The Last Promise Read online

  She slammed the phone down hard enough to crack the cradle. Then she went back upstairs to the bedroom, where she became gentle again.

  “Did he say where?”

  “No. The baboon.”

  She sat down next to Eliana on the bed and began rubbing her neck, working her hands up to her head and temples. “Alessio will be okay. Manuela will take care of him until Maurizio comes to his senses.”

  “What have I done, Anna?”

  Anna touched her finger to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t think about it. Not now, baby. Just go to sleep.”

  Anna lay next to her all night. The next morning she left Eliana in bed asleep, the room still dim, with its shutters closed against the morning sun. She heard someone outside and her ire rose as she prepared to meet Maurizio, but it was only Luca crossing through the courtyard. Anna made herself coffee then checked on Eliana. She was still asleep. The phone rang around eleven. Anna answered it.

  “Pronto.”

  “Chi parla?” Who speaks? a male voice asked.

  “This is Anna. Who is this?”

  “Excuse me, Anna, I didn’t recognize your voice. This is Ross. Is Eliana there?”

  “She is here, Ross, but she cannot speak. She is not well.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated. “Ross, things have happened. Bad things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Eliana should speak of these things, not me.”

  “Should I come to Rendola?”

  “No. You must not. She will call you when she is ready.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Nothing but pray. I’ll have her call you.”

  She hung up. She didn’t tell Eliana about the call. She needed her rest.

  It was two days before Maurizio returned. Eliana had only left her bed twice during that time, once when Anna had coaxed her out for a dinner of soup and another time for a hot bath. Eliana was in bed when he came and the fighting began, Anna screaming at the top of her lungs and Maurizio uncharacteristically reciprocating, the voices combining into a tangle of Italian that became as incomprehensible as thunder. The storm grew and climbed the stairs to her darkened room. There was a scuffle outside the door; then it was suddenly flung open. Maurizio stepped inside.

  “I need to talk to you, Eliana.”

  “Get out,” Anna shouted, grabbing him. “You leave her alone.”

  “Eliana, if you want to see Alessio ever again, get her out of here.”

  “Anna,” she said feebly. “Maurizio and I need to talk.”

  “Eliana, you are too weak.”

  “I have to, Anna.”

  Anna stepped in front of Maurizio, making her five-foot frame appear as threatening as she could. “I swear on our father’s grave, if you touch her again you’ll regret you were born.” She bit her knuckle at him, then turned and walked out.

  Maurizio pushed the door shut behind her. Eliana was a dark cluster of blankets in the room’s dim light. He flipped on the light switch.

  “Please don’t, the light hurts.”

  He left it on. His voice was controlled, almost cordial. “Why are you still here? I told you to go.”

  “Please, Maurizio. Bring Alessio back. For Alessio’s sake. You don’t know how sick he is.”

  “Not so sick that you couldn’t leave him for your American.”

  She didn’t answer. Then, seized with guilt and fear, her emotion took hold and she began to sob. Maurizio stood at the foot of the bed staring at her. When she finally stopped, she lay on her side trembling, looking up at him with dull eyes.

  “Please don’t make me go. I’ll do anything you ask, Maurizio. Just let me have Alessio back.”

  He said nothing.

  “I won’t see him anymore. I promise.”

  “You said this before; why should I believe you?”

  She didn’t know how to answer. Maurizio walked across the room and opened a shutter. The light broke into the room like a hammer. Eliana shielded her eyes.

  “Where does your friend live?”

  “Why?” she asked fearfully.

  Her concern for Ross angered Maurizio. He started to walk to the door.

  “Lungarno Torrigiani. There’s an apartment building. It looks out over the Arno.”

  “What building?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He grasped the door handle.

  “I’m telling you the truth, I don’t know. It’s the second one from Ponte Alle Grazie. It’s a pale yellow color.”

  “What number is his room?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been there.” Her voice trailed off into silence.

  For a few moments, Maurizio just stared at her. When he spoke again his voice was only slightly stronger than a whisper. “You want another chance? I will give you another chance, Eliana, even though you do not deserve it. But be wise. I will not trust you again.” He put a finger below his eye and pulled his eyelid down. “Rendola has eyes. And if he, or anyone else, ever turns your head again, you will lose Alessio for good.”

  Maurizio turned and walked out the door.

  Anna was waiting for Maurizio in the courtyard. Maurizio glanced at her scornfully and turned away, headed for the gate. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  She followed him. “You swine. How dare you do this to her.”

  “You have misplaced loyalties, sister.”

  “What do you know of loyalty? The word should catch fire on your lips.”

  “After your husband dumped you, I really thought you’d be more understanding to my plight. I didn’t see you getting sentimental over his new woman. Eliana’s no different, just another adulteress.”

  “Il bue dice cornuto all’asino.” The ox calls the donkey cattle.

  He stopped at his car. “No, I’m a man.”

  “You’re a swine.”

  He shook his head in disgust as he unlocked his car.

  “How can you do this to Alessio?”

  “I’m doing what’s best for my son.”

  “Bugiardo! If you cared about what was best for your son, you’d have never brought him into this. You just use him to control Eliana. You don’t love him at all.”

  He shook his head, though still smiling.

  “I don’t know what is more tragic, brother, that you don’t love your son, or that he doesn’t love you.”

  Maurizio flinched.

  “Oh yes. If you never came home, Alessio wouldn’t think twice. Your own son doesn’t give a damn about you. Someday you’ll figure it out. I pity you on that day.”

  Maurizio didn’t know what to say. He climbed into his car and sped away from Rendola.

  Anna ran back inside to check on Eliana. She found Eliana on her feet getting dressed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Is he gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to go. There’s something I must do.”

  “Eliana, you can’t go out. You’re not well. This is crazy.”

  “It is all crazy, Anna.”

  “Then let me drive you.”

  “No. I need to do this alone.” She kissed her cheeks. “I will be back soon. I will need you then.”

  CHAPTER 35

  “All is lost to me now.”

  —Ross Story’s diary

  Eliana drove slowly up the snaking, tree-lined street to Piazzale Michelangelo. As the hill peaked, the large, oxidized replica of David in the center of the piazza came into view, flanked by myriad tourists. She turned into the square and parked her car on the end of a long row of tourist buses.

  The piazza was crowded, was always crowded. It was the one place where the whole view of Florence could be taken in. Visible in the distance were the three towers; Badia, Giotto’s and Bargello which, next to the baptistry, flanked the Duomo. There were other domes, other towers. The Basilica of Santa Croce, Arnolfo’s tower, the belfry of Palazzo Vecchio near the Uffizi, overlooking the Arno, where Eliana had fallen heart and so
ul for Ross, as if the river had delivered life and love itself, the two intermingled. The river would forever mean something else to her. It would serve to remind her of her incompleteness. The Arno might as well cease to be, or be diverted to a more useful realm as Leonardo and Machiavelli had once schemed.

  It had been days since Ross had spoken with Anna, and from that moment on he had waited helplessly for Eliana’s call. When her call did come, she explained nothing to Ross though her voice frightened him. He knew something had gone very wrong.

  Eliana looked around for Ross through the throngs of tourists and frowned at their number. She had thought that being amid the crowds would somehow make it easier, but now she regretted choosing this place. Now she only wanted to be alone with him. She wanted to leave this city, this world, for his arms, even if just for a few minutes.

  She found him standing in the back of the piazzale, in the northwest corner where the great, wide railing angled back toward the main street she had ascended. And then she saw nothing else: the towers, the lights, the centuries of labor and humanity’s cleverness blurred into insignificance against this one miracle. He was wearing a black body shirt. Her gold florin necklace was draped over the front of his shirt and was bright against its dark fabric.

  The thought of what she had come to do sickened her.

  Just then two attractive young Italian women stopped by him, spoke to him. From their body language she could see that they were flirting with Ross and she felt jealous. She wondered how it was that she felt entitled to jealousy. He wasn’t hers. He never would be.

  The women smiled and laughed and Eliana hated them. Ross spoke back but shook his head, raised his hands in refusal. One of them wrote something on a card and handed it to Ross; then they left, laughing and chatting with one other. Ross watched them go then dropped the card over the side of the fence. He checked his watch again. He looked out over the plaza then back out over the city.

  She was equally desirous to run to him and to run away from her horrible errand. Then the reality of her predicament, their predicament, flooded back into her mind and she slowly climbed out of her car, her legs and courage growing weaker as she neared him. When she was within twenty feet of him, he noticed her.

  “Eliana. What happened?”

  They embraced; then she buried her head in his chest as she began to cry. He wrapped his arms around her, one arm around her back, the other around her head, and held her tightly, crushing her hair between his fingers.

  “Eliana?”

  She could not speak but shook with her weeping. His instinct was to fix whatever was wrong—to make everything better. He put his hands on her face and gently tilted her head back until she looked into his eyes. “What happened?”

  She was breathing heavily, trying to catch the breath lost from sobbing. When she spoke, her words were strained. “The night we were together. Maurizio was home. He waited for me all night.”

  The weight of her statement fell on Ross. “Eliana, it’s okay. We’ll do just as we planned. We’ll go away. You and Alessio will have a new life.”

  At this she began to cry. Unable to speak, she held him until she could continue. “Ross, I don’t know if I can say this.”

  Her words pressed a blade of panic into his chest. Ross stepped back from her and looked at her expectantly.

  “Maurizio has taken Alessio away. I’m so frightened. He doesn’t know how dangerous his asthma is. He doesn’t know what to do if he has an attack. I’m afraid something will happen. It will be my fault.”

  “No, it won’t be your fault.”

  “Yes, it will. I should never have left him.”

  Ross’s voice pitched with resolve. “I’ll go to Maurizio. I’ll bring Alessio back.”

  “No, Ross. You don’t understand.” She was crying harder now. “Ross, I can’t have you and Alessio.” He could not speak, only stare into her eyes. Her voice was weak. “We lost. You have to leave, Ross. You have to promise to leave me and never come back.”

  Her words cascaded over him like ice water, leaving him breathless. He erupted. “And what if I won’t? What if I tell you to run away with me right now and leave Maurizio and Rendola and all this behind you?”

  “And Alessio?” She looked down for a moment then back at him, her eyes now gray and hard as concrete. “You would never have the woman you loved.”

  Ross knew it was true. Eliana would never forgive herself for abandoning her child. She would hate herself. And someday she would hate him too. His mind reeled. This time there was no escape from circumstance, no back door. To take her was to lose her.

  Filled with grief, Ross’s eyes began to moisten. He closed his eyes tightly and turned back, grasping the piazza’s steel railing, looking away from her so she wouldn’t see. But she did and his pain only added to hers. She touched him but he would not turn back. “Ross, please, no.”

  “Didn’t you promise me? Didn’t you say to have hope just one last time?”

  His words, her own words, stung. She laid her head against his back and sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I thought it was possible. All I wanted was to be loved. Don’t hate me, Ross. Please don’t hate me. I can’t live with that too.” She held to him. “I can’t live without you.”

  After a few minutes he turned and held her. She felt warm in his embrace. Then his eyes locked on hers. His voice was dull with pain. “Remember, Eliana, love doesn’t give second chances.” He looked to the ground, swallowed. Then he said, “You better go. Alessio needs you.”

  Eliana just stared at him intensely. The reality that they were parting filled her with panic.

  “Where will you go? Back to America?”

  “America holds nothing for me.” He paused and wiped back the tears from his face. “It’s best that you don’t know anyway.”

  He drew a long breath, exhaled, then kissed her cheek. “Addìo, amore. I will always love you.”

  Then he walked away. As Eliana watched him, each step of his drew greater pain—as if she were being torn in two, which she was.

  At the bottom of the stone stairway he stopped, turned slowly and looked at her. She did not speak. She just looked at him, and a thousand colors of thought blended into a single gray image. Then, with his head bowed, he turned away from her and was gone, vanished into the crowds.

  As she walked back to her car, her mind dizzy with pain, a verse came to her, words gifted from some long forgotten reading.

  “Love knows not its own depth until the hour of its separation.”

  CHAPTER 36

  “Chi si pasce di speranza, muore di fame.” He who lives by hope dies by hunger.

  —Italian Proverb

  As a little girl in Saint Mark’s Sunday school in Vernal, Utah, Eliana remembered learning about hell in catechism. As an adolescent she had studied Dante’s Inferno and the nine levels of torment. She had wondered about it then too, if such a place really existed and what horror it must hold. She wondered what it might be like confined for an eternity to those dark places. Now she knew. She felt, as real as fire, the pain of betraying those she loved—her son and Ross—the guilt emblazoned across her heart like a brand.

  Back inside her home she went to her studio and prayed. She prayed for more than an hour, begging for forgiveness and for her son’s safety. In her desperation she offered her own life in recompense for her son’s, though her offer felt moot, as her life meant nothing to her now. She prayed for Maurizio, that his heart might be softened and because she had been taught to pray for her enemies. And she prayed for Ross. His portrait was against the wall, staring at her, and she could not look at it. A part of her felt that she had wronged him most of all. For in her heart taking hope from someone was among the gravest of sins. She did not know if there could be forgiveness for such.

  She felt more dizzy, more confused. Nothing made sense to her. She had lost her heart; she now wondered if she might lose her mind as well. Something had to give. She was confident something would. She was moving toward
something—release or destruction, she didn’t know which. Neither did she care anymore.

  CHAPTER 37

  “Il primo amore non si scorda mai.” The first love is never forgotten.

  —Italian Proverb

  In the unwatched hours of early morning the phone rang. It took Eliana a moment to figure out where she was and what had woken her. She reached over for the telephone, knocking it out of its cradle as she tried to lift it.

  “Pronto.”

  “Chi e? Sei tu, Eliana?” Who is this? Is this you, Eliana? The caller did not recognize her voice.

  “Sì. Manuela?”

  “Yes. It’s me.”

  Sleep left her. “Manuela, where are you? Where’s Alessio?”

  Anna stirred. “Who is it?”

  “I’m with Alessio. You must come to Ospedale Santa Maria.”

  The words chilled her. “What’s happened? Is Alessio all right?”

  “He is all right now. He had a serious attack.”

  “I’m coming now.”

  Eliana dropped the phone in its cradle.

  Anna had slept at Eliana’s side to watch over her, but now she was sitting up. “Eliana, what is it?”

  “Alessio’s at the hospital.”

  The dark roads were empty, and it only took them fifteen minutes to make the usual twenty-minute drive.

  Manuela was standing in the front lobby of the Santa Maria Hospital, waiting. The women embraced. “I’ve been so worried for you,” Manuela said. “I’m so sorry, Eliana. I had to go along with Maurizio. It was the only way to protect Alessio.”

  “I know, Manuela, I know. I’m not angry at you.”

  “Alessio’s been so upset since Maurizio took him. He had several attacks. This one was his worst. We thought we lost him.”

  Eliana turned pale. “Lost him?”

  “The line on the machine went flat.”

  “Oh, Dio . . .”

  “He’s okay now, Eliana. He’s sleeping.”

  “Who’s with him?”