Unspoken

Chapter 7

September 28, 1992

Their first morning in Italy was warm and sunny. They had pastries with coffee and juice on the veranda. It was unseasonably warm, and Marlena felt that perhaps that was best. Fresh air and sunshine were good for Isabella and Brady. Isabella closed her eyes and soaked it in, while Brady babbled happily from his high chair as he smacked his hands in the custard on the tray in front of him. John watched the whole scene looking like a broken man, but when Isabella looked at him he changed immediately. He smiled at her, asking, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes," she whispered. "I'm so happy to be here. How did you manage to rent this particular home?"

Marlena smiled. John had actually bought the house they were in. It used to belong to Isabella's grandparents. It was sold after their deaths. A foreign couple had been using it for a vacation home since they'd purchased it in the early eighties. They hadn't wanted to part with it, but John had paid well over the market value. He didn't want Isabella to know. She would worry about the trouble he went to in purchasing it, and then be concerned that he'd spent way too much money. Marlena had been concerned as well, but John was adamant – it had to be done, and it had to be that home.

"It's a vacation home," he said, staring out over the canal. "They were willing to rent it since they'd just returned to France at the end of the season."

"I love it here. This house holds so many memories of my childhood. Marina and I used to come here with our grandparents nearly every weekend." She sipped her juice, but Marlena noticed she was mostly nibbling at things. Isabella looked up, and caught Marlena's gaze.

Marlena didn't say anything, but she was pleased when Isabella took another small bite of a ricotta filled cornetto. Brady started to fuss, and Marlena reached for him. She unclipped his harness, and slid the tray out. As she lifted him from his high chair, she laughed, "Who's this messy little man? I don't recognize you!"

"He did enjoy the custard," Isabella replied. "Although I feel like there might be more on him than he actually ate."

Brady wrapped his slimy hand in Marlena's hair, but she didn't seem to mind. She said, "I'm finished eating, so I will get him cleaned up, and ready to go. You were planning a trip to the Parco delle Rimembranze today, weren't you?"

"We were," John said quietly. He'd been silent for most of breakfast, allowing Marlena and Isabella to carry the majority of the conversation. "Did you have plans for today, Doc?"

"I was going to call the twins, and then I brought a medical journal that had some new research on memory and memory loss." She saw John look worried, and she added, "I could use some quiet time."

He wasn't so certain. He'd tried to talk to Marlena the night before about why she'd been crying when she arrived at the airport, but they'd been interrupted by Brady. He'd tried again later, but Isabella's medicine made her ill, and Marlena had rushed off to get the nurse. Maybe it was for the best. Isabella should be his focus, but Marlena's smiles and casual conversation were all a mask for the sadness he saw in her eyes. Perhaps she would talk about it when she was ready.

"We'll be home by dinner time," Isabella said as Marlena left the veranda.

John watched her go, saying to Isabella, "Marlena will be here to show the chef into the kitchen this afternoon, because I have a special dinner planned for you."

Isabella smiled up at her husband, "You do?"

"That's a fact," he said. "I believe you told me once that your grandmother's cook used to prepare you something called sarde in saor?"