by Hazel Gaynor
After picking up the car, as we left the city, the four of us talked amiably about the weather and the passing sights, but soon our chatter diverted into two more private conversations.
I glanced in the rearview mirror from my place in the front seat. Clara’s and Edward’s heads were inclined toward each other as they discussed some artwork they’d seen at a gallery. Edward looked handsome in a light linen suit. I’d never really noticed his looks before, but with his face lightly suntanned and flecks of gray at his temples, I could see why Clara was attracted to him.
Daniel patiently steered us along the narrow winding roads that dipped and twisted through the verdant countryside. As we turned around a bend, we came upon a field of wild poppies in full bloom.
“Look at those flowers!” I said. “Can we stop the car? I’d like to walk a little in the fields. Stretch my legs.”
“Do we have time?” Clara asked.
Daniel glanced at his wristwatch. “We don’t have much time, but we could take a quick look.” He steered the car onto the side of the road.
Without waiting for anyone else, I dashed from the car and out into the field. As I walked among the happy red blooms, I thought again of my article. I felt my shoulders drop and the tension in my neck release as a sense of validation settled over me. I had something to say, and a newspaper editor thought so, too. I was on my way, at last! I squeezed my eyes shut and let the sensation wash over me. Nellie would have been proud, and I liked to think Father would be, too. I could hardly wait to tell Violet.
Daniel joined me at my side as I stopped to take in the view.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.
I looked at the luscious fields. The bright sunlight made the petals look ablaze and the dust in the air glistened like floating specks of gold. “It’s unbelievable!”
I turned to him and smiled. Behind him I saw Clara and Edward, leaning against the car, laughing at something one of them had said.
“Still processing your good news?” Daniel asked.
I nodded. “I don’t think I’ll really believe it until I see it in print with my own eyes.”
“I have some news of my own, actually,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back as we walked on.
“Oh?”
“I’ve resigned from Hancock’s company. I sent a telegram to Charles at his hotel in Vienna yesterday.”
Surprised, I didn’t reply at first. I’d thought he might try to work things out with Charles, but this was much better.
“Well good for you! I bet he was furious.”
“I told him I would see out this ‘arrangement’ but wouldn’t be taking the promised promotion. In other words, he still doesn’t know you and Clara are aware of his scheme.”
“Will you stay in New York, then, or move back to Boston?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, surprised I cared so much about where he planned to be.
He studied my expression an instant before returning his eyes to the fields around us.
“I need to be in New York if I want to make a real go of being an architect. I’ve made a list of firms I’d like to apply to, and I have an idea for a new building, on the southwestern side of Central Park. I’ve also set up a meeting with a possible investor the week after we get back.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “It sounds like you have it all figured out.”
“I know what I want,” he said, and the look he gave me made my stomach turn cartwheels.
“Do you?” I said, voice hoarse.
We stared at each other, broad smiles on our faces. Golden light spilled over his shoulders and lit his face.
“Your hair looks like flames,” he said, gently brushing a strand from my cheek.
My breath caught in my throat at the sensation of his touch, the look in his eyes.
He searched my face as if looking for a sign. What he saw there made him step closer.
“Maddie.” My name came out as a sigh. My heart thumped wildly as he cupped my face in his hands. “You’re the most infuriating, brave, fascinating woman I’ve ever met, did you know that? Not to mention beautiful.”
A sense of falling overtook me as I gazed back at him. How had we gotten here? How had I lost my resolve to keep him where a man belonged: at a distance, as a friend.
At last I managed a reply. “Are you sure you have the right girl?”
He laughed softly, the amber in his brown eyes dancing. “I’m more than sure.”
And in that moment he leaned in slowly, pausing only an instant to peer into my face before he lightly brushed his lips over mine.
All my reservations disappeared as I wound my arms around his neck. He kissed me again, tenderly at first, and then more insistently, until we both gasped for air.
When we finally managed to pull away, I rested my forehead against his.
“Well then,” I said.
He laughed softly. “Well then.” He ran a finger gently down my cheek.
“That was . . . we should probably go back to the car.”
Daniel grinned and held out his arm. “Shall we?”
I linked my arm through his and we strolled together to the car, where Clara and Edward were still deep in conversation, sitting beside each other on the hood. Clara had her knees tucked up to her chest and rested her cheek on her arms. Whether she’d seen the kiss or not, her face was inscrutable.
We drove the rest of the way in silence, the windows rolled down and the wind in our hair.
That kiss! The way I’d leaned into Daniel instantly. I could still feel his lips on mine. As I sneaked a look at him, he felt my eyes on him and winked.
I didn’t know where any of this would lead, with the trip soon coming to an end. I still wasn’t sure I wanted it to lead anywhere because of my career ambitions, but right now, on a beautiful day beneath a vivid Italian sky, I was happy to just be, to live in the moment.
I would worry about the future tomorrow.
* * *
EVENTUALLY, WE PULLED up to a charming old villa with a stucco façade and terra-cotta roof. It was surrounded by open fields dotted with trees, and a modest garden flanked the side of the house. A couple burst from the door instantly and met us at the car, all smiles. We were greeted by a middle-aged man who was the spitting image of Matthias, and a lovely woman with light eyes and hair who, I presumed, was his wife.
“Buongiorno,” he said. “I am Giani and this is my wife, Isabella. Welcome, please make yourself at home. You are family!”
We followed the pair around the back of the house to a wide terrace where a table was covered with a linen cloth, set with dishes, and finished with vases of brightly colored flowers. Children raced after a ball through the yard, and at least a dozen adults sat on mismatched chairs and stools, or stood in small clusters, talking to each other. We met Isabella’s sisters and their spouses, who all greeted us with smiles.
“I planned to eat indoors, but we are lucky today,” Isabella said. “It’s very warm for spring.”
It was lovely to sit outside in the sun. Soon we’d leave this all behind for the much cooler climes of Austria and the final part of our trip.
Matthias appeared suddenly, planting a kiss on each cheek. “Ciao! Ciao! How happy I am to see you, girls. Come, sit beside me.”
He sat at the head of the table, Clara and I on either side of him, followed by Daniel and Edward, and everyone else.
Matthias leaned close to me. “Your boyfriend seems very nice,” he whispered.
“Friend,” I replied with a smile. “Just a friend.”
Matthias chuckled. “Of course. Just a friend.”
Clara and I told stories of our days on the beach in East Hampton as children, and the many times I’d made trouble in school or at home. Matthias shared anecdotes about his children: Giani, the eldest, and his youngest son, Pietro, who now lived in Rome; and he talked fondly of his deceased wife, Maria. We feasted on crostini toscani and grilled bistecca, piles of fresh
asparagus in olive oil and lemon, a platter of cheeses, and Italian cookies picked up from the bakery in town that morning. Our wineglasses were refilled the moment they were emptied.
Spending time with Matthias and his family was an unexpected gift. I couldn’t have known how much the Morellis and their boisterous love and laughter would make me long for the same. It made me appreciate my sister and my mother, and even my memories of Father, whose ambition, stubbornness, and sense of justice I’d inherited. Now I understood why he’d pushed me so hard. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in me, it was that I didn’t believe enough in myself, and he thought he could help me see that, in his own flawed way. For the first time, I felt at peace with it all. With who I was, and who I was yet to be.
I smiled and raised a glass in another toast to la famiglia, followed by a chorus of “more wine.”
A long, lazy afternoon stretched wonderfully ahead.
Clara
I raised my glass to Edward’s as Matthias called for another toast.
“To family,” I joined in the chorus, glancing across the table to catch Madeleine’s eye, but she was deep in conversation with Daniel.
It was lovely to spend time with Matthias’s family. Our family. It was still strange to think of them that way and would take some getting used to. Our American family was small, and social gatherings had often been soured by the simmering tension between one or the other of us. After Father’s death and my estrangement from Madeleine, family had become something of a curiosity I observed among my friends. I hadn’t craved it for myself, but rather accepted that it was something I would never truly understand: the clatter and chatter of shared memories, a fondness formed over many years. Now that it was all around me, I understood how important it was and what I’d been missing.
I watched Madeleine and Daniel closely during the luncheon. Their delight in being together, and the connection between them, was impossible to ignore. They sparked off each other, neither one more dominant or more infatuated than the other. They were a perfect match, everything in harmony. I hadn’t mentioned their passionate kiss in the poppy field when Madeleine had returned to the car, but I would enjoy teasing her about it later.
“They get along very well, don’t they,” Edward remarked. “Amazing really, when you consider how short a time they’ve known each other.”
“I don’t think it matters how long you know someone,” I replied. “When it’s right, it’s right. You must have felt that with Annabel.”
I hadn’t meant to bring her up again, but part of me was testing the water, checking exactly what, if anything, he still felt for her.
He put down his fork and studied me. “I did, yes. But I was young and naive and too eager to fall in love. And people change within a relationship. It’s a fluid thing, like this wine.” He swirled the rich red liquid around his glass. “Feelings, plans, hopes . . . they all change. Don’t you agree?”
His question was framed as an invitation of sorts.
“I think we should enjoy our lunch,” I replied as Madeleine glanced over to me, her cheeks wonderfully flushed from sunshine and wine.
After a delicious dessert and rich coffee, and an Italian liqueur called limoncello, I dabbed my lips with my napkin and excused myself from the table. Madeleine was so absorbed by Matthias, who, just like Violet, was capable of holding an entire room captivated with his stories, that she didn’t notice me leave.
Edward, however, did.
He caught up with me as I walked beneath the dappled shade of the lemon trees.
“Do you mind if I join you? I need to walk off some of that delicious food.”
“Of course.” I didn’t mind at all. In fact, I’d hoped he would follow me.
“Your grandfather has a beautiful home,” he remarked, his steps falling in sync with mine.
“He does,” I agreed. “I only wish we could spend more time with him, with all of them.”
“I wish you could stay longer, too. I’ve been happier here in Italy, than I have been for years.”
We stopped walking as Edward reached for my hand, a smile in his eyes. As I looked at him, the intensity of my feelings burned like a fierce summer sun. I imagined his lips on mine, imagined how easy it would be to fall into his arms, to fall in love with this kind, humble man. It would be the perfect culmination to this wonderful day, to this journey I was taking, and yet something in me held back.
“Love is complicated, isn’t it?” I said, my voice calm despite the rush of adrenaline I felt. “To fall in love, or not. To be with this person, or that person. It is full of layers and depth, like a painting we see more detail in every time we look at it.”
Edward tilted his head to one side and looked at me with such fondness. “Spoken like a true artist.”
I returned his smile. “I had the best tutor.”
“And I had the finest student.”
Tutor and student. The words settled around me, and in that moment, doubt lifted from my mind, blown away by a light breeze that ruffled the leaves on the cypress trees and sent curls dancing around my face. I understood that my feelings for Edward didn’t mean he had to become my lover, or my husband. He had come into my life to teach me about art, but had taught me about love, too. He had shown me what was possible, even if our being together was impossible.
“You know, Violet once told me that life, in the end, falls into two halves: the things we got right, and the things we got wrong,” I said. “She believes there’s no point wishing any of it were different.”
Edward nodded. “She’s a wise woman. And what is it you think you’ve got right, so far?”
I smiled. “Coming here. Knowing you. Spending time together. I got that right.”
He placed his hand gently against my cheek. “We both got that right. And yet . . .”
“And yet.”
A slight inclination of his head toward mine showed me that he understood: what we’d both gotten wrong, through no fault of our own, was the timing of our lives intersecting.
We lingered a moment longer, knowing that as soon as we returned to the others, what might have been was all we would ever be.
He held out his arm. “Could I walk you back, Miss Clara Sommers?”
My arm in his, as we walked back to the luncheon, I remembered what Violet had said on the morning of my departure. “Traveling is the best way to discover what’s important, Clara, to find out what you need to take with you in life, and what you can manage without. One good dress and a heart full of belief in oneself is more than enough to see anyone around the world.”
The others had hardly noticed we’d gone as wineglasses were refilled and conversations continued. Everything was just as we’d left it a few moments ago, and yet as I took my seat and Edward took his, we looked at each other and smiled, and only the two of us knew how much had changed.
* * *
THE AFTERNOON PASSED quickly. As dusk settled over the landscape, we drove back toward the city, full of good food and good wine, and a sense of contentment.
I left Madeleine and Daniel to say their goodnights in private, while Edward walked me to the door of the hotel. We paused at the bottom of the steps.
“Don’t look so sad,” he said. “You have so much to look forward to. So much life ahead of you. Don’t spend it doing the wrong things with the wrong people. Spend it with people who make your heart full. Nothing less.” He leaned forward, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “Arrivederci, dear Clara.”
As I watched him go, I touched my hand to my cheek, and felt a surge of confidence and independence and I knew we had made the right decision, even if my heart longed for it to be the wrong one.
“No time for loitering,” Madeleine said as she bounded past me. “Best get packing. Austria awaits!”
Back in our suite, we packed our trunks and smaller bags for the final stage of our journey.
“I guess we should read Violet’s next letter,” Madeleine said. “See what’s in store for us?”
<
br /> I picked up the final sealed envelope, tied with red ribbon. Inside, was a folded sheet of Violet’s stationery, a newspaper clipping, and a photograph I knew well: Violet and Aunt Margaret, arms around each other, the Piazza San Marco in the background. The photograph had always sat on the bedside table in Violet’s bedroom. I’d often admired it. The headline of the newspaper article read: “Two Sisters Take on the World.”
“Look at this,” I said, showing it to Madeleine. “It was written by Auntie Nellie.”
Madeleine read the article out loud.
When I set out on my journey to circumnavigate the globe, I wanted to break a world record. But I also wanted to prove that women don’t need a male escort to accompany them on such a trip, and that we are capable of doing anything a man might do abroad. Little did I know how much my foray into the world would come to mean to two sisters, Margaret and Violet Lawson.
I slid the items back into the envelope and unfolded the sheet of stationery next. Violet’s final letter to us.
Dear Clara and Madeleine,
How are your travels? I hope you’ve had the most wonderful time in Venice.
Now it is time to move on to Austria, a country I have never seen. I longed to travel there one day to see my sister, but alas, it was not meant to be. You must become my eyes and ears, my voice.
By now, assuming you found dear Matthias, you will understand why Venice has always held such a special place in my heart, but you might not yet understand why Margaret and I have been estranged for so many years.
My pregnancy brought disgrace on our family. Margaret found it especially upsetting to have friends and neighbors whispering about me behind my back. It made things difficult for her in the circles she moved in: high society does not tolerate such scandal. After she moved to Austria to focus on her music, we simply drifted apart.
I hope she will meet you both, and that your presence will help us come together again, as sisters should. Please know this won’t be easy. With so many years gone and too many things left unsaid, I might be asking too much of her. I only ask you to deliver my final letter and hope that I have said enough.