Sandro turned onto her street, and not a soul was in sight. He reached her house, a two-story sliver of gold stucco that radiated like sunshine. The lights were off and the shutters closed. Elisabetta had to be asleep.
He thought of Marco serenading her, but Sandro couldn’t sing. He had no song, he had nothing anymore. Despair swept over him, and he realized he had no future to offer her, no accomplishments, no alleged genius, not even a healthy body, and he felt flayed to his very bone, nothing but his rawest self, longing for her.
Sandro collapsed to his knees, landing on the cobblestones. He slumped over, his head down, and the tears he had held back burned his eyes. He doubled over, breaking down, incapable of anything but sorrow.
“Sandro?”
Sandro could have sworn he heard Elisabetta calling his name. It was a voice he had loved for so long, and it emanated from far above the street, perhaps from heaven itself. He must have been hallucinating, truly descending into madness.
Nevertheless, he looked up.
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
Elisabetta
15 October 1943
Just before bedtime, Elisabetta went to the rooftop with the cats, holding a candle in a jar for light. It had rained while she was at work, which presented a problem for the flowers in the tureens, as they had no drainage. She had to drain them, for she couldn’t let water rot the roots. It was probably one of the reasons that priceless soup tureens weren’t used for planting.
She set the lamp on the table and went about her chore, tilting each tureen and letting the water run out onto the roof. Gnocchi and Rico picked their way from pot to pot, mincing on delicate paws to avoid the puddles. Their noses took in the various smells, giving them information only they received, since animals had abilities that far exceeded humans, especially cats. And especially Gnocchi and Rico, who were geniuses even among their own.
Elisabetta reached the Capodimonte tureen, then noticed that Gnocchi was heading toward the narrow ledge surrounding the roof. Elisabetta worried whenever the cats walked on the ledge, as she feared they could fall.
“Gnocchi, please get down,” Elisabetta said, but Gnocchi wasn’t about to stop what she was doing, even something so dangerous. That was how strong was Gnocchi’s will, and her self-confidence.
Elisabetta approached the ledge cautiously, not wanting to provoke the very disaster she was trying to prevent. She knelt at the ledge, extending her hand, but Gnocchi only turned away, showing her furry didietro, as she could be cheeky that way.
Elisabetta looked over the ledge, taken aback to see a man standing in front of the house. He was tall and thin, and his hair was light enough to catch the moonshine. Something inside her recognized him instantly, despite the darkness. She wondered if it was really him or if she was in some strange sort of waking dream. It made no sense that he would be in front of her house in the middle of the night.
In the next moment, the man fell to his knees.
Elisabetta gasped. “Sandro?”
The man looked up, and it was him.
“Elisabetta?” Sandro rose, looking up. “Is that really you?”
“Yes! Is it really you?”
“Where are you? Why are you up there?”
“Why are you down there?’’ Elizabeth shouted, excited. “Come up and see me! Go two houses down and around the back, there’s an alley.”
“I’ll be right up!” Sandro ran off.
Elisabetta jumped to her feet, hurried across the roof, and reached the landing of the fire escape. A few minutes later, Sandro came running down the alley, a silhouette racing toward her, and she felt her heart surrendering to the love she had felt for him for so long.
“I love you!” Sandro called to her.
“I love you, too!” Elisabetta felt her heart flood with happiness, and Sandro reached the fire escape, grabbed the bottom, and climbed onto the lowest landing. He bounded up the steps, and Elisabetta reached for him just as he swept her up in his arms, lifting her off the stairs, swinging her onto the rooftop, and kissing her once, then again.
Elisabetta kissed him back, ardently, fully, embracing him. His arms enveloped her, and all of the heartache and fear and worry melted away, and she felt sheer joy in his embrace, and in the next moment, he set her back on her feet, looked down at her with a smile, and cupped her face in his hands as if she were something precious, as delicate as antique china.
“I’ve missed you so much, Elisabetta.”
“I’ve worried so much about you.”
“We’re alive. And I think the worst is over.”
“Thank God,” Elisabetta said quickly, as if they couldn’t catch up fast enough.