My Heart Lies in Pisciotta

by Cate Nielson Raye

  “You don’t have to do this, Ana.” His face was serious and I detected worry in his eyes. I smiled to comfort him, grabbed the hem of my dress, and, with one swift motion, pulled it off over my head. He gasped as my hair fell around my shoulders but made no move toward me. I placed my hand on his chest and traced the outline of his muscles through his shirt. When my hand hovered over the buttons he wrapped his fingers around mine and kissed my fingertips one by one. He leaned back and removed his shirt over his head, slowly revealing his firm, sun-kissed chest and taut stomach. His eyes still on mine he pulled me to him and kissed my forehead. “So beautiful,” he whispered and our lips pressed together again, sinking to the floor in front of the fireplace as the storm howled against the windows outside.

  * * *

  The heat from the fire burnt the bare skin of my legs as I watched the green and yellow flames dance and spark across the burning driftwood in the fireplace. “I was scared.” We were now lying completely naked on the rug by the fire, our legs tangled together and my head leaned back into his chest. He kissed the top of my head and twisted a strand of my hair around his fingers. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to scare you. I’d never want that.” I looked back at him then. He was frowning and had covered his face with the crook of his arm.

  “I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared of my feelings for you.” Bright green eyes snapped open and met my gaze. The firelight danced in his irises as they appeared to burn into me. His brow was furrowed in confusion. I rolled over to face him,“I like you. I like you a lot, more than I have ever liked anyone. But it scares me more than anything. More than failing at art, more than telling my father I’m not going to be a doctor. I’m terrified if I let you in I’ll go back home and never see you again. I’m afraid that it would break me.”

  Sam’s lips parted slightly and he took a steadying breath in as he placed a hand on my cheek. “I won’t let that happen. I promise.” He lay on his back, pulling me into his side. I sighed and rested my chin on his sternum. “Do you have a house in Brighton?” I was hoping he would have somewhere I could visit when we got back home. He fidgeted awkwardly and his discomfort piqued my interest. “Um…I did but…I sold it.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise, “Why?” He looked away and busied himself with a strand of my hair that lay across his chest. He would not meet my eye. “Oh…well…Brighton holds a lot of dark memories for me. I came here to get away and…I never intended on returning there.” I wanted to know about his past, to find out as much about him as I could, but he seemed edgy and nervous now that we were getting closer to the subject.

  “What happened?” I asked timidly as I stroked the trail of hair below his navel. He sat up abruptly and grabbed a throw off the armchair before throwing it over our legs. He sat back and offered me a sad smile, “I’ll tell you about it…someday…but not tonight okay?” I nodded and tried to hide the worry from showing on my face. If he had no home in England how likely was he to return there for me? As if reading my mind he wrapped his arm around me a little tighter and kissed my head before speaking.

  “Ana, I don’t know when I’ll be coming back to the UK, or where I will be living when I get there. But just know that if you’re there, and you’ll have me, I’m definitely coming back.” I beamed up at him and kissed his jawline. “You seem surprised?” He rolled onto his side so that we faced each other again, I suddenly felt shy and a warm blush spread across my cheeks. “I guess I wasn’t sure what your feelings were for me.” Sam looked exasperated and ran a hand through his mussed up hair, my insides clenched at the sight. “Ana…I’m in awe of you!”

  He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down into my eyes. “You think I’ve been teaching you these past two weeks but you’ve taught me so much about myself. You’re stunning, you’re smart and you’re funny. I don’t have to try and be somebody else with you. With you it’s just…real.” We stared at each other for a minute or two and the tears began to well in my eyes. He circled me in his arms and hugged me tightly, “Don’t cry, Ana, we’ll figure something out, you’ll see.” We curled up together on the rug and I let the exhaustion of the day wash over me. As my eyes drooped and my breathing slowed Sam’s voice whispered against my ear. “I love you,” he sighed. My mouth curled into a smile and I fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 6

  I had three weeks left in Pisciotta and I intended to make use of every day. I was acutely aware that my new-found romance with Sam could take me away from quality time with Nonna, but Sam was more than happy to spend a few evenings in my grandmother’s company. Nonna had not asked where I had been when I had returned from the studio early on the morning following the storm. She knew I would tell her in time. And when I did eventually discuss it with her, one rare evening when Sam was visiting his family and I had drunk a fair amount of wine over dinner, she seemed immensely happy with the match. Like any responsible parental figure she wanted to make sure that I was safe and I assured her that I was. From that point on she was delighted to have Sam in her home and treated him like one of her own grandchildren.

  Sam had urged me to meet his family too. I was often invited to lunch or dinner with his grandmother, who I found I began to love almost as dearly as my own. She fussed over me and, just like Nonna, would regularly give me extra-large portions to try and make me curvier. One weekend we spent a night out on the ocean with Sam’s uncle. After a long day working in the sun pulling in fish, the three of us sat at a small table near the stern of the boat and laughed into the night. His uncle spoke only Italian but, although I struggled to understand him at times, he taught me some rope tricks and everything he knew about fishing. The next morning when he dropped us both off on the dock he spoke quietly to Sam in rushed Italian that I couldn’t quite catch. He then turned to me, smiling paternally and pulled me into a bear hug that made me blush and stammer my gratitude.

  I didn’t know if Sam knew I had heard his declaration of love. He hadn’t asked me about it nor, in fact, had he repeated it since. I hadn’t said it back at the time and in the days since that night I felt our future was too unsure to tell him how I felt. At first I wasn’t even sure if I did feel the same, positive that I felt strongly for him but unwilling to put a label to it. But as our days together went on and I watched him lovingly chattering to his family around the dining table, it became harder and harder to avoid the emotion swelling in my chest. The words were getting almost impossible to avoid and by our fourth week together they were close to bursting from my lips on a daily basis.

  As the physicality of our relationship stepped up a notch we spent the odd evening at the studio together. Nonna did not particularly approve but she knew I was safe with Sam and didn’t comment on the situation too often. My art lessons were becoming more intense also and he would provide me with a new book almost every night explaining the history of art in various countries and eras. From cave paintings to modern architecture, he was a fantastic teacher and I regularly told him so. But none of this would be of any help if I could not support myself through university.

  * * *

  Two weeks before I was due to return to the UK I knew I could not avoid the university worries I had pushed to the back of my mind. My father had still not contacted me, despite many heated phone calls from Nonna. He insisted that it was a phase and if I returned to England and gave medical school a try I would know I had made the right choice. The worry about money and accommodation was beginning to keep me up at night and on the evenings where Sam was not there to occupy my mind (and body for that matter) I found myself sitting on the terrazza, sipping cocoa or wine and struggling to find a solution. I hadn’t shared these worries with him. I didn’t want to taint our last two weeks together with my internal struggles.

  It was one of those evenings when Sam was putting in a late night at the studio and I had spent some quality time with Nonna and her friends, when Nonna found me on the balcony outside my bedroom window. It was late, gone midnight, and she scolded me for still be
ing awake. I leaned against the railings and stared out at the moon shining across the ocean in the marina. “I couldn’t sleep,” I told her over my shoulder. She pushed past the voile hanging around the doorway and stood next to me, her arms resting along the railings. “What is on your mind? Is it Sam? Is it your father?”

  “It’s not Sam, Nonna, things are great with him. Papa not speaking to me hurts, but that’s not the real issue either.”

  “Then what is it?” she placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me inside to my bed. I sat cross-legged and Nonna perched her small frame on the edge of my mattress. I needed to tell someone, I couldn’t leave it any longer otherwise I would be going back to England completely unprepared. “I don’t think I can go to university to study art. Without Papa’s support I don’t see how I’m going to cope with living away from home. Even with a part-time job I wouldn’t be able to afford my rent or books or even materials for classes. I don’t even have a plan for where I’m going to live!” Nonna frowned and stood to pace around the room. “You’re father makes me so angry. I did not raise such a cold man. Don’t you worry, Anabella, we will get you to art school. I will not let his stubbornness affect your future. I will support you.”

  I couldn’t stop the tears falling from my eyes. I knew Nonna would want to help me but I did not want to put her in that position. I didn’t want her to be financially responsible for me, not only because it would put a bigger wedge between her and my father, but also because I wasn’t entirely sure she could afford it. My thoughts must have been obvious on my face and Nonna chuckled to herself. “Ah, Ana, don’t let these humble surroundings cloud your judgement. Your grandfather was a wealthy man, he sent your father to a good school after all! You are an artist, Ana. You will go to school and be as great as I know you can be.” I shot off the bed and flung myself into her arms as I cried with relief. I had spent weeks thinking my dream was no longer possible and that I’d have to give in to my father once again, return to England, go to medical school and be unhappy for the rest of my life. Nonna wiped the tears from my eyes and kissed both of my cheeks. “We will talk about it in the morning.” She ushered me back into bed, pulled the sheet up to my chin, and kissed my forehead. “For now you should sleep, Tesoro, and sweet dreams until morning.”

  * * *

  The next morning over coffee Nonna and I discussed her financial support of my art studies. She agreed to pay my course fees, and my rent once I found a place to live. She also bought my books and supplies for my courses online. I still needed a part-time job to buy my everyday items and food but I was more than happy to earn my way somehow. I brought my laptop out onto the terrazza and together we bought my supplies and the books suggested in my welcome emails. Then I hunted apartments while Nonna disappeared inside out of the rising sun. A proper apartment was well out of my price range, but I found a few single bedroom flats for around £600 per month (including bills) and I booked in to view them all in the week after my return to England. I began to relax and enjoy myself, researching the university campus and the local amenities. I also emailed a few local cafes enquiring about part-time work. I felt the first few flutterings of excitement at the prospect of starting my new life.

  In the early afternoon I prepared a picnic of Bruschetta, cheese, and a decent portion of Nonna’s tiramisu and grabbed a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. I placed all of my treats in a basket and left the house at a casual stroll. Today was a particularly fine day in Pisciotta, not a cloud in sight, and with the stress of art school now diminished everything seemed a thousand times more beautiful. I set off down the hill toward the studio where I knew Sam would be. He’d been working on a project for a few days but had been reluctant to show me. But that day I had been told to meet him in the afternoon for the big reveal. When I reached the little hut by the waterfront I entered without knocking, it was my place as much as his these days.

  Sam was hidden behind the large canvassed frame that he had kept secret from me. I could just make out the top of the dark curls on his head, shining almost like bronze in the sunshine from the open window. I cleared my throat and he peered around the edge of the canvas, paintbrush between his teeth and a furrow between his brows. “It’s the afternoon,” I said and placed the basket on a table by the door. Sam stepped around his easel, in two strides I was in his arms and he swung me around so my back was to his handiwork.

  He wore a loose white shirt, unbuttoned to the waist, and had smears of paint here and there along his forearms. He nuzzled my neck and kissed the curve of my shoulder. “I lost track of time. It’s good to see you, you look lovely.” He took my hand and spun me around, my floral skirt fanned out revealing my tanned legs. I stopped and craned my neck around him to try and catch a glimpse of the masterpiece. “Can I see it?” Sam frowned and placed a hand on either side of my face. “You have to promise you won’t cry.” My alarmed expression made him laugh heartily, but he took my wrist in his fingers and guided me over in front of the painting.

  The image was of a woman in silhouette, her back to the observer but her face in profile. There was a warm glow behind her and I could make out the corner of a fireplace. Her back was in complete darkness but the light from the fire illuminated the side of her face and made visible a closed eye and the hint of a smile across soft pink lips. Her face was relaxed and demure. Once again I saw myself in her features and realised that this was how Sam had seen me that first night we had spent together in the studio.

  My breath hitched and my mouth opened in awe. I moved closer to examine the individual eyelashes he had painted fanning across the curve of my cheek. Sam wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Do you hate it?” He breathed next to my ear. I turned my face toward his and kissed his pouting lips. “How can I hate something so beautiful?” He flashed me a small smile and turned me to face him, pulling me into a deep and heated kiss. I pulled away first and laughed. “Were you nervous to show me?” He bit his lip and nodded. “Well I love it, Sam. I really do. What will you do with it?” He shrugged casually but stared at his work intensely. “I will keep it of course. And bring it with me when I return to England. Only I get to see that side of you.” His voice deepened and he pulled me to him tighter, kissing along my jawline and making me blush.

  “I brought some lunch with me,” I panted slightly, to my embarrassment, but he didn’t seem to notice. He glanced up and saw the basket on the table. I picked it up and showed him our picnic inside. He grinned broadly and kissed me hard on the forehead. “Thanks, I’m famished!”

  Chapter 7

  We took the basket and two jam jar glasses to our spot by the waterfront. We sat on a blanket, feet dangling over the drop-down to the sea, and enjoyed the Bruschetta and wine. When I revealed the dessert he fed me eagerly and kissed the cocoa powder from my lips. We were a typical young couple in love. The thought had passed through my head unwittingly. My smile faltered and I turned away to watch the sunlight dancing off the waves below. I did love him. I loved him as I had never loved anyone before. The strange ache in my chest swelled and threatened to take over me once again.

  My mind wandered to another dark memory of the past. A time when I thought I was in love with another man. I was eighteen and madly obsessed with a twenty-one-year-old intern who was working at my father’s company. Being the introverted workaholic I was back then I rarely met anyone outside of my university friends, but I bumped into Paul one afternoon when he dropped a box of files off at the house for my father. We had seemed to click immediately. He was older, intelligent, handsome, and funny. We developed a flirtationship and met on the odd occasion for coffee. One day he was waiting for me when I returned home from class. He kissed me and asked me out on a real date. I spent an entire week planning for our dinner. I bought a new outfit and practised doing more with my hair than just a ponytail.

  On the night of our date he picked me up in his car and locked the doors. The mood had changed immediately and the hairs
on my neck had stood on end. He told me it was a safety precaution; that he wanted to keep me safe. When he drove past the restaurant I began to panic, but he told me our reservation wasn’t booked for another hour or so and he thought we could hang out somewhere first. He pulled the car over into an abandoned car park and turned off the engine. Before I had a chance to ask him what he was doing he was on top of me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and grabbing at my breasts. I hammered on his chest and squirmed away from him.

  “Relax,” he had said, “I can make you feel good. You’ll like it I promise.” He pinned my arms so I couldn’t fight anymore and tried to kiss my neck. He whispered against my skin, “We could be good together, Ana. Me, the star intern, and you the boss’s daughter. He’d be happy for us. I might even get a promotion.” I whimpered and pushed at his throat. I mustered all my strength to yell at him. I screamed at him to stop and threatened that if he didn’t take me home I would tell my father and get him fired. He reluctantly dropped me back at home, muttering a few choice words about me being a prick tease. I never told my father what had happened.

  I couldn’t tell Sam that I loved him. Not when our future was so uncertain. He noticed my mood shift and turned my face toward him. “What’s wrong?” I shrugged and gave him some story about how my father still wasn’t talking to me yet. He frowned and stared off into the distance thinking to himself. “You should write to him. Tell him how you feel.” I sniffed at the idea. “It’s not that simple. He thinks this is just a phase and I’m going to go running back to him to attend medical school at the end of the summer.”