Giancarlo settled back and stared out the window, his thoughts drifting back to that day all those years ago when he thought he had left Castelalto for good, vowing never to return. For a very long time after he had gone to America, he refused to even speak the name of the place, such was the bitterness and resentment that had driven him away. All the same, as much as he tried to shake it off, Giancarlo had never been able to completely rid himself of the lurking suspicion that, somehow or other, time and circumstances would one day conspire to bring him back. Of course, precisely what would motivate him to return, and how it would all play out once he did, were till now things about which he could only imagine. The present scenario was one of which he could never have possibly dreamed. Recalling how resolved he had been to never return to his hometown, it astonished him that, in the end, all that had been required to draw him back was a single word from Antonella. That in itself was far more powerful than the earthquake that had shaken the mountain. So much time had gone by, so much had happened, and so much had changed for Giancarlo, but as he watched the landscape rushing by, he realized that things inside his heart were still very much the same.

It was not long before Rome was well behind them, and the flat terrain gave way to rolling hills. Away to the east, Giancarlo could see the mountains begin to rise like a dark wall across the horizon. His driver took note of them, as well, and glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

“Signore,” he said, gesturing into the distance. “Abruzzo.”

“I know,” said Giancarlo softly.

Then he closed his eyes to rest for what was to come.

When he awoke with a start sometime later, Giancarlo found that they had left the autostrada and were now traveling through a valley along a two-lane road, the mountains looming on all sides around them. He sat back and looked up through the rear window at the sun, relieved to see that the skies had remained clear. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned, and leaned forward onto the back of the front seat.

“Un mezz’ora di piu,” said the driver before Giancarlo could ask. “Another half hour.”

Giancarlo sat back once more and looked out the windows, searching for a familiar landmark by which he might get his bearings. It was not until much farther along, when the car rounded a long bend and the road led them to a wide-open panorama of the mountains ahead, that he finally knew for the first time exactly where he was.