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“Daddy!” Alex screamed and sat up in bed. It had been another restless night, and the few periods of sleep she managed to have were interrupted by nightmares. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath, but before she could stop them, the tears came. Alex leaned forward, put her face in her hands and cried. Without looking at her phone or thinking about the calendar on the wall in the winery, she knew what today was. It had been exactly two years since what was left of her world had been ripped to shreds. Alex was no longer in her bed in Italy but in the back seat of a car covered with glass, bleeding from cuts both seen and unseen.
A knock on the door brought her back to the present. As she looked up, the door opened, and a wide-eyed Nicolas poked his head into the room.
“Mia bella,” he said as he rushed to her side. “For two nights, I have listened to you call out in your sleep. And then this morning, I hear you crying. What is it? Please forgive me if I have hurt or scared you.” He sat on the bed, a worried look was on his face, and he seemed unsure about whether or not to touch her.
Alex shook her head. “No,” her voice was small and weak. “It’s just...” Her words failed her and she found herself crying into her hands again. This time, Nicolas put his arms around her and pulled her into him. Just as she had done when the piano was unveiled, Alex allowed herself to cry in his arms.
“Stai bene, sono qui,” he soothed. “You’re okay, I am here.” Nicolas repeated his words over and over and smoothed her long hair until her sobs quieted down.
“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered into his tear-stained t-shirt. Nicolas leaned back, took her chin between his fingers, and tilted her face up toward his.
“No, I am sorry. My behavior last night...”
Alex blushed and averted her eyes. “Mine was no better,” she said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, especially since your problems are none of my business.”
“No, no,” he insisted. “I was not myself. You were right. We will work together to make things better for the vineyard.”
The vineyard was the last thing on Alex’s mind as she curled back onto his chest and nodded. Nicolas held her close, and Alex fought the urge to look back up into his eyes. Leaning against him, his arms around her, while she was still in her long nightshirt and he on her bed, felt so intimate, so right. Alex wanted to stay like that forever, while at the same time, she was petrified that if their eyes met, they might become even more intimate; and that little voice in the back of her head reminded her that he was taken.
Finally, Nicolas pulled away and spoke in a quiet voice. “You called for your papà. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Alex shook her head. The answer was both yes and no. Yes, she wanted to tell him, but no, not like this. “I would like to, but,” she hesitated, “could I, could we...” she shifted uncomfortably, even though she was actually quite comfortable, and pulled the covers more tightly around her body.
As if he could read her mind, Nicolas said, “Oh, sì, sì, mi dispiace. I will meet you downstairs when you are ready.” Nicolas let her go and stood. For a moment he just looked down at Alex, seemingly lost in thought, forgetful already that he was supposed to be leaving. Then he shook his head slightly as if to clear it and hurried from the room. Alex sighed heavily and leaned back on her pillows. Suddenly the villa didn’t seem quite as big and roomy as it had the day she moved in.
Alex descended the stairs to the smell of fresh cappuccino and toasted pastry. When she entered the kitchen, Nicolas turned and smiled. Alex offered an uneasy smile and took the seat he offered her.
Once they were both seated and eating, Nicolas began speaking. “Before you begin, I will tell you what I know. I found, online, news about your brother and your father. I am so sorry. I cannot imagine how it felt, how it feels.”
Alex swallowed a mouthful of coffee and put down her cup. She was slightly taken aback by the thought that Nicolas had looked her up online, but then she remembered how she had done the same thing before coming to Italy. “I don’t want to sound mean, but you’re right. You truly can’t imagine how it felt or how it feels.” She closed her eyes and went back to the day that they received the call about Chad. “He was so smart,” she smiled, “and sweet. He would do anything for anyone, and of course, that was his downfall.”
Alex relayed the story to Nicolas, how his friend, Melissa, showed up at his door early one morning, begging for his help. Making a long story short, and leaving out all of the details about Melissa’s two years in hiding, Alex explained how Chad had helped his friend disappear in order to escape a hit man hired by the Vice President, who was revealed to be her mother’s rapist and Melissa’s father. The story had been covered by reporters worldwide, but Nicolas gave no indication that he had heard it. Using the computer skills that caused the tech community to refer to him as “The next Mark Zuckerberg,” Chad secured for Melissa several new identities and instructed her on how to stay off the grid. After loaning her some clothes, an untraceable laptop, and all the money he had in his flat, he watched Melissa leave and went on about his day.
Everything Alex knew about what happened next was based solely on speculation. Piecing together Melissa’s testimony, police reports, and the confession of one of the most powerful men in the world, it was believed that Chad’s killer entered the flat within less than a day after Melissa left, killed Chad, stole his car, left the vehicle in an alley, and dumped Chad’s body into the Delaware River. It took over three weeks for the police to take his disappearance seriously, and by that time, identifying the body was almost impossible.
Alex was a Freshman at Loyola University in Baltimore at the time. Being the closest in proximity to the crime scene in Philadelphia, and wanting to spare her parents the pain, she volunteered to take on the gruesome task. The police would not allow her to look at what was left of the body, so she identified her only brother using a digital reconstruction of his face and confirming the medical and dental records that the police had obtained.
“How terrible it must have been for you,” Nicolas said as he reached his hand across to covers hers. Alex sat to the right of him at the table, Nicolas at the head. She nodded.
“I thought, at the time, that my life couldn’t get any worse than it was at that moment. Then,” she looked away, and a tear escaped from her eye and trailed down her cheek. She sniffed and blinked before continuing. “Then we had to go through the funeral where my mother collapsed at the gravesite and was taken to the hospital. She was suffering from exhaustion, from dehydration, and from the pain of loss. But most of all, she was beginning a spiral into such a debilitating depression that it took over a year for her to even be able to appear normal. When she seemed almost herself, Dad decided that we needed to get away, to try to be a family again. We went on a road trip to New England just before my junior year of college.”
Alex stopped and closed her eyes. She scrunched her face and shook her head as if to clear a memory or an image. “We were almost back home in Chicago when a drunk driver hit us head on. There was nothing Dad could have done to stop it, and there was nothing the doctors could do to save him.” More tears came, and Nicolas tightened his hold on her hand. Alex gave him a half-hearted smile and finished. “My mother and I haven’t spoken since just after his funeral when she told me to get out and never come back. She blamed me for Dad’s wanting to take the trip. I’ll never understand it, but that’s the way it is.”
Alex pulled her hand away and stood up. She picked up her dishes and walked them to the sink and then gazed out the window. “I received just enough money from the insurance settlement to pay for the rest of my college education and for rent on the townhouse I shared with my friend, Sandra. I returned to Baltimore and haven’t been back home since.” She turned back to Nicolas and gave him a genuine smile. “I met Signora that winter, and she loved me like my mother hadn’t in almost two years. Though I worked for her, she was my friend, my confidant, my advisor, but most of all, she was my family.”
Nicolas stood and went to her. “Sì, she was your family, and now you are our family.” He took her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “This is your home, and sono qui per te, per sempre, I am here for you forever.” Alex looked up at Nicolas, and time seemed to stand still. The room was suddenly smaller, so small that Alex could hear his heart beat. Neither moved or spoke until they heard the front door close. They quickly jumped away from each other. Alex, her face hot and red, reached for the dishes she had put in the sink and turned on the water. Nicolas hurried to the table to retrieve his own dishes.
Maria walked into the room and surveyed the situation. A small “O” formed on her lips, and she blushed. “Mi dispiace, I thought perhaps Alex was alone. Nicolas, you are not in the, oh, mi dispiace,” she turned to go, but Nicolas forced a laugh.
“It is okay, Maria, we are just finishing breakfast.”
“Come on in,” Alex called, trying to sound normal. “Nicolas was just leaving.” She gave him a look that told him to get out, and he obeyed.
“Ciao,” he called as he slipped out the back door.
Maria went to the sink and stared at Alex. After a moment, Alex turned to look at her. She felt her face go red again at the questioning look on Maria’s face.
“What?” she tried to sound casual.
“You look, you look like you have a secret, like you did not sleep last night, and like, well, you know what you look like.”
“No, I don’t know what I look like,” Alex said, shaking her head as if Maria’s words were nonsense. After all, if Alex understood her implication, it was nonsense.
“Why is Nicolas so late going outside?”
“We had a late breakfast. We were talking,” she emphasized when Maria cocked her head and looked at her with disbelief.
“And Nicolas is in a very good mood this morning,” Maria added, her eyes burning into Alex’s profile as Alex tried to ignore her and finish the dishes.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Maria. We had a, well, a breakthrough, I think. I told him about my past, about my brother and my father’s death. It was not a romantic conversation.” Though it did feel romantic in the end, didn’t it? She pushed the thought away. “Everything is fine between Nicolas and me, and you and I have work to do.”
She turned off the water and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll be over as soon as I brush my teeth,” she called, leaving Maria to think whatever she wanted to about her and Nicolas. It wasn’t as if anything was ever going to happen between them.
Alex was tight-lipped all day, and she could tell it was killing Maria. She hated keeping her in the dark, but there was nothing to tell. Nicolas acted no differently than he did on any normal day. He neither avoided Alex nor sought her out. The three of them met after lunch to go over some business strategies, and, as far as anyone of them could tell, nothing was happening between Alex and Nicolas other than business.
“Tours? No,” Nicolas said emphatically. “I think you both know how I feel about that. Besides, the last time I gave a tour, a stranger ended up being my business partner.”
“Oh, come on,” Alex prodded, “you were so good at it.” Nicolas gave her a wary look.
“I mean it. You were really good at it. I left feeling like I actually learned how to make wine. Granted, I forgot most of it before I got back to Verona because I felt so bad over the way it all went down, but...” she looked sheepishly at the two cousins.
Maria rolled her eyes, “Even with the way the last one turned out, I think Alex is right.”
“You what?” Nicolas looked at her with surprise. “You have never thought it was a good idea.”
“I have always thought it was a good idea. You,” she poked Nicolas in the chest, “were always against it, so I said nothing.”
It was settled then. It was two to one, and even though Maria’s opinion didn’t legally count, Nicolas knew it might as well have. He was outnumbered, and the tours would take place.
“Fine, but I am not giving them,” he declared.
“I don’t know why not,” Alex challenged. “You are good at it, and you are fluent in four languages.”
“My Spanish is mediocre at best.”
“I don’t want to hear it. You can speak and understand more than enough to get by. And I can do the English tours if you want.”
Nicolas raised an eyebrow, and Alex playfully swatted him. Maria watched the exchange without a word. The dispute was soon resolved. Maria would do the Italian tours, Alex would do the English tours, and Nicolas would grudgingly do the rest. Alex began updating the web site right away, and Maria called the tourist agencies in the area to let them know that the vineyard was now open to the public and that literature would soon follow.
That evening, Pietro joined them for a night on the town to celebrate. It was Alex’s idea, and though Nicolas acted like he didn’t want to go, neither of the ladies bought it.
“The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks,” Alex whispered to Maria.
“He is not the only one,” Maria countered, but Alex ignored the comment.
Exhausted and feeling a bit tipsy, Alex went right to bed when they returned to the villa that evening. For the first time that week, she slept soundly through the night without any nightmares, although she certainly had her fill of dreams.
Nicolas was pleased with the results from his grape picking and analysis the next day.
“The sugar is just right, and the acidity is low. It will be a very good year,” he told Alex at dinner.
“How do you know that already?”
“As long as temperatures and rainfall are as predicted, it will be good. We have pruned the vines, but the hottest part of the summer is still to come, so it is a delicate balance now between sunlight and shade.”
They discussed the state of the vineyard while they ate and did the dishes and then settled down on the couch. Neither mentioned the events of the previous morning, both acting as if nothing had happened. Of course, Alex constantly reminded herself, nothing, in fact, had happened. She settled onto the cushion next to Nicolas and listened as he read.
February 10, 1943
Word has reached us that a new General has taken over the American Forces here in Europe. Papà woke me before dawn this morning and told me the news and said that I needed to leave early for school so that I could deliver something for him. I could tell by his tone that the task he was entrusting to me was not an ordinary errand. I dressed, ate quickly, and went outside. My bike was already by the front door. Papà handed me my satchel and told me that I was to deliver mother’s meat order to the butcher on my way to school. It was in my bag, he said, rolled and tied with a black ribbon. I was not to open it under any circumstances. I nodded and left for school.
All the way there, my heart pounded in my chest, and I found myself to be very alert, watching for someone to come and push me off of my bike and empty the contents of my bag in search of the rolled paper. When I reached the butcher shop, there were two soldiers standing nearby smoking cigarettes. I tried to ignore them as I parked my bike. My hands shook as I reached for my satchel, and I feared that they would notice. Their laughter felt like blows to my body as I averted my eyes and walked into the shop. My voice shook as I told Signor Lombardi that I had mother’s order. He nodded and looked around before taking the paper that I slipped from my bag. He told me to come back after school to retrieve her meat, and I practically ran from the store.
I could barely concentrate on my studies as I watched the clock tick by all day. If my teachers noticed my distraction, they did not say. Perhaps they, too, had secrets of their own that they hid and hoped nobody would discover. After school, I headed back to the shop, relieved to find no soldiers this time. The butcher handed me a sack of cheesecloth. I could feel the heavy meat inside. “Go straight home,” he told me. “Speak to no one. Give this to your father right away.” I nodded and raced home as fast as my bike could carry me. It was off-balance with the heavy package in the basket, but I made it all the way without falling over. Father was waiting for me when I arrived. He was working less and less in his medical office these days, and I wondered how we were going to pay the ever-growing price of food. He took the package and hurried into the house before I could even dismount from my bike. By the time I got to the kitchen, the beef was opened on the counter, and Mamma was preparing it for dinner. Papà and whatever else was in the package were gone, his office door closed.
“Lombardi?” Alex asked Nicolas.
“Sì, it is how the family made their fortune,” he answered.
“In meat? How on earth did they make a fortune as butchers?” Alex asked incredulously.
“It was a different time. Everyone needed food, and beef has always been an important food in Italy.”
“What does the family do today? I can’t imagine Eva butchering a cow.” Alex tried to suppress a grin.
“Ah, you have not been to Eva’s estate. They own cattle, many, many cattle. While Eva plans parties, her brothers raise and slaughter the beef cows and sell to the local markets. It is, in fact, very lucrative.”
Alex made a face of disgust and pointed to the journal. “Let’s keep reading so that I can get that image out of my head.”
Nicolas continued.
March 1, 1943
For weeks, I have been a courier of unknown information between Papà and Signor Lombardi. I have tried in vain to find out what messages are contained in the packages I risk my life to carry between home and the shop, but I am not brave enough to go against Papà’s orders and try to peek at the hidden notes. It is not the soldiers I fear but Papà. If I do not follow his orders, he will not trust me any more, and even though I know not what I deliver, I know that I am helping my country.
Today, however, Papà called me into his office after dinner, his voice had a tone I did not recognize. “I have something for you,” he told me, and he held out a stained paper, folded into a small square, with my name neatly printed on it, Signorina Isabella Abelli. I slowly reached for the paper and tried to take it, but Papà’s grip on the paper remained firm. I looked at him, and his eyes were like marble. “I do not know that I approve of this,” he said sternly. “Sì, Papà,” I told him even though I had no idea what he was talking about. “It is one thing for you to go behind my back, but it is another altogether for this route of communication to occur. It could endanger our whole operation.” I apologized and waited. It seemed like hours before Papà loosened his grip and handed me the note. I asked to go, and he nodded.
With my heart racing, I ran to my room and carefully opened the note. It was a letter! From Roberto! I could hardly believe my eyes, but there it was in my own trembling hands. How he knew to send it to Signor Lombardi, and why he didn’t send it through the mail, I did not know. At that moment, I did not care.
My dearest Isa,
I write to tell you that I am well. It is hard trying to be like one of the others, but I try and must be succeeding. Your Papà will understand and may explain it to you someday. Please know that you are ever in my thoughts and in my heart. Hold fast to its key, for only you can unlock it upon my return.
Faithfully yours,
Roberto
“How beautiful that she taped it here like the other note,” Alex said wistfully. “How hard it must have been for them both.”
“They barely knew each other,” Nicolas reminded her.
“But they knew,” was all she said, and he silently told himself that it was like his feelings for Eva. She was right for him, and he knew it. But that nagging voice in his head reminded him that it wasn’t Eva who was now always on his mind.