Seeking Sara Summers Read online

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was Sara’s last morning at Max and Melanie’s before returning to Florence. She rose and opened the wooden shutters to view the courtyard. The lady of the fountain stood in the early morning sun, her stone gown still in shadow. She looked eternal, like the sunrise. Julia knocked on the door and Sara let her in.

  “I heard you open your shutters,” Julia said. “How’s your headache?”

  Sara had retired early the night before blaming a non-existent migraine. The truth was she had lost her courage. Being with Julia challenged not only sociological barriers, but emotional ones, as well. This was actually someone who she could fall in love with and someone who could break her heart.

  They stood at the window looking down into the courtyard at the statue. “I don’t want to leave her,” Sara said. “This sounds crazy but it feels like she’s one of the reasons I came. Not in a religious sense. But something bigger. Like I’m here to get some kind of archetypal acceptance.”

  “I forget sometimes how much goes on underneath that quiet persona of yours,” Julia said, not taking her eyes from the courtyard.

  “Thanks for not laughing at me,” Sara said.

  Julia leaned into Sara’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  For the next several seconds Sara attempted to memorize the scene before her: the courtyard, the Tuscan countryside, and Julia at her side. To say that she didn’t want the moment to end was a cliché. But it was true. Sara wanted to reset the timer on her life and begin a new lifetime right there. She would have no regrets for the first half of her life. It had served its purpose. Now, the second half would be lived with intention. That is, if I’m granted a second half, she thought.

  Later that morning Max and Melanie drove Julia and Sara to the train station. A slight melancholy rode along with Sara as she viewed the Tuscan countryside, its rolling hills, sans trees, except for the occasional olive grove and trees planted around a farmhouse here and there.

  “It’s been incredible,” she said to Max and Melanie. “I can’t tell you how much it’s meant to me to be here.”

  Max and Melanie had been totally accepting of the events in the kitchen the night before and Sara had to resist telling them that nothing had actually happened. At least not physically.

  “Please come to visit at anytime,” Melanie said.

  “I may take you up on that,” Sara said.

  “I hope you do,” Max said.

  They embraced. Max and Melanie felt like old friends even after a weekend together, and Sara hated to think that she might never see them again.

  “Are you all right?” Julia asked her, once they had settled on the train. “You’ve been very quiet all morning.”

  “I guess I’ve just been deep in thought,” Sara said. Her Italian vacation was halfway over and this fact made her melancholy deeper.

  “Anything you want to talk about?” Julia asked. She reached over and touched Sara’s hand and then removed it.

  Julia had not forced anything between them. Sara realized now that this would have been the only way that anything between them would have ever worked. Otherwise, Sara might have blamed Julia for coercing her, for creating the raging current in which she had gotten swept away.

  The train began to pull out of the small station in Siena. It seemed too simple for the town it serviced. Sara stared out the window, as she always did on trains. She hadn’t realized until this trip how much she loved trains. They made her feel hopeful. It meant a journey was underway. A journey where she could actually see and experience the distance she traveled unlike the abstract miles of a plane.

  A woman leaned out a second-story window watching the train with a wistful look. Sara recognized the expression on the woman’s face as one she had experienced herself. The woman appeared slightly younger than Sara, with long brown hair and a white loose blouse. Sara was close enough to see three silver bracelets on her left arm.

  For a few seconds their eyes met. The look they exchanged held an entire conversation within it. With this glance, Sara knew that the woman wanted to be on the train, too. She wanted to be going somewhere. But something stopped her.

  Sara told her, in this silent conversation, that she understood. She told her not to lose hope. She told her that if Sara could get to Italy, the woman could get to anywhere she wanted, too. It’s never too late to get what you want, Sara wanted to tell her.

  As the train passed Sara placed her fingers on the glass. The woman gave Sara a brief wave. Had she heard their unspoken conversation?

  Sara’s sadness turned to gratitude. The woman had given her a gift: a snapshot of herself just a few weeks before. Everything had changed since then. She now believed in impossible things. And she also now believed that life, when left to its own devices, had a much bigger imagination than Sara had. The last thing Sara would have predicted of her trip to Italy was that she would fall in love with Julia. The absolute last thing, she thought. But she now believed that this was what had happened. And she wondered if she hadn’t always been a little in love with Julia.

  “You know, Jules, I’m tired of being so afraid,” Sara said, as she continued to stare out the window.

  “What makes you say that?”

  The train accelerated until the Italian countryside streamed by as rapidly as Sara’s thoughts. She practiced the words in her head before speaking them.

  “I want to be with you, Julia.”

  Her right leg began to shake and she steadied it. Sara didn’t know how Julia would respond, but she trusted her to be kind.

  Julia placed her hand on Sara’s. “I want to be with you, too,” she said softly.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Roberto parted the blue sea of the quilt between them and made his way to the head of the bed. Sara rubbed his whiskers and face and he leaned into her hand. He had been very affectionate with Sara since she and Julia had returned from Siena. Bella was much more reserved with her affection. No longer able to sleep on her usual pillow next to Julia, she took up residence on the sofa in the living room where Sara had slept the first few days of her visit.

  The last three days had been, in a word, unbelievable. Sara had never spent so much time horizontal. Their initial awkwardness with each other’s bodies had disappeared. Aphrodite had indeed come alive in her. It was as if she had fallen in love with love.

  At the beginning of this journey she had found herself within the pages of a self-help book and at a crossroads. Now she was living within a Shakespeare love sonnet. And despite her realization of how unrealistic and out of control this was feeling, she never wanted to leave.

  Sara waited for Julia to wake up and wondered briefly if Grady had remembered to walk Luke. He had little patience with animals and Luke liked to take his time on his morning walks. Sara pushed this thought away, along with the awareness that she would be leaving Italy in four days.

  Roberto walked delicately across Julia’s pillow. She reached up to pet him. “Buon giorno, Roberto,” she said sleepily. Julia often spoke to him in Italian. Her reasoning being, as she had told Sara a few days before, that Roberto was from a litter down the street so of course he only understood Italian.

  Julia glanced up at Sara with one eye open and smiled. Sara pushed Julia’s hair out of her hazel eyes and was struck again by how quickly life could change. Not only was it unbelievable that Sara was in Italy, but also that she had taken up residence in Julia’s bed.

  Sara ran her hand along the curve of Julia’s hip. It was as if Sara’s hand belonged to someone else. Someone in love with the female form. She had never particularly liked her own body. But she was learning a new appreciation for it. In the last forty-eight hours she had surprised herself almost continuously. Not only with the tenderness that she extended toward Julia but also by the amount of passion that had been present in their lovemaking.

  “Buon giorno, darling,” Julia said softly to Sara. They kissed, as Roberto rode the waves of arms and elbows caused by the wake o
f their embrace. Under the covers they blended together, skin against skin. Sara loved the sensuousness of this. Of becoming one with someone. Not knowing where Julia ended and where she began.

  Julia ran her finger along the scar on Sara’s chest and kissed it. “It’s ugly, isn’t it?” Sara said.

  “Not at all,” Julia said. She leaned on one arm and looked in Sara’s eyes. “If not for this scar, you might not be here at all.”

  Pressure rose from beneath the scar, as if Sara’s heart insisted on expanding. These were new feelings to her, and at times, overwhelming feelings. Could someone die from too much happiness? Sara sat up and leaned against the back of Julia’s bed. She was reminded again of her farewell tour.

  “Shall we go out today?” Sara said. “We’ve hardly left your apartment since we returned from Siena.”

  Julia smiled and sat up, as well. “If we must.”

  “Your neighbors may be wondering if you’re all right,” Sara said.

  “They’re used to me disappearing periodically. Especially when I get inspired.”

  “Are you inspired now?”

  “Definitely,” Julia said. She leaned over and pulled Sara closer. They kissed and Julia pulled her gently down on the bed.

  “Wait a minute, honey,” Sara said. At that moment, their closeness felt dangerous. As if Sara had suddenly become conscious of the air she needed to breathe. She was disarmed and vulnerable to Julia’s slightest wish. Did Julia feel vulnerable, too? She got up from the bed and her knees momentarily weakened.

  “I need fresh air,” Sara said. She put on her light housecoat and walked out onto the balcony.

  The early morning sun bounced from building to building through the alley way and danced on the top of the tree in the courtyard below. I could spend the rest of my life here, Sara thought, and then erased the thought from her mind.

  By early afternoon they were dressed and in front of Julia’s building. “Where shall we go?” Julia asked.

  “You decide,” Sara said. She squinted at the brightness of the sun, longing briefly to return to Julia’s darkened bedroom. It felt good to take a break from their intensity. Being in Italy felt like a dream. Especially now that she was in love. She had never even approached that level of happiness except briefly at the birth of each of her children. Even Sam, her unplanned child, had brought her unexpected joy by his arrival.

  What would her children think of this new version of Sara? Would they be happy for her? Would they celebrate her happiness? Sara was afraid to test them on this point.

  They walked several blocks passing buildings with heavy ornate wooden doors, barricades, Julia told her, against enemy intruder’s centuries before. The Arno River meandered through the heart of the city. They crossed a bridge and waited at a traffic light while a parade of small children on bicycles and tricycles passed by; their parents following close behind, pushing strollers carrying younger siblings.

  “It’s nice to see that such an ancient city could embrace so many children,” Sara said.

  “The things that go through your mind,” Julia said.

  “Am I boring you?”

  “Absolutely not,” Julia said.

  They paused to let the procession pass. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to live here and see this beauty every day,” Sara said. “Do you get numb to it?”

  “I haven’t yet,” Julia said. “But the most beautiful sight right now is you.”

  “I am resisting kissing you right now,” Sara said as they waited on the last section of the parade. “It hardly seems fair that we have to hide our love for each other,” she added. “The world could use more love.”

  “We don’t have to hide it,” Julia said.

  “Yes we do,” Sara said and warned her with her eyes. Did she fear the world’s judgment or her own?

  Julia took Sara’s hand, pulling her across the now clear street and away from her thoughts. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Starving,” Sara replied. Not only for food, she thought, but also for Julia. Who was this person she had become? It wasn’t like her to be insatiable about anything, especially life.

  They entered a restaurant down a quiet street. A dark, intimate oasis with only one other couple inside having a late lunch. Sara ordered, using the little bit of Italian she had picked up on her trip and Julia applauded her attempt.

  The waiter brought them a small bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. Julia watched Sara, as she had so often on her visit. “What are you thinking about?” Sara said, after the waiter left.

  “I was thinking that it’s been an amazing couple of days,” Julia said.

  Sara lowered her eyes. “I have to admit, I didn’t see this one coming. Do you suppose we’re having some kind of mid-life crisis?”

  “Well if we are, I hope it lasts for a long time,” Julia smiled. She reached over and held Sara’s hand and Sara automatically looked around to make sure no one was looking. “Relax, darling. No one cares,” she added.

  “I can’t seem to get past the stigma of it,” Sara said.

  “Stigma?” Julia asked.

  “You’re reducing what we have to a stigma?”

  Sara apologized. She knew she was being unreasonable. But wasn’t the world being unreasonable, too?

  Later that afternoon they strolled the narrow streets, ducking into an occasional shop. Julia spoke to everyone as if she knew them. They stopped and ate gelato at Julia’s favorite shop, and Sara remembered their days of banana Popsicles and long summer afternoons where their friendship basked in the sun by the Connecticut River. Then they found a shady bench in a park nearby and began to excavate the frozen delicacy from the white scalloped plastic cup.

  “How do you tell the tourists from the locals?” Sara asked.

  “The athletic shoes always give the Americans away.” Julia gestured toward a rotund man in front of them wearing blue spandex shorts, striped socks, and sneakers the exact shade of blue as his shorts. “That took some planning,” she added.

  Sara nudged Julia’s arm and looked down at her sandals, relieved that she might be mistaken for a local. Minutes passed. A juggler began a performance in the distance. A cool breeze blew through the trees. “I could stay here forever,” Sara said, voicing her thought from earlier that day.

  “Feel free,” Julia said.

  Sara laughed. “A remote possibility, at best.”

  “I’m serious,” Julia said.

  Pigeons searched for crumbs at their feet. “Let’s not talk about this now,” Sara said. As she stood, the pigeons scattered. She walked in the direction they had come, over stepping stones of sunlight beaming through the trees. She wanted to run but walked briskly instead. The juggler winked at her as she walked past, his rhythm undisturbed. Julia caught up with her.

  “Are you angry?” she asked.

  “No, it’s just that you say things like that as if it’s easy.”

  “Isn’t it?” Julia asked.

  “Of course not,” Sara said. “Listen, I don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s just enjoy our day, okay?”

  Sara locked her arm in Julia’s. Their sunny day had a cloud on the horizon. For the first time ever, she was the one to lead Julia home.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Sunday New York Times was spread out on the bed in front of them. Sara skimmed the latest stories about their unpopular president who at Grady’s suggestion she had voted for twice. Life in the States had continued on without her. In two days she would be leaving. This felt as tragic as all the stories on the front page combined. Sara sighed and sat up in bed.

  “What is it?” Julia asked.

  “We need to talk.” Sara sounded as serious as she felt.

  “I have a better idea.” Julia kissed Sara’s neck.

  “Honey, stop,” Sara said, intent on injecting them with a potent shot of reality. She was too old to fall this completely for someone. She was acting like a teenager again. Or maybe a teenager for the first tim
e. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. This was the first time love had actually ever felt like an act of falling. In this case, a freefall from an airplane without a parachute. She and Grady hadn’t fallen in love. They had fallen in comfort with one another.

  Julia turned serious and sat up and stacked her pillows behind her. “Okay, let’s talk,” she said.

  Sara forced herself not to look at Julia or she might lose her courage. She cleared her throat, as if the seriousness of what she was about to say required the utmost of vocal clarity. “I’ve fallen in love with you,” Sara announced. Her confession sounded stiff and unconvincing, even to her.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, too.” Julia’s expression matched Sara’s seriousness. Was she anticipating what was coming next?

  “But you’re my best friend,” Sara said.

  “Don’t we all fall in love with our best friends?” Julia asked. “Maybe just a little?”

  “But I have to leave day after tomorrow,” Sara said. “We can’t go on acting like this thing we have is going to last forever.”

  Julia gathered the newspapers and placed them in a pile on the floor, as if this act was needed to give her the time to think. “Well, I, for one, don’t want this ‘thing,’ as you call it, to end.”

  “I don’t want it to end, either, but it has to.” Sara twisted the wedding ring on her finger. It was loose now that she had lost weight from the chemo. They had been in college when Grady bought it, a silver band with four small diamond chips imbedded in the band, bought from a local jeweler that his dad had sold insurance to. He had paid for it in installments.

  “Sweetie, what are you thinking about? You seem a thousand miles away.”

  “I was thinking about Grady, actually.”

  “Wonderful,” Julia said sarcastically. She left the bed and Sara pulled the covers close to make up for the loss of her warmth.

  “Where are you going?” Sara asked.