to Love Again (1981)

by Steel, Danielle

  As she came through customs with two small suitcases she looked tiredly into Bernardo's eyes. It was hard to believe that she hadn't seen him in five months. It felt more like five years.

  Ciao, Bellezza. He thought as he looked at her that the five months she'd spent in New York hadn't been very kind. She looked frail, thin, and ravaged, and there were deep circles carved under her eyes. Do you feel well? He was worried.

  Only tired. For the first time in twenty-four hours she smiled.

  He could sense the strain in her all the way into Rome. She was unusually reticent as she gazed silently and painfully out the window of the limousine.

  Nothing has changed much. He tried to make small talk. He didn't want to talk business in front of the guards.

  No, but it's warmer. She remembered how cold it had been the night of her flight.

  How's Alessandro?

  He's fine.

  Isabella longed to see the villa but she knew she wasn't ready to. Not yet. And she had business to do at the house. It made more sense for her to stay there. There was more to it, though she could only barely admit it to herself. Having given her body to Corbett, she hadn't wanted to return to the bed she and Amadeo had shared. Now she had betrayed him too. And for what? A ruse. A lie.

  She felt her heart patter softly as they pulled up in front of the heavy black door. She wanted to cry out, but all she did for a moment was stare at it. Then she was out of the car and striding into the House of San Gregorio as though she had never been gone. No one had been warned of her coming, but she knew it would be all over Rome by that night. She didn't give a damn. Let them haunt her, let them set off flashbulbs in her face; she didn't give a damn about that either. Nothing would ever bother or surprise her, not anymore. Out of long habit she inserted her key in the elevator and pushed the fourth-floor button as Bernardo watched her, stricken, unhappy.

  Something dreadful had happened to her, he realized. She was dead inside. That pale, ivory face he loved so well was like a mask. He had never seen her like this, not even during those awful hours when they had waited, not during the funeral or even on her flight into exile. The Isabella he had known for years was no more.

  From the end of the fourth-floor hall she walked to the door of the stairs to the penthouse, Bernardo following her up the short flight of stairs. It was then that she finally sat down, that she took off the black fedora she had worn, and seemed to relax.

  Allora, va b+?ne, Bernardo?

  I'm all right, Isabella. What about you? You've been gone for five months and you come home, and act like I have leprosy.

  Maybe you do, she thought. She said only, Did you call F-B?

  He nodded. It made me ill, but I did. Do you know what that will do to our figures?

  We'll make it back by next year.

  What happened yesterday? He didn't dare argue with her now. She looked too tired, too frail.

  I learned something very interesting.

  And what was that?

  That a friend of Natasha's, whom I also thought had become my friend, had been using me. To buy the business. You may recognize the name, Bernardo. Corbett Ewing. I wasn't amused.

  Bernardo looked at her, shocked. What do you mean, using'you?

  She spared him the details. I never realized who he was. But Natasha knew, of course. And you did. I have no idea if you all concocted this thing together. I have no way of knowing; there is no way I ever will know. I'm not sure if that's why you insisted that I get out of Rome. It doesn't matter anymore, Bernardo. I'm home now. It's really Ewing who's the villian. The matter has been settled. I'm not selling. And I've made a decision that I should have made awhile ago. It has taken me some time.

  Bernardo wondered what was coming. His ulcer twinged miserably, and he waited for her news.

  I'm moving the main part of the business back with me, to the States. It had been Corbett's suggestion. But, remarkably, he'd been right.

  What? How?

  I haven't worked that out yet. The couture will stay here. Gabriela can run it. I can fly over several times a year. That end of the business doesn't need my constant supervision. The rest of it does. Otherwise it's impossible, it's too much of a strain on you ' and on me. She smiled again, but weakly, and watched Bernardo as he absorbed the shock. We'll work it out together while I'm here. But I want you to come with me. No matter what has happened, I need you. You've always been my friend and you're too good to lose.

  I'll have to think about it. This comes as a bit of a shock. I don't know, Isabella' . But with her words she was only confirming what he already knew. He was only her friend and employee. She would never let him be more. And he realized something else. He was glad. She would always have been too much for him to handle as a lover. She was going on about her plans.

  I can't live over here anymore, not with Alessandro. You were right about that. I can't take that chance. There's no reason why we can't run the entire international end from New York. And she hesitated again I've decided to take Peroni and Baltare with me, if they'll go. Of our four under directors they're the only two who speak English. The other two will have to go. But we can talk about the rest later. And I'll say one thing. She sighed softly and looked around. It's nice to see something familiar for a change. I've been damn tired of being so far from home.

  But you've decided to stay there. Are you sure?

  I don't think I have a choice.

  Maybe not. What about the villa?

  I'll close it and keep it. That belongs to Alessandro. He may come back here to live one day. But it's time I set up a home for him over there. And it's time I stopped hiding. It's been nine months since Amadeo died, Bernardo. It's enough.

  He nodded slowly, trying to understand it. Nine months. And how much had already changed.

  What about Natasha? I gather then that you two have had a falling-out?

  You gather correctly. She didn't volunteer more.

  You really think that Ewing was trying to push you?

  I'm as sure as I'll ever be. Perhaps you know more about that than I do. I'll never know that either.

  It was shocking. She trusted no one now. She was suddenly bitter and cold. It made him uncomfortable and it frightened him.

  What he saw in the next three weeks did nothing to change his mind.

  Isabella made her announcements to the directors and checked every inch of the House of San Gregorio, going from room to room to office to stock room to desk to file, on every floor. Within three weeks she knew everything that was happening and all that she wanted to know. The two under directors she'd asked to join her in New York had agreed to do so, and she had decided to hire two American under directors to work with them there. The rest of the staff was being shuttled and divided. Gabriela was immensely pleased. She would be almost autonomous now in the couture end, overseen only by Isabella, who trusted her completely. But it was there that Isabella's trust stopped. She was suspicious, untrusting, and the greatest change of all was that she didn't even fight with Bernardo anymore. She was no longer an easy woman to work for, and she was suddenly a woman whom everyone feared. Her ax could fall anywhere. Her black eyes saw everything, her ears heard it all. She seemed to have gotten over her suspicions of him but she was distrustful of everyone else.

  Well, Bernardo, where do we stand?

  She watched him over lunch in her office. For only a moment he wanted to touch her hand. He wanted to free her from this hideous spell, to assure himself that she was still human, to reach out to her. But he wasn't sure if anyone could anymore, not even he. The only time her voice warmed was on the phone with Alessandro; she had promised him in her phone call that morning that she was coming home soon.

  We stand remarkably well, Isabella. Bernardo let the moment pass with a small sigh. Considering the kind of changes we're making, I'd say you've done splendidly. We ought to be able to set up offices in New York in another month.

  That means late July, early August. It'll do. And then came the fin
al question. The one he'd been dreading for weeks. And you?

  He hesitated for a long moment, and at last he shook his head. I can't. She stopped eating, put her fork down, and stared. For an instant she looked like the old Isabella, and he was almost relieved.

  Why not?

  I've thought about it. But it would never work. She waited in silence while he went on. You're ready to run it by yourself. You understand the business as well as I do, better in fact than even Amadeo did. I don't know if you realize that.

  That's not true.

  Yes, it is. He smiled at her, and she was touched. And I wouldn't be happy in New York. I want to be in Rome, Isabella.

  And do what?

  Something will come along. The right thing. In time. I might even take a long vacation, go somewhere, spend a year in Greece.

  You're crazy. You couldn't live without the business.

  Everything has to come to an end.

  She looked at him thoughtfully. Nothing is forever.

  Precisely.

  Will you think about it for a while longer?

  He almost agreed to it and then he shook his head again. It was pointless. It was over. No, cara, I won't. I don't want to live in New York. As you said when you got here, it's enough.

  I wasn't referring to you.

  I know that. But it's time for me now. Suddenly, as he looked at her, there were tears in her eyes. The drawn, tired face with the big black eyes crumpled. He moved to sit next to her on the leather couch and took her in his arms. Non piange, Bellezza. Isabellezza.' Don't cry.

  Isabellezza. ' At the sound of the word she turned her head and broke into sobs.

  Oh, Bernardo, there is no Isabellezza anymore.

  There will always be. For me. I will never forget those times, Isabella. Nor will you.

  But they're over. Everything's changed.

  It has to change. You're right to change it. The only thing you're wrong to change is you.

  But I'm so confused. She stopped for a moment to blow her nose in his handkerchief as he gently ran a hand over her dark hair.

  I know you are. You don't trust anyone anymore. It's natural after what happened. But now you have to put it away. You have to stop before you let it destroy you. Amadeo is gone, Isabella. But you can't let yourself die too.

  Why not? She looked like a heartbroken little girl as she sat next to him and blew her nose again.

  Because you're too special, Bellezza. It would break my heart if you stayed like this, angry, unhappy, distrustful of everyone. Please, Isabella, you have to open up and try again.

  She didn't tell him that she had done that and been hurt more than she ever had before.

  I don't know, Bernardo. So much has changed in the last year.

  But you'll see. You'll find in time that some of them have been good changes too. You're making the right decision taking the business to America.

  I hope so.

  What are you doing about the villa, by the way?

  I'll start packing up next week.

  You're taking everything with you?

  Not all of it. Some things I'll leave here.

  Can I help you?

  Slowly she nodded. It would make it much easier. I've- -I've been afraid to go back.

  He only nodded and smiled as she blew her nose for a last time.

  Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  The car turned into the gravel driveway and came to a halt outside the familiar front door. Isabella looked at it thoughtfully for a moment before she stepped out. The house looked larger to her somehow, and the grounds seemed strangely quiet. For a moment it was like returning from a long trip. She expected to glimpse Alessandro's face at the window and then a minute later see him come bounding out to meet her, but he didn't. No one came. Nothing stirred.

  Bernardo stood soundlessly behind her as she began to walk slowly toward the house. In the five weeks that she had been in Rome, she had never come out here. In a way, in her heart, she hadn't really been back. She had come to Rome to minister to her business. But this was something different, something private, a piece of the past. And she herself had known that she wasn't ready to see it. Now that she was back again, she was grateful that she wasn't alone. She glanced over her shoulder then with a soft smile, remembering Bernardo. But the dark eyes weren't smiling; they looked unhappy and distant as she looked around her and then rang the bell. She had her key with her but she didn't want to use it. It was like visiting someone else now. Someone she had once been.

  Bernardo watched as a maid opened the door and Isabella stepped inside. He had warned them. Signora di San Gregorio was coming home. The information was met with trepidation and excitement: with Alessandro? Forever? There had been a flurry of planning what rooms to open, what meals to prepare. But Bernardo had been quick to dispel the illusions. She won't be staying there, and she will be alone. Alessandro was still in America. And then he had dealt the last blow. She'll be closing the house.

  But it wasn't the same anymore anyway. The central figures of the household were already gone. Mamma Teresa had left in April, understanding at last that her charge would be gone for too long. Bernardo had spoken to her openly, the risks were too great. He would be gone for a year maybe, perhaps a little less, or probably more. She had gone to a family in Bologna, with three daughters and two little boys. She had never quite recovered from the way Isabella had left her, without even warning her that she was taking Alessandro away from her, in the dark of night, leaving his bed empty and his room locked, and the woman who had protected and loved him far behind. Luisa had taken a job for the summer in San Remo, with people for whom she had worked once before. And Enzo had retired; his room in the garage was empty. The three stars of the household had long since tearfully gone. Now there were only the lesser lights to help Isabella.

  Bernardo had ordered countless boxes, which had been left in the front hall. Isabella saw them as soon as she entered. Silently she stood and looked at them, but her eyes drifted away from them. She seemed to be waiting for familiar noises, for sounds she had heard there, for voices that were no more. Bernardo watched her, hanging carefully back. She put down her light linen jacket and began to walk slowly down the long hall. Her footsteps rang out emptily. Had it only been five months since the night she'd fled with Alessandro? Five months since she had crept down that hall, collecting suitcases and Alessandro in his red sleepers, whispering sshhh and promising adventure? Are we going to Africa, Mamma? She smiled to herself and wandered into the living room. She glanced at the blue Faberg+! clock that she had looked at so intently that night she had waited for Amadeo, when they were expected for dinner at the Principessa's house the night he had been so late, the night he had disappeared. She sat down heavily on the chaise longue near the window, staring emptily at Bernardo.

  I don't even know where to begin. Her eyes were full and heavy, and he nodded, understanding.

  It's all right, Bellezza. We'll do it slowly, room by room.

  It will take years. She looked out to the garden. The carousel she had given Alessandro for Christmas was shrouded in canvas, its chimes and music silent. Tears came to her eyes, but she smiled.

  Bernardo watched her, remembering that night, as he was. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled something out that he held in his hand.

  I never gave you this last Christmas. I was afraid it would make you too unhappy if I gave you a gift. Christmas with Amadeo had always been an extravaganza, jewelry and funny objects, little treasures and remarkable books she had coveted, tiny wonders she had always loved. There had been no way Bernardo could have made that up to her, and he had been afraid to even try. But he had gone to Alfredo Paccioli and he had bought her something that now, five months later, he held out to her. I felt awful afterwards not giving you anything. Silently he felt for the now familiar pocket watch that had been Amadeo's. He always wore it.

  He handed her the small package. She took it, her eyes filling, and sat down again with a very small smile.

/>   You don't need to give me presents, Bernardo. But she took it and opened it, then she looked up at him, speechless with emotion. It was a large gold ring with the seal of San Gregorio carefully engraved in it, impeccably carved in a smooth face of black stone. It was onyx, and its proportions were perfect on her long slender hand. She slipped it on above her wedding ring, her eyes wide and mist-filled again.

  Bernardo, you're crazy' .

  No, I'm not. Do you like it? He smiled at her from where he stood, looking very young to her, almost like a boy.

  It's perfect. She gazed at the ring again.

  If you like it half as much as I do my pocket watch, I'll be happy.

  Without saying more, she rose and went to him. They hugged each other for a moment, and he felt her heart beating as he held her close.

  Thank you.

  Va b+?ne, Bellezza. Sshhh. No, don't cry. Come on, we have work to do. They pulled apart slowly, and he took off his jacket and unclasped his cuff links as she watched. Where do we start?

  My bedroom?

  He nodded, and hand in hand they walked determinedly down the hall. She was dividing everything into three categories. The things she would leave in the house under dustcovers, to be retrieved by her one day perhaps, or put to use in the house if Alessandro ever opened it again, if as a grown-up he came back to Rome. The things she would pack and send to America. And precious objects that couldn't be left there, but would have to be put in storage. Of those, she decided, there were few. Things were either worth taking with her or could be left here at the house. Things like the grand piano, and some of the large antique furniture that had been in Amadeo's family for years, but of which neither of them had ever been very fond. Most of the rugs she was leaving in storage. They may not fit in her new rooms. The curtains would stay on the windows they were made for. The sconces and the chandeliers would stay. She didn't want to leave holes and gaping openings in the house. When Alessandro came back one day, she wanted it to still look like a home, not a barracks that someone had ransacked, preparing for flight.