by Gail Mencini
Phillip snorted. “Guess she spent most of that summer shacked up with him, until he found a new girl to screw. Problem was, by then she was pregnant.”
Bella stared at him.
“Angel told me the morning I left for Florence. My bon voyage present. She never knew if Ian or I had fathered Jewel, and at this point, I don’t care. Jewel is my daughter, and I failed her. I have to live with that every day. She’s spoiled, self-centered, and expects someone else to take care of her in grand fashion. Jewel has made it painfully obvious that her only use for me is to pay her bills.”
Bella looked at the tombstone, and her fingers rubbed the oval picture of the Italian boy long gone but still loved. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Forgive me, David. I should have fought for Phillip when I had the chance. Either fought for him, or called to tell him to go to hell. I should have done something. Anything. If I had called, I would have told him I was pregnant with you. Phillip would have chosen me because it was me he loved. You would have had a father. Forgive me.
45
Bella ignored Phillip, and he walked away. What could she say? It was too late for them. Their mistakes had reaped irreversible consequences.
When Bella no longer could tolerate the accusations of the little boy on the cemetery headstone—that she had robbed her own son of a father—she prayed.
It was part conversation and part confession, to God, her mother, and David. Admitting, out loud, that she had been the culprit, that by inaction she had directed her own fate, was as if she had shoved open a window that dust had turned opaque with time. And what better place to allow the light in than here, in Radda-in-Chianti, less than ten miles from where she and Phillip had fallen in love?
The whine of a Vespa approaching the cemetery brought her prayer to a close. Stillman parked his black scooter on the road and walked to where she stood. “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “I heard you were hanging out here.”
“I’m not very good company now, I’m afraid.”
Standing in front of her, he wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “Why the tears?”
Bella glanced at the boy’s headstone beside her, and then back at Stillman. What she told him was true, but not the reason for her tears. “I miss David. It’s been more than two years since I’ve seen him.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“Why so long?”
“David’s a physician, in Africa, building a clinic down there. He refuses to leave until it’s staffed and running. Every time I tried to go visit, or fly him home, something always came up for him, or for me.”
Stillman brushed her hair away from her face. “It must be very difficult for you to be so far away from him.”
When it had been Bella’s turn to reveal her personal history to the others, she told them that she had never married. Bella let them assume that meant she had no family. Before anyone could pose a question, she had changed the focus of the conversation and had asked Meghan to share some of Karen’s story. Only Stillman, because of their love affair, knew that she had a son. “I feel guilty for letting it be so long.”
Stillman kissed her forehead. “I don’t want you to be sad this week. If you’d like to talk about David, I’d love to hear about him, and his work. Unfortunately, Giacomo’s got us on a schedule. It’s time to head to the palazzo now. After we’re back and have had a chance to freshen up, let’s have a glass of wine together before dinner. Just the two of us. I haven’t had nearly enough time alone with you. We could visit then, about anything you’d like. How about it?”
“I’d like that.”
“Think you can hold onto me if we ride double back to where everyone’s waiting?” His eyes twinkled at her.
Maybe there is hope for the two of us, she thought. If she wanted Stillman back, she knew she’d have to work for it. Bella smiled. “You can hang onto me,” she said with a wink. “I’ll drive.”
“I called it first.” He chuckled and draped an arm over her shoulders. “Let’s go, pretty lady.”
As they approached the parking lot where they had started their morning Vespa ride, Bella saw the group standing near the van. Giacomo stood by the driver’s door. It was apparent that she had kept them all waiting. Phillip paced off to one side, studying his smartphone. He looked up and stared at Bella.
Stillman stopped their Vespa before they reached the parking lot. She dismounted, and Stillman drove off to park the scooter farther down the street, where the other Vespas were lined up. Phillip walked to intercept Bella.
“Are you OK?” His face bore a look of concern. “I shouldn’t have left you at the cemetery, but you acted like you wanted to be alone.”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have left me.” At the cemetery or thirty years ago, she thought. “Guess you have a habit of that.”
“Damnit, Bella.” He grabbed her hand. “I wish I could change everything that happened after we left Italy, but I can’t.” He glanced sideways. Stillman was fast approaching them. “Please. I hate myself for what I did to you. Can you ever forgive me?”
“This looks like a serious discussion,” Stillman said. He stood next to Bella. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have to get going. We’ve kept everyone waiting long enough.”
Bella pulled her hand out of Phillip’s. Forgive you? I can’t even forgive myself.
46
On the drive back to the palazzo, Giacomo, Meghan, and Lee visited among themselves, and everyone else silently looked out the windows of the van. Sitting closest to the three of them, Bella could hear the conversation.
She was surprised, and impressed, to learn that the sabbatical Lee had mentioned earlier was to study sculpture in Florence. Giacomo relayed inquiries he had made about an opportunity with a famous sculptor. Unfortunately, Giacomo reported, the maestro only taught one class each year, and this year’s class was already full.
Bella had an idea. She asked a few questions of Giacomo about the maestro and the university offering his class. A spark of excitement lit her, but she kept the reason to herself. She now had a mission beyond her own needs, and it energized her.
When they got back to the palazzo, Bella rushed off to her room and started making telephone calls. In the process of researching one of her novels a few years before, she had cultivated a relationship with a University of Florence administrator.
Once she reached her contact, she reminded him of how she had aided his niece in securing a New York internship. Bella pleaded Lee’s case, offering his medical expertise as a University guest lecturer in exchange for being added to the roster of the maestro’s class. Bella cajoled the man, refused to let him say no, and finally got the answer she wanted. She called Lee’s room, but he didn’t answer. All the better. Bella could deliver the good news in person.
Intervening on Lee’s behalf had been the wake-up call she needed. Empowered by her success, she took it as a sign. No more letting outside forces determine her fate.
Bella washed her face, put on fresh makeup, combed her hair, and donned the new black low-cut dress she had bought before the trip. It made her feel confident and sexy. Exactly what she needed tonight. She rushed down to the first-floor garden.
The courtyard was vacant. A butterfly flitted low over one of the bistro tables and then moved on. The orange of its gossamer wings matched the Tuscan sunset in the valley below. Somewhere in the trees, a bird sang. Bella closed her eyes. The bird sang with gusto and pleasure, chorus after chorus, not afraid of being heard.
At that moment, Lee and Phillip came into view from around the back of the palazzo. Deep in conversation, they faced the horizon, and she knew they hadn’t seen her. The two men ambled away from her, along the garden’s far perimeter path. The sound of their voices drifted in and out, but she couldn’t distinguish the words. When the path circled back toward the buildings, they would see her, but she refused to wait. Bella rushed to meet them.
It was obvious when they saw her. From the look on Phillip’s fa
ce and Lee’s wolf whistle, she knew her dress was a hit.
She smiled and lifted her chin with confidence but didn’t slow her pace. She was too excited. When Bella reached the two men, she hugged Lee. “I have great news for you. You’re in the sculpting class with the maestro.” She relayed her phone campaign, complete with her volunteering him to be a guest lecturer at the University, and pressed a paper into his hand with all the details.
Lee’s arms crushed her in a hug. When he released her, he leaped into the air and yelled with delight.
Phillip punched the sky in celebration, cheered, and congratulated them both.
Lee couldn’t wait to share the good news with Meghan and Giacomo and rushed off to find them.
Bella watched Lee leave. She took a deep breath, gave herself a quick pep talk, and turned toward Phillip. Her solemn expression wiped the smile from his face. Before she could allow doubt to creep in, she spoke. “I forgive you.”
Relief at accomplishing the first of her admissions made her next words tumble out. “I owe you an apology, too. I hated you for dumping me so callously. But I was wrong.” And a damn fool, she thought.
Finish what you have to say, she told herself. “I was wrong not to call you. Not to confront you.” She blinked. This was it. Say it. “Not to fight for you.” She gulped in air. “I’m sorry, Phillip. I hope, when you know what I was going through, that you can forgive me, too.”
Phillip’s jaw dropped. He clutched her hands and squeezed them. “You don’t owe me an apology. And of course I forgive you. But you didn’t do anything wrong.” Again, he squeezed her hands. “No. It’s all my fault.” Pulling her hands, he drew her closer to him. Phillip folded her into his arms and rested his head against hers.
It was a kind, gentle, soothing type of hug. But her body didn’t react that way. Not at all. Bella’s heart pounded and a shiver of electricity raced through her. Damn it. Did he really have this effect on her? Could his mere touch detonate her body, making her want him after all these years? She needed to know. And there was one sure way to find out, but she’d never have that chance. No. Bad marriage or not, Phillip was married.
Phillip released her and stepped away. “Hoping you’d forgive me, if you even came to the reunion, is why I’m here. Breaking up with you, and using a stranger to deliver the message, has haunted me. I loved you too much to do it in person, so I took the coward’s approach. I guess you and I had something in common all these years; we both hated me. Thank you for your forgiveness. That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
He looked anxious, and Bella wondered why. It was apparent he had more to say, so she didn’t speak.
“It doesn’t matter as far as we’re concerned,” Phillip said, his face bearing an earnest look, “but I need to share something. Remember I told you about how Angel goaded me with her infidelity before I left for the airport?”
“Yes.”
“I took action at LAX. Before I knew if you’d be here, or if you’d even speak to me. I did it for myself. You were not a factor.” His eyes peered into hers with intensity. “Understand?”
What the heck was he rambling about? I’m not a factor. Got it. She nodded.
“I called my attorney and instructed him to file divorce papers for me. Start the paperwork and the clock.”
She blinked and kept her mouth shut.
“You were not a factor in my decision.”
“You made that point very clear. But is that what you want? To divorce your wife after all these years? Aren’t you president of her father’s company?”
“Hell yes, I want to divorce her. Should have done it years ago.” He shrugged. “As far as being president goes, I had my attorney tender my resignation, as well. I have to believe that there’s a company or two that would want to hire me, given my track record. That doesn’t worry me at all.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier? You told us all you were married, with one daughter. Nothing more. Why?”
He clasped one of her hands. “I didn’t want my divorce to affect, one way or another, your willingness to forgive me.”
Bella replayed those words in her head. However she rearranged them, his message seemed clear. He wanted her forgiveness but didn’t want her. She pulled her hand from his and backed away. How could he send her on such wide swings of emotion? She thought of how his touch had ignited her. At this point, she was more than ready to flush out the truth.
At fifty, Bella didn’t need to ask permission. She stepped closer toward Phillip. She leaned in and kissed him. Her lips parted and the tips of their tongues met. Fire raced through her body and she couldn’t breathe. Bella pulled away from the kiss. Her breasts, her body, everything, prickled with desire.
“I never saw that coming.” Phillip smiled. “Hate is a kissing cousin to love, you know.”
“I had to find out,” she said, “now that we’ve forgiven each other, how I feel about you.”
“What did you decide?”
“There you are, Phillip,” Rune’s voice boomed out from behind Bella, “mind if I interrupt?” His voice was jovial, but wrinkles creased his forehead.
Of course I mind, she thought. Her last admission would be the toughest. She would bare all. Tell Phillip he had a son, a son named David. Now that would to have to wait.
“No problem,” Phillip said. “What’s up, Rune?”
“I hate to bother you, but you, ah, volunteered to help me with the cost of my surgery. It’s OK if you change your mind—it’s a boatload of dough.”
“Of course I’ll help. What do you need?” Phillip asked.
“I called to get on the schedule for surgery, since they’re booked out at least three weeks. But as I don’t have insurance, they won’t do anything until I make arrangements for payment.”
“I’ll come with you now.” Phillip rested one hand on Bella’s shoulder. “Let’s finish this after I’m done helping Rune.” He stroked her cheek. “For the record, I’m a huge fan of your testing method. I’ll come find you, OK?”
Bella nodded.
Phillip followed Rune into the palazzo.
Bella gazed at the sunset. The oranges had given way to a deep red, with the dark evening sky imposing on the last of the color. With a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, Bella turned and walked toward the mansion. It was time to meet Stillman for that glass of wine and conversation.
47
Bella saw Meghan and Giacomo sitting at a table by the espresso machine. They waved her over to join them. Lee had found them and had shared with them how she had accomplished the impossible—securing his coveted spot in the maestro’s class. They both congratulated Bella on her success.
Meghan patted Giacomo’s arm. “After we got back from Radda,” Meghan said to Bella, “Giacomo took me to meet his family. He has the cutest nephew.”
“If he’s the one I saw earlier today,” Bella said, “he is a cutie.”
Giacomo beamed. “He is like my own son. It was no surprise,” he said, gesturing to Meghan, “that he fell in love with this beautiful woman. He is very much like me in that way.” Giacomo leaned toward Meghan and kissed her cheek.
Meghan’s face flushed pink. She stood up and looked at Bella. “Please excuse us. It’s not time for dinner yet. I’m going upstairs to my room.” She held out a trembling hand to Giacomo. “Would you like to join me?”
Without a word, Giacomo stood and took Meghan’s hand. They walked, side by side, to the stairway that led to the guest rooms.
I guess that answers the question, Bella thought, of whom Meghan had chosen. She walked to the entry where she was to meet Stillman but he wasn’t there. Bella saw a folded paper on the center table with her name on it. Stillman had written the note, saying he’d be waiting for her in the library.
Approaching the second-floor library, Bella heard laughter, from Stillman and a woman. Entering the high-ceiling room, she found Hope standing near Stillman. Hope had one hand on her stomach and was wiping tears f
rom her eyes with the other.
“It’s obvious I missed some fun,” Bella said.
“Hope was sharing some of the crazy antics of her daughter,” Stillman said. “Hilarious stories. And we started with such a serious subject, too. How did that happen?”
Hope gestured for Bella to come closer. “I pitched the movie man here on coming to Colorado. Boulder’s a breeding ground for documentary films, and I think a documentary on abuse in marriage is overdue. Somehow we veered off the subject, and next thing I knew, I was explaining exactly how Erica and her friends cheated in the Frozen Dead Guy races in Nederland.” She gave Bella a meaningful look. “You don’t really want to know how they did it. It’s nearly as disgusting as what they did in the outhouse races in another mountain town.”
Bella laughed. “No, I don’t think I want to know.” She thought of Hope’s clothing in a heap on the street. “On that other subject, where will you stay when you go home?”
“I’ll stay with my neighbor, the one who rescued my clothes. She’s a feisty widow with a spare bedroom and attitude enough for both of us. That way I can keep an eye on my house and make sure the asshole doesn’t burn it down or something. By the way, Bella,” she grinned, “you look fabulous. And with that dress on, it’s obvious I’m the third wheel. So I’m outta here. I’ll see you both later at dinner.”
Stillman gave Hope a hug and said, “Let’s talk more about your documentary idea this week. I’ve never spent much time in Colorado.”
After Hope left, Stillman offered Bella a glass of Vernaccia di San Gimignano. Toasting her glass with his, he said, “To new beginnings.” He took a swallow of the wine and then placed his glass on a nearby table. He made a show of checking her out, including having her turn in a circle so he could have a view of the back of her dress.
