The bride was small and slim, olive-complexioned, with round, dark eyes that stared, uncomprehending, at this stranger who had shattered the peace of their wedding.
Too astonished himself, Vittorio backed out mutely, stumbled to the curb, and nearly collapsed.
****
Kitty took a deep breath, her silence palpable. Solemn and sacred. She was a woman of honor. If she committed her word, she committed herself. She had made her choice; now she was bound to accept it. It was Charles who mattered now.
She returned Charles’ gaze. “I do.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
The words put her in a trance. She felt as though she were someone else who received congratulations and hugs and wishes for a long and happy life together.
She walked mechanically through the doors of the Chapel of St. Mary and into the hospital hallway. The distinct hospital smell revived her. It was the one good thing, she thought, without an inkling of Vittorio’s frantic search of each church, it was the one good thing about being married in a hospital chapel.
Chapter 37
The carriage pulled up in front of a graceful red brick mansion, the home that Arthur and Annie Winthrop had kindly offered for the reception. The forty or so guests applauded as Charles led Kitty into the ballroom on his arm, and they surrounded them as he led her in a first dance. A violinist played a lilting waltz, and Charles did his best to keep up.
“Why is it I find operating easy and waltzing hard?”
“I’m not having trouble following you, Charles. You probably put my legs back together that way.”
“An excellent idea. If only I had thought of it.”
You’re doing well, Kitty, keeping the conversation light, and smiling up at him at the appropriate times.
What Charles lacked in dancing talent he made up for in enthusiasm, his happiness bubbling over. “Please”—he extended his arm to take in the group—“join us in the dance.”
For Kitty, the rest of the reception was a whirl of champagne, dances with everyone, food, and kind friends. She concentrated on each one to drive away thoughts of their wedding night. She had made her commitment, but the pain was still real, still there, as surely as Vittorio was not.
They left the reception in the evening, well-wishers rushing to the curb to wave goodbye as the carriage took them to their new home.
“I’m sorry my duties at the hospital don’t permit a honeymoon now, but I’ll make it up to you.”
“How typical of you, Charles, but don’t think about it. You have given me so much. I don’t need a honeymoon as well.”
“I want to give you one. I want to give you everything.” He leaned over to try to kiss her, but the bouncing of the carriage made it impossible, and he settled for kissing her hand.
At the door, Charles swung her into his arms and carried her over the threshold. She had done the living room in rose and pale green, and it welcomed her, in spite of herself. She had put much of herself into this house already, and it represented the rest of her life.
“Hello,” she said.
“What?”
“I said hello to the rest of my life.”
“My darling Kitty.” He buried his face in her hair, then swung her around until they both laughed and staggered dizzily.
“Would you like some supper?” she asked, trying to stave off the inevitable.
“Tea would be nice.”
They took their tea to the garden room, as Kitty now called the porch, and sat in silence, sipping and listening to the trill of crickets in the night. It was companionable with Charles, and she lingered over her tea until it was cold, wishing this part would last.
Finally he rose and took her hand. “We can clean those in the morning.” They climbed the stairs to their bedroom, with its rose spread and its view of the city laid out before them. It would have…could have…been perfect… She stopped herself. She was married now, and owed everything to Charles.
“I’ll get ready,” she said, blushing at the thought of her and Charles making love.
She took off her lace dress, washed, and reluctantly slipped on the white nightgown and peignoir he had bought her. It was exquisite in its simple cut. Charles bought her only the finest things. She knew he loved her intensely. Why couldn’t that be enough?
She waited as long as she dared; eventually she had to come out. He had turned down the bed and sat on the edge, already in his pajamas. He stood up when Kitty appeared, the gown accentuating her slender curves, the peignoir a sheer train behind her.
He was silent for a moment, simply looking. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Sit down. I have something for you.” He held out the chair to the dressing table, and she sat in front of the mirror. He placed a slim satin box on the dresser. “Open it.”
She lifted the cover to find a diamond necklace, each stone glittering in turn as she moved it through her fingers. He took it from her and clasped it around her neck.
“It’s beautiful, Charles, but you shouldn’t. I have nothing for you.”
“You’re wrong, my darling. You have given me everything.”
She held her breath as he kissed her neck, then slowly unfastened her hair and let it cascade in burnished waves around her shoulders. He took her hand, and she stood up, facing him. His arms around her, he kissed her tentatively at first, then with rising passion.
He led her to the bed and lay down beside her, kissing and stroking her, then gently slid her nightgown off and undressed himself. She shivered at the touch of his bare skin against hers.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
“I’m just cold,” she lied, and closed her eyes. If I think of the seashore and calm waters, she told herself, it will be all right. Mechanically, she put her arms around him as he caressed her body with heightening passion. It was impossible to think of anything else as his lovemaking became more heated, more demanding. Finally he was holding himself above her, ready. Eyes closed, she pulled him toward her. I have made a promise; he loves me; a sacred promise; I owe him my life; I owe him, owe him, owe… Oh, God!
It was over.
Kitty rolled over on her side, away from Charles. He leaned on his elbow, and she felt his kiss on her shoulder.
“I love you so, my darling. I know you don’t feel for me the way I do for you, and I accept that. I hope you will grow to love me in time.”
“You’ve been so good to me, Charles. I owe you everything.”
“That will have to be enough for now.” He started to pull the sheet up over her naked body, but she got up and, taking her nightgown, went to wash. She felt better washed and in her nightgown again. She could not have lain naked all night next to Charles; she simply could not.
She slipped into bed and again turned her face from him. “Dear Lord,” she prayed, “help me to be a good wife to Charles, as he deserves. I can’t ask that I fall in love with him, since I already love another man, and I know I will always love him. Bless Vittorio, and grant him happiness. I do not ask for as much for myself. Just give me the strength to make Charles happy.”
She felt the touch of Charles’ hand on her hair and heard, “Good night, my love.”
She didn’t trust her voice to answer. As she lay there silently, she felt a tear form in each eye. They stood poised there for a second, shimmering like stars that would never meet, until they streaked, comet-like, down each cheek.
Chapter 38
“Vittorio, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?” Paolo eyed his friend with concern as he walked home beside Vittorio in the crisp fall air.
“Not tonight, Paolo, but thank you.”
“Tomorrow night? Friday night?”
Vittorio smiled and shook his head.
“Why don’t you talk to your old friend? What’s bothering you? Ever since the summer, you’re quiet. You’re not interested in bocce, even baseball. And girls, hah! They might as well wear mustaches and overalls.” He leaned in confidentially. “You know Frances
ca thinks you’re pretty special.”
Vittorio waved his hand. “I don’t want to bore you with my problems.”
Paolo shrugged elaborately. “I’m hurt. You don’t think enough of your old friend to talk to me.”
Vittorio walked along in silence, then sighed. “I saw Kitty.”
“When? Where?”
“The beginning of the summer. She was riding in an open carriage…a wedding carriage.”
Paolo’s eyes widened.
“She didn’t see me.”
“Are you sure it was Kitty?”
“As soon as I saw her, I knew. I tried to find the church where she was to be married, but I couldn’t. She must be married now. It’s a terrible thought.”
Paolo put his arm on Vittorio’s shoulder. “It’s a terrible thought, but maybe now you can put her behind you.”
They had reached Vittorio’s house, and Paolo, anxious to help his friend, automatically walked up the steps with him. He was still trying to console him when they stepped into the kitchen and greeted Ottavia.
“A nice Italian girl. So maybe not Francesca, but someone who will take care of you and have your children. Think about it.”
Paolo kissed Ottavia hello, and they chatted a while. As he left, he signaled to her with his eyes his concern for Vittorio. Ottavia wordlessly watched her son standing in front of the window, staring out.
Ottavia moved around the kitchen, preparing dinner, still watching him. Finally she put her hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, son. Have a glass of wine and tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I saw Kitty.”
Her hands flew to her mouth. “Kitty! Where is she?”
He shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
“How? Tell me.”
Having kept it to himself these months, Vittorio needed to tell someone who understood, and the story tumbled out, an outpouring of his heart, ending with his frenzied search and his ultimate failure.
“When I walk the streets, when I ride the trolley, even when I look out the window, I search for her. And those rare times when I’m not thinking of her, a woman running along the street, the reflection of a face in a shop window, the night sky—everything reminds me of her.” He looked at her helplessly, hoping she understood.
Ottavia slid her arms around her son. “I never thought the next generation would repeat the story. I know what drives you. I felt the same loss, the same cavernous pain inside a heart swollen with love. For seven years, living far apart, I still thought of your father when I awoke. I thought of him through the day. My final prayer was, and still is, for you and for him. A man on the street would remind me of him and I’d start, remembering his walk or the way a smile would light his eyes. An unexpected tap on the shoulder and I would wheel around, full of expectation.”
“For seven years?”
“When we went to Firenze and met him there, it was more than I had ever hoped. I thought I would never see him again, but we had a second chance. He still loved me, and I loved him. We were together for a brief, beautiful time.
“In another world, I would have wanted him forever. Much as I dreamed, I knew that was not possible, yet I never stopped loving him. Knowing that, how can I counsel you to forget about her?”
“I cannot forget her.”
“I pray every day for you, Vittorio, and my prayers have brought me peace. I believe that you will be spared my lonely fate. You and Kitty will meet again.”
She looked at him, her eyes filled with years of love and loss that had given her wisdom.
“I don’t want her for just a brief time; I want her forever.”
“I feel it, Vittorio. Your love and my prayers will not go unanswered.”
“And if they do?”
“Then we will go on with life. And on with loving. We are both captives of the choices of our hearts.”
****
“Charles, will you help me choose?” Kitty held up two wool dresses, a green plaid and a navy with gold buttons. “Which do you think, for my first luncheon at the Ladies’ Club?”
“The plaid looks cheery, and goes well with your hair.”
Sitting in the green wing chair in the parlor, he laid down the newspaper to inspect each dress as Kitty held it up, one at a time.
“On the other hand, you’ll sail right in like the Navy in your nautical dress and commandeer the luncheon.”
“Charles, be serious,” she said through her laughter.
“Then I’ll be serious,” he said, with a satisfied grin. “Keep them both.”
“I don’t want to bankrupt you. I just want to look nice for the luncheon.”
“Come here.” He laid aside the paper and pulled her onto his lap. “You will look prettier than anyone there no matter what you wear, even your birthday suit. Most especially your birthday suit.”
He began to unbutton her blouse.
Kitty felt her heart chill. In the few months they had been married, they’d gotten along well. He was generous and undemanding, except in his desire for lovemaking. It was normal, she knew, for him to desire her every night. It was her love for another that made her feel his touch was alien. Foolishly, miserably, she felt as though she were betraying Vittorio.
He held her hand and led her toward the stairs.
“The dinner is ready on the stove.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No. No, I just thought you might be.”
“I am, but I’d like dessert first.”
She silently let him lead her to the bedroom.
****
While luncheons with the Ladies’ Club were always pleasant, Kitty thought of them as time-fillers. As the days grew shorter, grayer and colder, if she were not occupied, she found herself dreaming of Vittorio, lovely summer reveries that left her chilled when she awoke.
Life with Charles was pleasant enough, and he saw to it there was nothing she wanted, but still she longed for the love she could not have. She missed her family as well, especially Dermot. She determined to write to them. Sitting down at a desk in the corner of the parlor one rainy November afternoon, she wrote:
Dear Papa,
This is to tell you that I am well and living in Boston. I am married to a very good, kind man, Dr. Charles Lawrence. We were married in July in the chapel in Boston Hospital, where he is a surgeon.
I met him when he saved my life after I had been hit by a team of runaway horses in the street just outside the Irish Emigrant Savings Bank. I was in the hospital for a long time, but thanks to Charles’ expert care, I recovered. I miss you both and would love to see you. I miss the fun we had together, Dermot, and I want to bake you the biggest apple pie you’ve ever seen.
Please write so I will know the best time to come to see you. Hugs and kisses to you, Dermot. I miss you both.
Love, Kitty
She folded the letter, running her fingers over the fold again and again, and placed it in the envelope. She could not hope to hear for perhaps two weeks, and those two weeks were torture. When that time was up, she ran every day to the mailbox, only to find it, day after day, dark, cold, and empty of the letter she hoped to see.
The November rains were chill, but Kitty insisted on going out every day—to visit, to shop, or merely to walk. Inside the house, lovely as it was, she had too much time to brood. She could not even sit in her much-loved garden room. A chill permeated it, and the unpicked roses drooped in varying shades of tan and gray, not a hint of their former vibrancy.
She couldn’t remember when she first felt ill, it came upon her so gradually. First, a listlessness, then nausea, and finally an ache in her bones.
“I want you to see Dr. Finchley, my dear.” Charles looked at her with the practiced eye of a physician.
Kitty protested, but without too much insistence from Charles she gave in. So tired was she that evening, she had to fight to keep awake at dinner.
“Forget about the dishes,” Charles said. “I’m putting you to bed.”
Bone tired,
Kitty dreaded having to make love to him, but he simply carried her upstairs and tucked her into bed.
Dr. Finchley had an office near the hospital. Normally, Kitty would have loved to walk there, but she was grateful that Charles sent a carriage to pick her up. She entered the doctor’s office, with its prints of thoroughbred horses on the walls, and sank into one of the leather sofas. The office was crowded, but within minutes a nurse beckoned her inside.
Gray-haired and full-faced, Dr. Finchley sat behind a large mahogany desk and bade her sit down. “Charles has told me you’re not feeling up to par. What seems to be the trouble?”
After an exam, she left smiling broadly.
Although the carriage was waiting for her, she could have run home. She had all she could do to wait for Charles that evening. As soon as she heard him at the front door, she ran and flung it open.
Charles eyed the smile on her face. “What is it?”
“I’m going to have a baby!”
With a whoop, he scooped her up and swung her around, then quickly put her down. “I mustn’t be doing that now, in your condition. Here, sit down on the sofa and tell me everything.”
Breathlessly, Kitty recounted the examination and the doctor’s conclusion that she was two months pregnant.
“I’m ecstatic,” Charles said, “and relieved. I vacillated between hoping you were expecting and worrying that you were truly ill.” He walked to the cabinet in the pantry and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “We’ll celebrate.”
Kitty held up her hand. “You can, but I’m afraid my queasy stomach is telling me ‘no’ in no uncertain terms.”
He put the bottle away. “Of course, how foolish of me. We’ll save that for after the little one is born.” He bent over and kissed her hand.
Kitty had hoped that her nausea and aches would pass quickly, but they persisted for weeks, and she spent more time in bed, sleeping. She was more solitary now, and she looked forward to Charles’ coming home in the evening, bringing her news.
“Tell me everything that happened today,” she said as he sat down to dinner and she had a bowl of clear broth.
“Oh, the usual. Mrs. Higgins came to see me again, complaining of her nerves, and sat there twitching until a mouse ran across the room. Amazingly, the twitching stopped, until she remembered to re-start it.”
Choices of the Heart Page 24