“I’ve been meaning to say this for quite awhile. I am sorry about what happened between you and my sister.”
“Like water off a duck’s back.”
“You’re full of crap, Nick.” Nathan rubbed his chin. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that my parents would be so grateful for what you’re going to do. Not that they would change their minds about Deborah and you, but …”
“I understand. It’s a family thing. I’m not happy about it, but don’t go bangin’ your head on a wall.”
“You’re a real pal. What else can I say?”
“Do me favor, will you?”
“Sure.”
“Keep an eye out for Caterina. Be nice to her.”
“I’ll treat her like my sister.” Nathan responded with a smart alec grin.
“Swell. Remember, a sister.” Nick faked a jab to Nathan’s stomach and left.
The next day, after a quiet breakfast of stale bread and unsweetened coffee made with chicory, sugar being rationed, Caterina took Nick along on a walk to meet an old friend at Caffé Minerva on Piazza del Comune. She told him that Isabella and she had met at the university. Her friend had returned to her hometown, Assisi, to work for the local bishop as a cook, the only job she could get during the war. Nick nodded when Caterina explained that Isabella had been stealthily passing messages for Padre Esposito because the OVRA had been monitoring him. Minchia, he mumbled to himself, these two women in their own ways knew how to survive by their wits and nerve.
They found the piazza without getting lost. Isabella was already sitting in the café with a good view of the Tempio di Minerva with its six Corinthian columns and Roman pediment that fronted a church. Isabella vigorously waved to Caterina who ran over to her friend, while Nick admired Caterina’s glimmering, brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. They kissed and hugged so much that they caught the attention of everyone sitting. Nick was amused by their flamboyant affection and got a load of the long-legged Isabella who was more buxom than Caterina.
“Come bella appari, Caterina.”
“Basta, Isabella, imbarazzarmi! Parla l’inglese come ci abituavamo in università.”
“Certo. You are still beautiful after all you have been through.”
“No, the men always look at you. Mi scusi, I am being so rude.” Caterina put her hand on Nick’s forearm. “Isabella, this is Nick, an American friend of mine.”
“Piacere,” he said and shook Isabella’s hand.
Isabella turned away from Nick and looked Caterina up and down. “As God is my judge, I have seen your face in several frescoes here.” Caterina blushed as her friend motioned towards the wirebacked chairs. “Let’s sit down and enjoy the view.”
“Signorine, I’ll leave you two school buddies alone.”
“Prego, sit with us,” Isabella protested, while Caterina tugged him down.
Isabella called the waiter over and they ordered cappuccino. Nick opted for un caffè and as the girls chatted, he could see their school bond surfacing, punctuated by the laughter of Isabella, who was prone to snapping her head backwards when something was funny, her curly, black hair floating over her shoulders. He noticed how Caterina absorbed her friend’s infectious humor.
“Ecco, the cappuccino has arrived,” Isabella called out to the waiter who placed the cappuccino in front of her with flair.
Caterina took her time scraping a teaspoon of sugar from a chipped, porcelain bowl and stirring it into the coffee. She looked into the cup as she spoke. “Nick is going to get himself killed.”
Isabella looked confused, as Caterina looked away. “Non capisco, Caterina.”
Nick raised his right palm out. “Let’s not talk about it.”
“Prego, now I must know. Speak sotto voce.”
“Do you want me to leave you two alone?”
“No, sta qui Nicolo,” Isabella responded. “You are too handsome to leave.” Isabella laughed and bent forward to Caterina.
“He volunteered to rescue someone. And Padre Esposito blessed the choice of Nick over his best friend, Nathan.”
“Mi dispiace. But what can you do about this?” She sat up straight.
“Niente, except worry every moment Nick’s gone.”
Isabella grasped Caterina’s trembling hand and said to Nick: “The Goddess Minerva will protect you.”
“I wish I could be as sure as you,” Nick said.
Isabella let her friend’s hand go. “We need to laugh when there is sadness, otherwise these dark days will consume us.”
“It feels like ancient times when we studied with Rachele at the Università di Padova,” Caterina said. “How is she doing now?”
Isabella lowered her voice. “Rachele is still hiding here in the convent of the Poor Clares, even though she doesn’t have to.”
“Rachele is the other reason I came to Assisi. I never told Nick about her.” She looked at him as he played with the espresso cup. “But I worry about her.” Her eyes dampened. “I wanted to see her again.”
“It continues to be a sad story. Anch’io sono molte preoccupata perla. I try not to dwell too much on her condition. Allora, we need to bring sunshine into our lives.” Her laugh seemed to accentuate her breasts or that’s how Nick perceived it. Caterina eyed Nick who smiled back. “Let’s talk about our happy times at the università,” Isabella continued, while Caterina dug out the remains of the crema from her cappuccino and spooned it into her mouth. Nick and Caterina exchanged curious glances at each other while her friend dominated most of the conversation.
The following evening was hot, so Caterina and Nick stayed up late before retiring to separate cells. During their visit they had spent a lot of time reading to pass away the hours in the monastery. They had tired of their books and sat on a stone bench in the garden near a cluster of high growing, pink roses. There was a well in the center on the sacred ground of St. Francis. Nick appeared distracted, so Caterina put his head on her lap.
“What happened to the crown of your hair?”
“Fra’ Ginepro was my barber.” Nick snickered. “Padre Esposito said if I didn’t have the tonsure, it would be a dead giveaway that I wasn’t a monk.”
“Madonna. What’s next? Why did you volunteer to go anyway, when it’s Nathan’s cousin and not yours?”
“We already went over this. He’s more vulnerable. Stop worrying, will ya! Padre Esposito said you and Nathan could stay in the monastery till I get back.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning. The partigiano from Ancona will pick me up before the breakfast hour. He’ll drive us back there subito.”
“Suppose you never come back.”
Nick didn’t want to discuss the danger of Carlo’s rescue and took a cue from nature.
“Do you hear that hermit thrush? It’s such a beautiful song.”
“I can’t hear or see anything.” Her eyes were watery and she turned away. “Why do you talk of birds now?”
“I associate good things when I hear birds. It makes me forget bad things that ring in your head as if you’re sitting next to the bells in a campanile.”
She bit her lip. “The walls are blocking what little breeze there is tonight.”
“Winds have a way of shifting unexpectedly, Papà used to tell me when I was a kid. My father would to take me sailing …” Nick recalled running to Paul’s house, telling him in detail about his sea adventure. He rose up from her lap and remained silent for a while.
“Finish, your story, Nicky.” He remembered that Deborah used to call him that and then he became even more distant from Caterina. “You’re far away from me now, even though I feel your leg rubbing against mine.”
“Like I was saying.” He rubbed a tear away. “My father would borrow his friend’s sloop and take me out sailing in the San Francisco Bay. He taught me how to tack the sails properly.” Nick looked up. “There are no stars out tonight. I hope this fisherman friend of Padre Esposito can find his way without them. You never know what to
expect when you’re out on the sea.”
Caterina twisted her hands as if she were running a Paperino and Nick grinned in recognition. They left the monastery and he retrieved his motor scooter. They rode to the outskirts of town where the trees were thickest. He leaned the scooter against a pine tree, while Caterina laid out a blanket on the ground. He left his cane in its pouch and limped a short way to her, dropping down next to her without tumbling over. As they made love, he didn’t worry about the missing stars. He wanted only to be lost in her arms and body, and when all the passion was released, feel the soft warm skin of her face resting on his cheek. He was in the moment of his last night with her before he headed north, shutting out any dark thoughts.
They sat up when some stars broke through the sky, flashing little beads of light, helter skelter as the clouds passed through.
“Some stars are pulsating, Nick.”
“I can see them, Caterina.”
“And do you see me?”
“I didn’t know about your university life. But I’m not surprised, if that’s what you mean?”
“So you don’t see me as a cretina or other things?”
“I always thought you were smart from the first moment I met you.”
“You never mentioned it.”
“Why did you get into this business anyway?”
“There’s no point talking about it. I had a different life in another time, before the fasciste seized the government.”
“Papà and his friend Marco hated them.”
“Allora, my father was different than yours.”
“I guess we don’t know each that well.”
“I know you better than you could ever imagine. Nicky, keeping things inside you does not help. Everything comes out in your sad eyes.”
“You’re a mystic now.”
“I have no powers over you. I am not happy with my situation but sometimes we become trapped by circumstances. Do you see me past your sexual desires?”
“I see you as clear as the stars that just peeked through the darkness. And I’m moved that you worry so much about me.” He gazed at the sky. “I see you better than any light that stars could bring.” He looked at her. “Because I like being with you. But don’t ask for the stars when it comes to me.” His brow furrowed. “I lost my bearings when I crossed the ocean, a long time ago.” Nick stood up and extended his hand.
XI
The two mysterious monks were in the garden, one clipping with a rhythmic sound, the other countering with the thud of his spade. Nathan stopped to watch them and noticed Caterina sitting by the well. He stepped behind a stone column and had an urge to sketch Caterina as she sat there daydreaming. He imagined she thought of Nick riding with the partigiano on the road to the Adriatic Sea. Nathan had suspected she didn’t want to sit with him in the refectory for their spartan breakfast and he couldn’t blame her, considering all his unkind remarks about her, not all of them behind her back.
Nathan recalled when the three of them had been drinking too much whiskey in a Trastevere café and Nick left to pick up some cigarettes at a nearby tabaccheria.
“So where’s your plumed hat, Caterina?”
“Come?”
“Ever seen any of Kirchner’s paintings?”
She pursed her lips. “Non lo so.”
“He’s a German expressionist. Nazis declared his work degenerate. Killed himself in ‘38.”
“Allora, what is your point?” She moistened her lips with the whiskey.
“He loved to paint Berlin prostitutes who were fond of dressing up like birds.”
“You’re not funny at all, Nate. Maybe you’re jealous, no?”
He drank his whiskey in one gulp. “So tell me, how many fascists and Nazis did you go to bed with before you met Nick?”
“You’re drunk and disgusting. You know nothing about me yet you judge me.” She finished her whiskey. “The answer to your ignorant question is none.”
This scene faded out as Nathan reflected on Nick making his way to Venice. After all, he had promised to look after the ragazza. When Nathan moved closer to her, he noted that she cradled a cup of cappuccino with both hands. As she sat alone in the garden, a silhouette of brooding, the aroma perked up when he got closer.
“Buongiorno, Caterina.” She put her cup down on the ledge and nodded. “Nick must have reached Ancona by now. I heard him leaving right after dawn.” She picked the cup up and sipped the coffee that left some foam on her upper lip. “You’ve got a moustache.” She wiped it off with her fingers, her expression blank. “Look, maybe I should learn not to butt into somebody else’s business. But you’ve got to understand. We look out for each other.”
“I know what you think of me. You call me a puttana to Nick’s face.”
“I was just teasing. You know, GI talk.” He sat down next to her.
“So you were just teasing about looking like a Berlin whore?”
“I was soused and people say stupid things when they’re drunk.”
“You’re always ready with an answer or one of your jokes.”
“I’m not trying to wiggle out of this, but I got a lot of things on my mind.”
“I know. That’s why Nick is gone from us.” Her eyes were bloodshot.
Nathan shook his head and looked away. “Mi dispiace!” He looked at her. “I’m really sorry.”
“I am going to the Monastero di San Quirico to see a friend.”
“I’m bored. Do you mind if I go too?” Caterina remained silent. “I’ll behave myself.”
“You could walk with me, if you like.” She stood up. “That’s if you’re not embarrassed by me.”
The wrought iron gate of the beige, stone wall convent dragged along the ground as one of the extern nuns, the only sisters allowed to interact with outsiders, let them in. The sister befriended Caterina, as she led her to the reception desk of the guesthouse. Nathan thought the setup was odd and sat on the stone bench, taking out his sketchpad to wile away the time. Caterina disappeared through another doorway leading to the cloister. An hour passed but Nathan stayed put. He didn’t want any tales spread about him when his buddy returned, God willing. The same nun, who first greeted them, led Nathan into the dining room of the guesthouse. Caterina was already sitting at a table with another nun.
“Nathan, this is Rachele, mia cara amica.”
“Nathan Fein. Piacere!” Nathan extended his hand but Rachele looked at the table, as he sat down next to Caterina, and said: “You can speak English.”
Rachele kept her eyes on Caterina. “It has been very hot this summer, Caterina. Molto caldo.”
Caterina turned to Nathan. “Rachele was saying before that their peaches are very sweet.”
“È vero. We try to grow all our food on the convent grounds.”
Rachele glanced at Nathan with blank eyes. “Where is your uniform?”
“Oh, I ditched it in one of Padre Esposito’s cells.” Her eyes locked into his face, which made Nathan apprehensive. “And are you Jewish?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Rachele turned sideways toward Caterina. “It has been a good year for the garden so far. It is a blessing.”
His artist’s eye noted the nun’s face, which had the whitest skin, and some strands of auburn hair peeking out from the white bandeau, almost as if she were a lost movie star from a German expressionist filmmaker like Fritz Lang. As Nathan focused in closer, he thought her face turned paler as their light chatter tapered off. He was mesmerized by her presence and glad his vision had been improving since that nearfatal day. Nathan was taken aback when the friendly sister entered the room and motioned to Caterina that it was time for Rachele to return to the cloistered part of the convent. The extern nun let them out the front gate.
“So what did you think of Rachele?” Caterina asked as they walked away from the convent walls.
“I’m stunned. Such beauty and tension in her face at the same time.”
“But we only spoke of harmless thing
s together.”
“Yeah, I know. But I can sense things. Guess I’m used to looking at people and things from a different perspective. Even when I’m too depressed to sketch, I do it in my head. The eyes can reveal a lot of things about someone.”
“Rachele Stein is ebrea, Jewish.”
“Not surprised, considering her name, but is she really a nun?”
“It’s a complicated story. She was one of my best friends when we lived together in the dormitory at the Università di Padova. She is originally from Berlin.”
“Hey, that’s where my parents came from.”
“So that’s why you’re so clever about Berlin.”
“Are you riding me now?”
“I think you should weigh your words.” Caterina pressed the tongue into her cheek.
Nathan looked nonplussed. “Oy vey, Caterina!”
“Allora, let’s be serious. As you must know, bad things have been going on in Germany for a long time. My father had a lot of influential contacts, so I asked him to find out if Rachele’s family was safe in Berlin, but it was already too late for them. The Gestapo had arrested them on the trumped-up grounds of her father’s communist leanings. I warned Rachele not to return home. Padre Esposito used to visit our university and gave lectures on the frescoes of the Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi. I majored in Art History, so we started to correspond. I arranged for the padre to hide Rachele in Assisi.”
“No wonder the poor girl is so nervous.”
“There are other things, but maybe I shouldn’t say.” Caterina bit her lip.
“Don’t stop now.”
“My family comes from Milano.”
“Wait a minute! I thought you were Roman.”
“I never told anyone, not even Nick. I figured what was the point? My former life in Milano is gone.”
“Are you pulling my leg?” Nathan gazed into her face and realized that this was one babe he couldn’t second-guess. “I gotta hear this one.”
“Where can I begin? I was born into una famiglia aristocratica. My line goes all the way back to a nephew of one the cardinals during the Renaissance.”
“Are you meshugenah?” She looked puzzled. “Pazzo!”
Somewhere in the Stars Page 15