Hepburn's Necklace

by Jan Moran

  And now she was back on the shores of this beautiful lake where she had been united with the love of her life, if only for a brief time. She had never regretted the magic that she and Niccolò had shared here.

  If Ruby were going to die, it would be with a view of the little church’s bell tower outside of her window and Niccolò’s name on her lips. She would end her life where it had really started.

  Each of those days was suspended in her memory like a perfectly faceted prism that shimmered with the radiance of love. Ruby smiled. The love they had shared was her most precious possession; that which had flowed from their union she would cherish until her last breath.

  Watching her, Ariana frowned. “Are you alright?”

  Ruby blinked back tears forming on her lashes. “Of course, I am, my dear.” She pressed her pinkie finger to the corner of her eyes. “I’m an actress; I’m dramatic by nature.”

  “Allow me,” Cesare said, handing her a pressed handkerchief.

  Ruby accepted it, and she noticed the look of surprise on Ariana’s face. “Such a lovely gesture, isn’t it?” Not many men carried handkerchiefs these days.

  Glancing down at it, she saw the initial N embroidered on the fine cloth. Why would Cesare be carrying this? Ruby dabbed her eyes and handed it back to him.

  Here on Lake Como, reminders of Niccolò were everywhere. Were they mere coincidences or perfect synchronicity?

  Chapter 19

  Rome, 1952

  * * *

  Blinded by tears, Ruby pawed through her purse to find the lire to pay the taxi driver. “Grazie,” she mumbled, fumbling at the door handle.

  The driver hurried to open the door and help her, but she shrugged him off. She didn’t want anyone’s help; she only wanted to be left alone. Still in shock over the argument between Niccolò and his father just minutes ago, she staggered through the darkening night toward the small inn where she was staying. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks, and she angrily brushed them away.

  The pensione owner, a kind middle-aged woman who’d helped her settle into Rome, looked up from her desk at her in alarm. “Mio Dio. Signorina Raines, stai bene?”

  Searching for words, Ruby sliced her hands through the air. “Niccolò, finito.”

  The woman’s face crumpled in sympathy, and she reached out to Ruby.

  Anxious to shut out the world, Ruby shook her head and rushed toward the staircase. She stumbled up the dimly lit steps, her anguish escalating with each riser until she reached her room.

  With her heart breaking over Niccolò and his father’s rejection of their marriage, Ruby flung herself onto the bed in her room at the pensione. In the dark, she clutched the half of the silver heart she wore and sobbed into the pillow, her stomach twisting in on itself in agony.

  She loved Niccolò with all her heart, but Niccolò was torn between her and his family. Unquestionably, his father would force him to annul their marriage. She couldn’t rip Niccolò from the family he cherished.

  These thoughts twisted in her heart like a knife, carving out all the happiness she’d found in Lake Como. She’d prayed that his father wouldn’t react this way. As the moon outside her window rose in the sky, she cried herself to exhaustion.

  Suddenly, she awoke to the sound of pounding on her door.

  “Ruby, it’s me.” Niccolò’s hoarse whisper echoed through the door.

  Groaning, Ruby turned her back to the door. Unable to bear hearing words of finality from Niccolò, she pressed her hands against her ears. Yet she could still hear his muffled knocking, which grew more insistent.

  Fearing he would wake neighboring guests, she pushed herself from the bed and dragged toward the door. Her blouse was damp with tears, and her hair was in disarray, but she didn’t care.

  Leaning against the door, she said, “If you’ve come to tell me it’s over, just go away. Don’t say it, don’t apologize. I can’t bear to hear it.” She slid to the floor and hugged her knees.

  Anywhere in the world was better than being here. As soon as the director released Ruby from the film, she would go home. To the ranch. Or maybe she could go early. Bending her head over her legs, she let tears trickle onto her bare knees. She couldn’t manage here anymore. Not with a broken heart.

  “I’ll never let you go,” Niccolò pleaded hoarsely, jiggling the knob. “Let me in. Per favore, cuore mio. We can’t talk like this.”

  Ruby lifted her head, considering his words. Never let you go. Did he mean them? She scrubbed her hands over her face. Grasping his lifeline, she rose on unsteady feet to open the door.

  Niccolò swept her into his arms. “Quanto ti amo,” he murmured, crushing her to his chest.

  “I love you, too,” Ruby cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

  In the next instant, Niccolò’s mouth was on hers, and she hungrily returned his kiss, needing his touch, craving his reassurance.

  They bumbled their way through the tiny, moonlit room, running their hands over each other’s face, reassuring one another of their love until they reached the bed.

  Ruby caught her breath. She had to know. “What happened after I left?”

  “It was…terrible.” Niccolò raked his hand through his thick hair, leaving it in disarray. “My father can’t see that we are meant for each other. We are married, and that’s forever.”

  Until death. Ruby would sooner die than live without Niccolò. “But, your family…”

  Niccolò clasped her hands in his. “I will love you forever. My mother understands, and in time, my father will, too.”

  Although Carolina Mancini had welcomed her into the family, Dante had exploded. “What if he never does?”

  Niccolò’s grip on her hands intensified. “Anima mia, our love will last through this. You are my wife. Trust me,” he said, his voice catching. “You must believe me.”

  The moonlight lit Niccolò’s face, illuminating his earnest expression. Ruby chose to believe him, even though every nerve in her body twitched in warning.

  “I do,” she murmured. Closing her eyes, she met his lips, forcing the events of the evening from her mind. Together, like this, she could imagine that they were still in Lake Como. Without the burden of family disapproval. If only they could return to where they’d been so happy.

  Wordlessly, they slipped from their clothes, finding their truth in the love they shared.

  As the moon cast its glow upon them, Ruby rested in the protection of Niccolò’s arms. This moment was all that mattered. With her head nestled in the crook of his neck, she fixed this picture in her mind. Tomorrow, their world might splinter again, but she couldn’t think of that. She drew her fingers across her husband’s chest and watched his breath slow until, exhausted, they both fell into a deadened slumber.

  In the morning, every muscle in Ruby’s body ached from the stress of yesterday. When she tried to lift her head from Niccolò’s chest, her forehead throbbed. She wasn’t just tired; she was weary to the core of her being.

  Only once before had Ruby felt such emotional destruction. In the spring of her twelfth year, a tornado had darkened the horizon near her parent’s ranch in the midst of a thunderstorm. When her father spied it in the distance, he and Ruby drove the horses and livestock from the barn and away from their house. Animals had a natural instinct and would fare better outside of structures that could be demolished and cause injury.

  Afterward, with the tornado upon them, they’d closed the barn door and hunkered down. Ruby saw a mixture of terror, sadness, and resolve in her father’s lined face. He clutched her and shielded her body with his under a thick stack of horse blankets, and she could hear his fervent, whispered prayers in the dark as the tornado roared toward them.

  Miraculously shifting at the last minute, the twister narrowly missed the barn and the house. When Ruby and her father emerged from the barn, they were stunned at the damage surrounding them. The tornado had ripped through a pasture, dismantling fences and lofting them like toothpicks, then scattering broken p
ieces across the land. Trees laden with fruit had been uprooted—even century-old live oaks. Mangled equipment lay twisted around them.

  To this day, Ruby still remembered how drained and bone-tired she’d felt after the calamity.

  She’d grown up that day, and the thought that her parents were in control of their world vanished. While she rebuilt the fence with her father, Ruby’s childhood veneer was scraped away, nail by nail, board by board. As tall as her mother and on the brink of womanhood, Ruby faced the daily hardships of ranch life along with her parents. And on the adjoining property, her sister Patricia toiled long days beside her husband on their ranch.

  Though several years had passed, Ruby still had moments of feeling like a scared child hiding under horse blankets. While she’d learned to hold her head up and get on with whatever task she had to do like an adult, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t impervious to anxiety and loss.

  Ruby bit her lip as she thought of the events of last night. When Niccolò’s father had lashed out at her and Niccolò, she worried that she should have stood up to him more. She had tried to, but she was an interloper in the family. Dante’s anger was like that tornado, sucking the air from the room and leaving destruction in its wake.

  Now tucked in Niccolò’s safe embrace, Ruby listened to the early morning chatter of the pensione proprietor and vendors outside her window. The smell of fresh-baked bread wafted to her nose.

  Niccolò stroked her hair, his touch as gentle as the breeze on Lake Como. “Are you awake?”

  As long as Ruby kept her eyes closed, she wouldn’t have to talk about last night or Niccolò’s argument with his father. Or what their future might hold.

  She sighed. But she’d also learned that when a storm approached, you fought for what was yours.

  “I’m awake,” she said, opening her eyes. His half of the silver heart gleamed against his sun-bronzed chest in the morning light.

  “I’m not going home anymore,” he said, kissing her forehead. “My home is with you now.”

  “When the film shoot is over, I have to return to the states.” When Niccolò’s smile drooped, she added, “Come with me. You can sign with my agent. He’ll find work for you. I’ve been sleeping on my aunt’s couch in Hollywood, but we can find a little place.”

  “I want to,” he said. “But I need more money for my passage. I have to have the right papers to travel. And a passport.”

  “You don’t have one?”

  “Never needed one before.”

  Ruby ran her fingers across his brow. “How long do you think that will take?”

  “The money or the passport?”

  “Both, I guess.” Ruby drew in her lower lip in thought. She had to help her husband, but she’d made a commitment to her family. She’d taken very little of her salary on the film for herself. “Once I return, I’ll find work. I can help, too. Though I promised my family—”

  Niccolò pressed a finger to her lips. “Keep your promise to them. I would have no pride if I accepted your money. I will do this.”

  She understood, but every day away from him would be agony. “I don’t want to be apart from you,” Ruby whispered.

  Niccolò drew her closer. “It won’t take long. That is my promise to you.”

  “We can write to each other,” Ruby said, tracing his jawline. “Every day.”

  Niccolò laughed. “My English…I’m sorry, I don’t write it very well. Many of your words have strange spellings, and I get them wrong. A lot, I’m told.”

  “I don’t care. I want to hear from you.” She threaded her fingers through his thick hair. “Write to me in Italian. I’m learning.”

  He shook his head in resignation. “I can’t promise every day. I’ll be working as much as I can.”

  “Acting, do you think?” Ruby asked.

  “Doing anything I can as long as it gets me to you.” Niccolò cupped her face in his hands. “Cuore mio, you are my only love, forever.”

  Ruby lifted her lips to his in a kiss that she never wanted to end. Until they parted, she would cherish every day as if it were a perfect pearl, stringing them together in a necklace of memories.

  * * *

  Over the next two weeks, the director completed filming most of the scenes in Roman Holiday. With every passing day, Ruby felt her time with Niccolò growing more precious than ever.

  Now, wearing a white lace dress with full sleeves and a tiny, belted waist, Ruby stood waiting in the Sala Grande Galleria of the Palazzo Colonna, one of Rome’s grandest palaces. It was hundreds of years old, and the Colonna family still lived there. Ruby craned her head, never tiring of the Renaissance splendor, which was so unlike anything she’d ever seen.

  Marble columns rose to the ceiling, and paintings in ornate gold frames stared down at them. Niccolò pointed out masterpieces by Caravaggio, Bronzino, Carrici, Locatelli.

  Ruby gazed up. Overhead, frescoes swirled in brilliant detail and color. Sparkling Murano chandeliers lit the room. And underfoot, marble floors gleamed in richly veined onyx, ivory, and carnelian red. The majesty of the setting was utterly awe-inspiring. Even though Ruby was still only standing in for Audrey, she pulled back her shoulders, sensing the need to reach higher in the presence of such great artistry.

  In the salon, Mr. Wyler’s crew had set up additional lighting and equipment. The director and the lighting supervisor were conferring with other cast and crew members, while grips and gaffers made the necessary adjustments for the scene.

  Niccolò would also be in the scene, posing as an extra reporter in the crowd behind Gregory Peck and Eddie Albert. He was already in costume, wearing a suit with his hair combed back.

  Audrey sat beside her, her posture regal, studying the scene just as Ruby was. She glanced at Ruby. “Can you believe the filming is almost over? Being here has been such a dream. I never imagined that I would have such a break. Have you enjoyed Italy?”

  “More than I can say.” Instinctively, Ruby reached for the silver half-heart around her neck, but she’d removed it for this scene. Now she wore a double pearl choker with a jeweled centerpiece. She touched it instead with her white-gloved fingers.

  “Where is your sweetheart?” Audrey asked, turning in her director’s chair.

  “Niccolò is running lines with the press extras.” Mr. Wyler had put out a casting call for real press professionals from foreign publications, and many had answered the call. Ruby smiled at Audrey and decided to confide in her—a little, anyway. “He’s planning on coming to Hollywood as soon as he can.”

  As Audrey’s dark, winged eyebrows shot up with glee, Ruby felt her cheeks color. No one on the set knew that she and Niccolò were married. For now, that was their delicious secret. They had agreed to wait until she told her parents, and, of course, she wanted Niccolò with her. Since Dante Mancini had exploded, Ruby was more nervous than ever about telling her parents, even though she knew she would disappoint her father. She glanced up at the ceiling again, mesmerized by the artistry. Ranch life simply wasn’t for her anymore. Not with so many fascinating places in the world to explore—and Niccolò by her side.

  “Where do you think you’ll be married?” Audrey asked.

  Ruby was bursting to tell her everything, but she’d promised Niccolò. “Somewhere beautiful and romantic,” she said, recalling their holiday in Lake Como.

  The only person Ruby and Niccolò confided in was the pensione owner, who became concerned about Ruby’s reputation since Niccolò was staying over so much. When they told her, the woman had kissed them on the cheeks and wished them much happiness and many children. Ruby and Niccolò had laughed at that last part. They had plenty of time for a family. Many years, they assured her. First, they would become great actors and travel the world.

  A smile danced on Audrey’s lips. “You should marry in Italy. I’m going to return as soon as I can.”

  “I’d like that, too,” Ruby said, continuing the ruse. But maybe she and Niccolò could return later. An idea struck her. “
If I could live anywhere in Italy, I’d choose Lake Como.”

  Audrey looked at her with a knowing glance. “I think you fell in love in Lake Como.”

  “Irrevocably,” Ruby said, trying out one of her new vocabulary words. She grinned, and the two women shared a laugh.

  Mr. Wyler called for Ruby to stand in while they checked the lighting and camera angles.

  They were reshooting the last scene, as the director hadn’t been satisfied with previous takes. Mr. Wyler was a perfectionist, and Ruby felt fortunate to work with him. She’d learned so much on the set, listening to everything. She’d gained more insights as a stand-in than in her brief scene or as an extra.

  Mr. Wyler made his way toward them. Speaking to Audrey, he said, “This will be a scene of great restraint. Here, you choose duty over love, a love that you cannot reveal, yet you try to convey to the one person who matters.”

  Listening to the directors, Ruby thought about how that might apply to her life. Would she ever choose duty over love? She couldn’t imagine that. Her father couldn’t force her into a future she didn’t want. She was almost eighteen, an adult, really, and now, a married woman. She hugged her waist with happiness.

  Mr. Wyler asked Ruby to stand in for a final check before filming began. Audrey winked at her before the two women parted.

  “Good, now move a step toward stage left,” Mr. Wyler said, checking her marks. “And would someone move that pot of red geraniums?”

  When Ruby glanced back, she saw Niccolò. After a union crew member moved it, he plucked one of the red flowers and tucked it behind his ear.

  She smothered a laugh, which earned a good-natured frown from Mr. Wyler.

  Niccolò was impossible, and she loved him with all her heart.

  * * *

  At last, the film crew wrapped the primary filming and released most of the cast members, though the main stars—Audrey, Gregory, and Eddie—would stay a little longer. Ruby booked passage on a steamship to New York, where she would catch a train to Texas to see her family before continuing to Hollywood. Her agent sent her a telegram. Lining up auditions for your return. Be ready to knock it out of the park. Joseph was a big baseball fan. That always amused her.