by Diana Fraser
But the children refused to leave without saying goodbye to Ursula. Demetrio agreed, providing Ursula was awake. He allowed Carolina to creep into her room. Whether she was awake or was awoken, Ursula emerged, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
“Demetrio! How’s Lorenzo? Carolina tells me he’s recovering. Is that so?”
“He’s much better. Vincenzo is here to take the kids home. They wanted to say goodbye to you first.”
Tomasso greeted Ursula with a big hug at the bottom of the stairs. After more cuddles, and promises of phone calls and postcards from Sweden, the children disappeared out the door with their father.
Demetrio wheeled his mother back into the hall. “I need a rest, Ursula, so I’ll say goodbye to you now,” said Nonna. “Demetrio tells me you plan to return to Sweden today. Safe travels.”
Ursula looked from Demetrio back to Nonna. “Thank you. I’ve rebooked my flight for this evening. I have work to do, so…”
“So you must return. I understand. Now”—she indicated for Ursula to bend down and Nonna kissed her—“don’t be a stranger to us. Come again. You know you’ll always be welcome.”
Ursula took Nonna’s hands. “Thank you so much for everything.”
Demetrio stepped away, watching the two of them say goodbye as if they were mother and daughter, not two women who had only known each other for just over a week.
Nonna took hold of Ursula’s face between her two hands and swept her thumbs down her cheeks. “Look after yourself, Ursula. And do what you think right.”
Demetrio closed the door behind his mother. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
Ursula drained her coffee. “Definitely.”
As he closed the back door behind them and they strode out across the icy field toward the woodland, Demetrio looked at her curiously. “What did Nonna mean, ‘and do what you think right?’”
“Hm?” asked Ursula with a slight smile.
“You heard me, Ms. Adamsson. Have you been having tête-à-têtes with my wise mother?”
“And if I have?”
He shrugged and kept his eye on the rocky outcrop of the hill above the treetops, a smudge of charcoal in all the white. “Then I imagine that you’re lucky to receive her wise words. She certainly offers them freely enough to her children. I don’t see why we should be the only ones to suffer!”
Ursula laughed. “Demetrio! As it happens, she did as much listening as talking. She’s a wonderful woman. You’re very lucky.”
He reached out and took her hand, and felt her answering grip with satisfaction. “I know. And I thank God for my family every day.”
They entered the woods where the silence was denser somehow, with everything muffled by snow. A bird took off from a branch above their heads, showering snow on their upturned faces. Ursula laughed, but Demetrio didn’t. He looked down at her and brushed off the snow from her nose. “You’re the proverbial ice queen—so beautiful, so cool.”
Her smile fled instantly. “Don’t say that, Demetrio. I don’t like to think I’m cold.”
“I didn’t mean you’re cold in your heart. I know you’re not.”
“I don’t know that. And that’s what scares me. Demetrio, I was taught not to feel, I was taught to hide everything. And I was always a good student.”
She turned away, as if embarrassed and touched a tree, the snow barely holding together, dripping to the forest floor, its warmth creating a hole in the snow.
He followed her gaze. “It’s thawing. The worst is over. For now, anyway. It could all be gone by tomorrow.”
“I can’t imagine this land without snow.” She looked up at him. “It’s been magical, Demetrio. Simply magical.”
“But you won’t consider staying.”
“As you said yourself, this will be gone soon. It’s just a moment. Just a perfect moment.”
“I’m not so cynical as to believe that a perfect moment can’t lead to another, and then another.”
“I’m cynical now, am I?”
“Yes. You’re cynical, and you’re afraid.”
“Hm,” she said, trailing her gloved hand across a snowy branch. “So many bad things, it’s a wonder I survive.”
“Not bad. Just sad. And, no doubt, you believe these traits are the reason you survive; they are your defense mechanisms against the world.”
She paused, studying the snow as if her life depended on it. “Please, Demetrio, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell the truth?”
She turned to him, her beautiful face suddenly flushed with anger. “Don’t think you know me based on the limited time we’ve spent together, because you don’t.”
She began to walk away, but he caught up and took hold of her hand. “Wait, please. Just listen for a moment. You’re right. But because I don’t know the whole of you doesn’t mean that I don’t know a few parts of you. And important parts as it happens. And that doesn’t come from what’s been said; it comes from how it’s been said; it comes from glances, from things that no one can prove, no one can replicate. It comes from how I feel for you.” He took her hand and held it against his stomach. “I feel you, here, viscerally, in the pit of my stomach.”
She smiled. “Not your heart?”
“Everywhere.”
“I can’t, Demetrio. It’s too much, too soon. I have to leave.”
He looked away. “Of course. I don’t wish to argue. Let’s continue our walk. It’s your last afternoon here. I take it you’re still catching the flight tonight?”
She nodded. “Yes. I love it here, Demetrio. Truly. But I’m not sure that’s the same as moving here.”
“In that case, you must go. Return to Sweden. But then you must come here again, for another holiday. And then another.” His grip on her arm tightened.
She bit her lip, and turned away.
Demetrio released her arm. He didn’t expect a reply. “We’d better get going,” he said. “It’s nearly time.”
Time for Ursula to go. Time for the fledgling dreams that had begun to grow inside—fighting their way through the sadness that had held his heart captive for so long—to fly away too.
* * *
Demetrio and Ursula made only one stop, and that was to his apartment to collect her suitcase. She hadn’t even wanted to come in. She’d already moved on.
Demetrio was silent as Ursula made small talk on their way from his apartment to the airport. How could she say such inconsequential things after what they’d shared was about to end?
They parked, and he got out and retrieved her bag for her. They walked in silence toward the airport. He’d ask her. He had to ask her because who knew if he’d see her again? He pressed the elevator button in the car park and turned to her. “Ursula, I—”
But the elevator doors opened, revealing a big noisy Italian family with more bags than people. For once, Demetrio wished his countrymen weren’t quite so all-consuming and conspicuous. He and Ursula squashed in beside them.
“Yes?” asked Ursula.
He cleared his throat and shook his head, unwilling to raise his voice and say what he had to say with an audience. “Nothing. It can wait.” But he knew that the waiting time had nearly run out.
He held her back as the others emerged from the elevator. They walked out onto the departure concourse, and Ursula looking around, trying to see where to place her bags. “It’s over there.”
“Ursula.” It was now or never. People milled around them, but they stood, unmoving, in the mêlée. “Ursula, I need to ask you something.”
She frowned. Could she really have no idea what he was about to say? “Sure. What is it?”
He cleared his throat again. “I want to know if—”
“Ursula!” Suddenly a crowd of Ursula’s friends descended on them. It was Ruby and some of the others they’d met at the jazz club. Ruby embraced Ursula who was suddenly all smiles, smiling more than she had all day. It made Demetrio realize that she was happier to see them, than she had been in his co
mpany. He took a step back, glad that he’d been stopped from saying what he’d been about to say, glad that he’d been prevented from making a fool of himself.
“You didn’t think we’d let you slip away without us seeing you, did you?” asked Ruby laughing. She turned to Demetrio. “Hi, again!”
He nodded.
“I thought you’d still be partying,” said Ursula.
“We are. We just brought the party to you. Come on! Let’s go to the café.”
They swept Ursula along. The chatter moved swiftly from the personal, to people they knew who’d appeared in gossip columns, to who was in the latest movies. Demetrio shook his head as he followed behind. How the hell could she put up with such inane chatter? This wasn’t the Ursula he knew. And then he remembered, when things became too personal, when she was most scared, she’d retreat into small talk. He suddenly understood.
Ursula glanced at Demetrio and shrugged, as they piled in around a table. Demetrio placed her suitcase on the floor beside her, and remained standing.
“I’d better be going now.”
Ruby looked from Demetrio to Ursula, and then back to Demetrio. “No, don’t go,” said Ruby. “Sit here with us, and tell us about yourself. We didn’t get to chat last time we met.”
“I’m not much of a talker. Besides, there’s nothing much to tell.”
Ursula’s friends looked at him in surprise before looking back at Ursula, obviously curious to see what her response would be. To them, this was all some kind of game. But Ruby appeared oblivious to her companions’ curiosity and, refusing to be denied, patted the seat beside her. Ursula sat on her other side. Demetrio sat down, purely because he couldn’t face leaving Ursula yet.
Ruby’s friend pulled a face. “I guess you’re right, Demetrio, is it? There’s nothing much to tell because nothing happens in the country, does it?” She turned to Ursula. “You’ll be glad to get back into the real world, then, Ursula. Has it been awful stuck in the country with nothing going on? Poor you.”
Ursula shook her head. She looked as if she was about to speak, but after a glance at Demetrio, she said nothing.
“You’re polite because Demetrio’s here. But you don’t mind our teasing, do you Demetrio?” the woman continued.
It seemed a response wasn’t required and no one saw his glare as the conversation started up again, batting quick fire, back and forth. It was like a tennis volley, Demetrio thought. Smashing words back and forth, the winner finding the sweet spot, the punchline, regardless of who was hurt. In fact, the harder it hit, the harder the subsequent laughter.
Having begun the conversation, Ruby sat back, as if she’d done what she had to do, got the ball rolling and left it up to everyone else to entertain, or not. Ursula had told him something of Ruby’s background. She needed people and activity around her at all times. Well, she had that now. And so did Ursula, who was also not speaking. Not listening, either, if he’d learned anything about her.
After having seen the kind of friends she had he could just imagine the life she led, and how different it was to his—it was like comparing night to day. And he had a strange feeling that that was just what Ursula wanted to show him.
“So, tell me all about your Christmas,” said Ruby’s friend to Ursula. “I really can’t imagine you in a rural farmhouse. Was it primitive?”
“No!” Ursula hesitated. “No, of course not.” Another glance at Demetrio. “It was… traditional.”
They laughed as if she’d told a joke. She shook her head again, in denial, but not denying it with any words.
Demetrio felt betrayed. He stood up, and the conversation stopped. He looked beyond Ruby to Ursula. “Why are you doing this, Ursula?”
“Doing what?”
“You know what. You’re betraying me, and my family, by not defending my life against their jokes.”
The others tried to smother their laughter, but Ruby wasn’t laughing and nor was Ursula.
Ursula rose, too. “I don’t mean to, Demetrio. You and your family have been wonderful to me. But it’s like I’ve been saying, my world is different to yours.” She shrugged. “It’s just the way it is.”
“And it’s the way you want it to be.”
“It’s the way it has to be.” She paused. “It’s what I want,” she added.
The others looked at each other entranced by the scene playing out before them. Ruby rose. “Tell you what, I’ll get more drinks!” She walked away as if either she couldn’t cope with the emotional scene, or she truly thought another round of drinks would fix everything.
He shook his head, his gaze firmly fixed on Ursula. “No. You haven’t the courage to take what you want, and I don’t want to share my life with someone who doesn’t have courage.”
He wanted to reach out and grab her, to take hold of her so she could never leave him, to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off into the snow and wilderness and just be alone with her.
He heard another smothered, awkward giggle and he stepped back. He wasn’t going to give these people any more reasons to laugh at him.
Instead, he turned away, and it felt like he was tearing himself in two. He didn’t look back, just kept on walking toward the automatic doors through which people moved like waves, ebbing and flowing, back and forth, forever going and returning but never getting anywhere. But not him. He knew what he wanted, even if no one else did. And right now, he couldn’t have it, so he needed to get out and, more than anything, not look back.
Ursula watched Demetrio walk away.
She wanted to call out to him, go running after him, stop him from taking another step away from her. She felt as if some connection was being stretched to breaking point.
She should have said something, defended the world that he loved so much, but she hadn’t. And she knew why. He believed her to be capable of fitting in. He thought she was a homemaker, someone who could live a traditional life with him. But she wasn’t. She’d never lived like that before, and she didn’t know if she could do it. What if she risked everything to find she had nothing to give?
And what better way to get the message across to him, than this. He hadn’t believed anything she’d said. Maybe he’d believe something she hadn’t said.
“Ursula!” Ruby joined them with another bottle of Champagne. “And I’ve beer for Demetrio.” She looked around. “Where’s he gone?”
“He had to go home.” She bit her lip. “He’d hardly want to stay with us demolishing all the things which mean so much to him.” She could hardly contain her tears. The others looked uncomfortable and took solace in their drinks, resuming their talk about some magazine debacle. It seemed that death and disaster were the only things which absorbed her friends. She hadn’t noticed it before.
Only Ruby looked at her with sympathy. Ruby clung to her superficial world as if for survival. Ursula knew some of her past but, she suspected, not all of it. Now, as Ruby took hold of her hand and squeezed it, with a heartfelt look of sympathy in her eyes, she knew that she was different.
“I’m sorry, Ursula. We shouldn’t have said those things. When people lead lives so different to my own, lives I don’t really understand, it unnerves me, makes me say things I shouldn’t. I’m so sorry if we drove Demetrio away.”
“It wasn’t you. It was me. I should have defended him and his world. I should—” Ursula’s voice cracked, and she couldn’t continue.
“Go,” said Ruby. “Go and find him and tell him how you feel.”
“That’s just it. I don’t know how I feel. And even if I do, I don’t know if that’s enough.”
“It looks like it is, from where I was sitting.”
Ursula swiped her fingers under her eyes. She rose and half-walked, half-ran toward the exit. She stepped outside onto the concourse opposite where the cars descended from the car-park, just in time to see Demetrio’s car emerge and pass in front of her. He didn’t look around. She doubted he’d seen her. But she felt him go, deep inside. The stretch and pull
of the connection they’d forged in the mountains, extended beyond its strength and broke.
Chapter 11
One month later…
“The Caribbean was too crowded. I told Edward that it’ll have to be the Maldives next year.”
Ursula cringed inwardly and glanced at the too thin, too tanned woman—a friend of her mother’s—as she performed in front of a group of friends. Before Christmas, Ursula wouldn’t have turned a hair, wouldn’t even have noticed anything was amiss. But that was before she’d met Demetrio. Now, as she looked around at the glittering crowd, its glossy exterior could no longer hide its superficiality, not when she saw everything through Demetrio’s eyes.
Ursula picked up a glass of Champagne from a passing waiter and walked over to the picture windows that overlooked Stockholm city center with its beautiful ochre and red buildings, surrounding an icy harbor. She knew the city lay before her but it was mid-winter and dark now and all she could see was herself—blonde hair gleaming, long black gown clinging in all the right places. She looked the part. Why didn’t she feel it?
She turned around, leaned back against the window, and saw her friend Ruby, surrounded by a group of admirers. Ruby had joined Ursula in Stockholm shortly after she’d left Florence. Ruby was looking relaxed and happy, as she re-told some anecdote or the other.
Ursula smiled. She loved Ruby, and their recent late night conversations had helped Ursula to see things more clearly. They’d been good friends since they’d met five years ago at a party. Ruby had just begun to model at that time and had been an instant success, with her beauty, fun-loving personality and outspokenness. But Ursula knew the real Ruby—the woman who’d nursed a heartache over the past seven years that gnawed away inside her. Ursula thought she was looking a little too thin—good for a model, maybe, but for Ruby? Ursula worried about her.