to Love Again (1981)

by Steel, Danielle

  Well, you two. I think I'm going to be rude for a change. I'm tired. But she knew also that Corbett had wanted to speak to Isabella alone. Surprised, Isabella waited for Corbett to suggest that he should go, but he didn't. He stood to kiss Natasha, and then they were alone.

  He watched her briefly as she looked absently into the fire, the glow lighting her face softly, the light reflecting in her large dark eyes. He wanted to tell her how lovely she looked, but knew instinctively that he could not.

  Isabella' . His voice was whisper-soft, and she turned her face toward his. I'm awfully sorry about last night.

  Don't be. It was inevitable, I suppose. I only wished that it could be different.

  Natasha's right, you know. Eventually, it will be.

  But not for a very long time. The laughter had faded, and she looked at him wistfully. In some ways I've been spoiled.

  Is that sort of thing important to you, like last night?

  Not really. But people are. What they're doing, what they look like, what they think it's very difficult suddenly living without them in my own tiny world.

  It needn't be quite as tiny as this. He glanced around the softly lit living room and turned his eyes to hers with a smile. There are ways for you to get out without being seen.

  I tried that last night.

  No, you didn't You walked right into the bullring, dressed like the matador, and when everyone noticed you, you were surprised.

  She laughed at the comparison. I hadn't thought of it quite that way.

  He laughed softly too. I'm not sure if I said just the right thing. But you can get out of here. You can go for drives in the country. For long walks. There's no need to lock yourself up here entirely. You need it. You need to get out.

  She stretched unhappily, trying to quell the yearning in her heart.

  Will you let me take you out sometime? With Alessandro perhaps? Or alone?

  That would be very nice. She sat very still for a moment and looked into his eyes. But you don't have to, you know. You're very kind.

  He wouldn't take his eyes from hers. He shook his head softly, then looked away. I understand more than you think I do. I lost my wife a long time ago. Not as shockingly as you lost your husband. But it was intolerably painful in its own way. I thought I would die without her in the beginning. One loses all that is familiar, all that matters, everything that really counts. The one person who knows how you think, how you laugh, how you cry, how you feel, the person who remembers the favorite jokes of your childhood, the worst fears, the person who knows it all, who has the key. Suddenly you're left alone and you're certain that no one will ever understand again.

  And do they? Isabella watched him, fighting back tears. Does someone else learn the language, understand the secrets; does anyone ever really care again? She was thinking, Will I ever care again?

  Eventually I'm sure there is always someone. Maybe the secrets aren't quite the same, maybe they laugh differently, or they cry more, or their needs are differently geared to yours. But there are other people, Isabella. As much as you don't want to hear it, it's something you should know.

  Have there been for you? Anyone who could replace her?

  In some ways no. But I haven't really been open to it, not unlike you. What has happened though is that I've learned to live with it. It doesn't hurt every day. But then again I didn't lose my home, my country, my whole way of life as you have right now.

  She sighed softly. The only two things I haven't lost are my business and my child. Which is why I'm here. There was a false alarm about Alessandro, and I decided that I couldn't live that way anymore.

  But you still have those two things, and no one can take them from you. Not the business and not the child. They are both safe here with you.

  Alessandro is, but I worry about the business a great deal.

  I don't think you have to. From what I've read of it, it seems to be quite secure.

  For now. But I can't run it this way forever. You of all people must understand that.

  He did, better than he wanted to tell her. After what she had just told him, he couldn't say more. He felt a weight settle on his shoulders as he warmed his hands at the fire.

  Eventually there are changes you can make. You can open a larger office here. You can divide your administration in such a way as to allow you to run it from anywhere. But only if you have to. And this probably isn't the right time.

  I plan to go back to Rome.

  He nodded sagely in answer, saying nothing. Then softly: In time I'm sure you will. And in the meantime you're here. I'd like to help you make the most of that The one thing that saved me when Beth died was my friends.

  Isabella nodded her understanding; she knew that only too well.

  Corbett' . She looked at him with tears suddenly shining in her eyes. Do you ever get over the feeling that any day now she's coming home? I don't think anyone understands it. But I keep feeling that, as though he were only on a trip.

  He smiled gently and nodded. In some ways he is. I believe that one day well all meet again. But now we have this life to make better. We have to make the most of it while we're here. But in answer to your question, yes, I used to feel that Beth was only out for a while, for a few hours, away for a couple of days, visiting, shopping, somewhere. I'd hear the elevator, or a door would close in my apartment, and I'd think She's home! And a minute later I' feel even worse than before. Maybe it's a game that we play with ourselves to keep from knowing the truth. Or maybe it's just hard to break old habits. Someone comes home every day and you think that they will forever. The only thing that changes in the end is eventually that someone no longer comes home. What it does is make you very grateful for what you have, while you have it, because now you know how brief and ephemeral it sometimes is. They sat quietly again for a while as the ashes in the fire dimly glowed.

  Seven and a half months is not very long. But it's long enough to be very lonely and to realize that you really are on your own.

  It frightens me sometimes. No, that's not true. It terrifies me.

  You don't look very terrified to me. She looked calm, pulled together, and able to handle almost everything, and he was sure that in the last seven and a half months she had. Just don't let people push you. Go at your own pace.

  I don't have a pace. Except in my work. That's the only life I have now.

  Now, only for now. Don't forget that. It's not forever. Remind yourself of that every day. If it gets unbearably painful, tell yourself that it is only right now. When I lost Beth, a friend told me that a woman. She said that it was a little bit like having a child. When you're in labor and it gets unbearable, you think it will go on forever, that you'll never survive. But it isn't forever, it is only a few hours. And then it's over, finished, behind you. You've done it, you've arrived.

  She smiled at the comparison. She had had a hard time when Alessandro was born. I'll try to remind myself.

  Good.

  And then she looked at him questioningly. Do you have children, Corbett?

  But he shook his head. Only those I borrow occasionally from Friends.

  That may not be such a bad arrangement. She grinned at him. You may feel that way, especially after you've gone to the firehouse with Jason and Alessandro.

  I'll enjoy it. Now what about you?

  What about me?

  Would you like to go for a drive tomorrow?

  Aren't you working? She looked startled.

  It's Saturday. Are you?

  I'd forgotten. And I was going to but She looked warmly at him I'd love to go for a drive. In broad daylight?

  Of course. He looked momentarily victorious.

  There are curtains in the backseat of my car. We can draw them until we get a little way out of town.

  How mysterious. She was laughing again, and Corbett stood up as she held out her hand. Thank you, Corbett. He was going to tease her about bring formal, but decided that it would be wiser not to. He shook her hand then and walked to t
he door.

  I'll see you tomorrow, Isabella.

  Thank you. She smiled again as the elevator reached them. Good night.

  This time when he left her he was smiling, but a tremor of fear ran through him when he remembered all that he hadn't said.

  Chapter TWENTY-ONE

  The next day they drove into Connecticut for the day, hidden deep in the secrecy of his curtained Rolls, chatting about business again, this time about her grandfather's couture house in Paris and then once again about Rome.

  How do you know so much about all this? She looked at him intently as they drove beneath trees that were just beginning to show leaves.

  lt's no different than any business. Whatever the commodity you deal in, the concepts are often the same. The idea intrigued her. She had never even thought of applying what she knew of her business to anything else.

  Are you involved in a great many undertakings? But she already knew from his extensive knowledge that he was. She thought it strange how closemouthed he was about business most men were so eager to talk about nothing else.

  Yes.

  Why don't you tell me more about them?

  Because they would all bore you. Some of them even bore me. She laughed with him and stretched happily as they got out of the car.

  If you only knew how long it's been since I've walked on grass and seen trees. And finally, finally, there's a little green here. I thought it was going to be gray forever.

  He smiled at her gently. See, it's the same thing. Nothing is forever, Isabella. Nothing good, and nothing bad. We both know that by now. You can't chop down a tree because it isn't yet in bloom. You have to wait, nurture it, love it. In time it revives again. He wanted to tell her, So will you.

  Perhaps you're right. But she was too happy to think of the past now. She just wanted to breathe deeply and enjoy the country and her first taste of spring.

  Why didn't you bring Alessandro? He looked down at her.

  He and Jason had a date with some friends in the park. But he told me to be sure and remind you about the firehouse. She wagged a finger at him, laughing. I told you so!

  I've already arranged it. For Tuesday afternoon.

  You're a man of your word then.

  He looked at her seriously, yes, Isabella, I am.

  But she knew that already. Everything about him suggested the man of honor, someone you could rely on and trust with the secrets of your heart. She hadn't met anyone like him in years; it had been even longer since she had opened up to anyone as she had to him. Her only confidants had been Amadeo, Bernardo, and Natasha. But she had lost Amadeo, and she and Bernardo, well, she and Bernardo were not talking about personal matters anymore. There was too much distance between them, and, too, she was feeling herself withdraw from him and he from her. So she was left with Natasha, and now Corbett. It was amazing how in a few short days she had come to trust him and all that he said.

  What were you thinking?

  That it's strange how comfortable I feel with you. Like an old friend.

  Why is that so strange? They stopped at a fallen tree and sat down. His long legs were stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles; his broad shoulders were encased in fine English tweed. He looked amazingly young, despite the prematurely white hair.

  It's strange only because I don't know you. Not really, not who you are.

  Yes, you do. You know all the essentials about me. Where I live, what I do. You know that I've been Natasha's friend for years. You know other things. I've also told you a great deal. He was referring to Beth, his lost wife. Isabella nodded quietly and then looked up at the trees, her long neck arched skyward, her hair hanging down her back. He was smiling at her; for a moment she looked like a child on a swing.

  He was intrigued by her, by her great beauty, and her diamond-sharp mind, the delicate elegance combined with the rare strength and the power of command. She was all contrasts and rich shadings, with mountains and valleys and textures that he loved. Why do you always wear black, Isabella? I've never seen you wear a color, except that night; the coat you wore was white.

  She looked at him simply. For Amadeo. I'll wear black like this for a year.

  I'm sorry. I should have known that. But people don't do that anymore in the States. He looked upset, as though he had said something he shouldn't have, but Isabella smiled.

  It's all right. It doesn't upset me. It's a custom, that's all.

  You even wear black at home. She nodded. You must look marvelous in colors though dove colors, and pale peach, and bright blues, and magenta with your dark hair' . He looked dreamy and boyish. She laughed.

  You should be a designer, Corbett.

  Sometimes I am.

  Like with what? Her eyes grew serious as she straightened her head to look at him more closely. He was an interesting man.

  Oh, I picked out some designs for an airline once. He was afraid to say much more.

  Was it successful?

  The airline?

  No, the design. Did it look well?

  I thought so.

  You used your textiles? He nodded, and she seemed to approve.

  That was good business. I try to use interchangeable things once in a while between my ready-to-wear and my couture. It's not always easy though because of the fabrics. But I do it when I can.

  Where did you learn all this? He was fascinated, and she smiled.

  My grandfather. He was a genius. The one and only Jacques-Louis Parel. I watched him, I listened, I learned from him. I always knew I'd be a designer. After I spent a year here, I set up my own design studio in Rome. That was how she had met Amadeo, how it had all begun.

  Congenital genius then.

  Obviously. With a grin she picked a tiny wild-flower.

  And humility too. He put an arm easily around her shoulder and stood up then. How about some lunch?

  Can we go somewhere? She looked delighted, but he quickly shook his head.

  No. For a moment her eyes fell.

  I was stupid to ask.

  We'll come back this summer. There's a nice restaurant just over that hill. But in the meantime, Isabella, I made some provisions.

  You did?

  Of course. You didn't expect me to starve you, did you? I have a little more sense than that. Besides, I get hungry too, you know.

  You brought a picnic?

  More or less. He held out a hand to her, and she got up from the log, dusting off her black skirt and pulling the black blazer closer around her as they walked back to the car. Corbett drove to a nearby lake, stopped, and unpacked a large leather bag. The picnic consisted of p+ot+!, Brie, French bread and caviar, cookies and pastries and fruits.

  She looked at it all delightedly, spread out on the little table he had popped out of a compartment on the back of the front seat. My heavens, this is gorgeous. The only thing missing is the champagne.

  He bowed from his seat and looked mischievously at her. You spoke too soon. He opened the bar again and withdrew a large bottle resting in a bucket of ice. He set out two glasses.

  You think of everything.

  Almost.

  She played with Alessandro through a rainy Sunday and was grateful that it hadn't rained the day before. On Monday she worked for fifteen hours, and on Tuesday she spent the day making calls to Hong Kong and Europe, to Brazil, and to Bangkok.

  She was in the kitchen in bare feet and blue jeans, sipping coffee, when the doorbell rang. She looked up startled. It was ten minutes too early for it to be the boys. Hattie was marketing, and Natasha had told her she'd be gone all day. With a puzzled look Isabella went to the front door and looked through the tiny peephole and then grinned. It was Corbett, also wearing an old sweater and jeans.

  How could you forget something so important? It's firehouse day, of course!

  Isabella looked embarrassed. I forgot.

  Are the boys here? If not, I'll have to take you. The firehouse will never forgive me if we don't show up. I'll just say you're my niece. His e
yes wandered over Isabella appreciatively, suddenly noticing the long thin legs and the narrow hips.

  The boys will be home in five minutes, and they'll be thrilled. And how are you?

  I'm fine. What are you two up to? Working as usual?

  Of course. Isabella looked at him grandly and then beckoned him back toward her office door. Would you like to see the beautiful office Natasha gave me when I arrived? She was like a little girl showing off her room. And he followed her willingly and whistled when he stepped inside. Isn't it lovely?

  It certainly is. Her work was spread out on the table, mountains of papers, and the floor was covered with neat stacks of designs. This must take some getting used to. I imagine you have a little more space in Rome.

  Just a bit. She smiled to herself, thinking of the enormous offices she and Amadeo had shared on the fourth floor. But I'm managing.

  It looks like you are.

  At that moment the boys arrived, with whoops at discovering that he was there. Ten minutes later they had left again, with Corbett, and they didn't return for another two hours.

  How was it? Isabella was waiting for them when they got home, and they told her in every detail. Alessandro announced to her excitedly that there really was a brass pole, calling it over his shoulder as Hattie finally dragged him off for a bath. And more to the point, she said to Corbett when they were alone, how are you? Exhausted?

  A little. But we had a wonderful time.

  What a good sport you are. Would you like a drink?

  Please. Scotch and water on a lot of rocks.

  Very American. She cast him a look of mock disapproval and went to Natasha's white marble bar.

  What should I be drinking?

  Cinzano, Pernod, or maybe kir.

  I'll remember that next time. But frankly, I prefer Scotch. She handed it to him, and he grinned. Where's Natasha?

  Dressing for dinner and a gallery opening.

  And you, Cinderella?

  The usual. I'm going out for my walk.

  You're not afraid to do that, Isabella? He looked at her with sudden concern.

  I'm very careful. She didn't even stroll back on Madison Avenue anymore. It's not very exciting, but it helps. He nodded.