“Eliana! Eliana!”

Eliana was down the hill and up again as Ross watched her. Manuela suddenly appeared on the opposite hilltop. She ran toward Eliana, stopping at the ridge Eliana and Ross had just descended. Eliana shouted as she ran, “Che c’è, Manuela?”

“Alessio’s having an attack.”

In the pink glow of the fading twilight Ross could see the crowd emerge from the winery, congregated around Alessio. He could see everyone but Eliana, who had vanished in the midst of the crowd. He saw the crowd part as Luca’s miniature Fiat pulled up, and then he caught a brief glance of Eliana as she climbed into the back of the car with Alessio in her arms, and his helplessness made Ross feel sick to his stomach. He could see Maurizio and his wild gestures. He watched Luca’s car lurch forward and drive away.

The group milled about for a while; then a few couples left for home, though most just went back inside. Maurizio was the last to go. He glanced around the vineyard, like an elk suddenly stopped to smell for danger; then he turned and walked back inside. Ross sat on the ground next to the wall until the sky turned dark. And when all was dark around him, dark and cold, he walked back to his apartment alone.

CHAPTER 21

“Caro è quel miele che bisogna leccar sulle spine.” Dearly bought is the honey licked from a thorn.

—Italian Proverb

Eliana didn’t come home the next day and Ross worried about her. Tuesday he led three groups and didn’t return from Florence until after dark. When he opened his door, he found a folded square of paper lying on the tile floor of his foyer.

Dear Ross,

Alessio and I got back from the hospital early this afternoon. If you have time tonight I’ll be up late painting. Maurizio is out for the evening so just come on in.

Con affetto, Eliana

He put the note in his pocket. From his doorway he could see the light from Eliana’s studio. He crossed the courtyard and let himself into her home.

Eliana looked up as he entered her studio. “Hi.”

“Hi. Got your note.”

She looked tired, he thought. And there was an unfamiliar look in her eyes. He noticed that his unfinished portrait leaned up against the wall and she was working on something new. He sat down in his chair, though he knew her request had nothing to do with his portrait.

“Did everything go well at the hospital?”

“Yes,” she said softly, then added sarcastically, “Just another race for life.”

Her hand pushed the pencil against the canvas. He noticed her eyes were suddenly moist.

“Eliana?”

She didn’t reply.

“Eliana?”

She exhaled. “I’m fine, Ross.”

“No, no, you’re not.”

She sighed, put her pencil down. She ran her hand through her hair. “No, I’m a mess.” There was a long pause. “We need to talk.”