The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (ebook pdf reader for pc .TXT) 📕

She reached out and took his hand as they began a new journey together.

CHAPTER

39

Ten months later, Allison stood at the gallery window in Florence and looked down toward the Ponte Vecchio. A golden glow washed the yellowed stone walls and red-tiled roofs of the surrounding buildings, while white-clad tourists warded off the glittering sun with their lace-trimmed white umbrellas and strolled along the bridge.

Allison had come one last time to see the Michelangelos and the Raphaels, the Botticellis and the Cellinis—those magnificent paintings and sculptures that caught the spirit that was Italy. And now she drank in the scenic view from the art gallery window while she waited for Lila, who was still standing in the rotunda before the marble statue of David.

The villa in the hills had been closed up; their main luggage sent on to the station. Tonight would be spent in the pensione off the square, and then they would be on their way home.

The year had been a good one in a lot of ways. Settling down to a domestic life in the Tuscan countryside, while Rad slowly recovered his strength, had been an idyllic interlude. But it was almost as if the two of them had been cushioned from reality while the world continued with its business. Now it was time to return to America and get on with living their own lives.

“Oh, there you are, Allison.” Lila approached her at the window. “Are you enjoying the view?”

“Very much. And did you enjoy your last look at the statue?”

“Yes. It’s seldom that a woman gets to admire the beauty of a male torso without having society think of her as … well, as perverted.”

As Lila whispered the last word, she quickly looked around to make sure she hadn’t been overheard.

Allison laughed. “Are you ready to leave now?”

“I suppose so. Richard and Rad are probably tired of waiting for us.”

The two women walked down the marble staircase and rejoined their slightly impatient husbands, who were sitting on the portico. Then the four walked out onto the street, and as they passed the cathedral, the bells began to clang.

In the square, the white pigeons scattered. Lila, carefully stepping past them in her expensive shoes, said, “I think the only mistake Peggy ever made in entertaining was to release those awful doves at Jonathan’s wedding. Richard’s suit was absolutely ruined.”

“But it was a spectacular wedding, wasn’t it?” Richard replied, laughing.

“Indeed it was,” Rad agreed. “Almost as spectacular as this trip to Italy.”

“Where shall we go next, you two?” Lila asked. “Spain, perhaps? Or the Greek isles?”

“Hold on, Lila,” Rad protested. “It’s past time for Allison and me to get home.”

“Yes. If you want to change the itinerary, then you and Richard will have to do it without Rad and me.”

“Why don’t we save those countries for our trip next year, Lila, dear?”

“Only if Allison and Rad promise to go with us.”

“No promises, Lila,” Allison cautioned. “Rad and I don’t even know what the next few months will bring.”

That final evening was spent in a late alfresco dinner, with the sound of romantic music all around them. Red-checked tablecloths covered the cafe tables; the candles sputtered in the slight breeze, and the red wine flowed. One toast followed another until the golden Spanish melons laced with port arrived for the dessert.

“A golden dessert …”

“… to end a golden day.”

“And a golden headache to match—from all this wine,” Allison responded to the two men.

“If we don’t feel like traveling tomorrow, then we’ll have to stay another day, won’t we?”

“No, Lila,” Allison said gently. “Our sabbatical is over. Headache or no headache, we have to leave tomorrow.”

As the sun came up over the Tuscany hillsides and traveled past the vineyards to light the square in Florence, the four Americans left the pensione where they’d spent their final night.

“You’re not supposed to look back,” Lila said sadly as they traveled in the carriage to the station. “Something about being turned into a pillar of salt. But I have to take just one more teeny look at the square.”

“Then let’s all do it at the same time,” Allison suggested. “That way, if something happens, we’ll still be together.”

The four turned and drank in one last view. They waved to the city of Florence as Allison called out, “Arrivederci.”

The trip home by steamer was uneventful. The weather was good, with no storms to churn the mild waves into a tempest. And Rad, completely recovered except for an almost imperceptible limp, was a vastly different passenger en route home, participating in all the activities rather than spending his time in a deck chair, as he had on the way across.

He and Allison played croquet and took long walks on deck. And she was the one who lounged in a deck chair while Rad swam up and down the pool and grew even tanner under the summer sun.

When the ship finally docked in New York harbor, Allison and Rad prepared to leave Lila and Richard, who were traveling to Newport to visit other friends.

“Will you go back to Kentucky now?” Lila asked.

“No,” Rad said. “We’ll rest a few days here in New York. Then we have one more trip to take.”

“Oh? Allison didn’t say anything about another trip,” Lila replied, feeling slightly out of sorts.

“I didn’t tell her. It’s still a secret.”

The dimple in Lila’s cheek showed as she said, “Then I won’t pry. But, Allison, as soon as you know, promise to write me all about it.”

“I’ll write you, Lila,” she promised, still staring at her husband.

Lila and Richard disappeared down the gangplank into the vast rush of passengers disembarking. But Allison and Rad, with no strict schedule to adhere to, took their time and waited for the crowds to thin out before leaving the ship.

And so it was that a voice calling to Allison came as a complete surprise.

“Mother! Papa! Over here!”

She