As they strolled towards Nick and Caterina, Carlo said: “This place is a perfect oasis, but they might as well rip up all the flowers and pile them up for the massive funeral taking place in Italy.”
“I know how you feel.” Nathan ran his hand over the tops of some red roses. “You can stay with Nick and me in Rome until we figure out a better arrangement for you.”
“Are you sure it will be okay with your commanding officer?”
“No sweat, Carlo. I’m in tight with all the big chiefs at headquarters.” Nathan knew he was already in deep shit with his captain and Nick and he would have to deal with him as soon as they got back.
Later, as the bells tolled to alert the villagers of another funeral mass, the clanging reverberated in Nick’s cell, the metallic chimes amplified to the point that he had to cover his ears, even though he was not physically in the tower. His stomach hurt and then his leg began pulsating, so he held his stomach with his left hand and massaged his leg with his right one. The bells stopped ringing but his head ached from the memory of the death at sea, Giuliano gurgling up the remains of the grappa mixed with blood.
When the service for Giuliano ended, they all ate a simple supper. Padre Esposito and his four guests withdrew to the garden and drank some homemade limoncello the padre had discovered in the cellar. They wore themselves out with conversation and drink, dragging themselves back to their individual cells.
They woke up late the next morning and Nathan left to visit Rachele, while Caterina and Nick took Carlo to the café near Minerva Temple to meet Isabella. Caterina’s friend was drinking a Campari and waved the group over to her table. Isabella and Carlo hit it off right away, her laughter charming him. Caterina made up an excuse that she needed to take care of some personal business in town with Nick. They agreed that the four of them would meet at Isabella’s favorite trattoria that night.
They headed towards the Basilica of St. Francis and, as soon as they were out of sight, they chatted about her matchmaking game.
“Maybe they’ll become lovebirds, Nick.”
“You’re as a sly as a cat. It’s no wonder your name is Caterina.”
“I am so relieved you’re back.” She patted his face. “You can be as clever as you like.” They kissed in the middle of a cobblestone sidewalk oblivious to their holy surroundings while the villagers squeezed around them.
That evening all met at Trattoria Carlotta, but Nathan bowed out, not wanting to be a camioncino. The restaurant had exposed stone walls with white tablecloths and a votive candle on each table. They were finishing la cena with del caffé and some Sambuca to make a caffé corretto.
“You put too much Sambuca in, Carlo,” Isabella said, bobbing her head back as she laughed.
Caterina placed her hand over her cup when Nick picked up the bottle. “Too strong for you. I’ll put an extra shot in my caffé.”
“Nick, you already had too much wine to drink.”
“You’re not my mother.”
“Cretino, you take my friend Caterina for your mother?”
“Basta, Isabella. Don’t interfere.”
“You can take a little joke, can’t you Nick?” Isabella asked.
“Swell, babes.” Nick turned to Carlo. “Are you okay?”
“Si! But the wine is making me sleepy. Maybe we should get some air. Prendiamo una passeggiata!”
“Okay. Let’s get out of here,” Nick concluded.
The night sky was dark blue lit with a crescent moon. They strolled in no particular direction, breaking off into couples at a distance from each other.
“You are a very attractive woman, Isabella, especially when you laugh. It feels good to hear the sound of laughter.”
“I was worried that you might be withdrawn, but you held your own in the conversation. There’s one thing though. You have a habit of shaking your leg when you sit.” Carlo smiled for the first time since he arrived. “Are you nervous?”
“Don’t mind me.” Carlo exhaled. “I’m happy to share this time with you, but I go to Roma tomorrow morning.”
“You are very sweet, Carlo.”
“No, I do not feel sweet at all. I have become il pane amaro.”
“You can put your arm around my waist, if you like.” Carlo pulled her waist close to his side. “My father always held my hand as a child during una passeggiata. When I was older, arm in arm with my girlfriends. Walking with no one to hold would be a lonely thing.”
“È vero.”
“I barely know you, but I already feel I can talk to you. These are terrible times, but you must blend il amaro con il dolce. You may think, who am I to speak, but we have such little time and few choices. Mi dispiace. I must sound like a priest.”
“No, not all. Is there some place where we can be alone?”
“Certo, Carlo.” Isabella laughed loud enough that Nick and Caterina turned their heads. Carlo smiled as he followed Isabella leading the way down an adjacent alley towards her apartment.
“Nick!”
“What?”
“Do you remember the first time we disappeared into the night?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I never really thought about it that way.”
“There was an unspoken attraction for each other.”
“You want to go back in a time machine?”
“Don’t hide behind some childish game. How about the night before you left for Venice? Wasn’t that something special?”
“Too many questions, Caterina.”
They returned to that same spot and made love but Nick became restless after the heat of the moment. He drifted far away to a place that Caterina had not been. He couldn’t articulate his heartache at the loss of Deborah and left Caterina to wonder about him, the two of them not finding common ground after all they had gone through. He was not able to sort things out, nor give someone else the love she deserved. Nick picked himself up from the ground and as he extended his hand to Caterina, he grabbed his leg in pain.
“Are you okay, Nick? Answer me!” He grimaced and Caterina shot up. “It was too soon to give up your cane.”
He straightened himself up and caught sight of Orion, The Hunter in the Sky. “Look at that! See the blue-white shine.”
“Yes Nick. I see it. But I think we both need an antidote from the bite of a scorpion.”
“I thought you didn’t follow the stars.”
“My mother told me this Greek myth as a child one night, when we looked through my father’s telescope.”
“You never say much about your family.”
“It is too painful to talk about it. Prego, lean on my shoulder on the way back. No one will see us.”
The following day they climbed onto the motor scooters, Caterina behind Nick and Carlo behind Nathan, who had arranged for Padre Esposito to tell Rachele that he would be back on the weekends, assuming he might get a pass again. Padre Esposito waved, as Nick and Nathan revved away, the engine sounds echoing off the stones walls of Assisi, their passengers holding on tightly in anticipation of the myriad potholes on the road ahead with no guarantees that the four of them would land upright on terra firma as they jolted their way back.
XIV
When they entered the CIC headquarters, Captain Smith chewed Nick and Nathan out for being AWOL for five days, emphasizing that it was a serious offense during wartime. The captain began detailing all sorts of punishment but stopped short when they interrupted with the rescue story of Carlo, who had been waiting in the outer office. At first the captain smiled and complimented them, then told them to get the hell out of his office. After their encounter with the CO, the three of them settled into their room but within a few days Nick packed his gear.
“Where’re you going, Nick?” Nathan asked.
“To Caterina’s place.”
“With all that stuff?”
“You don’t have to leave because of me,” Carlo said.
“There’s plent
y of room for all of us,” Nathan said. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m moving in with Caterina. Plain and simple.”
“Prego, Nicolo,” Carlo pleaded. “After all you’ve done for me, I am embarrassed you have to leave.”
“I want to do it. Besides, you two will have more room. Just forget about it. It’s okay with me.”
“Whatever you say, Nick, but don’t slam the door on the way out.”
“I’m not angry, Nate. You’re the one who has a problem.”
Nick arrived early in the evening and untied his duffle bag and a carton from the rear of his motor scooter, slinging the bag over his left shoulder and dropping it at the front door, then retrieving the carton while balancing himself the whole time with his cane. He dug into his pocket to get the keys that Caterina had given him the night before. Nick twice climbed the marble stairs, scooped like stracciatella gelato, one step at a time, letting himself into the empty apartment. He dropped his belongings next to the bed and placed the cardboard box on the kitchen table. Nick hated when he had to do something twice when once would have been the norm. He flung the cane into a corner.
Nick found a note from Caterina saying she had gone food shopping and that he should make himself comfortable. He found an opened bottle of Frascati and poured some of it into a glass tumbler. It tasted like vinegar but he drank it anyway while he studied Caterina’s apartment. He examined a bunch of her sketches of Assisi hanging over the bed. They were quite good. He wondered if she were self-taught or if she ever modeled in the nude for an art studio, maybe getting lessons in exchange. He had no idea she was an artist, but he realized that there were plenty of things that he didn’t know about her. He heard the lock in the door click and got up to meet her.
“Ah, you’re here, Nick!” She kissed him on both cheeks and he grabbed her mesh bags, putting them on the kitchen table next to his box.
“What is this?” She opened the box and placed the items on the table. “Madonna! You got all of this for us?” She admired the olive oil, salt, sugar, and shiny brown coffee beans, which she ran her hands through. She looked up at him and said: “Where did you find all these wonderful things?”
“Let’s just say I have a good connection at Headquarters.”
“Bravo!”
“What’s for la cena?”
Caterina smiled. “You just got here and already you are hungry. Relax while I prepare a quick sauce.”
“I’ll stay nearby if you don’t mind. It’s something I used to do as a kid, watching my mother cook.”
“Just watching.” Caterina laughed.
“Well, I used to eat a few meatballs right out of the frying pan.”
“No meatballs tonight, Nicky. Sugo all’amatriciana. You can boil the water for the bucatini while you’re waiting.”
They sat down at the kitchen table after everything was prepared and ate in silence. Nick broke off a piece of hard peasant bread to mop up the remaining sauce but pushed aside the remains of his Frascati.
“You seem very distant, Nick. Don’t you find this a better arrangement, rather than sneaking off into the night da me.” She laughed and he found her joy infectious but he preferred to keep his observations to himself. “Allora, not even one day and you miss your buddy, Nate.”
“No, it was my idea to leave.”
“Bene! Shall I make some caffè?”
“Whatever pleases you!”
Her expression bore a suspicious look, as she set about grinding some coffee beans and preparing the espresso. “It was very thoughtful of you to bring all those things to cook with. But why only a half-filled duffle bag?”
“I just brought some clothes. Didn’t want to clutter your place with too many personal things.”
She turned around as the coffee brewed. “I’d like to see some of your favorite things lying about.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind seeing my private things.” Nick grinned.
“I didn’t mean it that way. You seem to have one thing on your mind.” She swept her hand around the room. “Allora, you can store whatever you like here. Consider it our place.” She looked at Nick for a facial clue but saw nothing. “I am not for sale anymore. I found a new job. It does not pay much, but I have saved some lire over the past year.”
“So what are you doing?”
“I am working in the office of Ospedale Fatebenefratelli.”
“I thought you said you could never find a job. Forced to do other things.”
“It’s a long story.” The scent of coffee drifted to the table.
“Let’s hear it. I’m curious.”
“It was Padre Esposito. He had a contact at the hospital.” Caterina got up and flipped the coffee pot, waiting for the liquid to drain.
“I see.”
“I didn’t tell you but Isabella finally got it out of me—how I was earning a living.” She glanced at Nick. “She made such a fuss and told the padre.”
“Do you like the job?” She brought the cups over and sat down.
“The work is routine but they’re happy to get someone who has a degree for, what would you say, cheap?” He poured two teaspoons in, while she put in a half.
“Great.” He gulped the espresso while she sipped it.
“You don’t sound too enthusiastic. I did it for you. I can earn more money doing other things, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I get in a bad mood without warning.” Nick’s brow furrowed. “Let’s have some more of that caffè. I need to settle my stomach.”
Caterina brought over the last two cups, then she stood behind him.
“Don’t you want any, Caterina?”
“You drink it, since you enjoy it so much.”
After Nick savored the java aroma and drank two in a row, Caterina rubbed her hand over his hair, then slid her fingers across his cheek. She sat down next to him and he placed his arm around her waist.
“Come to bed. You must be tired after your move.”
“I’ll have a smoke first by the window. Want to see if there any stars out tonight.”
Caterina quickly cleaned up the kitchen and got the bed ready. She changed into a creamy, silk negligee, likely a gift from a wealthy old customer. As Nick puffed away, he searched the sky.
“Hey, Caterina. Come over here.”
“What is it Nicky?”
“You can see the Big Dipper. The edge of the cup is pointing to the North Star.”
“Si, it is lovely.” She wrapped her arms around Nick’s neck. “Have you always followed the stars?”
“It’s not like I’m some kind of astronomist. They’re out there shining pretty for everyone, no matter what’s going on down here.” He squished the butt out on the stone windowsill and flicked it down into the inner court.
“Vieni, I will be your star tonight.” She led Nick to the bed and they lay still for awhile, looking at the ceiling that had the faded remains of a fresco with a light blue sky dotted with a few stars, half of an angel’s wing and a vague outline of a man and a woman. He pulled Caterina close and she kissed him many times in a tight embrace, not allowing him to touch her breasts right away. She moved his hand away from her vagina, when he tried to hurry things along. Since Assisi, Nick realized the chemistry was different between them. Their bodies entwined under the stars, inside and outside the room. It became a ballet of sexual potency and emotional energy, as if she had turned from the black swan to the white one. As cretinu as Nick could be about women, it hit him over the head—he was no longer her john. His urges were always more immediate, but he felt that the least he could do was to accommodate her. Nick ran his fingers lightly over her breasts, down her flat, smooth belly and placed his hand between her legs, his palm on her mons rubbing back and forth slowly, then faster until she moaned with pleasure. The heat of the moment prompted them to roll around the bed, changing positions to please each other at a moment’s notice, managing never to let go of each other, their dance of bodies segueing to a tartante
lla, the sweat dripping from the small of her back, his from the back of his neck until Caterina fell asleep in his arms.
As Nick looked at the ceiling, he imagined Deborah as an angel in a missing part of the ceiling fresco. He was in a semiconscious state and the recurring sounds of a nightingale echoed through the open court window. Its song brought him back to the hospital garden, where Nathan and he had recuperated. He knew that he was not dreaming and yet he lay mummified in the bed, as if participating in an ancient ritual. His spirit levitated from the bed and he traveled to the battlefield where he grasped his cousin’s limp body. If Nick were dreaming, his face wouldn’t be wet with tears. Then the scene shifted and he was in a San Francisco park where Paul and he had played baseball in summer. His spirit returned to the bed and above his head he swore one of the stars pulsated. The male face in the fresco, looking less faint than before, emerged into the likeness of Ziu Francesco, who stared at Nick with a look that unnerved him. Then the visage receded. He heard the nightingale song more clearly and he sprang up, moving to the window in time to see the bird fly away.
Caterina woke up and said: “Nicolo, amore mio, come back to bed. Prego!” He slid into bed without a word and Caterina fell asleep. He wrapped himself around her, so he could listen to her heartbeat to assure himself they had not died too, encased in one of those sarcophagi exhibited in the National Roman Museum, part of it used now as a military hospital.
The next morning Caterina rose at six and dressed trying not to wake Nick. She kissed him on the forehead before leaving but he pretended to be asleep. When the door lock snapped into place, he smoked a cigarette at the open window. He felt it was going to be a hot day in Rome. He would have a busy day interrogating a bunch of captured fasciste found hiding in an abandoned farmhouse. As Nick dragged on his Lucky Strike, he tried to remember everything from the previous night, to sort out what was real and what was imagined. He couldn’t figure out why he had held Caterina at arm’s length for so long, especially after she called him mio amore. Nick found himself loving and resisting her at the same time. He did not want to hurt someone who loved him more than he loved her. È vero, things were different now between them, but he wondered how deep his feelings were for Caterina. Whenever he tried to sleep, he had this war draped over him, making any bed he lay on uncomfortable. Nick gazed out the window at grey clouds blocking the advance of the morning sun, and the alluring melody of that elusive bird had long expired, the light of the stars extinguished.
Somewhere in the Stars Page 18