The American Lady(135)

Richard laughed. “I can’t see the sea from here.”

“Spoilsport!” Wanda nudged him in the side. “You have no imagination.”

A moment later they came upon a piazza, and whatever answer Richard might have been about to give died on his lips. In front of them was the most beautiful fountain either of them had ever seen. Within a broad sandstone basin, countless cherubs cavorted in various poses, each holding a cornucopia from which the water poured out.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Wanda asked, amazed. She put a hand in front of her mouth. “That must be hundreds of years old, don’t you think?”

“I think it must be from the Renaissance,” Richard answered. He sounded just as impressed.

When they got closer, they saw that coins filled the bottom of the basin.

“It’s a custom here. You throw a coin into the fountain, shut your eyes, and make a wish. Then the wish comes true. Drat it all, I must have some small change somewhere . . .” Wanda said, and began scrabbling around in her purse.

Richard took her hand and drew her toward him. “My wish came true long ago,” he murmured and kissed the palm of her hand.

Later they ate roast squab with garlic potatoes in a little trattoria. They drank a Chianti wine that warmed them from the inside. They laughed, they talked, they touched hands across the table, and every movement meant more than it ever had before; every twinkle in their eyes was a message meant for the other alone; every gesture was a secret that shut out the rest of the world.

He is my man, Wanda thought all the while, almost bursting with pride and happiness.

They left the trattoria with the last of the other customers, and then, finally, they were standing in front of their rooms, each with a key in hand. When Richard kissed Wanda good-night, she clung to him with all her strength. Don’t leave! She didn’t want to be alone—she wanted to be with him, to feel him with her as never before.

The air between them was almost sparking with desire. It would be so simple to spend the next few hours together! But they had made a promise back home in Lauscha. And besides, they had to leave early the next morning; Richard’s train to Venice and Wanda’s train to Milan both left shortly after seven. They ought to get a few hours’ sleep. More embraces and more kisses followed, and then Wanda and Richard parted, their hearts heavy.

Wanda sat in her camisole at the old-fashioned dressing table that took up almost the whole wall in her little room and stared forlornly at her image in the mirror. She couldn’t summon the will to open her suitcase and look for her nightgown. Even though Richard was just on the other side of the wall, she missed him already!

Ever since he had told her how he felt on New Year’s Eve, so suddenly and with so much certainty, they hadn’t been apart for even a day. His trust in her, his good humor and tender caresses—how empty the days to come would be! Lost in thought, she ran her hand over her bosom but felt nothing. When Richard touched her there she shivered all over. When would she be back in his arms again—and happy? Richard . . .

Perhaps her longing would not be so bad tomorrow when she could look forward to seeing Marie again, but tonight, the idea of being without him for even a day or two was more than Wanda could bear.

She stood up so suddenly that the shellacked stool tipped over backward. She cringed, knowing that a noise like that at such a late hour would annoy the other guests. Then she went to the glass doors that led out onto the balcony and opened them. Just to get a breath of fresh air. To gather her thoughts.

Just that.



She wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Richard standing on the balcony next door. All the same her eyes widened when she saw what he was doing.

“You’re smoking?” She pointed at the glowing cigarette in his hand, astonished. He was one of the very few glassblowers in Lauscha who did not smoke. Whenever one of his friends offered him a cigarette in the tavern or on the street, he replied that he didn’t care for tobacco.

Now he grinned wryly. “You won’t go telling anyone, will you?” He took one last puff, then threw it to the floor and ground it out with his foot.

Wanda nodded and said nothing.

For a moment they stood there, silent, each leaning against the balcony railing, staring fixedly out at the houses opposite. There was a sharp smell in the air, perhaps rising to their balcony from the hotel kitchen. The tension between Wanda and Richard grew and grew.

Wanda swallowed. Then she said slowly, “I won’t tell anyone.” Her heart was hammering like crazy. A moment later she heard herself say, “I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine.”