Lost in Carmel

by Terri Lee

  “Yes, that's it, it's all my Viking ancestor's fault.”

  Nico reached over and wiped a bit of olive oil from the corner of her mouth with his thumb as she laughed. Every touch, every smile, a bit of foreplay.

  They ate, they drank, and they laughed some more. The night wrapping around the house in a blanket of stillness. Nico threw a few more logs on the fire then filled their glasses again. She was deliciously full and happy as a fat cat in front of the fire.

  Nico was standing over her. King Lear offering his hand. She took it and he gently pulled her to her feet. Pulled her to his chest and whispered in her ear.

  “Are you ready for bed?”

  “I'm not the least bit sleepy.” She grinned slyly.

  “Good.”

  Taking her by the hand, he led the way. Past the dining room and up the stairs to the left. A large bed dripping in comforters and pillows was waiting for them. The room bathed in soft light from two small table lamps and her and Nico in the middle of the room like sole survivors.

  She was suddenly shy. Arms and legs seemed to get in the way as he began slowly unbuttoning her blouse. Wriggling out of her jeans, she stepped lightly over the puddle of clothes at her feet.

  Nico's clothes fell on top of hers, dropped without seduction or thought, as his eyes never left her face. Coming together, his hands were in her hair. Her hands on his strong back, muscles twitching beneath her curious fingers.

  His kisses were hungrier now, as she pressed close. Skin on skin, his desire between them. Again, he took her hand, walking backwards to the bed, hazel eyes watching her every move. Sliding over her body in appreciation.

  “You are glorious. You should never wear clothes.”

  She felt beautiful. More desirable than she'd ever felt. Buoyed in the warmth of his admiration she was now capable of letting go of everything that held her back.

  “I want to give you every part of me,” she whispered as her head fell back on the pillow.

  His hands were magic, warm and teasing, playful and confident. As if they already knew the way. Her body arched under his sure touch, pressing toward him. Hungry. His hand slid down her belly to cup the heat between her legs, nudging her thighs apart.

  Hovering over her, balancing his weight on forearms, he whispered, “You're shaking.”

  “So are you,” she answered.

  Her legs wrapped around him as he moved inside her, opening herself to him in every way. Arms flung wide and a heart with no boundaries. There were no walls left to climb over. He pushed past all her barriers and reservations, taking her down.

  He was melting into her and she into him. A moonlit mix of bodies and souls between white sheets. Two bodies, one rhythm. She held on tight as the shiver came from someplace deep inside her and spread like a wildfire. The accompanying moan that rose with it sounded unfamiliar to her ears. She was someone new, yet at once the person she was supposed to be.

  Nico pulled back just enough to look at her, watching her face before his own crescendo left him trembling and out of breath. Their eyes locked and she could feel her soul rising to meet him in a divine connection. He kissed her long and hard before slumping beside her in exhaustion. Tender words were whispered as the bond was cemented. Nico's hand on her cheek and more soft kisses as their heartbeats returned to normal. Together, they laid in a tangle of limbs and breath until they fell into sated slumber.

  After napping. the hungry explorers grew restless and went searching for sustenance. They fell on the table, still spread with Giovanna’s offering, with all the decorum of Henry XIII. Not bothering with plates this time, they moved around the table like wolves circling their prey. Natalie sandwiched meats and cheese between two hunks of bread before moving on for her next victim. Nico didn't bother with bread as he went straight for the protein.

  “Catch,” Nico said from across the table.

  Natalie opened her mouth to catch the olive Nico was about to toss her way. She missed. Nico tried again, but she was laughing too hard and the olive hit her in the nose and rolled across the dining room floor.

  “Enough.” Natalie shooed him away. But he came around to her side and placed an olive on her tongue. He kissed her, then licked his lips, catching the last drop of juice for himself.

  Belly's full, they climbed the stairs once again and retreated to the King's bedchamber where they landed in a pile on top of the covers. Reaching out for one another. Reaching for more.

  As Nico's hand trailed down the side of her body, leaving goosebumps in his quake, she remembered that Nicoli meant victorious. Conqueror of the people. He had indeed, conquered her heart.

  28 Lost in the Fog

  Morning slipped into the room unnoticed. Hours later, Natalie extricated herself from under the dead weight of Nico's arm slung over her chest. But first, she stole a moment to watch him sleeping. Black lashes resting on his cheeks. Hair tousled in an invitation for her hands to run through it again like she did last night.

  Last night.

  They'd held one another all night as if they were afraid if they let go it would no longer be real. Like two puzzle pieces they'd fit perfectly together. Bodies molded into an ampersand of love. Wrapped up in each other's arms, they talked until words ran dry and sleep claimed them for the night.

  Buried in pillows and silky comforters she'd happily live there forever. His arm thrown over her, staking a claim. She hated to sneak out of bed, but she had to pee. Tip toeing back from the bathroom down the hall, she rummaged through her bag, looking for something to slip into. She let the short silk nightgown she'd planned to wear last night glide over her hips then pulled on the matching robe, tying it at the waist.

  With one more look at Nico, she headed downstairs and into the morning. Eager to see the view in the daylight. As she passed the dining room, she noticed that Giovanna had struck again. Like a magic elf she'd swept through the place. No trace left of the midnight feast or olives rolling around on the floor. In its place was a more reserved offering for breakfast. Croissants, fruit and juice. Instead she followed her nose to the kitchen, looking for coffee.

  “Buon giorno.” A small woman came in through the back door, carrying a basket of flowers. Her gray hair was swept up in a casual chignon at the nape of her neck. Her olive skin smooth and free of any make-up, she was radiant. Mother Earth with an Italian accent.

  “Buon giorno,” Natalie answered. “Giovanna?”

  “Si, Giovanna,” the woman smiled.

  “Natalie.” Natalie pointed to herself. “Parla Inglese?”

  “No. No English. Mi dispiace.” Giovanna shook her head

  “It's okay.” Natalie looked around the large kitchen, then back at Giovanna. “Coffee?”

  “Si, caffè.” The old woman started pulling cups and canisters out of cupboards.

  “Grazie,” Natalie nodded as she slipped out of the room and headed for the porch.

  The autumn sun burst through the front door, but a chill still hung in the morning air. Natalie walked to the end of the loggia she'd seen in the dusky shadows last night. From there the postcard view of the ocean and homes clinging to the side of the cliff in a dangerous leap of faith had her catching her breath.

  “My family has a little home in Positano, he said; come we'll spend the weekend,” Natalie muttered to herself with a smile.

  “Signora?”

  Natalie turned to accept the mug of steaming coffee Giovanna held out. “Grazie.”

  Giovanna nodded and disappeared, leaving Natalie with her thoughts and the view. When the coffee wasn't enough to warm her bones, Natalie stepped back inside and wandered around the living room. The home was filled with handsome pieces of mismatched furniture collected through the generations and the patchwork collection gave the place a loved and lived-in look despite the generous size of the rooms. It was cozy in spite of itself.

  Near the large window was a grand piano. A paisley scarf draped over the top with bits of fringe dangling playfully like a flapper's dress, ca
ught Natalie's attention. Silver frames held moments in time. Faces she didn't recognize smiled back at her. Then one photo stopped her in her tracks as she recognized the unmistakable look of love. Nico gazing into the eyes of a beautiful woman, his hand on her cheek.

  Curiosity tinged with a natural jealousy had her leaning closer, a voyeur in the shadows catching Claudia and Nico in a tender moment. She wished she was able to look away from the specter of Claudia's life spread before her on a piano top, instead she stood staring at it, imagining the life behind the black and white photo. She ran her hand over Nico's face, willing herself into the snapshot. If she had a love like that, she'd wrap herself up in it and never leave the house.

  Envy turned to sadness as Natalie's eyes roamed over other silver frames that held a laughing Claudia with two babies on her lap. A young woman full of life, dark hair falling around her shoulders.

  “Are you alright?”

  Natalie spun around as if she'd been caught reading Nico's diary. “I didn't hear you come down.”

  “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” Nico moved to her and gathered her up in his arms.

  “I was just—”

  “It's okay.” He took her by the hand and turned her back to the photo gallery. “Let me introduce you to my family.”

  Nico pointed out ancestors long gone, but who were more than pictures in a frame. They were souls that lived and loved and raised up families within these walls. Handing it off with love to the next generation, confidant that a bit of their essence would always remain in the foundation of Villa Serenità. He took Natalie down through the years until they reached his parents. “Here's Saldo and Rebecca on their wedding day.”

  “Sweet.” Natalie nodded.

  “Mama died of cancer, four years ago. Papa died of a broken heart a year later.” His voice was heavy with the weight of the losses that just kept piling on top of one another.

  It was too much. He'd lost everything and everyone, yet he was standing here so straight and strong. Natalie ran her fingers down the vein in a forearm that wasn't strong enough to hold the world at bay.

  “And here's the whole family,” Nico continued to move through the photos. “Me, the oldest, then Angelina, then my brother Leandro.”

  “Beautiful family.”

  “Angelina and her husband, Thomas, my brother Leandro and his wife, Alessa...”

  Natalie smiled and commented on them all, waiting for an introduction to his wife.

  “And this is Claudia.” He picked up the photo Natalie had been eyeing earlier and handed it to Natalie.

  “She was so beautiful,” Natalie whispered.

  “Yes, she...was,” Nico paused over the past tense of the woman he loved. He placed the photo back among the others and picked up another one. “These are my bambinos. Marius, and Caterina.”

  “Oh my God, they're gorgeous. Caterina looks like her mother,” Natalie gushed.

  “Yes, she's a constant worry for a poor father.” He laughed.

  He set the picture down as if he didn't know quite where to go from there. The awkward moment was suspended in the air and Natalie breathed it in and let it out with a deep breath of her own.

  “Do you play?” She nodded at the piano.

  “No.” Nico was still lost somewhere in the past, his answer vague and far away. “Claudia did and Caterina does a little.”

  Nico sat down on the piano bench, his fingers reaching out to touch the sheet music left in place as if Claudia had just stepped away for a moment. He poked at a few keys, the dark notes echoing in the large room.

  Natalie felt a shift in the air. “Are you alright?” Now it was her turn to ask.

  “Sure.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Sure.”

  He slid over and patted the spot next to him. She let him gather his thoughts, giving him all the space he needed.

  “You know Claudia had an accident,” he started slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there's a little more to the story.” He was leaning forward, tightly coiled.

  “You don't have to talk about this,” Natalie said.

  “No.” He looked up and over at her as if looking into her eyes gave him strength. “I want to tell you everything,”

  “Then I'm ready to hear it.”

  He took a deep breath. “There were two accidents.”

  Natalie stayed still, keeping her eyes on his. Giving him the strength to dig down through the dark water into the mud below where ugly memories went to settle.

  “The accidents were a year apart. On the same day.”

  A sense of foreboding settled in the room and Natalie swallowed hard.

  “The first one was about five years ago,” Nico continued. “Claudia was coming home from an afternoon party with her girlfriends, it had been a dreary day and the fog rolled in early. She came around a corner a little too fast and didn't see the boy on his bicycle. She tried to swerve, but they both went off the road. Claudia recovered, the boy... didn't.”

  Natalie's hand flew to her mouth, as the image of the winding roads Nico had climbed last night came to mind. Steep inclines and blind curves switching back and forth. An accident waiting to happen.

  “Claudia recovered from the broken bones.” Nico stared out into the room as if a somber silhouette with dark hair falling over her shoulders was standing nearby. “But she never really recovered, if you know what I mean.”

  Natalie nodded.

  “The little boy was only seven. It was just too much for her. She tried to get better.” He looked back at Natalie now, wanting her to understand.

  “I'm sure she did.”

  “This,” he reached up and tapped the well-worn sheet music of Mozart's Requiem, “this piece of music. Claudia became obsessed with it after the accident. She'd sit here for hours, her back always perfectly straight, and she'd play it over and over as if she were lost and trying to find something in between the notes. I can still hear it now. The walls are thick with it.”

  Nico's eyes were watery with the memory. “Anyway, a year later, on the anniversary of the first accident, Claudia had another accident. In the exact same place. Who drives off a cliff twice?” he asked the room, but no one answered. “Once is an accident. Twice is...” He seemed to lose his voice and his courage.

  “Twice is what?” Natalie placed her hand on Nico's arm. “Deliberate?”

  A half-hearted shrug was all Nico could manage with Claudia's decision sitting between them. After eight months the pain was just barely below the surface, easily scratched with a fingernail.

  It wasn't too hard for Natalie to envision the torment of the young mother who took the life of a little boy who reminded her of her own son. How the dark thoughts would have taken her down in a spiral of grief and guilt. Apparently after a year of a depression she couldn't shake, she climbed into her death machine determined to get the ending she felt she deserved. The only way out was off a cliff.

  “The rest you already know about,” Nico was saying quietly.

  She knew about the four and half years in a hospital. The sixteen hundred and forty two days Nico spent waiting for a miracle. Days piled upon days talking to a woman lost in a permanent fog. Days spent raising two children who would never know just how much had been stolen from them.

  “I remember the doctors telling me they were sure Claudia couldn't hear or understand anything being said. I preferred to believe she heard it all.”

  Natalie's heart swelled with his words. Before Nico became her knight in shining armor, he was Claudia's. Keeping steadfast vigil at a beside. Believing beyond all belief that his kiss would wake the sleeping princess.

  “I'm so sorry.” Her words felt small and inadequate sitting there next to Nico's pain.

  Nico reached over and took her hands in his. “Now you know everything.”

  He squared his shoulders as if sharing the ugly part of the story was like setting down a heavy burden. She knew the feeling. Sessions with A
nne had taught her that sometimes just saying the words out loud was enough to release their hold on you.

  “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

  They moved to the couch, where Nico, always the gentleman placed a throw over Natalie's bare legs. They sat quietly, talking and sharing. Nico pulling back the curtains on his pain and confusion. While he did his best to name his emotions, Natalie recognized the struggle to find the right words. She listened to everything, paying closer attention to the things he couldn't say.

  When the subject had been exhausted Nico turned to her, sadness in his eyes. “I believe that Claudia would be happy for me in this moment, just like I would be for her.”

  “If you loved her, then I'm sure that's the kind of woman she was. The kind of woman who would want you to be happy again.”

  She wanted to believe that, too. It was a lot to take in, watching Nico still wrestling with a love for a dead wife. How difficult it must have been to make love to Natalie in a house so full of Claudia. Instead of stirring up jealousy, the bold expression of love for Claudia was an imprimatur. Nico was the real deal. Not some celluloid version concocted by a studio and a press team. Everything she'd felt last night was solidified in the morning light. Truth at their feet on a carpet thick with memories, they reached for one another and she let his kiss say everything else that needed to be said.

  29 A Gift from a God

  They decided to make a day of it. Heading into town after a late breakfast, Natalie found herself looking over the side of the road more than once, her imagination constructing horrible images that careened off the pavement and tumbled down the steep slopes. She noticed Nico crept around the hairpin corners at an unusually slow pace. Last night she'd attributed it to the darkness, now she knew it was something much scarier.

  Positano beckoned and soon Natalie was leaning forward in her seat and craning her neck for the best view of the vertical town. Cliffside dwellings raced to the sea in a cascade of sun-bleached colors. Peach, pink, and terracotta houses nestled among the bougainvillea spilling over walls and window boxes in an exuberant display.