Lost in Carmel

by Terri Lee

  “Nico says Caterina is remorseful and swears she had no idea that things would blow up like this.” Natalie snorted in derision. “I say, it was her intention all along, to blow everything up. She may be able to bat her eyelashes at her daddy and have him believe she’s contrite, but that won’t work on me. Poor Nico. He asked me if I’d be willing to meet with her, so she could apologize face to face.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” Anne nudged.

  “I told him… I’m sorry, but no. I don’t have the energy to deal with Caterina right now. With all that I’m handling, I can barely make it through the day as it is. I saw the pain in his eyes, and it hurt me… but the reality is, I’m afraid it would only make things worse. I can’t accept an apology when I don’t believe her. No matter how much I want to for Nico’s sake.”

  “I’m sure he understands that you need time.”

  “He understands that I’m overwhelmed, not that I don’t believe his daughter is sorry.” Natalie sighed. “I have to wonder what it was, exactly, that Caterina saw when she looked at me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, is she a prophet? Did she look in my eyes and see the destruction waiting like a storm on the horizon? And if that’s so, then who can blame her for trying to save her father?”

  Anne frowned in her direction.

  “I know she’s not a prophet. She didn’t foresee the future, she engineered it.” Natalie tossed the pillow aside with a grunt. “I remember Monty saying when he first came here, that I looked like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. He was righter than he knew. Now all the headlines are echoing the same refrain. I was a princess pretending I was just a regular girl until the real world came and dragged me away. Maybe Caterina was right, I had no business coming here and playing with someone’s life. I don’t know why I let myself fall in love or where I thought this was going. There was no happy ending waiting for me and, in the process, I broke a good man’s heart.”

  Anne crossed the room to join her client and friend on the overstuffed sofa. “No. You aren’t responsible for breaking his heart. And whatever happened with the prophet Caterina is not your fault. You’re two adults who entered a relationship. You were both coming from a fragile place, and as far as I remember, you were very upfront about your future being an unknown entity. He entered in willingly. Each of you is responsible for your own decisions and therefore, your own heart.”

  “Theoretically I know you’re right. But my heart begs to differ.”

  “I’m not going to fill your head with platitudes.” Anne locked her gaze on Natalie. “We both know a long-distance relationship is challenging at best and an intercontinental romance adds another layer of difficulty. The two of you will have to work very hard to overcome the odds.” Anne laid her hand over Natalie’s. “Maybe you’re the ones to do it.”

  “Yeah, maybe we will.”

  “Then again… sometimes, things just don’t work out… and it’s no one’s fault. I was going to say you’ll be fine, either way. But you’ll be more than fine. You’re going to be great.”

  “I’ll take that as a professional prognosis.”

  As they parted, Anne tucked her business card into Natalie’s palm with a smile. “My personal number is on the back. As before, feel free to use it anytime. Day or night.”

  Closing her fingers around the small white card, Natalie closed her eyes, letting the déjà vu moment wash over her. Now, she pulled Anne into a tight hug while she choked back tears. “How can I ever thank you?”

  “Simple, go and live your best life. One last thing; remember, you’re stronger than you know. You’ve always been stronger than you thought.”

  “Like Dorothy, with her little red shoes?”

  Anne’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Something like that.”

  45 Arrivederci

  Suitcases and boxes were stacked at the front door, waiting to be loaded into the van Monty had procured for her trip to the airport.

  “I’ll make one last sweep around the apartment,” Nora said.

  Natalie nodded silently. Her mother had made the trip over just to hold her hand on the way back, and Natalie was grateful.

  Her eyes roamed over the parchment colored stucco walls as she made her own final inspection. It wasn’t things that were being left behind, but rather a piece of herself. A bit of her soul that couldn’t be packed among the folds of tissue paper for the journey home. Fingers trailed over the mural in the dining room, the same fresco she’d marveled over on her first morning in Rome.

  What a gift she’d been given, to live within these walls. Here, she’d grown, healed, and fought her way back from the darkest of days. Her story would be one more layer upon centuries of others. A tangled mix of loves and lives. Beginnings and endings.

  A knock at the door startled her from her reverie. Her heart leapt at the sight of Nico.

  “Nico, come in.” When she reached out for his hand, she noticed he was shaking, or maybe it was her.

  “Looks like you’re ready.” Nico nodded at the pile of luggage.

  “No. I’m not ready, but I’m packed.”

  He pulled her into the circle of his arms, her cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. She stood motionless, in the elastic moment, breathing in the scent of him. The barely-there trace of aftershave. The soapy clean fragrance of his skin. His skin. She wanted to coil around him, and never let go. This last week had been a series of farewells, but she knew she would never be able to say good-bye to Nico.

  “It’s not good-bye,” Nico said, reading her mind. “We’ll spend a fortune on long distance phone calls. We’ll write love letters that the world will still be talking about a hundred years from now. And as soon as it’s feasible we’ll meet. Here. There. Somewhere in the middle.” He tried to smile but the corners of his mouth refused to cooperate.

  God, she loved this man. “I know I’m doing the right thing, but dammit why does it hurt so much?”

  “I guess that’s how we know it’s the right thing.” Nico’s shoulders rose and fell in slow motion.

  Natalie could feel the tears beginning to sting as the truth escaped and ran down her cheeks.

  “Don’t cry, my love.” Nico lifted her chin with one finger, meeting her tear-filled gaze.

  “I’m not that strong. I’ll fold like a house of cards if you cry.”

  Natalie sniffed back the tears and squared her shoulders in a show of strength, but they both knew it was false bravado.

  “Nico.” Nora swept into the room. “I’m so happy that I get the chance to say good-bye.”

  She held out her hand for Nico, but he took it and pulled her into a tight hug.

  “Arrivederci, Nora.” He leaned towards her ear and spoke in a stage whisper, while his eyes swept back to Natalie. “Take good care of our girl.”

  “She’s in good hands.” Nora patted Nico’s arm. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit California. Now I have the perfect reason.”

  A car horn honked outside, and Natalie looked up into Nico’s face with dismay. She was Cinderella and the clock just struck midnight.

  While Nora left to deal with the driver, Nico pulled Natalie into the other room.

  “I want you to have this. But don’t read it right now.” He placed a folded slip of paper in her hands and kissed her forehead.

  Natalie looked up at him. “Over these last couple of days, I’ve thought of so many things I wanted to tell you in this moment, but now that my heart is in my throat, I can’t seem to get the words out.”

  “You don’t have to say the words, my love. I already know everything you want to say, because they’re the same words I want to say to you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his cheek. “I love you. I love you. “

  He kissed her. Long. Hard. The kind of kiss you send someone home with, so they never forget you. Natalie struggled to hold back t
he tears as she clung to the bleeding edges of each second.

  Nico walked her to the van with the slow deliberate steps of a death-row inmate and she was grateful for the strong arm to lean on, because her own shaky legs couldn’t be trusted. Standing at the car door, she glanced up at the house one last time, then let her gaze drift down Monserrato to her little piazza before whispering, “Arrivederci Roma.”

  The driver pulled onto the cobblestone street as Natalie turned to look over her shoulder. The sight of Nico, her centurion, standing with arms dropped at his sides, defeated, tore the last bit of Natalie’s heart from its mooring. Nora reached over and patted her arm with quiet reassurance. “Don’t look back, honey.”

  The breath Natalie had been holding blew out in a rush, and as her lungs emptied of air, she felt as if her entire being was being emptied as well. Looking down, she remembered the paper in her hand and with shaking fingers unfolded the note from Nico.

  * * *

  My darling Natalie;

  Hold onto my heart as you make your way to Los Angeles. I have enough love to stretch across the ocean and back. We will weather this storm and when the skies have cleared, and we are back in one another’s arms then the world will be as it should be. Until then, carry my love with you and keep it tucked under your pillow at night. The miles between us may be many, but our love is infinite. We are infinite.

  * * *

  She read it twice, lingering over the last verse as her finger caressed the words. We are infinite.

  46 Three Rings

  May 1988

  “Good morning,” Sandra said as she spread her notebooks on the patio table. Her blonde hair was twisted in a messy bun on top of her head, where she’d stuck an extra pencil.

  Natalie couldn’t help noticing the cheerfulness of the salutation, a noticeable departure from the usual mumbled greeting.

  “What has you in such a good mood?”

  “Am I in a good mood?”

  “I don’t know, are you?” Natalie teased.

  “Why yes, I think I am. Maybe it’s because I met my hero yesterday.”

  Natalie wrinkled her brow in her biographer’s direction. “Who did you meet?”

  “Doris Day.” Sandra all but clapped her hands. “You know I’m staying at The Cypress Inn, and she was there having dinner. She’s my all-time favorite. I’ve loved her forever.”

  “Hasn’t everyone? Did you get to speak to her?”

  “Kind of.” Sandra blushed. “I was eating in the dining room last night when she swept into the room. She stopped at several tables to say hello. By the time she got to me, I was a nervous wreck. When she asked how I was enjoying my stay, all I could say was, ‘I’ve seen every movie you’ve ever made. Twice.’ Ugh. I was such an idiot.”

  Natalie smiled over the recognition that everyone, no matter how jaded or seemingly detached from such celebrity nonsense, was still capable of having a fan moment. That instant when your celluloid heroine stepped off the screen and showed up in your hotel dining room could transform even a nonplussed New Yorker, into the young girl with celebrity posters on her wall. Natalie had witnessed it firsthand more times than she could count. The glazed look in the eyes. The sputtering.

  “I’m sure Doris didn’t even notice.”

  “Do you know her?” Sandra eyed her client with a newfound respect.

  “Only a little. Doris pretty much keeps to herself. As do I. But we have run into one another a couple of times over the years. She sent me a very gracious card welcoming me to the neighborhood when I moved to Carmel. She’s always been a sweetheart.”

  “Oh,” Sandra gushed. “That’s exactly how I picture her.”

  After shifting books and notepads around, Sandra seemed ready to begin.

  “Are you ready for another round?” she asked. “We covered a lot of ground in the past few days.”

  Wrapping both hands around her coffee mug Natalie drew in a deep breath looking for the courage to excavate beyond the surface. Dust that had taken years to settle, swirled into a fresh cloud, as she and Sandra scratched at the dirt. Memories, tucked safely away in shoe boxes along with tattered clippings, had crept into her room last night stealing what little sleep she had left, after roaming the halls well past midnight.

  “Oh yeah,” Natalie said with a wry smile. “Can’t wait. Yesterday was just the headlines.”

  Sandra clicked on the tape recorder. “Alright then. So, yesterday we left off with you flying back to LA to address the situation.”

  “Situations,” Natalie corrected her. “Remember, I was fighting wars on three fronts. Or more accurately, I was the center of a three-ring circus. The studio, Stan, and my public image, which was being dragged through the muck. God bless Monty, he found me a darling house out in Malibu which went a long way in soothing my soul because I felt like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. Parts of me were laying all over the sidewalk and I was running around picking up straw and trying to stuff it back in.”

  Sandra flipped through her research notebook filled with her own clippings. Noticing the colored tab marked ‘divorce’, Natalie grimaced at the copies of articles relating to that dark chapter of her life.

  “If I remember correctly,” Sandra said, “Stan took it all the way to court, didn't he?”

  “Oh yeah,” Natalie said. “All the way. He wouldn’t give an inch. Nothing left unsaid. Nothing off the table. Our divorce was groundbreaking in Hollywood.”

  Sandra looked over at Natalie, eyebrows arched.

  “Historically,” Natalie continued, “it’s unusual for celebrities to air their dirty laundry. Studios, managers, and publicity agents work overtime to keep divorces and affairs out of the papers and to spin ugly truths into another Hollywood fairytale. You know, so and so are committed to remaining friends and co-parenting… blah blah blah. Rarely does the public hear the nitty gritty details in a celebrity divorce. But Stan was on a mission. He was hell-bent on destroying me.”

  “Did he?” Sandra locked her gaze on Natalie.

  An old sigh precipitated Natalie’s reply. “The short answer is yes, and no. A funny thing happened on my way to the courthouse.” Natalie grinned. “Sounds like the opening lines to a stand-up routine. But the truth of the matter was, the more Stan fed the tabloid monster, the more they printed about my breakdown, my hospital stay, working with Anne… all of it…the more they said, the stronger I got.”

  “How so?” Sandra looked up from her scribbling.

  “It set me free.” Natalie shrugged. “Since the rumors were already out there, I had no reason to hide, to whitewash things, to spin the story in the vain attempt at saving my career. I no longer cared about saving my career. I was gloriously unrestricted.”

  Natalie leaned back against the flowered cushion and allowed the decade old recollection to step out into the light. After a moment she spoke up.

  “On second thought, it’s not accurate to say I had no desire to save my career. That’s not entirely true. I loved acting. Still do. The bare bones of it. The crawling inside a role and losing oneself in the telling of a story. Although, it’s been a while.

  “What I mean is… I came back from Rome a different person. What I no longer cared about was polishing an image. Posing and pretending for the cameras and the magazines.”

  “But in the end, you won custody.” Sandra smiled.

  “Yes. And I have the battle scars to prove it.” Natalie picked at the cuticle on her thumb as she took a breather. “The problem is, I’m not the only one with scars. The shrapnel hit everyone who was close to the firing range. Mostly Tess. The cynical part of me couldn't help thinking Stan’s custody battle was all about money. After all, if he won, he would be getting child support from me instead of the other way around. But with the perspective that time and distance has allowed me, I’d like to think he was actually concerned about Tess and deep down in his little raisin of a heart he thought he was doing the right thing.”

  Sandra stifled a grin as she scribble
d something in her notebook.

  “Look, it’s not my intention to use this book as a club to bludgeon Stanley over the head. That’s an old story. But I did promise myself that if I was going to cooperate with this biography, I was damn well going to tell the truth. If he has a problem with it, I guess he can write his own book.

  “Divorce is hard enough in the best of circumstances…” Natalie’s voice trailed off along with the memory. “But this… was a circus.”

  She remembered the gauntlet of press she was forced to wade through each morning on her way into the courthouse. Alligators snapping at her heels. Flashbulbs popping, elbows jostling, journalists shouting, ‘Natalie, give us a statement.’ As if she owed them a look inside at the flesh ripped from her ribs and the heart hanging by a single thread. As if the clenched jaw and shaking hands weren’t enough for them to witness and write about.

  It was a world where nothing made sense. A place where headlines screamed about the state of her mental health, her father’s suicide, and the seriousness of the dual lawsuits, all the while, frivolously dissecting her wardrobe and accessories.

  “For the first time in my life, I received hate mail.” Natalie pulled a couple of worn envelopes from the stack of mementos and slid them across the table. “I saved a couple of the worst offenders as a reminder.”

  Sandra’s mouth drew into a tight line as she read one of the letters dripping with self-righteous indignation. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow. Grenades were launched at Monty as well.” Natalie shook her head at the recollection. “Because he dared to accompany me to court on several occasions.”

  “What kind of grenades?”

  “Sideways comments about his sexuality. Hitting him where it hurt the most. Lobbing any insinuation that would generate the biggest headlines. It was 1979. Although we couldn’t talk about such things, the press could sure as hell hint at them. And whispers were enough to take down someone’s career. It was a feeding frenzy. That’s how I remember it.”