Lost in Carmel Read online

  “I'll send you the bill.”

  Monty loved to tease her, but his eyes said something else. They held onto her, and she let herself be held. Fingers wrapped around one another, holding tight to what they had unearthed. Precious in its newborn state, yet as old and deep as a river.

  Natalie sat back letting the contentment seep into her bones, replenishing her depleted reserves. Storing up happiness like bank deposits she could withdraw later. The two of them were comfortable enough in each other's presence to sit quietly, and in the silence, she could feel the healing taking place

  16 Serendipity

  July 1977

  Dearest Monty,

  We've settled into our apartment for the summer. I still can't believe I'm saying that.

  How Anne managed this I'll never know. Serendipity is the only word that seems to fit, although I've come to believe that the Eternal City is ripe with miracles.

  For weeks on end I watched out my bedroom window from Casa di Santa Brigida as my singing carpenters worked their magic on the building next door. After spending hours marveling at the frescoed dining room wall directly across from me, I almost have to pinch myself to realize it's mine for the next three months. Try telling me this wasn't meant to be.

  Nora and Tess arrived two weeks ago and have snuggled into their rooms. We have the top two floors of the apartment. By the way, there's a darling guest room with your name on it and I'm hoping you can spare a week or two at some point. Anne even hooked us up with a cook, who is spoiling us rotten. If food doesn't tempt you, I don't know what will.

  As far as Tess knows, this is just a summer vacation. There'll be plenty of time for truth. Later. Even Stan had to admit it was a good idea to remove Tess from the eye of the hurricane. My phone calls with Stan run the gamut from civil to explosive, sometimes within the same short conversation. I’m not going home yet, nor am I capable of returning to the set. I’m under a doctor’s care and yet all he cares about is the money.

  Thanks for setting things in motion with Gregory Sinclair. I've already received all the paperwork. It was odd to see the words PETITION FOR LEGAL SEPARATION staring at me in black and white and I'll admit my hand shook a little as I signed my name on the line, but by the time you read this, the papers should have arrived in Los Angeles.

  Greg told me not to say anything to Stan until after the paperwork had been filed. Stan's going to claim he was blindsided, and I can't help feeling as if I'm the one who's sneaking around. Greg insisted it had something to do with making sure Stan didn't transfer any money or make any changes to accounts. All that legal mumbo jumbo makes me nervous, but Greg assured me that going this route gave me some room to maneuver by clearly indicating in writing that the separation in no way binds me to the same terms in my final divorce.

  All I know is, that's going to be one hell of a phone call when Stan gets wind of it. It was hard enough to tell him I was staying here for the summer. He still thinks I just need time to get over it. But what I know is when I dropped the envelope in the mail, my fingers didn't try to hold onto it at all. Like a lot of other things, I let it go.

  I'm still seeing Anne, but I've graduated to only once a week now. You should know that I had a major breakthrough with her after you left. You said something like, “Sometimes you lie to yourself and I need to see that.” I couldn't shake the feeling there was a secret behind those words I needed to discover.

  What I realized is that when Stan threw his ultimatum on the table a decade ago, there must have been a part of me willing to let you go. With Tess in my belly it was a little late to admit Stan and I were never going to be right for one another. Somewhere deep down in my bones I knew if you stayed in the picture, you'd see right through me. Like you always did. You'd call me on it, and I'd be forced to either defend it or confront it. Without you there, I could pretend. Subconsciously I'd been handed a stay of execution and I grabbed it. Letting Stan play the bad guy, while I lied to myself.

  I don't know why I felt I had to lie and protect the image. I don't know why I couldn't admit I'd made a mistake, that Stan and I weren't right for one another. All my life, I was determined not to repeat Nora's mistake. Now here I am living her life. Divorcing, with a ten year-old daughter in tow. Almost as if my fate were predestined.

  Who knew your few words of truth would open a window and let light come flooding in?

  I should have known. You've always saved me.

  Meanwhile I have three glorious months to fill. For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful.

  Until I see you again,

  Baci (that's Italian for kisses)

  Nat

  17 Someone Else’s Life

  September 1, 1977

  Dearest Monty,

  Like cooling lotion on a bee sting, Italy continues to be a balm to my soul. In fact, I've decided that a summer in Rome is simply not enough. I'm staying. (I'll be expecting your phone call once you read this.)

  The only thing waiting for me in Los Angeles is a divorce and if I can handle that remotely, then I will.

  Now, along with the decision to stay for a while longer, will come a fresh round of long-distance fights with Stan. But it's worth fighting for. I've found something here. Me. I need to belong to me for a while longer. I've spent my life living in a bubble, protected from the outside world. What I've discovered, is that I LOVE the outside world.

  To wander down streets as a stranger and eat gelato in the piazza like a tourist is a gift. I feel like I'm living someone else's life and I'm not ready to hand it back yet.”

  Even considering the pain that brought me here, this summer in Rome with Tess has been the best time of my life. I haven't told Tess anything, yet. Yes, I'm stalling for time. Can you blame me? This summer has been a gift to her as well. We've built something special and I just wanted her to have every last minute before I tore it all down. I hope she'll forgive me. In the meantime, we've held hands as we explored this city and we've spent glorious days doing nothing. For some reason I think Italy might heal her, too.

  I'll be forced to have the talk with her soon enough, as school starts in two weeks. With Anne's help I've already registered Tess in the American Overseas School in Rome. The student body is one-third American and the curriculum is in English, so she'll have the best of both worlds. I hope she'll think it's a grand adventure.

  For some reason I believe that Rome is tied up with my destiny. (I can see you rolling your eyes.) You’re right, I've fallen in love with the city. Who knows, maybe it's just the pasta and the wine talking, and everyone knows things don't have to make sense when you're in love.

  Whatever the reason, I've extended the lease for another six months. Everyone I love is here with me, except you of course. By the way, I'm still holding onto your guest room and now that I'll be staying on, you'll have to come see me. Chloe will continue to divide her time between here and LA. She has your number and will get in touch when she's in town. She can help you with anything you need on my behalf.

  This whole process with Anne continues to be quite a journey. Equal parts fascinating and painful. I'm following the yellow brick road all the way to the end, only there'll be no great wizard to grant my wish. I'm sure you've already figured it out...I've had the power all along.

  Baci

  Nat

  18 James

  It was him.

  In the three months Natalie had lived here, Farnese had become her neighborhood. She bought flowers from the same cart every week, she walked home with armloads of bread from the bakery at the other end of Monserrato. In the evenings she and Tess came down to the piazza where sometimes they'd sit on the sidelines and watch, and other times, they entered the nightly passegiatta, or stroll. The Roman version of sitting on the stoop with your neighbors.

  But she'd only seen James Bond that one time, which led her to believe he was a visitor to her little corner.

  Now seeing him sitting casually at the table across the way, buried in his newspaper instead of
looking around in awe, she recognized how at home he was in his surroundings. Perhaps this was his piazza, too.

  If that was true, where had he been all summer?

  She watched closely to see if his companion of sadness was still hovering nearby. It was, but not as closely as before. Lost in her thoughts she wasn't quick enough to turn away when he looked up and caught her staring. The corner of his mouth lifted in what could have been a smile if he'd tried, but the slight nod of his head was recognition enough.

  She smiled back just before he ducked behind his paper and was gone.

  It was the nod of a head. Nothing more. She'd had the same from a dozen different men in this very piazza. But none of them left her feeling like a teenage girl at the top of the stairs looking down at her prom date.

  “Do you know him?” Chloe asked, witnessing the exchange.

  “No.” Natalie shook her head slowly, when what she really wanted to say was, Yes. I've known him all my life.

  19 Coffee Talk

  “You'll never be able to save your marriage if you're halfway around the world,” Nora said while slathering orange marmalade on toast.

  Though Anne had found them a cook to take care of weekday dinners, the family was on their own for breakfast and lunch. Just as well, although Natalie had fallen in love with Italy, she would never warm up to the Italians idea of breakfast. A hard roll and a piece of salami did not a breakfast make. Natalie was an all-American girl. Breakfast meant bacon, eggs, and toast, or at the very least a quick trip to the bakery down the street for chocolate cornettos.

  Morning rituals were the one thing Natalie and her mother had in common. Both loved to get up early while the house was still rubbing the sleep from its eyes, then take their time puttering over breakfast. The first cup of coffee was drank in silence. A murmured good morning as each wrapped hands around their steaming mug and prepared to ease into their day.

  Now on her second cup of coffee, Natalie replied. “There's nothing to save, Nora.”

  The chasm between her and Stan had become a continental divide long before she came to Rome. Nora, who'd spent years living in the guest house on the property knew the truth behind the headlines as well as Natalie. Although she wore a chic pair of glasses on her nose, she was an expert at ignoring what was right in front of it. Especially if it was an unpleasant bit of reality.

  “Well you know I've never been a fan of Stanley's, but... men do these sort of things. He made a mistake; it doesn't mean you need to tear your family apart.”

  Natalie laid her fork down and looked at her mother. “We don't have a family. We have a business arrangement. The two of us are nothing more than a production company. Besides what do you mean, ‘men do these things’? Are you talking from experience?”

  Nora waved Natalie away. “No, Alex never had an affair, that I know of. We just weren't right together. I only meant, if you're wavering at all, why drag Tess into it until you're completely sure.”

  “I'm sure,” Natalie said. “I'm also sure it's better to be here, thousands of miles away from the gossip. I don't want to hear about it, and I don't want to read about it. And I sure as hell don't want Tess to hear about it at school either. It's going to be hard enough as it is.”

  “Maybe so,” Nora sighed. “But part of me wishes I'd tried harder. For you.”

  In all of Natalie's years she'd never heard her mother hint at regret over the divorce. In fact Nora never talked about it. Alex Hampton became a distant memory, a name tacked on the end of Natalie's. Nora was from a different generation and the Scandinavian blood coursing through her veins insisted that one didn't sit and mull over one's life, one simply got on with it.

  Across the breakfast table, Natalie looked at her mother now. Wondering what other regrets Nora might be harboring behind pale blue eyes. With short silver hair tucked behind her ears, and Swedish cheekbones beneath an enviable complexion even at sixty-five, she was still striking. But she was alone. When she laid awake in the dark of night, staring at an empty side of the bed, did she ever wonder about the path not taken?

  “I tried for ten years. What does try harder look like?” Natalie asked, remembering the forced smiles and the strained silences of her own childhood, that hurt every bit as much as the raised voices. “Even when you and Daddy didn't fight, the air between you was always charged.”

  “I don't really know.” Nora brushed toast crumbs from her fingers onto her plate as if dismissing the idea entirely. “I have no idea what I'm talking about. Just feeling guilty for whatever pain I've caused you.” Her voice wobbled on the last word.

  “Nora.” Natalie reached over to take her mother's hand in hers. “Momma, what's this all about?”

  “I can't help wondering how much of your break-down belongs to me.”

  Her mother turned her blue gaze on her, eyes filled with her own pain, years of her own Feelings Inside Not Expressed.

  “No, Nora. Don't do that. My break-down belongs to me.”

  Nora dabbed her eyes and managed a faint smile, and Natalie's forty-year-old understanding of Nora Hampton shook on its foundation. She looked at her mother, who didn't have all the answers, but made her decision thirty years ago and saw it through all by herself. From that day forward it was just Nora and Natalie.

  And now it would be Natalie and Tess. Funny how life just kept rolling in circles. The past and the present catching up with one another as they raced around the sun. Nora lived with her failures and Natalie would live with hers.

  Failures.

  The word had her reaching for the medallion attached to the silver chain around her neck.

  St. Bridget hung between her breasts, out of sight, yet close to her heart. Sweet little Sister Elisabetta had gifted the medal to her upon hearing the news that Natalie was moving out. Even if it was only across the street.

  “What I love about Saint Bridget is the fact that she was an ordinary woman,” Elisabetta had said, cradling the medal in her palm. “A wife, a mother, who balanced her domestic life and spiritual life. Children in tow. The thing to remember about Saint Birgitta, her Swedish name, is that as far as man is concerned, she failed. She failed at everything she set out to do. Her vision about starting a religious order in Rome, was never actualized in her lifetime. Others finished her work and brought it to fruition. She died a worn-out old lady, far from home. Yet...” Elisabetta transferred the medal into Natalie's open palm and then closed her fingers around it, “God took her failures and built a lasting tribute to a woman who never lost faith.”

  “Thank you.” Natalie was touched at such thoughtfulness and squeezed the young girl's hand. “Thank you so much.”

  “You have no idea what God can do with your failures.” Elisabetta smiled, as if she already knew.

  Now Natalie tugged at the symbol of hope around her neck.

  20 Little Lies

  “What do you mean separated?” Tess asked. Her sandaled feet were swinging back and forth while they sat on the marble bench that ran the length of the French Embassy which anchored the Piazza Farnese.

  “We've been separated from Daddy all summer,” she continued as she looked up at Natalie for clarification.

  Looking into a pair of big brown eyes, Natalie's previous boast of confidence, shook. “This is different. I'm talking about a legal definition.”

  “Like divorce?”

  The conversation Natalie had dreaded for months was at hand. As she looked at the worry etched on a ten-year-old face, her heart seized in her chest.

  What am I doing to her?

  “No, not divorce.” Natalie chose her words with precision. It wasn't exactly a lie. It wasn't a divorce yet. Why not let Tess have the luxury of moving slowly, processing the information a spoonful at a time?

  “What does it mean, then?”

  “It means we're not going to live together, and we're going to take some time apart. To think things through.”

  “Are you thinking about getting a divorce?”

  She shoul
d have known Tess would hurl rapid-fire questions in her direction. She felt ill-prepared. Or maybe it was because she was trying to side-step the truth.

  Tess looked up at her, brown eyes demanding facts.

  “Yes, Tess. I'm thinking about it. But we're not there yet.”

  Tess turned away and stared at her toes and Natalie saw the slender shoulders bend under the weight of half-truths. Knowing all the while that Tess knew more than either one of them would admit. An audience of one, with front row seats to the drama couldn't be fooled by Natalie's optimistic tone.

  Tess was a child of Hollywood. Divorce seemed to come with their zip code. Already, at ten years old, many of her friends were old hands at the weekend shuffle.

  Natalie remembered long conversations while Tess was still snug in the womb, confidant what their relationship would look like. Natalie whispered a lot of promises; some she hadn't been able to keep. Now her broken word left Tess's world spinning off its axis. The look on her daughter's face had Natalie dredging up childhood memories of her own world spinning out of control and the worry that she might go flying off into the atmosphere and there'd be no one there to catch her.

  “Whatever happens between your father and me, we'll always be there for you. You can put that in your pocket.”

  No answer.

  “And since we won't be living with Daddy... for now,” Natalie continued digging the hole she was in, “I thought why not stay here in Rome for a while longer?” The false timber of her voice fooled no one. Tess snapped to attention and turned to confront Natalie head on.

  “What do you mean, stay here? You mean live here?”

  “For a while.”

  “What about school?”

  “They have schools in Rome. In fact, Chloe and I have already been in touch with a marvelous school, filled with American students. You'd be right at home.”