Restoration: A Novel (Contemporary / Women's Fiction) (30 page)

The couple pushed off the rail, linked their fingers and
strolled farther around the cupola before resting against the railing again. 
They were going to take in every inch of this view. 

Francesca should look for Aletta.  Tess could help her. 
After all, she’d found Dahnya; she could help find Aletta.  The next time she
spoke to Francesca, she’d tell her about Dahnya and try convincing her to look
for Aletta.  They could contact the administration offices of the Central
Institute for Restoration in Rome where she and Aletta had gone to school
together.  Maybe officials there had an address for Aletta. 

Francesca said their time had passed, but how could it be
too late?  It couldn’t be.  They’d been deeply in love.  Was it ever too late
for something like that?

Tess jammed her eyes closed and covered them with her
palms.  Her slender fingers gripped her temples.  What was she doing
reconstructing Francesca’s life when she was doing such a terrible job of
living her own?  Tears streamed down her cheeks.  She urged her eyes open and
glanced at the American couple sharing yet another kiss.  Her tears blurred
them.  They’d be kissing their way through all of Florence’s sights, finding
romance in each one without having to look too hard.  The world as seen through
love’s lenses looked different. 

Her teary eyes swept across Santa Maria’s bird’s-eye view
of Florence one last time.  Seeing the city through her tear-filled eyes was
like looking through a fogged over window; it was hazy and surreal.  She swore
the next time she gazed out upon this city that she’d share this view,
unembellished by pain or tears.

***

Tess was still breathing hard when she grabbed the phone
in her hotel room and began the complicated dialing routine of trying to place
a call outside the country.  She’d earned stares and glares as she’d bounced
off people while racing through the streets of Florence, dispensing a litany of
apologies before finally making it back to her hotel.  The time difference made
it around seven in the evening in New York.  She hoped Francesca was home. 
After miss-dialing Francesca’s number twice, she finally heard the connection. 

“Hello.”  The familiar voice sounded much closer than the
sea separating them.

“Francesca!”

“Tess, is that you?” 

“Yes, yes.  Oh God, it’s so good to hear your voice.” 
Tess sat on the edge of the bed and combed her hand through her hair while
searching the dark paneled walls of her small room, wondering where to begin. 
“Francesca, I’ve had the most amazing two days.”

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself.  I have been
concerned about you.”

“It’s not at all what I expected.”

“What did you expect to find since you were there last? 
Florence does not change, it just gets more crowded.”

“Francesca, you’re going to be a grandmother!”

“Tess?”  Francesca said as if she’d mistaken the person on
the other end of the phone for someone she knew.

“Yes, it’s me.  You’re going to be a grandmother,
Francesca.  I was in Sulmona.  I met your daughter.  Francesca, she’s
beautiful.  She looks just like you.”  Tess stood up, wanting to pace, but was
tethered to the phone by its cord.  “She has a gentle spirit, Francesca; at
least that’s what I sense.  And when I commented on her baby, oh Francesca, she
just glowed.”

“You met Dahnya?”

She ceased her pacing.  “Yes, I just told you that.”

“I do not know whether I should be angry with you or
simply furious.”

“I was hoping you’d be curious enough to ask about her.”

“You should not intrude.”

“Visit her, Francesca.”

“Tess, I do not know—”

Tess interrupted her.  “You’ll be in Italy in January.  I
have her address and phone number.  Call her, talk to her.  Get to know her,
Francesca.”

“Tess, did it occur to you she may not want my intrusion
in her life?  It has occurred to me, many times.”

“That’s a risk you’ll have to take.  Do this, Francesca. 
Please don’t be afraid.”

“You should not be the one offering advice on conquering
fear and taking risks.”

“I’m not afraid anymore.”  Tess sat on the edge of the
bed, the room seemingly spinning from the dizzying tempo of her long-dormant
emotions.  “I love him, Francesca.”

The silence on the other end of the phone made her think
they’d disconnected until she heard Francesca ask, “Does he know?”

“Not yet.”

“Then why are you telling me?  Call him and tell him.”

“No, I’m coming back permanently.  I’m leaving Florence. 
I’ll tell him when I get back.”

“Should you not tell him before you pack up your life
again and run away from there, too?”

“I don’t belong here, Francesca.  No matter what he says
to me, I won’t be returning.  I’ve run from more than just him.  I can’t live
like a fugitive in Florence.  He’ll be my first stop when I get off the plane. 
He can’t hang up the phone on me if I’m standing right in front of him.”

“He loves you.  Do you think there is really a chance he
would reject you?”

“After what I put him through?”  Tess shook her head,
disgusted.  “I figure if I’m standing right there in front of him, he’ll at
least have to listen to me while I plead my case.”

“All you have to do is tell him you love him and want to
be with him.  This I know.”

Tess sensed Aletta’s memory seeping in.  “I’ll start with
that.”

“Then hurry back.”

“I’m going to be on the first flight I can book out of
here.”

“I am sure we can put you right back to work.  No one has
moved into your workstation yet.”

“Sharon should.  It’s what she’s always wanted.”

“There will be time enough for Sharon to realize her
dream.”

“Let her realize it now.  I’m going to realize mine.” 
Tess hesitated, wondering if she was ready to commit this dream to words, but
its momentum was too strong to resist.  “I’m not coming back to work,
Francesca.  I’m going to paint.”

“Paint?”

“It’s crazy, I know, I can’t possibly—”

“No, no,” Francesca cut her off.  “Do not doubt your
choices.  Trust yourself.”

“Thank you, Francesca.”

Francesca’s sigh filled the receiver.  “I suppose I have
no other choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your courage shames me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“May I have Dahnya’s phone number?”

Tess was frantic rifling through her bag, desperate to find
Dahnya’s number before the pendulum of promise swung in the other direction. 
Then, she realized it was Francesca who was asking; Francesca, the steadfast
one; her rock, her conscience, her friend.  Francesca would stay the course,
just as she’d encouraged Tess to do.

She found the papers Neil Palmer had sent and gave
Dahnya’s information to Francesca.  She told Francesca she’d call her after she
returned, after she saw Ben.

Hanging up the phone, Tess stared at the papers scattered
on the bedspread.  She fished out Neil’s unfinished article and gazed at the
blank space reserved for the story about her life.  She’d call him, too.  He’d
get his story, but that call could wait. 

Besides, there was more of her life to be lived before she
could tell it; words she needed to say to Ben before this chapter could end. 
She didn’t know if Neil’s ending was fitting.  Living happily ever after wasn’t
something she could confirm was true until she’d finished living. 

And that’s just what she was determined to do: live.  And
paint.  And love. 

###

Thank you
for taking an interest in my
work.  I certainly hope you enjoyed reading Restoration, as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to share your thoughts
about the book with others on Goodreads:
 
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18115138-restoration
or on Amazon

You
may also be interested in my award winning debut novel, Atomic Summer.  Readers
describe it as a refreshing and wonderful story with wonderful character
development that transported them back in time.  Atomic Summer, THREE friends,
TWO secrets, ONE lie, and the summer that changed their lives. 
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=womens+fiction%2CB008C3QH04

You
can read the first chapter online at
http://www.elainedwalsh.com/atomic-summer/

I
would love to hear from you!  Get in touch with me at:

Website:
http://www.elainedwalsh.com

Twitter:
https://www.twitter.com/ElaineDWalsh

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/ElaineDWalsh

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6423738.Elaine_D_Walsh

Blog: 
http://www.elainedwalsh.com/blog

And,
if you have a personal comment and would like to reach me directly, please send
me a note at
http://www.elainedwalsh.com/about-me/contact/

Elaine D Walsh
was a quarterfinalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards and received an
honorable mention at the 2012 Southern California Book Festival in the general
fiction category.  In addition to
Restoration
, she penned
Atomic
Summer
, a highly acclaimed coming of age novel.

Nimitz Highway
and River Street is an intersection on the island of Oahu in Hawaii.  This is
where she impatiently came out of the womb ready to start on her personal
history.  She grew up in upstate New York against the backdrop of the flowering
women’s rights movement with different ideas from her mother as to what her
life as a woman should be.  In college, she majored in psychology with the
intent of being a “death & dying” counselor.  This would be her paying job
while she wrote the next great American novel.  Plan B kicked in and she
graduated with a B.A. in English, packed her car, and upset her parents by
moving to Florida in search of her destiny.

Without ever
having taken one business course, she created her own brand and became a
successful business executive by day and women’s fiction writer by night.  So
far, she has lived a Lifetime Movie Network life, a mixture of extraordinary,
ordinary, mundane, and terrifying, providing her great inspiration and fanning
her creative flame.

Her father
imbued in her a strong sense of family.  He brought to life the words
unconditional love.  From her mother, she gained an appreciation for the
complexities of relationships and richness in life one finds exploring and
experiencing everything from a recipe, to a historical site, to lunch with
friends, or a glass of wine.  Her mother was a collector of experiences.  They
journeyed together and grew as individuals and as mother-daughter.  Elaine
shared her mother’s journeys battling cancer, as her mother survived one and succumbed
to another.  In one of their last soulful conversations before her mother died,
she told Elaine she was glad Elaine also had a daughter and hoped she would
enjoy her own daughter as much as her mother enjoyed Elaine.

The most
powerful influences in her life and her stories come from being a daughter,
mother, friend, and soul mate.  But as a successful women’s fiction writer,
does this surprise anyone?

http://www.elainedwalsh.com/