A Year at 32 September Way (16 page)

Chapter 13

January’s shortened daylight hours and gray, rainy weather led Charles to spend more time indoors. He’d decided to start the new year off by devoting more
time
to learning the Italian language. Thrice-weekly sessions with his language teacher were supplemented by plenty of study time at home or in the nearby library. When he needed a break, Charles spent hours wandering the rooms of nearby museums to learn more about Verona.

He’d been saddened and horrified to learn about Sofia’s family tragedy, but at least he knew she hadn’t stood him up. Each week he stopped by the hospital to see how Marcello was doing and ask how she was holding up. He made it clear he was there for her, but he also gave Sofia the space and time she needed to focus on her father’s recovery.

Charles was thankful the bank had offered Sofia an extended leave of absence so she could remain in Verona with her father. After Carlisle told him what happened and informed him that Sofia had been by Marcello’s side day and night, Charles had quickly gotten over his hurt and sprang into action to make sure the bank knew how important it was that Sofia be able to stay on in Verona without losing her job. They’d wholeheartedly agreed, and he was glad to have a bit of good news to deliver to her.

As the last week of January began to unfold, the Englishman’s worries about his beautiful Italian friend grew. The strain and stress of watching over Marcello, wondering if and to what extent he would recover was showing on Sofia’s face. Finally, with Eva’s help, he was able to coax her away for dinner once each week so she could see other faces and places and could receive a bit of the kindness and care she’d been showering upon her father.

At 4:30, the sun had already set for the evening. The gentle January rains slowed long enough for Charles and Sofia to make their way to a small restaurant down the street from the hospital where the owners were famous for their homemade noodles and their secret family recipe for
marinara sauce. They were both famished and even Sofia, who normally ate like a bird, managed to polish off her entire plate of spaghetti.

The waiter brought a tray to the table bearing the after-dinner fare that was traditional in the area. Two small china cups boasting steaming hot espresso were flanked by two shot glasses filled two-thirds of the way with
limoncello
. In front of the drinks lay a small china plate filled to the edges with an assortment of Italian cookies and small pastries. Taking a bite out of crescent-shaped almond cookie dusted lightly with powdered sugar, Sofia looked toward Charles and laid her hand upon his.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your kindness, Mr.
Winsdorth
,” she said quietly. “It means a lot to me just knowing that you are there…that you are thinking of me. I’m not sure what I’d do if you weren’t.” A small sob escaped from her lips and Sofia quickly dabbed at her eyes.

Charles took her smooth, delicate hand into his, gently caressing the tops of her fingers. “Well, that’s one thing you won’t have to find out. I’m here for you now, and I’ll be here for you when your father recovers. And he will recover, I’m sure of it! You’re important to me, Sofia. After all the times you’ve been there for me….” He thought back to those dreadful first weeks holed up in his apartment until she had arrived. “Well, in any case, I won’t stop being here for you for as long as you’ll allow me to be.”

She smiled sweetly in return. It was the first time he’d seen her smile in weeks. The butterflies returned to his stomach as he walked her back to the hospital, still holding her hand. Only this time, they were butterflies of hope and anticipation.

***

The scheduled five-week holiday break from filming had come to a close, and it would be time for Josh to return to Tuscany the next morning. He’d been in communication with the crew and some of the cast members, and everyone was excited to get back to work. Tuscany was still in the midst of its winter rainy season, but that would not affect the filming schedule for the next week. They had plenty of indoor scenes to shoot until spring weather began at the end of February or the beginning of March.

Josh loved his job and enjoyed the role he played in bringing together a piece of creative work. But he wasn’t looking forward to returning to the set as much as he usually did. The five weeks at home with Nicolette had been strained despite the fact that he’d worked so hard to make her first holiday season in Italy a joyous one.

Once filming wrapped up for the month and the break began, Josh had arrived home early to surprise his wife and found himself in the same situation he’d been in the first time he came home early from work: Nicolette was out, wasn’t answering her cellphone and didn’t return home until almost 5 o’clock in the morning. During his time off, she often made excuses not to spend time with him, claiming she was out with Carlisle and some other friends. But then he bumped into Carlisle and found out the two hadn’t been out together in weeks.

“Please, would you come in for a cup of coffee?” Josh had asked Carlisle after learning she hadn’t been spending time with his wife.

“Um, sure, Josh,” his neighbor had responded. He could see she was uncomfortable, but his concerns for Nicolette were growing and he was desperate to talk to someone about them. Although he’d only talked to Carlisle a few times, he’d felt he could trust her from the moment they met at the dinner in the rear courtyard. 

Two cups of steaming decaf sat on the table where Josh and Carlisle sat across from one another. The two neighbors shared a bit of small-talk while he made the coffee and Carlisle commented on the spaciousness of their apartment.  “Yeah, I wanted to make sure Nicolette would be comfortable here. It’s quite a bit smaller than she’s accustomed to, but I had hoped all Verona has to offer would make up for the lack of space.”

Carlisle listened intently, knowing that Nicolette was indeed taking advantage of a few things Verona had to offer, but certainly not the things her husband had in mind. He went on to share his concerns over her late nights out, the distance she’d created between the two of them and the amount of weight she’d lost from her already thin frame.

“My first impression of you, Carlisle, was that you’re a trustworthy person who would be a good friend.” Josh continued on, “I had hoped my wife would get to be friends with you and, if she hasn’t, I know it’s not your fault.” He hesitated, as if weighing his words. “Can I tell you about something really personal?”

“Of course you can,” Carlisle reassured him. She could see he was struggling and wanted to help if she could.

“A couple years ago, my wife had a serious drug problem. I got her into rehab, I moved her away from that crowd and our life together calmed down and got happier. Or so I thought. I was sure the move here would be good for her because I could see she was bored and unhappy in Napa Valley. Do you think I made a mistake?”

Josh could see that his neighbor was uncomfortable again. She shifted in her seat and turned away from him as he told her about Nicolette’s drug problems. “Please, I know you don’t owe me or my wife anything. But if there’s something you know that can help me as I try to help her, please tell me. I’m at my wit’s end here.”

“This is very uncomfortable for me, Josh. I feel like I’m smack-dab in the middle of a problem between two people I’d like to be friends with but barely know,” Carlisle explained.

“I’m sorry I’ve put you in an awkward position. That wasn’t my intention,” Josh responded. “I’m desperate. After all she and I have been through…I don’t want to go down that road again. Trying to get her to stop using cocaine was a horrific time for both of us. I don’t want her to reach the point where she’s tempted to use again.”

His upstairs neighbor looked at him from across the table with compassion and concern in her eyes. Josh knew something bad was going on. He should have known not to allow
Nic
to stay in Verona by herself. He should have been adamant about having her go with him to Tuscany each week. But he’d wanted to show her that she’d earned back his trust. He wanted her to feel free to find her own way in Verona.

“If you know something that can help me prevent her from going back to that lifestyle, please tell me,” Josh pleaded.

“I think it might be too late,” Carlisle responded quietly. “I’m so sorry, Josh.” And she went on to tell him about the night Nicolette had tried to get her to use cocaine.

***

“Miss, maybe you ought to head home early today. Relax a little, get some fresh air or just go to bed and sleep,” the nurse suggested to Eva. In the weeks since Marcello had been brought to the hospital clinging to life, the hospital staff had grown very fond of the young German woman and their patient’s daughter Sofia. The two women were relentless in their commitment to being there for him, believing firmly that he would eventually come out of the coma.

When he finally woke up on a rare sunny morning in January, the first things Marcello saw were the faces of his daughter and the young woman he loved. His memories of the day of the shooting were sketchy, but there were enough pieces intact for him to understand what had transpired. Although he and Carlotta had grown apart years ago, Marcello was sad for the life she was destined to endure. Yet, he was also grateful that his life and Eva’s had been spared.

The news of possible paralysis was delivered gently the next day by the head of the team of doctors who’d been caring for Marcello. Hearing there was a possibility he’d never walk again couldn’t have been more devastating to him, and he wept openly in front of his daughter, his parents and Eva. A period of two weeks’ rest was prescribed to allow Marcello to absorb the news and process what had happened to him before he’d begin physical therapy to help strengthen the muscles that had gone unused for several weeks.

During that time, he found happiness in the moments when Eva sat with him, but he noticed that she’d grown quiet and distant. Perhaps she was just worried about him, and he was certain she was tired. Sofia had told him that she and Eva had taken turns sitting with him around the clock. If anything good had come out of this horrific situation, it was the knowledge that he couldn’t possibly love anyone more than he did Eva and that he was fortunate to have a family who cared so much about him. For now, Marcello felt there was no need to talk with Eva about her emotional distance. “I’ll focus on getting better,” he’d decided, “and then she’ll relax and go back to being her usual loving self.”

Initially, Marcello was excited to start physical therapy. He felt confident he’d walk again as soon as his muscles regained their strength. “This is a minor setback, doctors,” he often said. “I’ve overcome plenty of setbacks in my life, and this one’s not going to beat me either.”

But the physical therapy turned out to be more grueling than he imagined and the progress almost nonexistent. Marcello’s frustrations grew more quickly than anything else. By the time he reached the last physical therapy session of the first week, he was spending more time complaining and barking at the therapists than trying to accomplish what they asked him to do.

***

Eva stood behind a stack of towels resting on an open shelving unit by the door. She’d observed Marcello in his physical therapy sessions from one hiding place or another most of the week. The first day he’d been wheeled into the physical therapy room bringing with him a good mood and hopeful attitude. Four days later during the last therapy session of the week, he’d transformed into a cranky, obstinate patient who seemed bent on making his therapists and their assistants as miserable as he was.

“Sig
nor Benedetto,” the therapist pleaded, “we want to help you strengthen your muscles, but you have to cooperate and work with us.”

“I see no reason to work up a sweat when it’s clearly not helping me,” Marcello retorted before clumsily turning his wheelchair away from the therapist.

As far as Eva was concerned, she’d seen just about enough. She understood his frustrations and realized that Marcello must be feeling very fearful about his prognosis. She also knew that when he was scared and upset, he tended to lash out. But now was not the time for one of his childish tantrums. Eva had stood or sat by his side for weeks waiting for him to wake up, and she was certainly not going to stay quiet while he refused to work with all those who’d worked to help him.

Urged on by a combination of frustration, fatigue and anger at the way Marcello had hurt her, she stepped out from her quiet hiding place and let
loose
all the thoughts and feelings she’d kept to
herself
these past weeks.

“You know, Mister,” she started with a cold tone that surprised Marcello so much, he turned quickly to follow her voice. “I sat by your bed for several weeks and, during that
time,
I’ve come to know more about you than you ever told me. That’s right. Your parents, your brothers, your sons and my friend—your daughter—all told me stories. They told me stories about the business your grandparents started. The way you worked alongside your parents to help it develop and grow…the way you saved Carlotta’s family vineyard Via del Sol from going broke. And they told about the way you developed a name for yourself and your family members all throughout Venice, in Verona and around Lake Garda.”

Eva paused and then circled around Marcello once before standing several feet in front of him. “The man they told me about was the man I knew and loved—a strong, driven man who made plans and achieved them. And now here we are, and the man who made things
happen
is arguing with the people who are trying to help him make things happen again.”