streets were now full of people moving about with their Sunday business—families going out to eat lunch, tourists snapping pictures, locals with a day off strolling through the streets and enjoying the mild weather. For the moment Nate and Sarah were alone at the top of the tower, and they lingered to enjoy the quiet.

  Standing so high above the city, Sarah had the unreal feeling of floating above everything else. She moved closer to Nate and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you for planning all of this out. It's really wonderful.”

  “There's more yet to come,” he said, smiling enigmatically.

  Nate had found a place to rent vespas, and soon they were motoring around the city, climbing hills to stop in shady groves of trees, buying snacks and treats from street vendors, and stumbling upon statues and other small attractions that warranted a photo and a glance through the guidebook. They popped into a super-casual osteria for a late afternoon lunch; the short menu included a local specialty, donkey meat, which Nate gamely tried.

  “Tastes like chicken,” he whispered to Sarah with an exaggerated wink, and she smothered a laugh with her hand. She declined to try it, opting instead of actual chicken and a cold salad on the side. They returned to the vespas and continued motoring through the city until evening fell, not really following a map or any guidebook, just going wherever their whims took them.

  When evening came they dressed for dinner but despite the plethora of establishments in the city, they couldn’t resist returning to BellaVita.

  After the meal, as they stood waiting outside for a taxi back to their hotel, Sarah elbowed Nate in the ribs. “Look over there,” she said in obvious awe. “That's Lily Forbes waiting for a taxi!”

  Nate nudged her back. “Well, don't be shy. Go say hello.”

  Sarah did, and when she returned to Nate and climbed into the cab he said, “Well?”

  “She said something surprising,” Sarah said thoughtfully, but when he pressed her for more info she only demurred with a smile.

  There was one more surprise waiting when they got back to their hotel: a call from the airline, saying that their luggage would be arriving on Tuesday.

  “Tuesday?” Sarah exclaimed in dismay. “But we'll be back in the States by then.”

  “I guess we'll have to call them and ask them to reroute it,” Nate said, one hand on the phone. Then he paused.

  The couple looked at each other for a long moment before both breaking into grins. Nate set the phone back on the table. “Or maybe we could just stick around a little longer.”

  20

  Lily spent the remainder of her weekend doing some light sight-seeing, shopping and dining before returning to her hotel for an early night.

  She filled the generous bathtub with hot water and her favorite vanilla bubble bath, poured a glass of red wine, and settled in to enjoy her bath and ponder her day.

  She kept turning over the words of the Italian woman at the trattoria on her first day in the city.

  What had she meant, Lily needed to stop looking for Juliet? Wasn't that the point of this trip—to seek her out? To find inspiration? She frowned as she sank deeper into the bubbles. Perhaps the woman's English simply wasn't that good. In any case, she wasn't about to let the puzzle ruin her beauty sleep.

  When Saturday arrived however, she was still hung up on that sentence. For some strange reason she felt compelled to return to Juliet's home once again, thought she couldn't say why; perhaps she could find some inspiration there on a second outing.

  With that hope firmly in her mind (and still no sliver of a plot forming for her book), she dressed, hailed a cab and returned to the crowded courtyard once again.

  If it was possible, there were even more tourists today than on the previous day, and Lily contented herself with finding a semi-quiet corner from which she could quietly observe. People flowed around her, chattering in English, Italian and languages she couldn't identify. Many were taking pictures, and once again there was a steady flow of young women on Juliet's balcony, pretending to swoon as they quoted from Shakespeare's play.

  Lily passed a little time studying Juliet's wall, where letters peeked from cracks. Mentally she composed her own letter. Dear Juliet, if you ever really existed, you practically stand for love itself, but I'm not sure I believe in you, or in love for that matter. I want so badly not to feel this way, but I don't know where to start.

  P.S., she added with amusement, I thought your balcony would be bigger.

  After a while the crowds began to thin and Lily decided that she wasn't going to find her inspiration here. She consulted a guidebook she'd bought at her hotel and moved on through the city, choosing to visit Juliet's tomb next. It was in a small, dark garden, and even though Lily told herself firmly that no romantic heroine was actually buried here, it was certainly a moody enough place to inspire the masses. It was also quieter than most other tourist sites in Verona, and a good place to collect her thoughts.

  Eventually, she decided that she would spend the rest of the day visiting some of the other tourist sites in the city. It was still early enough in the day that she could spend a great deal of time walking in the city (thank goodness she'd packed at least one pair of sensible shoes) and she wanted to see a little of the local flavor of Verona. She was still hoping that inspiration would strike from some corner.

  She passed much of the rest of the day drifting through magnificent cathedrals, small museums and piazzas filled with statues of famous historical figures like Dante.

  Everywhere she went, she watched the people around her. Slowly, her writer's mind was starting to assign backstories to the couples she saw in the street: the elderly couple on a park bench had been coming there daily for decades to feed the birds; a younger couple getting gelato from a street vendor was celebrating an anniversary with a romantic trip to this city; a pregnant young woman dining at an outdoor cafe was probably a local, and Lily wondered if she was impressed with the hubbub of tourists around her.

  They were all looking for the most romantic locales in the city and talking endlessly about Shakespeare, something that Lily thought must either amuse or annoy most local residents.

  Then she paused in her thoughts. She had finally succumbed to the need for lunch and had found a delicious salami sandwich and bottled juice from a street vendor, and was nibbling at her meal while resting on a bench in one of the piazzas.

  All around her people flowed, thinking of their own lives and loves, oblivious to her.

  The words of the woman in the trattoria rattled through her head, and she thought suddenly that she understood what Valentina meant. She had been searching for the perfect one-size-f
its-all plot, but she was guilty of searching for the same thing in her love life.

  She'd spent years chasing her own version of a star struck romance, something perfect and amazing that would fall out of the sky and into her lap, perfectly formed. Too many experiences with the bitter aftertaste of love gone sour had left her sure that no such thing existed.

  But watching these couples around her was opening her eyes to the quiet strokes of love that she'd always ignored. The elderly husband was helping his wife to her feet, embracing her as she stood with some effort. Lily wondered how long they'd been married; the look of tender devotion on the man's face made her smile.

  The young couple sharing gelato looked like they had probably had to scrape together the money for the trip, but whatever struggles they'd had to make it to Italy, they were clearly enjoying every minute of their visit. Even a simple ice cream was apparently an event for them. Lily thought that there must be something about love that could turn even small things into big, lovely things.

  The pregnant woman at the cafe turned with an expectant smile as a man came up to her and leaned down to kiss her. His hand went to her belly, and they both smiled as they chatted, he rubbing her stomach and seeming to inquire about her food. He was clearly concerned for her happiness, and whatever answer she gave to his questions seemed to please him, because he bounded away and returned a moment later to her table with dessert and coffee. He seemed happy to dote on her, hovering protectively as she ate.

  All around her Lily could feel a sense of love that had nothing to do with romantic plots or grand gestures, but simply everyday life and small touches that said I love you without speaking a word.

  She still felt a touch of envy for these happy couples, but she no longer found a sting of bitterness in her heart as she watched them. Instead she only felt a kind of happiness for them, as though by watching them she felt some of their happiness for herself.