Perhaps seeing some photographs would be one way to rectify that now. Nonna could talk her through them and she could put some faces to names. It would be a pleasant way to spend the approaching evening.
She pushed herself up and smoothed the crumbs off her blue skirt, then headed into the house.
*
Sophia opened the door to the dresser and peered inside. It smelled of lavender, camphor and old papers. And no wonder. Her nonna might seem to be particular about keeping things in order at her modest home – though nothing like her mother was – but the inside of this cupboard told a different story. Sophia ran her hands over piles of paper that covered the two shelves, wondering what they were and if her nonna really needed to keep them. It reminded her of her drawer at the apartment where she’d stored bills and receipts, letting them pile up but never bothering to look at them. If only she had, then she might have seen what Lee was up to sooner. A quick perusal of some of the things he’d bought and the places he’d been when she’d emptied her apartment had really opened her eyes.
That life seemed a thousand years ago now and it surprised Sophia how quickly she had left it behind, as if it were someone else’s existence and she had merely played a role in it before moving on. Because it had been a bit like a role, she realized now, a bit like acting. She didn’t really know herself at all, as she’d never spent time figuring out who she actually was; she’d been going through the motions and trying hard not to think about anything in case it unearthed yearnings that would unsettle her. But now she was free to discover what it was she wanted, and who she was meant to be. She intended to use her stay in Italy to give herself chance to think. Whatever she did next, she would not just settle; this time she would be sure. She owed herself that much. And she would certainly never be a doormat for anyone again.
Her eyes settled on a shoebox tucked into the bottom left corner of the dresser, so she pulled it out. She coughed as dust mites floated up into the air and sparkled like glitter in the stream of light that came through the small window above the arched front door. She waved her hand as if to banish them, then closed the cupboard door and got to her feet. The box had an image of a woman’s court shoe on the side and the faded writing was Italian. She smiled, realizing that at one time the shoes it held had probably belonged to her nonna, or even her mother.
She took the box back upstairs and out onto the verandah. Curiosity burned in her but she didn’t want to open it until her nonna joined her. It felt wrong, almost rude, to go through its contents alone, as if she were a naughty child snooping.
‘Ah, I see you found it.’ Nonna reappeared, coffee pot in hand.
‘Yes. I haven’t looked inside though.’ Sophia felt the need to reassure her grandmother.
‘You could have, bella. It is only photographs.’
‘Yes but… they’re not mine.’
‘Well one day, when I’m gone, you can feel free to take them if you want. Someone will have to or they’ll just go to a rubbish tip somewhere or stoke the flames of a fire.’
A lump rose in Sophia’s throat. ‘No. I won’t let that happen. But I’m sure Mum will want them.’
‘Will she?’ Nonna asked, her brown eyes wary. ‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Of course she will. It’s her history too.’
‘Well let’s have a look, shall we?’
Sophia handed the box to Nonna and watched as she lifted the lid.
An hour later, they’d been through about half of the box. It had taken so long because her nonna had told her the story behind every one and Sophia had a lot of questions about them too. Her nonno had been so handsome as a young man and Nonna so glamorous; a real Italian beauty. ‘No wonder he snapped you up right away!’ she’d said, making the older woman laugh and blush.
‘You remind me a lot of me at your age, Sophia. Although by then I’d been married about ten years and had your mother.’
This comment had made Sophia wince. Her nonna had grown up in a different time and a different culture but, even so, the marriage comment was one she’d encountered ever since she’d started dating Lee. It was as if some people expected to hear wedding bells and the patter of tiny feet almost immediately after a woman showed any sign of being in a committed relationship. Even if Lee had proposed – which never would have happened – Sophia now wondered what she’d have said. She just couldn’t imagine marrying him and agreeing to be with him forever. That had to tell her something about their relationship, didn’t it? She wondered for a moment if he’d marry Jessica, but slapped the thought away. If he did, then let them be. He hadn’t been the right man for Sophia and she evidently hadn’t been right for him.
‘You’re cold, Sophia?’ Nonna asked now, reaching out and rubbing her arm.
‘Oh, no, I’m fine thanks. I was just thinking about how things could have turned out back home.’
‘Yes, you had a fortunate escape, bella.’
‘Nonna?’
‘Yes?’
‘Why didn’t you and Nonno ever have more children?’
Nonna sighed. ‘It just didn’t happen for us. Nonno and I would have loved a houseful but we were not blessed.’ She laced her fingers together in her lap. ‘I was so grateful to have your mother and I loved her enough for a thousand children. At least I thought I did.’
Sophia regretted asking the question. The last thing she wanted to do was to cause Nonna pain. She gazed out at the courtyard and the adjacent properties, then up at the amber sky.
‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’ Sophia picked up her coffee mug but found that it was empty and the coffee pot had long since gone cold.
‘I’ve been looking up at that same square of sky since I was a child and now you’re here, looking up at it too. I used to watch it throughout the day, from the early morning until late at night, seeing it change from blue to amber to pinky red and to inky black. Sometimes you’ll see certain star formations and at others the full moon shows there, casting its silvery light over the courtyard. It’s bellissimo. But sometimes, it makes me feel sad.’
‘I can understand that.’
‘You can?’ Nonna smiled. ‘I sat here with my parents, with my sister and with your nonno. So many times in my life, I’ve been here, looking up into space, experiencing so many emotions, yet the sky, apart from changing colour, essentially stays the same. And it will do after I’ve gone.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘It’s true, bella.’ Nonna reached out and squeezed Sophia’s hand. ‘It will still be there after you’ve gone and your children and their children. But there is comfort in that, Sophia. Life goes on, the seasons come and go. Time keeps moving and we live on through our families and through our children…’ Her voice trembled on the last word and Sophia glanced at her.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Just a bit tired. I’ll take a nap before supper. We can look through the rest of these another time. You’re not rushing back to London… Are you?’
‘No. I’m not rushing anywhere. In fact, I think I’m going to stay until the end of August. See the summer out here. I’ll help you take these things back inside.’
They cleared the plates and cups and took them downstairs, then Nonna went to her room. Suddenly Sophia remembered the box of photographs, and hurried back upstairs to retrieve it and return it to its safe place.
She descended the stairs quickly, wondering if she had enough time before supper to go for a stroll along the lakeside, when her toes got stuck in her skirt and she lost her footing and went flying through the air. She flapped her arms, trying to get hold of the banister and the box slipped from her grasp and hit the wall. The lid came off and bounced down the remaining steps followed by the contents.
Sophia landed on her bottom with a thud that stole her breath and she sat there for a moment, trembling, as relief coursed through her. If she’d fallen forwards, she could have broken a limb or worse, on the steep concrete steps with their smooth pale yellow
tiles. And she didn’t want a black eye or a broken arm to go with her sore lip and the bruise on her forehead, which had turned a shade of green that suggested she’d head-butted a grassy verge rather than an airport terminal pavement.
When she’d caught her breath, she got to her feet and listened carefully, hoping she hadn’t disturbed her grandmother. However, there was no noise from upstairs, so she started the process of tidying up the photographs. She’d picked up all of the ones she could see on the stairs then those at the bottom, and was about to replace the lid when she spotted a small, yellowed envelope in the middle of the hallway. It must have been sent spinning by the impact. She picked it up and turned it over.
It had Stella written on the front of in an elegant hand that she recognised as her grandmother’s. Why was there a letter for her mother in amongst the photographs? It was probably a mistake. Should she read it? It might well be in Italian and she might not be able to understand all of it with her own limited grasp of the language. Sophia could read small phrases but thought reading a letter in Italian was probably beyond her capabilities. So looking wouldn’t hurt, would it?
She put the box down on the floor, then turned the letter over again. It wasn’t even sealed. So she could take a peek…
Chapter 8
Joe had just served the guests at one of the tables on the hotel patio, when he glanced up to see a familiar figure marching along the lake path. He stepped down from the patio to check if he’d been right and, as she got closer, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken.
‘Hey, Sophia!’ he called out, but her face stayed blank. ‘Sophia!’ He waved his arms but no recognition showed on her face.
She was almost upon him, when he stepped into her path and held up his hands. Then he realized that she had earphones in and that her face was streaked with tears.
‘Sophia, what’s wrong?’
She stared at him for a moment, her face blank, and he gestured at her to remove the earphones.
‘Oh… Joe, it’s you.’
He automatically scanned her face to check on her split lip and her bruised forehead and was relieved to see they were healing fast.
‘Yes it’s me. Are you okay?’
She lowered her eyes for a moment and when she raised them, he saw that they were shining with new tears.
‘You’re not, are you?’
She shook her head.
‘Look, I’m working tonight but we’re not that busy. Come into the bar and I’ll see if my uncle can spare me. You look like you need someone to talk to.’
She sighed. ‘No. It’s fine. I’m fine, honestly. I don’t want to be any trouble. I’m just taking a walk.’
‘You’re obviously not fine, Sophia. Please… after what happened at the market and at the airport, I feel I owe you anyway.’
‘You don’t owe me anything, Joe. You paid for a new dish, remember, and my forehead and lip are healing. I’ll be all right, I just need to clear my head.’
‘Please, Sophia. Come inside or I’ll be worried.’
She gazed out at the dark water for a moment and he surveyed her profile. Her shiny hair was pulled back into a ponytail at her nape, which exposed her neck and her delicate chin. Her lips were soft and full, her eyelashes long and black. How hadn’t he noticed how beautiful she was at the airport or even at the market? He had to fight an urge to run his hand down her cheek to feel if her skin was as soft as it looked.
‘Okay,’ she said as she turned back and met his eyes. ‘If you’re sure. I could do with speaking to someone and, seeing as how you’re the only person I know out here, apart from my Nonna, I guess you’ll do.’ Her lips turned up slightly at the corners to suggest that she was teasing, but for some reason the comment stung. He barely knew this woman but she was hurting and he wanted to help.
But he didn’t want to be just someone…
He swallowed hard. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t in a good place to get involved with anyone right now. His life was complicated enough back home. But now, here was Sophia Bertoni, stirring him up in ways he didn’t want to be stirred. And offering a sympathetic ear didn’t have to mean anything, did it? He could just listen to her, advise her if he had anything useful to say, then allow her to walk away.
‘Oh…’ she said as she watched him. ‘That didn’t sound the same when I said it out loud as it did in my head. I’m sorry.’ She chewed her bottom lip. ‘What I meant was that… uh… I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this. What I mean is thank you, I’m very grateful that you’re prepared to take some time to talk to me.’
‘No problem. Come on inside.’
What she’d just said made him want to help her. He didn’t have a lot of experience with women, but anyone who admitted that they weren’t good at expressing their feelings obviously wasn’t used to sharing them. A bit like him, really. So perhaps he could help more than he’d first thought. Even if just to commiserate.
Joe held out a hand and Sophia walked across the patio in front of him, then in through the glass doors and into the bar, where he gestured at a table in the corner. When she was seated, he went to find his uncle to ask if he could take his break early. It meant that he’d have a long shift afterwards, but he didn’t mind. Sophia needed a friend.
He just hoped that he wasn’t about to make trouble for himself.
*
Sophia sat on the leather-cushioned corner sofa wondering what she was doing there. She’d just come into this hotel – with a man she barely knew – because he’d found her wandering around the lake path in a teary daze. She hadn’t seen Joe at first, but he must have spotted her marching along, the rock ballads on her iPod drowning out all other sounds. But there was something about Joe, an earnestness in his eyes and in his bearing, that just sang of integrity and honesty. He was extremely handsome, she couldn’t deny that, but there was also more to him. His green eyes were so bright and clear, his face so open and honest. She’d seen his expression when he’d stopped her, his face etched with genuine concern and it had touched her deeply, in spite of her vow to steer clear of men. She wished she wasn’t affected by him but she felt so vulnerable right now and it was pleasant, if unusual, to have a man look at her with concern. A man who was not her father or one of her brothers, that was. She didn’t think she could ever recall seeing Lee look at her like that, except perhaps if he thought she hadn’t bought his favourite champagne.
‘Here you go.’ Joe returned to the table. ‘One glass of Valpolicella.’
‘Thank you. Are you having one?’
‘I’m working, so I probably shouldn’t.’
‘So you work in the restaurant and in the bar?’
‘Wherever I’m needed.’
‘A jack of all trades?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Is that what you did back in England then?’
‘No. Something quite different. But I did spend some summers out here when I was younger. Surprised we haven’t met before, to be honest.’
‘We didn’t… come here that often. With Mum and Dad owning their restaurant, it was difficult.’ Sophia took a sip of her wine. ‘Wow, this is good.’
‘I know. Only the best for beautiful distressed women.’
Sophia gazed at the dark ruby liquid. She took another sip then placed the glass on the small, square table, trying to distract herself from the fact that he’d said beautiful. He must be joking, right? Probably spoke to all the tourists like that and had just done it out of habit with her. Lee had never told her she was beautiful. Her parents did; all the time, but they were biased so it didn’t count.
‘So… do you want to talk about what’s making you so sad, Sophia?’
She met his eyes and sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Life is, right?’
She nodded. ‘And it’s a bit sensitive.’
‘I’m good at keeping secrets. I pride myself on it.’
Sophia smiled in spite of the heaviness in her heart. ‘I do really need to talk to someone,
so I guess I could tell you. I mean, it’s not like you know the rest of my family. But…’ She looked around her. ‘I don’t want it getting back to my grandmother. It would hurt her. A lot.’
‘You’re right about us hardly knowing each other but, as for the other bit, I promise that even if we become very good friends over the course of the next few weeks, I will take your secret to the grave with me.’
‘Really?’
‘I swear it.’
Sophia giggled then at how dramatic the situation seemed.
‘How about if I tell you a secret first? That way, you’ll know something about me too.’
‘Go on then.’
‘Right, um…’ He looked upwards and around the room.
‘Are you trying to make something up?’
‘No!’ He widened his eyes. ‘I’m offended by that suggestion, Miss Bertoni. I was, in fact, trying to decide if you could cope with the responsibility of carrying my deepest, darkest secrets around with you. I mean, some of them are pretty—’
‘It’s okay!’ Sophia squeaked. ‘I don’t want to know if they’re that awful.’
‘But you do.’ He sipped his lemonade. ‘You’ve made me want to unburden, to tell you all about the time when I was at school and I didn’t want to go to Maths, so I hid in the library.’
‘You hid in the library?’
‘The bookshelves ran all around the walls of the room and you could squeeze down behind the ones in the corners, so that day, when the librarian wasn’t looking, I did. I climbed up and over then hid there for a whole hour.’
Love at the Italian Lake Page 6