Chapter 19
Hanna
Nervously, I turn the Olivettas’ family album in my hands. I can't believe I did it. But when Vico left, I couldn't resist going back upstairs to retrieve it. Carefully, I cleaned it from dust, cobwebs, and dirt, restoring the golden inscription, though the chewed corners remained untouched. It's not my place to look through it, and I have no intention of doing so. I just wanted to save it. If it had been left there, it might have been lost during the renovations. It's probably filled with beautiful memories, deserving of a special place.
Not with Vico, who probably cares little about family. But maybe with Camilla, whose house I'm heading for right now.
I find her on the Hollywood swing in the shade of the bungalow. She’s fanning herself with a magazine, and her belly appears to have grown even more.
"Hanna, how nice of you to come." She waves me over. "It's terribly boring just sitting around." Her rosy cheeks rise.
Instinctively, I hide the album behind my back and take a seat beside her on the green-and-white-striped cushion of the swing. "How are the babies doing?"
"I think they're doing well." She lovingly strokes her belly.
That's great news. "You must be excited," I say.
"Mainly, I can't wait to see my legs again." A bright laugh escapes her lips, then her gaze softens. "I can't wait to hold the two little ones in my arms."
I can't help but swallow hard. There's nothing more beautiful than a stable family, where everyone supports and stands by each other. Since my disastrous incident at school, I've yearned for it. But the way my mother was ashamed of me changed our relationship. And because I refused to give up my daydreaming for far too long, we drifted further apart until we barely knew each other.
I shouldn't dwell on that now, so I force a smile. "When's the big day?"
"In three weeks. But I really hope they come out a bit earlier." She reaches for the glass on the side table and takes a sip. "Would you like something to drink too?"
Quickly, I shake my head. She should rest instead of entertaining me. "I wanted to talk to you about something." After all, I'm here for a specific reason.
Her brow furrows. "Did Vico let you down again?"
"Don't worry, he's…" Yes, how is he, actually? An exciting mix of aloofness and free spirit is the first thing that comes to mind. Of course, that's nonsense. "He's doing a great job," I say. Before she can respond, I take out the album. "He found this."
For a moment, she freezes, then with a tender smile, she reaches for the album. Lovingly, her finger traces over the inscription. "Where was it?" she whispers reverently.
"Upstairs. Second-to-last room on the right side of the hallway."
As I speak, she turns her head toward me. "Vico entered that room?" She looks at me in disbelief. "Unbelievable," she murmurs so softly I can barely hear it.
Now I should ask her. But her wistful expression holds me back. "I thought you might like it. For the memories."
Suddenly, her eyes well up with tears. "Yes. Thank you, Hanna. This is really…" She clutches the album to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I move closer to her and wrap my arms around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"It's okay," she presses out, followed by an extended sniffle. "It's not your fault."
Helplessly, I stroke her back until she calms down a bit. "Family means a lot to you, I understand that all too well."
She nods against my shoulder. "It comes first. Our roots define us, after all."
"Like this estate is one of your roots." It hurts to say the words because suddenly, I know they're true. No one here wants to harm me. I should trust my instincts more than Florian's fears and not be so suspicious. "Why do you want to sell your home?"
"We don't want to," she replies with a trembling voice, "we have to."
I hear how much this fact torments her. I see it in her expression. And I feel it in my heart. Even during our dinner together, I noticed the deep sadness the sisters carry within. Now I finally know for certain what their silent glances meant.
"Why can't any of you save the estate?" I ask but not to report back to Florian.
At this moment, I wish for nothing more than for this family to continue their tradition. Camilla wriggles out of my arms and sets the swing in motion. Her gaze wanders into the distance, over the tall meadows and the cypresses rising on the horizon.
"We all have obligations that make it impossible," she replies.
I nod absentmindedly. Vico hinted at it too. "You have your babies, who will soon keep you so busy that you won't have any time."
"Besides, Pietro has been urging us to move to his hometown for a long time. He wants to be closer to his family, and it would be better for the little ones inside me too." She gently strokes her belly.
Of course. Twins are a challenge, and here she has no support. Her sisters live elsewhere, her father is sick, her mother deceased. And her brother…
"Alessia is our genius. One day, she will have developed a treatment for brain tumors and win the Nobel Prize for it." Pride resonates in her voice. "She can't give up on that dream." Camilla strokes the cover of the album.
"I understand," I say, and I truly do. I know what it's like to constantly have to bend, because for years, that's all I've been doing. Maybe you can learn to be content, but you're never truly happy.
She exhales with a strained sigh. "Aurora knows nothing about farming. No plant has survived under her care for more than two weeks."
"And what about Vico?" He could stay here. He is free, or at least he claims to be.
"He was supposed to take over the estate one day." She lifts her shoulders sadly and lets her gaze wander. "But none of this holds value for him." Tears once again stream down Camilla's face as she gazes into emptiness. "I even believe he’s glad it's being sold."
I search my pockets for a tissue but find none. "Do you really think the family means nothing to him?" I shouldn't ask, especially not in such a hopeful tone.
She shrugs. "I can't imagine that."
Did I just say that out loud? And with a conviction I shouldn't have?
Surprised, she looks at me. "Has he said something?"
"Not exactly." But I want to believe that behind his facade is more than he shows us. Because sometimes, when he thinks no one is watching, a wistful expression crosses his face. He longs for something, but whether it's actually family, of course, I don't know.
"Vico doesn't like attachments. Not to people or things. He wants to be free. Independent." She wipes the tears from her cheeks.
I feel a pang in my heart that doesn't belong there. "But the most important thing you need to know about Vico is that I love him. Very much."
"That's why you surely won't force him to give up his freedom," I continue her thoughts.
Camilla is such a strong woman. I glance at her from the side, observing her high cheekbones, her strong hands, and the broken expression in her posture. She would do anything for her family, even if it means she might shatter in the process. "What do Alessia and Aurora think about what has happened here in recent years?"
Suddenly, she looks straight at me. Seconds pass without her saying anything. Then she clears her throat. "Our mother's death hit us hard, but we learned to live with it. But now, we're losing our home. The place we thought we could always return to if we lost our way in life."
Now, I’m also fighting back tears. What's happening here feels wrong. The sale. And the final breakup of the family it will bring about. It's not right.
"Can't anything be done about it?" I whisper helplessly, locking eyes with her.
Instead of answering, she just shakes her head.
***
A night later, Camilla's expression continues to linger in my thoughts. It's hard for me to push it away, but I force myself to do so.
Florian has given me a task. He relies on me, and what kind of partner would I be if I were to disappoint him? Besides, it's my goal too, the reason I'm fighting here. We won't have financial worries anymore. We'll be secure. Isn't that worth the effort?
Or is it?
Even though it's still dark outside, I get out of bed and pack my camera. They say the most beautiful photos can be taken in the gentle light of the rising sun, so I have no choice. My pictures should impress Florian. Not just him but also our future guests; they should long for Tuscany immediately.
A sense of bitterness fills me as I shower and get dressed. The thought that soon nothing in this building will be as it was saddens me.
I do my best to ignore it and finally head out with all my equipment.
The soft dawn is already visible in the sky. I cross the courtyard. Only the crunch of gravel under my feet and the cheerful chirping of birds can be heard as I walk along the long driveway until I reach the spot where Vico parked his VW van.
I gently tap on the window, but there's no movement inside. "Vico?" I knock again.
Suddenly, his angular face appears at the window. He opens the door, and only then do I notice he's only wearing boxers. What a torso …
"Is something wrong?" he asks, unsuccessfully trying to tame his tousled hair. His shoulder muscles are prominent.
I quickly look away. I need to focus. "We were supposed to take photos."
"What?" Did he forget?
"Yesterday, we discussed starting early today," I add, feeling uncertain due to his confused expression.
He peers into the darkness behind me. "Now? Are you serious?"
"On the internet, they say—"
He raises his hand to stop me. "You want perfect photos, I get it," he says with a disparaging undertone on the word perfect .
"That's why we need to leave now," I say even though doubts start creeping in. Is it right to claim him like this? Should I have explained more clearly what I meant by tomorrow morning ? Or did I accidentally use the wrong Italian words?
Suddenly, he looks at me so intently that I feel a rush of heat. "Did Florian tell you that?" he asks.
"Um… no." Why does he want to know? Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. "I thought it was a lovely idea." In my imagination, it was, at least. Maybe I was wrong. "If it's too early for you, we can leave later. That's fine too." I try to sound nonchalant, but I'm not sure if I succeed.
"Alright then, work can wait," he says, pulling out a T-shirt and putting it on. "Do you want coffee?" he asks, turning away from me.
He even has a coffee maker in there? I discreetly peek around the corner. Indeed, I spot one of those old-fashioned stovetop espresso makers on a plate next to the mattress that serves as a bed. Right behind it, his laptop is open. So this is how he lives.
"Sure," I reply absentmindedly.
In my mind's eye, an image of us sitting on the floor, legs dangling outside with the door open, watching the sunset over the coast, flashes before me. I rest my head on his shoulder, smiling dreamily.
"Here." Suddenly, a coffee mug appears in front of my face, snapping me out of my inappropriate daydream.
Focus, Hanna , I sternly remind myself as I take the mug. I do everything in my power to keep my thoughts in the present moment as I head back to the car.
We leave the estate. "Where can we get the most beautiful shots? Val D'Orcia is said to be breathtaking," I say.
He puts his hand on his chin. "We won't make it there by sunrise. Just five minutes from here, there's a vineyard with hills directly bathed in the morning sun."
That sounds good too. I steer the car in the direction Vico indicates, and once we park at the foot of the hill, I reach for the camera.
"We can take the first shots over there." Vico points to an area where grapevines are neatly lined up against trellises.
I step out of the car, thinking I can already see the first rays of the sun on the horizon. "Among the plants? Is that allowed?"
"Sure, why not?" He grins mischievously and strolls ahead. "Come on, the sun won't wait."
With a few quick steps, I catch up to him. "Not that we'll get into trouble," I reply, though it's probably too late for that. Vico has already stepped onto the soft soil of the vineyard.
Shaking my head, I follow him between the grapevines. "Only Austrians are awake at this time."
"And Italians who are forced to by Austrians," I say, now also smiling. Back home, I would never dare to do this, and even though Vico is so laid-back, it feels like I'm doing something forbidden.
Nevertheless, I'm not afraid. On the contrary, the excitement that spreads in my stomach is beautifully thrilling.
So beautiful that I forget to watch where I'm stepping. The soft ground under my sneakers gives way. I stumble, but Vico catches me.
For a slightly too long moment, he holds me in his arms. We gaze at each other.
He clears his throat. "Over there is good."
Abruptly, he releases me, moves a few steps away, and stretches both arms to the side. The warm light of the morning sun softens his features.
I would love to photograph him just as he stands amid nature, exuding that Italian Dolce Vita spirit that captivates everyone.
"If you give me your camera, I can check the settings," he offers.
I hand him the device and watch as he adjusts the knobs and takes a few test shots. The surroundings grow brighter around us, the green of the vine leaves begins to glow, and I even imagine I can smell the earth more intensely in the gentle breeze.
Suddenly, he looks up at me. "Are you ready?"
Reaching for the camera, I let him direct me to a specific spot. All at once, he is standing behind me.
"Do you see how the rows stretch over the hill in front of us?" he asks in a hushed tone, as if in awe of the sight.
I nod. I can't speak. Not when I feel his chest so close to my back. And especially not when he leans forward to have the same perspective as me. His cheek is so close to mine that I feel the warmth of his skin.
"The upper edge of the grapevines is the baseline for your picture," he explains softly. "For a good photo, you need to crouch down."
His legs gently touch the back of my knees as I lower myself at his pace.
"Stop." His hand finds my upper arm. Warm. Gentle. "Can you see it?"
I blink hard because I can barely see anything except him. "Yes."
He wraps his arms around me from behind and reaches for my hands, which hold the camera. He guides them upward.
I stare, mesmerized, at the frame that appears on the display. Between the grapevines, gently lined up in the image, individual rays of the morning sun gleam. Bright circles with a rainbow-like shimmer seem to appear out of nowhere, enchanting the scene in a way that defies description.
"Perfect," he whispers and guides my finger to the shutter button.
Yes. That's it. Perfect.
I can barely hear the soft click because I feel like I'm about to lose myself. With Vico so close behind me, it's as if he's catching me. I should stop it, but I yearn to let go and surrender control to the fantasy in my mind.
Life is meant to be enjoyed , my inner voice whispers suddenly.
I don't want to pretend anymore.
I just want to be.
So I close my eyes, lean against his chest, and sink to the ground. All my tension melts away. His scent is like lilac. His voice, a lonely playing cello. I breathe in his presence, and a new world emerges behind the flickering light on my eyelids.
It tastes like oranges.
A contented sigh escapes my lips.
Something moves by my ear. "Tell me where you are."
There is longing in the song of the cello. The world turns blue.