An Apartment in Venice (28 page)

Next morning before anyone was moving about in his part of the rehab, Chuck got dressed.
God. Real clothes make a difference.
He carried his shoes and silently manipulated the lock on the front door. Before closing it, he inserted the end of a wooden swizzle stick into the mechanism.

Walking in Venice at night—or predawn—was like nothing else in the world. Unearthly quiet. But once you knew how to listen, the quiet came alive. While still a cadet, he used to slip out with a new friend, who was part Comanche. What Wolf hadn’t taught him about stealth and tracking, his Special-Ops sergeant did. This morning, Chuck focused on the murmuring water. Gentle, sibilant kisses against the hulls of boats tied along the canals soothed every cell in his body. These timeless tidal movements, slipping in from the sea far beyond the lagoon, brought him peace. Moments like these washed away any doubts about his decision to remain in this city.

His feet weren’t as silent as they should be. His legs felt sluggish, but his throat and lungs began to relax as he inhaled the moist, mystical air. Today’s destination was the broad promenade, Riva degli Schiavoni, that runs beside the deep
bacino
. For centuries, Venetian merchants sailed from here, first into the Lagoon, then the Adriatic Sea and the world beyond.

Chuck needed to steal past the Carabinieri facility without arousing suspicion. Except during Carnivale, Venice was not a late-night-carousing kind of town, and any movement at this hour might be noticed. He inhaled as deeply as possible, and while easing it out—hoping he didn’t cough—he crept soundlessly past a window where a dim light was burning. A sleepy guard’s office no doubt. By the time he reached the Riva, though, the only sound he heard was his own labored breathing.
Damn, maybe I’m rushing things.

Slouched onto a bench facing the water, Chuck watched clouds sidle across the sky. A thin crescent moon seemed to sneak through them on its way to the western horizon. After a while, he drew in several deep breaths, heaved himself onto his feet and aimed them toward the rehab, counting each lumbering step until he could fall back into bed.

* * *

“Major General Novak?” Doctor Cornaro said as she slid a cold stethoscope under his shirt and laid it on his unsuspecting chest.

His eyes flew open. His arm shot out and snatched her wrist in an iron grip. When he saw who it was, he relaxed his hold and eased onto his pillow.

“Buon giorno, Dottoressa Cornaro.”

She rubbed her wrist. “I knew better than to surprise a military man.”

“Sorry. Is your wrist okay?”

“It will be. I’m sorry to startle you, but I need a report on your AWOL activity.”

“Who ratted me out?”

“Your empty bed.”

“Oh.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better for having breathed Venetian air again.”

“Good. But please don’t do that to us again. I was about to call another military man next door.”

“Would have had to wake him.”

She laughed. “I’ve always wondered why they needed an officer to guard a building full of able-bodied young men.”

“Bureaucracy.”

She nodded. “Now, tell me how your breathing went out there.”

“Not bad. Not good either. This moment? Better.”

“Let’s make an agreement for the next day or two before I release you.”

“And that would be?”

“First, I believe your exertion was beneficial, but I need to know when and where you will go next time.”

“You want a report? Fine. I walked to the Riva and back.”

Her lips quivered and she couldn’t keep a small giggle down. “The report must be filed
before
you exit, or I’ll bring that sleepy guard over here to stand outside your door.”

He gave her a mock salute. “So, I’m stuck here two more days? Not that it isn’t marvelous, and I thank you for bringing me back from a living death.”

“But?” she said.

“It’s not home.”

“You are so right.”

“One request before I agree to this new arrangement.”

“And that would be?” she said, mimicking his words.

“My outside exercise will be unaccompanied by anyone on your staff.”

“No problem, as long as you give us an itinerary and estimated time sequence.”

“You sound as if you’ve had military experience.”

“In a way. First with the Swiss Air Rescue Teams and later with the U.S. Military at—”

“Womack Medical in North Carolina.”

“How did you know?”

“I have my sources,” he grinned. “Again, I’ll always be grateful for your expertise and support.”

“Thank you, Major General Novak.”

“Please call me Chuck.”

“If you’ll call me Luisa.”

“Will do.”

“And now I’m guessing you’re ready for a well-deserved nap. See you later, Chuck.”

“Look forward to it, Luisa.”

* * *

That same afternoon, Chuck and Giulia walked out of the rehab and moved toward Zanipolo, the church of two saints. His energy had improved since his early-morning excursion. He said, “Micina, I’ve seen you look up longingly at
altanas.
”

“I didn’t know it showed,” she said.

“Maybe I see more than most where you’re concerned, and maybe some of your walls have crumbled.”

“Hmm. I expect you’re right. Nonna thought they might after telling you of my past.” She almost said shameful past but it had not been all that shameful, and she was determined to stay away from anymore negativity. “I don’t plan to broadcast my past, but I do feel easier in my skin.”

He snugged her close under the V of his shoulder and arm as they entered the huge campo. A café off to the side had tables spaced comfortably apart. He chose one and pulled out a chair for her leaning down to kiss the top of her head. They sat looking toward the row of three-story buildings facing them from across a canal. A waiter appeared almost immediately.

“I’m thirsty for juice from those blood oranges in front of the café,” he said. “How about you?”

She nodded. “They look so enticing piled in that gleaming, copper kettle.”

The waiter hurried away.

“I’m glad you feel easier now,” he said, “and Giulia, you have nothing to hide—ever. Remember that.”

“With you to remind me to let go, maybe I can.”

“Oh yeah, babe, I’ll remind you. You can let go in more ways than one.”

She laughed.

“Now, let’s study those two altanas over there. Which one do you prefer?”

They gazed at the pretty buildings lined up along the other side of Rio dei Mendicanti. It was a fairly large canal—and a busy one—that flowed past the front of the church, continuing along the side wall of the large civic hospital that stretched all the way to the long Fondamenta Nuova. From there, the canal emptied into the lagoon. It was almost macabre that the city morgue’s doors opened onto this canal because its next stop was the cemetery isle.

Directly across from them, a woman came onto her balcony and watered several potted geraniums lined up on top of the railing.

“Look. She’s cut holes in the railing for the pots to fit into. That way, she doesn’t have to worry about knocking one off onto a passing boatman’s head.”

“He might feel the drip of excess water, but all in all a clever idea. Let’s keep that trick in mind,” Chuck said.

She looked at him, but he continued, “If we ever have a balcony over a rio, that is.”

The woman started to go in and then turned back to call to a man below as he chugged past in a flat-bottomed motor boat filled with planks of wood and plaster debris. He looked up and waved.

The waiter brought their drinks that looked like raspberry juice. She lifted her glass to Chuck. They held each other’s eyes, clinked and drank. “Every time I see this deep red color,” he said, “my taste buds are surprised. Love the tangy flavor of these Sicilian oranges.”

“Mmm, it is delicious,” she said and pointed across the way. “That altana above the geranium woman is more elaborate than I’d ever want. Those four white pillars and fancy wooden supports make it look like an enclosed room. It looks too formal, too fussy. But that one over there,” and she pointed to a small roof-top structure with wire railings tall enough to keep adults from falling off, “is about perfect. I like those giant pots lined up full of greenery; they provide privacy yet surely allow plenty of cooling breezes.”

“Up that high, you wouldn’t need to worry about privacy, would you? We could have a comfortable bed up there for the dry season, huh?” Chuck was thinking his libido was ready for action. He wanted out of the rehab and soon. Maybe tonight. The doctor couldn’t keep him against his will, could she?

“They say people lie out there on hot evenings,” Giulia mused. “And that one looks big enough to invite a few friends up to catch the breezes.”

“And not too elaborate to require lots of maintenance.”

“Which one do you like the best?” she asked.

“Oh, I’d choose the one with the greenery, too. I’d say it’s about,” he held his hands around his eyes and squinted, “twenty feet across. Can’t tell from here how deep though.”

“There’s a tiny one stuck on a building over on Rio dei Carmini. It’s perched way up on top of what was probably added after the building was legally finished. I bet it’s not a legal height. That altana must be almost five-stories up. It looks too puny and precarious. I wouldn’t want that one on top of my. . . our apartment.”

“I think I know the one you mean.” He liked her switch of pronouns.

“I wonder how much it would cost to have an altana? Does anyone in your building own one?”

“Nope. I asked once about constructing one on top of my building, but the laws for adding new altanas are Byzantine. I backed off. We should find an apartment that already has one.”

“Are we looking for an apartment?” she asked.

“I’m thinking it would be a perfect solution to our apartment dilemma.”

“But I’ve already agreed we’d live in yours. It’s a great place.”

“That’s my point. You’d always see it as my territory.”

“How do you know I would—”

“You just did. It’s a natural reaction,” he said. “Besides, you need more space for a desk. That dresser you’ve been using doesn’t cut it. What do you think about beginning a joint campaign to find a neutral place?”

“To buy, you mean?”

“Yeah. I’d have to sell mine first but think I could get a good price.”

“Interesting,” she said. “I’d always thought of renting, but maybe buying makes better sense. If that’s the case, I want to be a full partner.”

“Of course. You’ll always be my partner, all the way. And Micina, not only my partner… my soul mate.” He tipped her face to look into her eyes. Did that sound too “woo woo” for her?

Giulia put her glass down and set his down, too. Then she grasped one of his hands and laid it on her chest near her heart. “Karlo, you
are
my soul mate, my partner, my only love.”

It took all his will power to let his hand lie on her chest without caressing her breast. But he knew this was too serious a moment for her—hell, it was for him, too. She took his hands, turned them over and kissed his palms.

She sat up straight and said, “Now, back to the financial portion of this partnership. I have something to tell you.”

“Okaaay.”

“I’m about to become a wealthy woman.”

“Did you uncover a secret cache somewhere?”

“Sort of. You know Aunt Loretta left my brothers and me each a nice sum.”

He nodded.

“But, later I was informed of a side letter to her will where she left a lot more to me in the form of Fiat stock. Uncle Giuseppe had held a lot of company stock. But he died of lung cancer and left it all to her.”

In his focused way, Chuck said nothing and took another sip of juice.

“Aunt Loretta was more of a liberated woman than Mom will ever be. Over the years, she convinced Uncle Giuseppe to see their life as a partnership in all ways. She’d thought my dad and mom didn’t have an equal set up although they seem satisfied.” Giulia finished up her juice.”

“Lettie always urged me to hold out for a full partnership when I married. She wanted children, but it didn’t happen. In a way, I think she considered me her daughter. After Uncle Giuseppe died, she ended up in Portland to be near her only family. But I think she always wished she hadn’t left Italy.”

“Why didn’t she go back,” Chuck asked.

“She could have. She had her own pension as an executive assistant.”

At Fiat?”

“No. I don’t remember where she worked, but in Torino where they moved for his job. Also, she had her share of the insurance from when Dad and Lettie’s parents were killed in an auto crash. She never touched the Fiat stock. And unlike Mom and Dad, who seem to think my idea to live here is foolish, Lettie supported my dream all the way. She planned to join me after I finished school and found a job here. But before that could happen… she died of a kidney condition.” Giulia’s eyes clouded and she struggled to continue. Chuck put his arm across her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze.

“Anyway, soon after I learned about the first inheritance, I went looking for financial advice. Dad teaches accounting at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, and I knew he’d want to take over for me. But I wanted to handle it myself. He doesn’t know about the Fiat stock, and I worry about how he’ll feel that Lettie left me more than his sons. Besides, he still thinks of me as his little Barbie Doll.”

“Uh oh,” Chuck said.

“I found Nancy Metz, a financial planner, who’s been cautious and careful with my savings. I’ve learned so much from her, and we’ve become close friends. She studied the history of the Fiat company and the founding Agnelli family and urged me to leave the stock alone. The stock has come back. She sent a letter a few days ago suggesting it’s time to cash in, saying I’m a rich woman. It came the day you’d been found, and I forgot all about it till now.”

“Here I thought I was marrying you for your body and sharp wit and now I’m confronted with a rich heiress.”

“And I came for a dream apartment and found a dreamy hunk instead.”

“Dreamy hunk, huh? He stood, lifting her up with him. He kissed her deeply and fully not caring who saw them or where they were. He laid money on the table, and said, “Let’s get outta here.”