Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Giovanna
A lthough I’d visited Rome as a young girl with my parents, it was completely different living there. I’d been in the penthouse apartment Salvatore had bought, just off the Piazza Del Popolo, for a total of three weeks and couldn’t have been any more in love. The vibrance of the city was all-consuming. The hustle and bustle of the many tourists, each of them falling in love with the history and beauty of our capital, was addictive to watch.
Then, there were the students of the St. Cecilia Conservatory themselves. The previous two weeks I’d spent with them had been so satisfying. I loved all my nephews, but Luca, with his struggles, held a special place in my heart. I realised that helping other young people discover their musical talents, when others had written off any creative skills they might have, could possibly be the vocation I knew I’d been searching for.
It was the second week in June, the term was coming to a close and although Salvatore would have preferred for me to stay in Calabria until the start of the next school year in September, I had held my ground and fought to be here. The reasoning I’d given, was that I needed time to settle in and get to know my surroundings to give my best to my students, but truthfully, I had my eye on staying a while during the summer break. Sitting at the little café I’d already chosen as the place I always went to after my day’s work, I watched the children playing in the water from the small fountain nearby.
Rome not only offered me a job I was already convinced I was going to love, but it also extended its hand in an offer of a little time to become me and space to think. I already knew I missed my home, with its rugged coastline, and I missed my family, especially my eight nephews and nieces. But the very best and worst realisation was that, even though the last time I’d seen him was almost six years before, I still missed him, with every single beat of my heart.
It had been a sighting without words, but the depth of pain captured between us for those all too short seconds, I knew I would carry with me for the rest of my life. As was each of the phone calls I received. The ones I was convinced were from him. They only happened two, or maybe three times in any one year, but truthfully, I lived for them, and I knew I had to get the answers I needed to move forward, and to finally throw away the phone.
I sipped at my espresso, trying to swallow down the painful recollections as I once again relived those fraught few seconds that left me wondering all the years since. The last time I’d seen Dante had been a chance meeting.
I’d arrived a few minutes early at Gabriel and Mia’s home. I remembered leaning over to reach my handbag, that taking a corner too fast had dislodged from the passenger seat. Then I’d stretched even further into the footwell to retrieve a lipstick and phone which had fallen out. As I’d righted myself, I caught sight of a soldier in uniform. He was standing stock still in front of my car, in what felt like disbelief. At first his face had been shielded by the peak of his cap. The air had shifted around the two of us, appearing to be caught in time for just those few seconds, and even before his head had lifted and his captivating blue eyes had found mine, I’d known it was him. My hand had flexed on the car door handle as I struggled with my next move, and my mouth had fallen lax. I’d still been frozen to my seat long after he’d saluted me, jumped into his car and driven away. I’d sworn my brother Gabriel to secrecy, after he’d come outside and found me sobbing uncontrollably, still sitting in my car.
A child’s giggle nearby caught my attention and once again I picked up my espresso and, watching the children playing, I drained the contents. In my peripheral view, I could see Paulo watching me from the far side of the Piazza. Understanding my own reluctance to lock myself away in the penthouse for the rest of this beautiful evening, I looked up and found the elderly owner of the cafe.
‘What would you recommend this evening, Santino?’
‘My wife, she has made meatballs today, and they are…’ he lifted his hand to his mouth and kissed his fingertips with a flourish, ‘…bellissime.’
‘Can I have a small plate, please?’ I smiled at him in question.
‘With a fresh green salad?’ he asked as he picked up my empty cup. ‘And I’ll bring you some more coffee, Signorina.’
‘Thank you. And again, please call me Giovanna.’
‘Ahhh, you have a beautiful name, Giovanna.’
I looked over at Paulo and lifting my hand from the table just a little, I indicated with that action that he was to stay seated while I stayed to eat. After speaking into a concealed mic and informing the rest of my security team on duty, he flicked out his newspaper in annoyance at me extending his day.
‘There you go, Giovanna.’ I looked up as a female voice found me and a small plate of meatballs was placed down gently in front of me, followed by a crispy looking green salad. Without asking she grated a little parmesan and added ground black pepper to the meatballs, as if she knew my preferences without the need for confirmation.
‘Thank you.’ I smiled up in response.
‘You are by yourself?’ she questioned, as she dried her hands on the clean, starched apron she had tied around her waist. ‘My husband said so, but I thought I would take a look myself.’ She swept an imaginary crumb off the equally clean tablecloth on the table where I was sitting. ‘Husbands, I find, are often mistaken.’ She laughed a little at her statement.
‘I am, he was right.’
She brought a hand up to her mouth in shock, and I laughed a little.
‘I teach piano and music at St. Cecilia,’ I offered, as though it was a reason to be sitting and eating my dinner alone.
‘We have a son, a fine son. I’m sure he’d be honoured to sit and eat with you.’
I dropped the fork I’d only just picked up.
‘Thank you.’ I looked around at the small doorway and entrance to the inside of the café to see Santino watching and waiting on our conversation. ‘That’s so kind, but do you see?’ I held out my hand and looked at the ruby ring on my ring finger. ‘I’m engaged to be married.’
She gently took my hand and lifted my arm up high as she scrutinised my ring.
‘This ring is expensive and you’re beautiful, Giovanna. So why does he let you eat alone?’ She threw her hands up high into the air to add emphasis to her question.
‘I also live alone at the moment, because I’m here to teach.’ If I’d hoped to appease her with that information, the second I stopped speaking I knew by the expression on her face that I’d only made the situation worse in her eyes.
‘Can I offer you some words of wisdom?’
‘Ummm, yes,’ I muttered.
‘I am older, Giovanna. I have seen many, many things in my lifetime. I still don’t know everything, but I know this.’ She stood herself as tall as her small frame would allow, ‘A man, when he loves a woman, only leaves her to eat, live and sleep alone if he is forced to, or does not care.’
‘I… well, this was my choice, to work away for a year.’
‘Then maybe you need to ask yourself if it is you who does not care?’ She let her words resonate for a while before continuing. ‘Now eat up, Bella.’
It was as I watched her move away from the table that I understood the only person I didn’t miss from home was my fiancé.