Excerpts:
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Returning to Florence
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Jennifer and James:
After-dinner dance
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Together at last
Hours on end, she sat in the sanctuary
room in her Boston condo and trembled with the echoes of heartache that
rumbled through her body like a springtime brook, threatening to flood the
illusionary comfort of wintry time gone by. Florence gave her magic and
hope, and as much of herself as she could ever know. The architecture
alone would have been enough to transform her because every brick and
crevice oozed enchantment of the clearest dreams. However, architecture
was only one part of Florence that claimed Jennifer forever. David, her
David, was the other.
David, a quiet man with sand colored
hair, sat two rows in front of her on the far right side. He seemed to be
one of those dreamy, introspective art types in Jennifer’s summer painting
class. Jennifer had already completed the first of her two years at the
Florence Institute of Art. She was awarded a scholarship for winning an
international art contest in high-school. One minute, she was a spindly
youth with burning brown eyes that seemed to dance to the rhythm of her
inner thrill, the next, she was an artist in Florence, where she could
still hear the chisels, brush strokes, and verses of the Renaissance
masters.
Time stood still in Florence, recording
only the taste of wine, olives, cheese, and fresh baked bread. Then, the
green-eyed classmate introduced himself while Jennifer sat sketching on a
stone bench at the Belvedere Fortress. They went out in the evening, and
the two nights following. By the end of summer, they were in love. It
didn’t matter that David was rich and his family spent summers in their
lavish Florence villa, just as it made no difference that he had been
warned to shun gold diggers. After completing his summer class, David
enrolled as a regular student in the fall so he and Jennifer would have
another year together.
Jennifer relived the year in her
thoughts while considering whether going to Florence for the Donovan
project would bring back an overwhelming past. At the end of the school
year, David proposed and asked her to stay in Florence through the summer
so they could be married. When he didn’t show up after visiting his
parents in Venice, she agonized for days. He was going to tell them that
weekend. When almost a week had passed with no word from him, she believed
he had succumbed to his parents’ influence after all. She finally summoned
the courage to go to his house. David’s father met her at the door in
mourning clothes. He led her to a parlor where David’s mother sat
dabbing her tearful eyes with a tissue. In a suspicious, almost
recriminating tone, the woman told Jennifer how David had been killed in a
car wreck seven days before. An icy dismissal immediately followed to meet
Jennifer’s sobbing swoon. She hadn’t even had a chance to ask about the
memorial service; she’d never felt so helpless and alone.
Back in the United States a month
later, Jennifer found out she was pregnant. Amilya, her love child, her
gift from David, never met her paternal grandparents despite Jennifer’s
efforts to reach them. Just as Amilya’s birth salved Jennifer’s heartache
twenty-three years before, so Jennifer’s love for her daughter helped her
realize an added opportunity in the Donovan presentation. Amilya was on
summer break after her first year in a graduate program at MIT, and
Jennifer became elated about having Amilya join her in Florence after her
work. Perhaps, Amilya could finally get a true sense of her father by
following her mother’s footsteps in the great city.
Jennifer still yearned for David; the
taste of him, the smell of him, the look in his eyes when he proposed in
the Boboli Garden. David would have adored their daughter. More than
anything, Jennifer wanted Amilya to be proud of the circumstances
surrounding her creation and birth. Had it not been for Amilya and the
Donovan assignment, Jennifer would have probably never summoned the
courage to return to Florence. Still, she feared the looming heartbreak in
her soul. (Return to Top --
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The warmth of his contact as he led her
onto the balcony made her oblivious to everything but the ease with which
she followed. They looked at the lights of Florence, her hand in his in a
mellow possession that spread in waves through her entire body while the
night bloomed into an idea of romance only the city before them could
nurture.
The music wove around them with the
evening river breeze. When he turned to her, basking in his glimmering
gaze felt like stepping onto an endless meadow where untouched, tall grass
was whipped by the wind. She didn’t feel his arms go around her waist, nor
hers lift up around his neck. She only heard the music and felt them
moving slowly in a circle, their bodies so close that their breaths
mingled. The air they shared carried their secrets, and for a while, they
weren’t strangers at odds in their dreams and hearts, but twin flames of a
single soul that have at long last found each other.
Jennifer didn’t want
the music to end. She didn’t want him to stop holding her. In his arms,
her heart was at home, and she wanted to stay there. Like the other night
by the pool, Jennifer remembered how delicious and how full a single
moment can be and how, ever so simply, she could reach out and hold on to
her heart’s longing. (Return to Top --
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Minutes elapsed while James watched her standing before him, her eyes
beaming what only her heart could explain. Finally, he stood up and
stepped closer. They were an arm's length apart, but neither made a
suggestion of bridging the remaining space. They just stood there, like
two old friends who traveled the world over and now tried to sense what
time and distance had done to their souls, how they changed, and whether
they still knew each other.
All the while, the reality of the
encounter stirred deep within each a familiar yearning, like the pull of a
clock's hands as they neared noon and knew that nothing could hold them
apart. Only then did he reach for her, still hesitating, letting his
fingers butterfly caress her hair
while his eyes held steadfast to hers as if he still wasn't sure that she
was really standing there. Then, she was in his arms, and Jennifer knew
that with the embrace came his heart; all of it. (Return to Top
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