Part 9 (1/2)

Luca smiled as he watched Peppi lop off a thick slice of sausage. ”You're getting your appet.i.te back,” he noted with obvious satisfaction. ”I told you it would happen.”

Peppi took a bite of the sausage and let out a contented sigh. ”I'm feeling better,” he said with a shrug. ”Still a little tired, but not so nervous anymore. I almost feel up to fixing that broken window in the office downstairs.”

Luca caught the mischievous look in Peppi's eye. ”Mannagia,” ”Mannagia,” he groaned. ”I thought she was going to crucify us all today.” he groaned. ”I thought she was going to crucify us all today.”

”But why, ch'e successo?” ch'e successo?” asked Peppi. ”Something bad?” asked Peppi. ”Something bad?”

”It was nothing at all,” said Luca. ”Just a bunch of silly nonsense.”

”Then why all the fuss?”

”Francesco's birthday,” replied Luca with a shrug.

”Francesco?”

”It's this week,” explained Luca. ”Lucrezia always gets a little out of control right around this time every year. Now and in the autumn, when he had his accident, G.o.d rest him. Somehow, though, I always end up forgetting about it. It wasn't until late this morning that I remembered. I had just walked in and all the workers were in a state because my daughter had been cracking the whip since the moment they arrived. I asked one of them what the trouble was and they all pointed to the calendar on the wall. That's when it dawned on me and I knew in that moment that we were all in for a very long day, and probably one or two more.”

”Poor girl,” said Peppi.

”Poor girl girl?” huffed Luca. ”What about poor me and the rest of them?”

”You'll survive,” chuckled Peppi. ”Besides, despite all the bl.u.s.ter, I can see that deep inside she loves you all. What's more, you all know it. Why else would you put up with her?”

Luca made no reply but instead swallowed another chunk of bread and cheese and washed it down with a gulp of wine. He poured himself another gla.s.sful and sat back in his chair.

”You have a point,” he finally admitted. ”But that doesn't make things any easier.”

”Whoever said life was supposed to be easy?”

At that Luca laughed, but then his face grew more serious as he stared into his gla.s.s of wine. ”Povera ragazza,” ”Povera ragazza,” he muttered. ”I just wish she could find someone, forget all this sadness and start all over again.” he muttered. ”I just wish she could find someone, forget all this sadness and start all over again.”

”It will happen someday,” said Peppi.

”But when?”

”Whenever G.o.d decides the time is right.”

”Well, I wish He'd hurry up and make up His mind,” sighed Luca, ”before the rest of us lose ours.”

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Maybe it was the wine, or perhaps he really was getting better, but Peppi went to bed early that night after Luca left and slept straight through till the morning, something he hadn't done in weeks. When he awoke the next day he felt reasonably refreshed, not yet his old self but definitely well on the way. Just the same he felt troubled, for he had awakened to the sound of someone softly crying outside. At first Peppi thought he had been dreaming, but when he opened his eyes and sat up, he heard it again. Anxious to see who it might be, he pulled his legs from beneath the covers, stretched them a little, and went to the window. He opened the shutters a crack and peered out at the morning sky. or perhaps he really was getting better, but Peppi went to bed early that night after Luca left and slept straight through till the morning, something he hadn't done in weeks. When he awoke the next day he felt reasonably refreshed, not yet his old self but definitely well on the way. Just the same he felt troubled, for he had awakened to the sound of someone softly crying outside. At first Peppi thought he had been dreaming, but when he opened his eyes and sat up, he heard it again. Anxious to see who it might be, he pulled his legs from beneath the covers, stretched them a little, and went to the window. He opened the shutters a crack and peered out at the morning sky.

It was very early; the top edge of the rising sun had barely cleared the crest of the mountains, but already Peppi could tell that it would be another warm day. Unlike the weather earlier in the week, however, there was a damp heaviness in the air now that clung to his skin like an old sweater. They were sure to get a thunderstorm before the end of the day. For now, though, all was quiet save for the sound of weeping coming from down below.

Peppi opened the shutters a little more and gazed down at the courtyard. There, beneath the arbor with its grapevines hanging down, surrounded by the gardens with the flowers just opening their petals to the morning light, sat Lucrezia. Oblivious to the beauty all around her, she stared blindly into the distance, her eyes and cheeks wet with tears. Clutching a picture frame tight to her heart, she rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably now.

Transfixed, Peppi stood there and watched the pitiful scene from his window. He tried to turn away, but he could not take his eyes off her, for he recognized the deep anguish in her sobs, the inconsolable grief. The pain. They all reminded him of his own. But his pain was relatively new, the result of wounds that were still fresh. It struck him through to think that Lucrezia or anyone could still suffer so greatly from such old wounds, ones that should have healed long ago.

Peppi finally stepped away from the window, ashamed of himself for having spied on Lucrezia at such a vulnerable moment. He sat back on the bed and stared at the floor, trying not to listen, to allow her the privacy she obviously wanted. After a time, he turned and took the picture of Anna from the table beside the bed. He gazed at his wife, trying to recall everything about her. Her voice, the smell of her hair, the soft feel of her cheek. To his dismay, he found that already those precious memories were starting to fade.

With a sigh, Peppi lay back on the bed and rested the picture of Anna on the pillow beside him. He closed his eyes in the hope of falling asleep again, but by now sleep had been chased away by the light of the new day and the tender lament of Lucrezia's tears drifting up from the courtyard. Peppi tried rolling away from the window and burying his ears in the pillow, but it didn't help. Somehow that only seemed to make the sound and the light that much more insistent. Letting out a groan of consternation, he set Anna's picture back on the table, pulled himself out of bed, and dressed quickly.

Lucrezia was still there when Peppi peeked around the corner of the building. He stepped out onto the gravel path that led through the center of the courtyard and walked toward her. The crunching of the stones beneath his shoes alerted Lucrezia to his presence. At seeing Peppi approach, she jumped up and began to walk away.

”Buon giorno, Signorina,” Peppi said with his usual warmth. ”Forgive me for startling you. Please don't go.” Peppi said with his usual warmth. ”Forgive me for startling you. Please don't go.”

Lucrezia stopped short in her tracks and turned slowly around. Still clutching the photograph, she looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. ”You didn't startle me,” she said tersely. ”It's just that I was...what I mean to say is that I...How long were you there watching me?”

”Oh, I just came down a few moments ago,” Peppi told her. ”Please, go ahead and sit back down. I didn't come to bother you.”

To his surprise, Lucrezia did sit back down on the bench, though she looked not at him but away toward the mountains. Peppi walked up to the bench and gestured to the s.p.a.ce beside her.

”May I?” he asked.

Lucrezia responded with a shrug, as if to say that it made no difference to her one way or the other. Peppi took a seat. They sat for a long time in awkward silence.

”Che bella mattina, eh?” Peppi finally remarked. ”It's a beautiful morning.” Peppi finally remarked. ”It's a beautiful morning.”

”I hadn't noticed,” said Lucrezia, still gazing off into the distance. Abruptly she turned to him. ”Are you sure you weren't over there hiding in the bushes, spying on me?” she said menacingly.

”Of course not,” Peppi rea.s.sured her.

”Good,” she said firmly, ”because I don't like people who stick their noses into other people's business.”

”I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing,” said Peppi. At that Lucrezia seemed to relax a little. ”No,” he went on, ”I wasn't hiding in the bushes. Actually I was watching you from my window.”

Lucrezia let out a gasp of indignation. ”How could you do such a thing!” she cried out.

”Well, it's very quiet here in the early morning,” Peppi calmly explained, ”and it was hard not to hear you. Don't be angry with me. You see, I saw you sitting here all alone and you looked so sad. To tell you the truth, I've been feeling alone and sad myself for some time now, and I just thought that maybe I'd come down and we could both sit here and be alone and sad together for a little while and maybe both of us would feel better.”

Peppi looked into Lucrezia's eyes. He wasn't sure if what he saw in them was outrage or resignation. In either case, though, she did not get up and leave as he feared she might. Instead she slumped against the arbor and let out a long sigh. She suddenly looked as weary as he felt.

Peppi nodded to the picture in her hands. ”May I have a look?” he said.

Very tentatively, as if she were holding a baby or some rare object of incalculable value, Lucrezia handed him the picture frame. Peppi held it up before him and studied the face of the young man in the picture.

”Your husband was a fine, strong-looking man,” he said after a time. ”I can see why you miss him so.”

”Grazie,” she murmured in reply. She looked about at the gardens with sad eyes. ”Francesco and I, we used to sit here together all the time,” she said. ”It was beautiful then like it is now.” she murmured in reply. She looked about at the gardens with sad eyes. ”Francesco and I, we used to sit here together all the time,” she said. ”It was beautiful then like it is now.”