CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Elisabetta
August 1938
That night, Elisabetta sat at the kitchen table watching Rico eat, still in her black dress from the funeral. The cat’s throaty chewing was the only sound in the empty apartment, and she felt her father’s absence, for he had been good company, even if he wasn’t sober. She had no one to take care of now, except Rico.
Someone knocked, the sound startling her. She rose, crossed the kitchen, and opened the door, surprised to find Marco there, smiling at her, in uniform. “Marco?”
“Elisabetta, come with me.”
“What? Where?”
“Come on! Let’s go.” Marco took her hand and led her from the apartment, then to the street, which was almost blocked by an elegant black convertible coupe with a gleaming chrome grille, curved sections over each wheel that came to a dramatic point, and more flashy chrome on the sides.
“You know this car?” Elisabetta asked, astonished.
“Yes, it belongs to my boss.” Marco strode to the passenger side door, opening it for her with a flourish. “Isn’t it beautiful? It’s a Lancia Astura, designed by Pinin Farina. Get in, I’ll take you for a ride.”
“You drive?”
“They taught me. It’s easy.”
“But you have to be twenty-one. You have to have a license. It’s against the law.”
“Elisabetta, we are the law. Now please, get in.” Marco gestured at the open passenger door, and she crossed to the car and climbed inside reluctantly, taking in the rich leathery smell of the seats. She had only ever been in a car a few times, as one wasn’t necessary in the city. Her gaze marveled at its dashboard and around its mysterious dials and knobs.
“Here we go!” Marco slid inside the driver’s seat and closed the door. He started the engine, and the car began motoring through the narrow streets. “My boss loves cars, and this is one of three he owns. I’m in charge of getting them serviced and maintained. They say Il Duce favors the Alfa Romeo, and most of those sedans are used on official business, but this car is a gem. This is the only convertibile.”
“Does your boss know you have it?”
“He’s out of town.” Marco beamed as he drove ahead, but Elisabetta felt self-conscious at being so visible, as she had never driven in a convertibile. It felt disrespectful on the day she had buried her father, and she hoped the neighbors didn’t see.
“Everyone’s looking at us.”
“They’re jealous.” Marco shrugged.
“No, they think you’re in the government.”
“I am.” Marco glanced over, his expression soft. “You’ve had a hard time today and you need a diversion. I’ll get us onto the Lungotevere, and we can go fast.”
“I don’t want to go fast.”
“Maybe you just don’t know it yet.” Marco smiled, and the car picked up speed, turning onto the Lungotevere Sanzio. Her hands flew automatically to her hair, hoping to keep it in place. He joined the line of traffic, stopping at a red light, then turned to her. “It will get more fun now, and you’ll love the feel of the wind.”
“We won’t be able to hear ourselves talk.”
“That’s true, but there are things you can’t do when you’re talking.” Marco leaned over, giving her a peck on the lips.
Elisabetta shook her head at him. “I should’ve known.”
“But you didn’t. You don’t know everything, cara. I know some things that you don’t, and I’ll show them to you. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful way to live?”
Elisabetta warmed. She hadn’t expected to hear words of love in an open car, but Marco could be spontaneous that way. Life with him was a sort of adventure, and he lifted her spirits, every time.
The traffic light turned green, and the car leapt forward. They were quickly out of Trastevere, and in no time she found herself enjoying the ride. The big engine rumbled as they traveled southward, and she gave up on her hair, letting it whip around her face in a crazy fashion. She realized that after a heartbreaking day, it felt good to empty her head and whiz past the lights and shadows of the beautiful buildings, ancient ruins, and imposing municipal offices. They zoomed out of the city, and she surrendered to Marco’s plan, having none of her own except to survive the day on which she had buried her father.
The buildings gave way to fields, and the odors changed from diesel fumes to fresh air and earthy manure, natural and good. She rested her head back on the cushioned leather seats and looked up at the night sky as they drove through the countryside, so that the environs were as dark as the sky and all around her was a soft blackness.