CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Elisabetta

August 1938

That night, Elisabetta sat at the kitchen table watching Rico eat, still in her black dress from the funeral. The cat’s throaty chewing was the only sound in the empty apartment, and she felt her father’s absence, for he had been good company, even if he wasn’t sober. She had no one to take care of now, except Rico.

Someone knocked, the sound startling her. She rose, crossed the kitchen, and opened the door, surprised to find Marco there, smiling at her, in uniform. “Marco?”

“Elisabetta, come with me.”

“What? Where?”

“Come on! Let’s go.” Marco took her hand and led her from the apartment, then to the street, which was almost blocked by an elegant black convertible coupe with a gleaming chrome grille, curved sections over each wheel that came to a dramatic point, and more flashy chrome on the sides.

“You know this car?” Elisabetta asked, astonished.

“Yes, it belongs to my boss.” Marco strode to the passenger side door, opening it for her with a flourish. “Isn’t it beautiful? It’s a Lancia Astura, designed by Pinin Farina. Get in, I’ll take you for a ride.”

“You drive?”

“They taught me. It’s easy.”

“But you have to be twenty-one. You have to have a license. It’s against the law.”

“Elisabetta, we are the law. Now please, get in.” Marco gestured at the open passenger door, and she crossed to the car and climbed inside reluctantly, taking in the rich leathery smell of the seats. She had only ever been in a car a few times, as one wasn’t necessary in the city. Her gaze marveled at its dashboard and around its mysterious dials and knobs.

“Here we go!” Marco slid inside the driver’s seat and closed the door. He started the engine, and the car began motoring through the narrow streets. “My boss loves cars, and this is one of three he owns. I’m in charge of getting them serviced and maintained. They say Il Duce favors the Alfa Romeo, and most of those sedans are used on official business, but this car is a gem. This is the only convertibile.”

“Does your boss know you have it?”

“He’s out of town.” Marco beamed as he drove ahead, but Elisabetta felt self-conscious at being so visible, as she had never driven in a convertibile. It felt disrespectful on the day she had buried her father, and she hoped the neighbors didn’t see.

“Everyone’s looking at us.”

“They’re jealous.” Marco shrugged.

“No, they think you’re in the government.”

“I am.” Marco glanced over, his expression soft. “You’ve had a hard time today and you need a diversion. I’ll get us onto the Lungotevere, and we can go fast.”

“I don’t want to go fast.”

“Maybe you just don’t know it yet.” Marco smiled, and the car picked up speed, turning onto the Lungotevere Sanzio. Her hands flew automatically to her hair, hoping to keep it in place. He joined the line of traffic, stopping at a red light, then turned to her. “It will get more fun now, and you’ll love the feel of the wind.”

“We won’t be able to hear ourselves talk.”

“That’s true, but there are things you can’t do when you’re talking.” Marco leaned over, giving her a peck on the lips.

Elisabetta shook her head at him. “I should’ve known.”

“But you didn’t. You don’t know everything, cara. I know some things that you don’t, and I’ll show them to you. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful way to live?”

Elisabetta warmed. She hadn’t expected to hear words of love in an open car, but Marco could be spontaneous that way. Life with him was a sort of adventure, and he lifted her spirits, every time.

The traffic light turned green, and the car leapt forward. They were quickly out of Trastevere, and in no time she found herself enjoying the ride. The big engine rumbled as they traveled southward, and she gave up on her hair, letting it whip around her face in a crazy fashion. She realized that after a heartbreaking day, it felt good to empty her head and whiz past the lights and shadows of the beautiful buildings, ancient ruins, and imposing municipal offices. They zoomed out of the city, and she surrendered to Marco’s plan, having none of her own except to survive the day on which she had buried her father.

The buildings gave way to fields, and the odors changed from diesel fumes to fresh air and earthy manure, natural and good. She rested her head back on the cushioned leather seats and looked up at the night sky as they drove through the countryside, so that the environs were as dark as the sky and all around her was a soft blackness.

The car raced into the night, and Elisabetta experienced the sensation that she and Marco were hurtling together through space and time. Tears came to her eyes. She thought of her father and wondered where he was right now, perhaps on his way to heaven, as suspended as she in time and space. She wished she could see him just one more time.

Marco slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road, but Elisabetta didn’t know why. She looked over, expecting to find him grinning, exhilarated from their adventure. Instead she could see in the light from the dashboard that he looked crestfallen, and his large eyes glistened.

“Marco, what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry your father died. I can’t imagine how sad you are, but I know you must be worried about so many things, especially money. Is that right?”

“Thank you, but I know what to do.”

“Elisabetta, you don’t have to do this alone. I love you, and I will help you. I will give you any money you need. Anything to make your life easier.”

Elisabetta felt moved. “Marco, I don’t need your money.”

“I wanted you to know that you never have to do anything alone, ever again. You are no longer alone, as long as I live.”

Elisabetta felt her heart respond, as the sentiment comforted her on the very day she felt more alone than ever. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips, and he kissed her back, more fully, and she felt lost in his kiss the way she always did with him, as his tenderness swept her away. In the next moment, he released her from his embrace, moving a strand of her hair back.

“Now, it’s your turn.” Marco got out of the driver’s seat, opened her car door, and gestured her out of the car. “Come on, get in the driver’s seat.”

Elisabetta recoiled. “Marco, are you crazy? I don’t know how to drive.”

“It’s easy. Idiots do it every day.”

“Not this idiot.”

“Look, this is the perfect place to learn.” Marco gestured at the country road, a dark line stretching into the night. “There’s no other traffic, and all you have to do is go straight.”

“Marco, no.”

“Elisabetta, what did I tell you? You can do anything. Come on.” Marco hustled to the passenger side and opened the door, where despite her objections, he lifted her bodily from the seat, marched her around to the driver’s seat, and closed the door.

“Marco, I can’t drive.” Elisabetta put her hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes, you can. I’ll help you.” Marco vaulted inside into the passenger seat and landed with a little grunt, then they both burst into laughter.

“You’re crazy!”

“You’re not crazy enough. Feel on the floor with your feet. There’s a gas pedal on the right and a clutch pedal on the left.”

Elisabetta fumbled for the pedals, then placed her feet on them. “Okay.”

“Brava! Now press your right foot down to feed the car gas, and press up with your left foot to engage the clutch.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes, but when I tell you. Right foot down, left foot up. I’ll do the rest.”

“What’s the rest?”

“The gearshift. Don’t worry about it.”

“Still, it sounds hard.”

“Only at first. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“So do it now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Elisabetta pressed one foot down and the other up. The car lurched, bucked, then stopped, the engine screeching as if in agony. “Oh no! Did I break it?”

“No.” Marco chuckled. “Try again. Ready? Now.”

Elisabetta tried again, but it happened a second time, which left her shaken, if determined. “Again!”

“Okay. Now.”

Elisabetta tried again, and though the car stutter-stepped forward and the engine screeched, this time it didn’t stop. “Oh, look! Did it work?”

“Keep going, give it more gas!” Marco spoke louder to be heard over the engine.

“No more clutch?”

“Not until I say!”

Elisabetta gave the car gas, squeezed the wheel, and tried to steer straight. The car’s headlights shone cones of light in the darkness, and she didn’t dare to look left or right, focused on her driving. The car sped up, and the smooth sensation of motion made her smile, then the engine whined at a higher pitch, like a cat with its tail stepped on.

“Clutch again! Now!”

Elisabetta didn’t understand. “The clutch is already up!”

“Press down and up! Now!”

Elisabetta did so, and it must have worked because the car jolted forward and they started to go faster. “I did it!” she yelled, excited.

“More gas!”

“Where are we going?”

“Forward!”

“Is it safe?”

“Of course not!”

Elisabetta laughed and gave the car more gas, then even more, pressing the clutch pedal when Marco cued her. They flew down the road, spraying gravel and dirt, and she felt thrilled by the sensation of speed and power at her command.

She began to giggle, racing a big black convertible to a place she didn’t know at all. She sensed that was her life now, in that she knew only what was behind her and had no idea what lay ahead. She gave the car more gas, feeling truly in charge, a free woman of Rome, and for all of that, she had Marco to thank.

She raced along, the car shuddering beneath her. Was it possible she had fallen in love with both him and Sandro? And if so, how would she ever choose?

Elisabetta kept driving, into the future.