A Life Separate: Together

Chapter 1

Chapter 1I woke up and the morning sun was coming through the window. I was still a little drunk from the night before; I felt like I had been run over by a truck. I lay there with her naked body on top of the sheets, feeling her breath. I got up, slipped on a pair of shorts, and headed for the kitchen to put on a pot of espresso. Sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the coffee, I tried to get my head around the events of the last day.

When the coffee was finished, I made myself a cappuccino, grabbed a stale Cornetto, and opened the French doors to the terrace. It was going to be another hot day. I walked out onto the second-floor terrace and sat at the table staring at the view. I love this time in the morning in summer. It’s warm with a coolness in the air. From the terrace, you can see over the red tile rooftops of the village all the way to the Po Valley. I sat there deep in thought, remembering the phrase “be careful of what you wish for.” I didn’t really wish for this. I thought I would never see her again. Cindy O’Brian, the woman of my dreams, sitting at my table available to me. I thought of her every day since I last saw her three years ago. Unexpectedly here she is. I’ve been married three times. After a few years, they all ended in the same place, with me being very distant from the wives. My last marriage – the third – was most successful. We were married thirty years before my wife died. Still at the end, we lived separate lives. Maybe I’m the person who loves deeply what they cannot have. Cindy is a wonderful person. Maybe, now that she is here and available I will screw this up.

We only had a little less than five weeks together and most of that was running from authorities, trying to escape Italy with our lives. She had a family in the States and came to Italy to escapes an investigation of her husband’s business. We met in an Italian language school and for me it was love at first sight. One look into her eyes and I developed feelings about her that I have never felt before. She was 24 years younger, happily married and with a family. Yep, definitely not available and off limits to me; or so I thought. It wasn’t long before we were in love and afraid to talk about it. We both knew it couldn’t go anywhere. Then she disappeared and was on the run from the FBI, Home Land Security and a terrorist group. Her husband’s coffee import company had gotten involved with money laundering and smuggling weapons to a terrorist group. She had a file of e-mails that implicated the Director of Homeland Security and proved she and her husband were innocent. The FBI wanted to arrest her. The terrorists wanted to kill her and recover the file before she could give it to the FBI, and implicate the Director of Home Land Security.

She contacted me. With the help of Jim Marino, a friend with an international security company, and my Italian friends and family members, we fled Italy. We got to America, where we were almost murdered in Kansas. We were arrested – but with some extreme luck – the file was found, the bad guys were caught, and we were released. She went back to her family and I returned to Italy to live half the year in a house in the small village of Varni. Varni is a village of 400 people who live partway up the mountains that form the beginning of the Aosta Valley. It is the village of my Great Grandfather. This all happened during a few weeks. I know, the story sounds like a book of fiction. It was. I wrote it, a novel called The Willing, by Warren Steelgrave. The book was fiction but it was a true depiction of falling in love with Cindy O’Brian and all the events related to us getting out of Italy.

I was a retired Electrical Contractor who had just lost his wife. I came to Italy to learn Italian and spend time with family and start the last chapter of my life. Little did I know starting that chapter would take 40 years of connections and experiences to save it. The book became a best seller, and now I guess I’m a writer. I have thought of Cindy every day for three years. I never called her. I did not want to intrude on her life and family. There was no point to it. In fact, what I loved about her the most was her loyalty to her husband and family.

Yesterday, I was sitting outside at the Bar Pasticceria Cabosse checking emails when I looked up and she was standing at my table. Her husband had fallen in love with a coworker and she was divorced. She came to Italy looking for me. We spent the day walking around Castellamonte and had dinner at the Tre Re. After dinner, we came back here to my house. Now I am sitting quietly questioning myself, wondering whether this is good for her. It’s possible she can get terribly hurt in the end. Suddenly, I feel her touch my arm.

“Good morning, or should I say Buongiorno.”

I smiled and looked up. Cindy was standing there wearing only my tee shirt God she was beautiful. “Good morning, how did you sleep?”

“Like a rock, Warren. I didn’t even feel you get up. Have you been up long?”

“Naw, only about twenty minutes. Coffee?”

She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I would love a cup. The smell of the coffee is what woke me up.”

“One cappuccino coming up.”

As I stood up and headed to the kitchen, I heard her say “When I came out you seemed deep in thought. Did I interrupt something important?”

“Nope, nothing that won’t work itself out in time.” I made her a cappuccino, grabbed the last stale Cornetto, and brought it to her on the terrace. “Is everything all right Warren? You seem a little distant this morning. Maybe I should not have come.”

“Don’t be silly. Think of it like this. A person has been a working stiff all of his life, never able to put two cents together and – all at once out of the blue – that person wins the lottery for 20 million dollars. It can be a little overwhelming. It can take a while before you believe it’s true and not a dream. That’s all that’s going on with me. I’m still in shock that you showed up.” She smiled and went back to the view.

As she was finishing her coffee she turned to me and asked. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“I don’t know. What would you like to see?”

“I want you to show me your Italy. I don’t mean the Italy of travel books but the Italy you love the most.”

I thought about what she asked and then replied, “Let’s take a drive up the Aosta Valley to Gran St. Bernard Pass and see the dogs. After, on our way down from the pass, we can have lunch in Aosta.”

“What dogs?” she asked.

“Saint Bernards. The monks have been breeding them for centuries to help rescue travelers on their way over the pass in the winter.”

“You’re saying that Saint Bernards, with the cask of brandy around their necks, are bred in Italy?”

“Not quite. The Monastery is in Swaziland but just a couple of 100 yards across from the Italian border. Gran San Bernardo pass is the highest point Pilgrims would cross going to Rome from Canterbury, England. The Monastery was built in 1049 as a place for Pilgrims to seek safety from storms and a place to stay during the night on their pilgrimage to Rome. The dogs were bred to help rescue lost pilgrims. To this day, people still walk from Canterbury, England to Rome.”

“It sounds fascinating and a lot of fun. Give me a few minutes to shower and let’s go.” Cindy went to change. I got up and brought our plates and coffee cups into the kitchen. I was washing out the coffee cups when I saw movement out the window. There is an alley between my house and that of my neighbors and the window faces it. I turned and looked out the window and caught just a glimpse of a man leaving the alley. I had the distinct feeling that he had been looking in the window.