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The following week was a busy one. Alex immersed herself in learning about grapes, proper harvesting, and wine making. The small grapes hung in beautiful green clusters throughout the vineyard. Alex and Nicolas walked up and down the rows, stopping here and there for Nicolas to show Alex the subtle differences between each type of grape. Though some of the grapes would hold their green hue, most of them would turn red as the months went on and the fruit ripened. Of the red, there were three different types of grapes that would be blended to create the Amarone, and their quality was dependent upon the soil and the climate. These were all things that Nicolas insisted Alex not only know but fully understand.
During the day, when they weren’t going over information about the grapes or the harvesting and wine producing process, Alex worked on the brochures, handouts, web site, and other areas of marketing. At night, if they weren’t too tired from the business and from the heat, and Nicolas was not with Eva, they read from the journal. Most of the entries dealt with Isa’s every day life – her last year of school, her life on the vineyard, her fears about the War, and her confusion about Roberto. Some entries were long and detailed, and others were brief and concise. The ones Alex and Nicolas spent the most time on, discussing and analyzing, were the ones about the War.
January 20, 1943
There is still no word from Roberto. I do not know where he is, whether or not he is alive and well, or even what his beliefs are about the war or anything else. I guess I cannot blame Roberto for going off to war. It is how we are raised. Boys go to war, girls get married and have babies. Mamma tried to satisfy the rule, but giving birth was hard for her, and only Paolo and I lived. Mamma worried for many years that she and Papà would be in trouble with the Blackshirts for not having at least five babies as Mussolini insisted, but Papà always promised her that his medical records would show that she had tried her best.
You see? I try to sleep, but my thoughts ramble on and on and continue to keep me awake. And I cannot stop thinking about Papà’s strange behavior. I saw Papà with those men again last night. Their meetings seem to be growing more frequent, and I am about to burst with curiosity. He says nothing in front of me, but I know that Mamma must know what is going on. I have tried to drop hints, but she acts like she does not hear me. The next time I see him go into the barn at night, I am going to follow him.
“You are very quiet tonight.” Eva stroked Nicolas’ leg under the table as they ate.
“It is very loud in here. It is hard to talk.” Nicolas took a large gulp of wine and tried to ignore Eva’s hand as it moved higher up his thigh. It irritated him that she would do such a thing in a public place.
“We can leave whenever you like, Niki. Papà is away on business. If you are not in the mood to talk, we can do other things.” She smiled and rubbed her fingers against him. “I know how to make you say the things I like to hear.”
“I am not feeling well, tonight, Eva.” He smiled and tried to maintain control over his mind and body. “I do not think it would be wise for me to be that close to you. You might catch something.”
Eva snatched her hand away, yanked the napkin out of her lap, and threw it on the table.
“You seem to be feeling ill a lot these days. And right now, I am feeling ill, too. I am tired of your games. I will find my own way home.” Eva stood and turned from him, but Nicolas reached for her arm.
“Mi dispiace, Eva. I do not mean to make you upset. I am tired. It has been a long and hot day, and I am worried about the heat. It can be bad for the grapes. Please, do not go.”
Nicolas tried to look remorseful. Eva glared at him for a few seconds more and then shook her hair out and lifted her nose as if to regain her dignity. She stood.
“Pardon. I will be back.”
Nicolas watched her go and breathed a sigh of relief. How could he explain to Eva what he was feeling when he honestly didn’t know himself? His plan to get to know Alex better so that he could get her out of his head was not working. Every day she amazed him with her knowledge, her talents, and most of all, her unselfish, unmasked, honest and sincere kindness. She seemed to be growing from an insecure girl to a mature woman right before his eyes, and her innate goodness just seemed to grow as well. Unlike Eva, she never complained, never put off work on others, never shirked any responsibility, and she cared for everyone around her with a gentle and loving spirit that often left him without words.
As if on cue, Eva returned. “I have decided to forgive you, but only if you do something for me,” she said in her matter-of-fact way. “You must come away to the coast with me. We need time alone.”
Caught completely off guard, Nicolas just stared at Eva.
“Well? Am I to forgive you or not?” Nicolas could see the sparks in her eyes and was reminded of the sparks in Alex’s eyes on the day she moved into the villa and refused to leave.
“I will see what I can do,” Nicolas said. Eva seemed to take that as a yes.
The next day was like most of the others before it. There were many days full of work with little rest, but Alex was content to work beside Maria and Nicolas and saw no reason to complain. Hearing a noise outside, Alex looked up from the computer to see a delivery truck pull up in front of the villa. She was used to trucks arriving at the vineyard with new barrels or crates of wine bottles, but she had never seen one pull up to the house. She went outside to redirect them, but Nicolas beat her to it. As she approached, he motioned to the house and then ran to the front door and held it open for them. Alex watched as several men used a trolley cart to haul a large, and obviously very heavy, piece of furniture into the house. It was covered with fabric and tied tightly with rope. Alex watched the men maneuver it and wondered what it was when it suddenly struck her that the shape was wonderfully familiar.
With a spring in her step, Alex ran to the villa and stormed into the room as the men heaved the instrument into place. She waited patiently as Nicolas thanked them and handed one of the men a tip. Biting her lip and holding her breath, she watched Nicolas cut away the rope and give the fabric a strong tug. Alex squealed with delight when the glossy, black piano was revealed and ran to Nicolas, wrapping her arms around him.
“How? When?” she couldn’t even form a complete sentence.
“It was not me,” he said with a shake of his head, though his twinkling eyes and large grin betrayed his involvement. “Mamma sent it as a thank you gift for making her weekend here so pleasant.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she couldn’t decide if they were tears of joy at the beautiful, thoughtful gesture or tears of pain that her own mother would never do anything quite so wonderful. She closed her eyes and shook her head as she lost control and tears gushed as if from a broken dam. Nicolas’ grin disappeared, and he grabbed her arms, looking at her with concern.
“Mia bella, what is it? Do you not like it?”
Alex took several breaths before she could speak. She looked up at Nicolas and whispered through tears, “I love it.”
Without thinking, Nicolas enfolded her in his arms and let her cry. After a few minutes, she regained control of her emotions and pulled back from his embrace. “I must call her,” she said as she wiped away her tears, and before Nicolas could say anything, she was gone, but the feeling of her in his arms remained.
That evening, over a dinner that they cooked together, Nicolas told Alex that Eva had gone away for a few weeks to her family’s home on the coast. Alex seemed surprised when Nicolas said he would not be going with her.
“She asked me to, and I am afraid that she is very angry that I declined.”
“You will visit, I assume. You don’t have to worry about the winery. Maria and I can handle things inside, and Giovanni and Luigi will tend to the vines.”
“Sì, I know that it would be okay, but I do not like to go to the coast. There are too many people there now, and Eva will do nothing but lie on the beach all day. I would be very bored. I have assured her that we can go after the wine production, for Christmas perhaps.” Their discussion had not been that easy, nor had it gone well. Eva presented Nicolas with an ultimatum, and she expected an answer as soon as she returned.
Thankfully, Alex dropped the subject and offered to play the beautiful, new piano. When they finished doing the dishes, she sat on the bench and tentatively touched the keys. It had been a long time since she played, she explained, since before Signora died. She did a few exercises with her fingers and then began to play. She sounded rusty at first, and acted slightly embarrassed, but as she went on, her fingers began to fly across the keys, and Nicolas watched as she became lost in a rapture that he assumed few people could comprehend. He was entranced as he watched her sway to the music, her hands, feet, and the piano blending as one. She played for over thirty minutes, and he was riveted. When she was through, she turned to look at him, a wide smile on her lips.
“I have never heard anything like it,” he said quietly, and Alex blushed.
“Come on,” she said. “I’m not even that good. I had classmates who played at Carnegie Hall.”
“I am happy having you play here,” Nicolas said quietly.
Alex felt a ripple of sensations go through her as she looked at Nicolas. He looked at her with admiration, fondness, and perhaps, she thought, desire. Alex wasn’t sure what to think. She was overwhelmed with emotion and had been since the moment she saw the fabric fall away from the piano. She knew that Marta must have spent a small fortune on the beautiful Fazioli upright, and Alex felt blessed. But she realized that her swell of emotions also had to do with Nicolas. For the first time, it hit her that her feelings for him had progressed beyond the friendship and partnership that they were building. She wondered if Nicolas felt the same, but she knew that he was committed to Eva, and she feared that such an admission on her part would cause their relationship to collapse. Instead of exploring her feelings further, Alex rose from the piano bench, bent down, and picked up the journal from the table. She held it up questioningly, and Nicolas patted the cushion next to him on the couch.
February 1, 1943
I am a spy. Worse yet, I am spying on my own father. Night after night I have watched him, and now I find myself following him, hiding behind doors, and listening from above his head, unseen and unheard. I fear that last night will not be the last night I do so.
I had a feeling that they would meet. It had been three days since I last saw them, and Papà was not himself at dinner. After the house was silent, and the night was dark, I sneaked from the house and climbed stealthily into the loft. I took Roberto’s blanket from where I hid it beneath the little bench under the window where I have sat and looked out at the fields since I was a child. I wrapped myself in the blanket, but the added warmth did not stop the frigid air from enveloping me in spite of my thick nightclothes and wool socks. I curled up in the hay and waited.
It was not long before I heard them. First there were just two voices, unfamiliar ones, and then Papà’s voice joined them, and finally a voice I knew as well as I knew Papà’s. It was Padre Lorenzo. The priest asked “What’s the news?” and Papà told them that the Allies are gaining ground all over Europe. He said that several major cities have been bombed, including Berlin, and some of the German soldiers have surrendered. One of the men asked “What does this mean for Italy?” Papà said that there are rumors that Mussolini is losing power and that it may be only a matter of time. Padre Lorenzo seemed to have read my thoughts, for he asked, “And then what?” “I do not know,” Papà said with such worry in his voice. One of the men asked if the Italians will keep fighting, but Papà did not know the answer. “What will happen to my boy?” a voice asked. Papà said he was sorry, but he just did not know.
The barn suddenly became eerily quiet. I held my breath until I heard them all leave. I felt colder than ever and longed to go back to my bed, but I was afraid to move until I knew that Papà had gone to bed. It felt like hours before I got up, and my body was stiff with cold. If I were smart, I would not do such a foolish thing again, but alas, I know I will.
Maria and Alex spent Saturday in Verona. Alex felt the desire to do some shopping, and Maria was more than happy to help her update her wardrobe and give it some Italian flare. When she returned home, Nicolas laughed at all of the packages that Alex carried into the villa.
“Did you buy every dress in Verona?”
“No, but I did buy more clothes today than I’ve ever bought in my entire life. I almost feel guilty, but we were having so much fun that I couldn’t help myself. I’m sure Signora would approve.”
“Have you sold her house yet?”
Though they didn’t talk about it much - talking about her inheritance with Nicolas still made Alex uncomfortable - she had shared with him that she was thinking about having the house and its contents appraised for sale.
“No, but my brother left me the patent to his computer software, and I was able to sell it to a friend of his. I consulted your great-aunt’s lawyer, Peter Owen, and he helped me negotiate the sale. So I’m not destitute after all.”
“Congratulations,” Nicolas said and wondered why his feelings were hurt that she hadn’t talked to him about the sale or about her brother’s death. Having checked her out thoroughly not long after she arrived, Nicolas knew all about the murder, but it was not something they had ever discussed. The enigma that was Alex O’Donnell continued to intrigue him.
“As far as Signora’s house and belongings,” Alex continued, “I’ve decided to hold on to it for a bit longer. Just in case.”
“In case of what?” Nicolas asked.
“In case this doesn’t work out. Don’t look so surprised. I do have a backup plan,” she said casually, and Nicolas had come to know her well enough to know that she was lying. Alex rarely seemed to have a plan.
“Of course,” Nicolas said, but in spite of his belief that she didn’t have any other plans, he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. The thought that Alex might actually leave some day had not occurred to him for weeks now, not since he first wished it would be so. Now he couldn’t imagine her going away.
He watched her take her purchases upstairs and wondered why it had never before occurred to him that she might leave. After all, she did have a house halfway around the world. What was to stop her from deciding to return to America? For the first time since she came, Nicolas realized that he didn’t want her to leave.
After dinner that night, Nicolas suggested that they read from the journal. He was beginning to look forward to sharing his evenings with Alex as they read his aunt’s words. It was something he could never see himself doing with Eva.
February 8, 1943
I do not know my father any longer. I am told that when he married Mamma, he moved into this house, my grandfather’s villa on the vineyard. He wanted nothing to do with the growing of grapes or the making of wine. He was a doctor, and he was much too busy to work in the fields or slosh in the grapes. Mamma loved him with all of her heart and was proud of him and what he did. And though he was much higher in class and stature than anyone else in the family, he loved them all and treated my mother like a queen, even when he came home to find her hands and feet stained purple and smelling of sweat and dirt. Together they tried to make a good life for Paolo and me, until the war came. They were babies of war themselves, born just after their fathers returned from fighting for the Italian army in the Boxer Rebellion in China. But with Mussolini’s rise in power, and worries about the future of our country, things were hard for us, even with Papà being a doctor.
I know that Papà does not care for our leader. He scoffs at the things they teach us in school. He cried when Paolo went off to war and said that Mussolini and Hitler would get all of our young men killed. He salutes the German soldiers in public and treats them when they are sick or injured, but he ridicules them at night when only Mamma and I can hear. I have always known that he does not like the way our country is ruled, but I never suspected this.
My papà is part of a secret resistance. He told me so himself. Last night, I kept still as I listened to the men talk of ways to go against our government, of secret meetings, and messages sent to the Allies. When they were gone, I waited, as I did the other night, for Papà to go to bed. When I could not stand the cold any longer, I crept down the ladder and out of the barn. But when I went out into the yard, my papà stepped out from behind the door and grabbed my arm. He pushed me back into the barn and told me that I was putting myself and our family in grave danger. I told him that he was doing the same, and he looked at me for a long time. “What are you doing here?” he said, and his voice was filled with sadness. “I want to help,” I told him. Before he could argue, I reminded him that I am not a child any more. After a moment, he shrugged and sighed. “So, you want to be part of this.” I eagerly nodded. “Then we will see what you can do.” That was all he said, and so I wait.
Alex had a hard time concentrating on work the next day. Sleep had not come easily the night before, and when she did sleep, she was plagued with the most realistic dreams. In her dreams, she watched as Nicolas went off to war and listened to her own father in the barn. She saw her brother, Chad, alive and well but wearing a Nazi uniform. She was cold, in spite of the July heat, and she awoke several times calling out for Chad, her body soaked with sweat but shivering as the air from the ceiling fan swirled around her.
Nicolas was nowhere to be found when she went downstairs that morning, and he hadn’t made an appearance inside the winery by the time she and Maria were locking up at the end of the day.
“What does he do all day in the fields?” Alex asked, gazing out the window at the long rows of green vines.
“He makes sure that the birds and the insects are staying away, that there is not rotting on the grapes, that the plants have water, but not too much water. But,” Maria thought for a moment, “I think he is staying outside today for another reason.”
Alex wasn’t sure what Maria meant and turned from the window to face her. “What other reason?”
“I think that he is staying away from you.”
Maria’s tone was matter of fact, not teasing, not accusing. Alex wasn’t sure what she was implying.
“Have I done something wrong? Is he angry with me?”
“I think he is angry with himself.”
“Maria, you are talking in riddles. What are you trying to say?” Alex did not try to hide her irritation. She folded her arms across her chest and gave Maria a look that demanded answers. Maria shrugged and sighed.
“I think that he does not know what he feels. He is confused by you. He is trying to work with you, but his feelings get in the way. Eva has wanted him for years, and now they talk about marriage, but then there is you. He does not know how to feel or what to do. It makes him feel, I think, not in control. He was always in control with Eva, even if she thought she was making the rules, but now, things are different. Eva will be gone for a while, and you are living across the hall from him. He has not even tried to sleep with you, no?”
Alex shook her head. “Of course not. He’s practically engaged.”
“This means nothing. Men are pigs. Even my cousin is still just a man.”
“Is that a good thing? That he hasn’t tried?”
“Good? I do not know. Telling? Sì, it is very telling.”
Maria picked up her purse and walked to the door. Alex stood by the window trying to process what Maria had just said.
“Wait,” Alex called as Maria opened the door. “I don’t understand. Nicolas is not a pig. He is a gentleman. He would never betray Eva. What makes you think he would even be interested in me?”
Maria shrugged. “Maybe I am wrong.”
“And, by the way, I’m not trying to make any rules or be in control.”
Maria smiled, “Amica mia, I think you have been in control since the day you walked in this door.” Maria left the building and closed the door as her parting words washed over Alex. She was filled with both fear and exhilaration, not to mention guilt. She began to wonder what she should do next.
By the time Nicolas finally came into the villa, it was almost dark. The table was set, the wine poured, and the aromas of balsamic vinegar and garlic filled the air. Alex began to make the plates while Nicolas washed his hands in silence. After they were seated and said grace, a heaviness began to settle around them. They ate without speaking, and Alex was sure that Maria had completely misread Nicolas’ mood. Something was wrong, but it had nothing to do with Alex. Finally, Alex couldn’t take it any more.
“What is it, Nicolas?” she asked in Italian.
Nicolas pushed his dinner around on his plate but didn’t look at her. She watched as his jaw tensed.
“Have I done something wrong? Are your parents okay? Did we lose a buyer? What on earth is bothering you?”
Nicolas met her eyes, a look of surprise on his face. “What makes you think something is bothering me?”
“Oh come on,” Alex rolled her eyes in frustration. “Do you not think I’ve gotten to know you after all of these weeks? Something is bothering you, and as your partner and housemate, I think I have a right to know what it is.”
“Okay, as my partner, maybe you do.” Nicolas spat out the words, and Alex wondered why he was so angry with her all of a sudden. “Our orders for wine are not good, and tourist season is here. We should be selling much more.”
Alex looked at Nicolas and tried to read his expression and tone. “We can fix that,” she said hesitantly. “I have ordered a lot of new marketing materials, and the web site looks great. We’ll catch up.”
“There you go, you think you can just come in here and fix everything.” Nicolas picked up the napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. He started to stand, but Alex would not allow him to have the last word.
“I’m trying to help. This is my business, too. And I thought you appreciated what I’m doing. You said you liked all of my designs, the changes I’ve made, the web site.” Nicolas started walking away, but Alex stood and went after him.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” she raised her voice. “We’re not finished. Something is going on here, and you are acting like a child. Tell me what the hell is making you behave like such a jerk.”
Nicolas turned around to face Alex, and she recognized the same fiery Italian temper that he displayed when she first arrived at the villa, but mixed into his expression was a bit of confusion. It was if he didn’t seem to know what to think or how to respond to her.
“You say you know me, then you should know when I do not want to talk. Good night.” Alex could see Nicolas fighting to keep control, but she wasn’t willing to let it go.
“We’re going to talk whether you want to or not. What has gotten into you?” she demanded.
Suddenly Nicolas turned and walked back to Alex. He put his arm around her and drew her to him until there was not a breath of air between them. With his other hand, he grabbed her auburn hair and pulled it back so that she was forced to look up at him. Alex wasn’t sure whether to scream and kick him away or sigh and melt into him. They stood there, each gasping for breath, staring into each other’s eyes. Alex thought that she could feel both of their heartbeats thumping in rhythm with each other. Her eyes shifted to his Adam’s apple that moved up and down as he swallowed, then she slowly lifted her gaze back to his warm, melted chocolate eyes. Hot chocolate was more like it, no - steaming, hot chocolate. His eyes were literally clouded over as if filled with steam.
Without warning, it was Alex’s body that felt like it was melting, or rather, it was falling, quite literally. She made a great effort to steady herself without the pillar of Nicolas’ body holding her up and had to grab onto the nearby banister of the stairway. She watched the front door as it slammed shut after his hasty departure. She exhaled deeply and sunk onto the ground. Maria was wrong. Alex was most definitely not the one in control. She would surrender everything to him if he asked, and that scared her more than anything she had ever felt in her life.