Rosamanti (19 page)

She heard a noise from down on the lower shelf. It sounded like the seductive shrieking of a Siren
There it is again.
She undid her hand that was tied to the ring, shaking it to get the blood flowing. The pain from pins and needles shot up her arm. Carefully, she crawled to the edge of her safe ledge and looked over.

“Signora! Signora
Sarah!”

“Carlo! Carlo!”
She screamed out his name, half sobbing. A bright yellow flashlight beam shot up and momentarily blinded her. “Oh Carlo. Help me. Help me please!” Now she felt hysterical. Tears burned her eyes, washing even more salt into them.

Then she saw him. This tiny little boy, with a big heart and the courage of a lion, was here to save her. She felt herself shaking all over.

“Stay there, Signora. I will save you.”

He climbed nimbly over the rocks, finding a narrow ledge that led right round to the cave opening. He took something out of his small bag, played with it for a moment, then stuck his hand as far as he could into the opening. She heard a hissing sound and saw a bright flare jet out the gap.

It wasn’t long before she heard men’s voices. A long pole entered the narrow slit between the rock roof and the water. Something bright orange was tied to the end. Carlo grabbed the pole, retrieving the orange object. He turned and hastily made his way back around the ledge, then climbed up to her. She put her arms around him and nearly squeezed the life out of him, tears streaming down her face.

“No time now, Signora. You can love me tomorrow.” His serious manner was so different to the little boy she knew. “Quickly, put this lifejacket on. We must hurry. The tide turns very fast here.”

Still shivering, she put the orange lifejacket on and tied it up tight. Carlo had also donned one.

“Come, signora.” He held out a hand to her. She grasped it, and he led her down the rocks until they reached the lower ledge, then he made her find finger holes in the rocks that jutted out on the wall of the cave, as she put one foot in front of the other on the narrow ledge. Together they reached the cave opening. Down here, she could see that the swell was still large. Each time a wave came, the water rose up, leaving no gap at all in the entrance.

The long wooden pole came through the opening again, this time with a coil of thin, nylon rope tied to the end. Carlo carefully leaned forward and grabbed the pole with one hand, then removed the coil of rope with the other. He threaded the end through two loops on his lifejacket, then opened up the lasso that was already tied and asked Sarah to put it over her. She took it and threaded her arms through. When it was snuggly sitting under her armpits, Carlo pulled it tight and gave the rope attached to the pole two good yanks.

“Now, signora. Hold your nose like this.” He pinched his nose firmly. “Then take a
big
breath and hold it—like this.” Again he showed her.

Fear gripped her. “N-no, Carlo. I can’t swim. You don’t understand.”

He stared at her for a split second.

“OK, ciao, signora.” He turned, holding his nose, and prepared to dive into the grey swell.

“OK! OK! But, please hold my hand.”

Her heart beat rapidly and it was hard for her to take a deep breath, she was panting with fear.

Carlo held her hand, took a big breath, and pinched his nose. She did the same, scrunching her eyes tightly shut. As the swell ebbed out and the height of the water dropped, he squeezed her hand.

“
Jump
!”

Her ears filled with a loud, cloudy, roaring sound. She sank, weightless. She clung to his little hand and felt the lasso around her chest tighten, making it hard to hold her breath. Just as she could hold it no longer, two hands grasped her under the arms and something hard pressed against her back.

“You can breathe now, signora. It is over.” Carlo’s voice was gentle.

She put her hands to her eyes to wipe the water away. When she opened them, Carlo, his black hair wet and plastered to his head, gazed at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Bruno, standing above her, looked down at her with a worried face. Then, into her vision came Pietro. Through her stinging eyes, she saw him, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks.

“
Meno male che sei qui.
Oh bella, I am so happy to see you.”

He reached down and placed a hand behind her head, cradling it. He held a bottle of water to her lips and she drank thirstily. She was lying in the bottom of a small wooden boat, a coil of wet rope under her hips. It bucked in the swell. She heard a motor start up and the boat moved forward through the water.

“I thought you told me you couldn’t swim.” Pietro’s voice was thick with emotion, his smile shining through his tears.

Chapter Thirteen

Sarah lay on the crisp white sheets, a drip buried in the back of her hand and some wires from a monitor attached to her chest with sticky pads. She gazed at Pietro, sitting in a wheel chair next to her bed, also sporting a drip in his hand which fed from a bottle hooked up high on the back of his wheelchair.

“Just look at us.” She indicated their bandages and casts. “We’re obviously meant for each other.” She smiled warmly at him.

He met her gaze, his black eyes swimming with affection. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Cara mia. I’m so sorry that I was the cause of your near tragedy.”

She put her free hand out and stroked his face.

“Pietro. I’m a writer. I’m as curious as an old tomcat. Sure, I was upset that you had stormed off, as I didn’t understand why. But I went on my…adventure…because I wanted to.”

“You know, in some ways you remind me of Nonna. She was brave like you. And kind.”

“Tell me about her?”

He inhaled deeply and his eyes took on a faraway look as he stared out the window.

“Nonna—Elena Lombardi—was born upstairs in Rosamanti. I don’t know which room, but it was a large family—Nonna was the youngest. Her brothers were born there also. They were all much older than Nonna and moved away to Naples. Except for one.
Zio
Giuseppe stayed here, opened the restaurant at Marina Grande, and married Zia Maria. He died several years ago.

“The years went by. My grandfather was a hard man. A dominating patriarch. Nonna and her mother—my great grandmother—worked very hard. It took its toll, and my great grandmother died from tuberculosis. Nonna was only twelve when she died. Her brothers had all left home, leaving her to do all the work. After a few years, my great grandfather finally hired a young man to herd the goats. His name was Alberto, and he lived in the cottage.” He turned to look at Sarah. “Over time, he and Nonna fell in love and wanted to marry. My great grandfather forbade it.” He reached out and took a sip of water from the cup on the bedside table.

“When Nonna became pregnant, great grandfather whipped Alberto and sent him away. Then he boarded up the cottage.”

Pietro shifted his sore leg, stretching it.

“Nonna ran away and went looking for Alberto. A few days later, some fishermen found his body at the foot of the cliffs—not far from the entrance to Grotta Bianca.” He looked down at his knee. “It wasn’t clear if he had fallen, or…”

“My mother told me that Nonna returned home to her enraged father. He beat her, even though she was pregnant. When the baby—my mother—was born, he still made Nonna work like a slave, tending the goats, pigs, chickens, as well as cooking and cleaning for him. It was 1938, and the Great Depression was harsh. My great grandfather contracted a chest infection and died when my mother was three. Nonna rode out the war years by selling produce from the farm to the locals.” He looked into Sarah’s eyes. “She had a very hard life. It is a great pity to me that my mother did not appreciate what Nonna did for her.” He took a deep breath and let out a loud sigh. “But that is another story.”

Sarah pulled a tissue from the box on the table next to her bed and blew her nose.

“That is such a sad story. No wonder you loved her so much.”

He remained silent, staring out the window. When he spoke again, emotion caused his voice to break.

“Nonna was always there for me when my mother was
too busy
—which was most of the time. Nonna fed me, helped me with my homework, loved me.” He turned to her and smiled. “She said she would find me a wonderful woman to be my wife. Said she had a secret that would ensure I was always well looked after—even after she was gone. She called it her
tesoro
, her treasure.” He instantly looked away as moisture filled his eyes.

When he looked back at her, composed, his eyes were gentle and full of love.

“I think Nonna has already given me her treasure. She has brought me you.”

Sarah swung her legs off the bed and, bending over, wrapped her arms around him. Her tears dripped onto his neck. He tilted her face back and kissed her tears, then her nose, then her lips.

“I love you, cara mia. I adore you.”

Her eyes shone, and her heart overflowed with the love she felt for this beautiful man.

“I love you too, Pietro, with all my heart.”

Their kiss was gentle, but loving, full of caring.

They didn’t hear the door open.

“
Mi scusi
.” They broke apart and turned toward the door. Carlo and Teresa stood there, looking embarrassed. Teresa grabbed Carlo’s shoulders and started to turn him around, to retreat from the room.

“
Entrare. Entrare.
” Pietro’s face lit up with pleasure at the sight of his friends. He held out his arms and Carlo ran to him. Pietro hugged the little boy forcefully. Then he let him go and reached out for Teresa. She came over and hugged Pietro, kissing him on both cheeks. When she released him, Bruno, who’d been standing near the door, came forward and clasped Pietro’s hand in both of his, shaking it warmly.

Carlo looked at Sarah, their eyes locking. He rushed over and they hugged for a long time.

“My little hero.” Sarah’s voice choked, barely allowing the words out. “How can I ever thank you?”

Carlo said nothing, just clung on tight to his friend, his little arms wrapped around her neck.

* * *

Two days later, Sarah and Pietro sat around the kitchen table at Rosamanti. They had already milked Geraldina and collected the eggs, putting half aside for Teresa. The hospital had discharged them both that morning.

“Come, bella, let’s go and watch the sunset from the pergola.” He took a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and handed it to Sarah, then turned to grab the handles of his crutches. She picked up two glasses, and they went outside to their favorite place. Geraldina must have heard their voices and called out to them.

“Ssh, bambina. I am busy now.”

The orange sunset swept over the western sky. Some clouds, low on the horizon, added to the depth of color. Pietro tapped her shoulder and pointed excitedly up into the sky above Rosamanti. She followed his gaze and saw two very large birds circling overhead.

“Those are the peregrine falcons of Tiberio. There are only four pairs of these magnificent birds of prey left on Capri. Over the centuries they have been hunted and all but wiped out. They are territorial, and these ones are ours, living up here near Monte Tiberio. They are now a protected species.”

She watched in awe as the large birds soared on the air currents, hardly moving their wings. Round and round they went, then suddenly, in tandem, they dived down to earth like arrows from a bow and disappeared from sight.

“Hm, I’d say rabbit for dinner for those two.”

The sky darkened from orange to scarlet, then from lavender to violet. They sipped on the deliciously crisp wine and sat together in companionable silence.

“Pietro. I’m sorry I went against your wishes and looked at the goatherd’s cottage. I understand now that it’s a special place for you, and was most certainly so for Nonna.”

He shrugged. “Non importa, bella. Not now. But when you brought it up and detailed your vision for a restaurant there, it—well—it upset me. You see, my mother always wanted to rent it out, to earn some money from it. Nonna and she fought over it a lot. Nonna begged her not to open it. She would cry and was very distressed. You see, it contains her memories. She used to sneak there at night to be with Alberto. It’s where my mother was conceived.” He let out a breath. “But now, I realize I over reacted, and indeed, behaved badly. Please, bella, understand that I am not a bad tempered man. I rarely get angry.”

She put a finger to his lips. “Ssh. It was I who was in the wrong. I had no business to even dream up plans for you. I know you’re happy working for Zia Maria, and it’s none of my business.”

Neither spoke, both thinking through the conversation.

“What I don’t understand, is why you were so keen to explore the goatherd’s cottage, that you went in through the tunnel from the cellar? Why didn’t you just break in? Were you afraid I would be even more angry?”

“I needed to solve the puzzle. I actually had no intention of going against your wishes by entering the cottage. I went there by accident.”

Pietro’s brows drew together. He shook his head slightly. “What puzzle do you mean?”

Sarah told him about the clues that Nonna had left in her letter. She explained how she asked Carlo to translate them for her, but neither of them could make out what Nonna was talking about.

Sarah went upstairs and picked up her notebook with the letter and translations of the three clues. Then she remembered the scroll she found in the second tunnel. It was lost forever, probably somewhere on the floor of Grotta Bianca, being eaten by fish. But she did remember the words written on it.

Returning to the pergola, she sat next to Pietro, and together they pored over the clues, the maps, and began discussing the whole mystery.

Footsteps crunching on the gravel courtyard made them look up. Teresa, Carlo and Bruno, bearing a large bowl, came in, all of them beaming from ear to ear.

“Ciao. We have brought you some dinner.” Carlo placed a bottle of wine on the table while Teresa placed the heavy earthenware bowl in the center. Sarah jumped up and hugged them both, then turned to race inside the kitchen.