Silence Is Golden (28 page)

I’ve never been on a plane before. Neither has Aris, but he’s thrilled. He’s striding ahead of me while I drag to the gate as if I’m about to walk the plank.

“What if Daniel gets scared?” I ask.

Aris turns to me. Strapped to his chest is a pouch for our little frog. The first time we put him there, with his little arms and legs hanging out, Giorgia said he looked like a frog. Thus the nickname was born.

“Daniel is a baby,” he says patiently. “He eats, sleeps, and doesn’t really know what’s going on. He’ll be on my lap, and he’ll never know he’s on a plane.”

“I wish I was a baby too,” I say. I’m not joking.

Aris laughs. I pout, and he carefully gives me a hug so as not to squeeze our little frog too hard.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he says.

That’s become his mantra. Whenever I’m afraid or worried about something, he tells me that everything’s going to be fine. Usually that does the trick, but not this time.

“The plane—” he continues.

“Please don’t start with statistics. I know, I know, flying is the safest way to travel, but if you tell me that one more time, I’m going to scream.”

He laughs again, and the only reason I don’t shove him is because I don’t want to wake Daniel. My glare reduces his laughter to a smile.

“Okay,” he says, sitting me down on one of the chairs in front of the gate and crouching in front of me. “Can you get on the plane?”

I shake my head.

“Do you still want to go on this trip?”

I nod.

“So we’ll go on by train. I already checked. The train takes about eight hours. We’ll have to change trains in Geneva. Then once we get to Paris, we’ll take another train to Bandol. Have you ever been to Paris?”

I shake my head.

“Neither have I,” he responds, his smile unwavering. “I bet it’s beautiful. Daniel will love it.”

He gets up and reaches out his hand. I take it, and we walk toward the airport exit.

“Wait!”

He stops and looks at me questioningly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am. We’ll go to the station and buy our tickets to Paris. Then we’ll take another train to Bandol.”

“But that’s more than eight hours, and another two or so after that. That’s too much for Daniel.”

“We’ve got diapers, baby bottles with formula, and enough money for food for us. He’ll be fine.”

“Are you saying that you’d rather take the train?” I ask, incredulous.

“Emi,” he replies, cupping my face in his hands. “Look at it this way. I don’t want to go anywhere without you. If you don’t want to fly, then we’ll take the train. What’s the problem?”

I heave a loud sigh and walk back to the chairs in front of the gate. I cover my face with my hands and rest my elbows on my knees. Aris kneels in front of me again. His lips touch my hair, and I look up.

“Would you really?” I ask.

“Of course,” he responds seriously.

I try to breathe deeply. I tuck a lock of his hair—finally grown back—behind his ear. The golden ring on my finger catches a ray of sunshine through the windows and glitters.

“Okay. I’ll get on that thing,” I declare. “But I need to hold the little frog on my lap, and you must never, ever let go of my hand the whole time we’re in the air.”

Aris kisses me. It’s one of those long kisses where you’re totally oblivious to everything and everyone around you.

Daniel is still asleep in my arms as the plane takes off. I keep my eyes fixed on Aris. We may be silent, but our eyes speak of France, of the future, of our beautiful baby boy with his red hair. Everything is going to be fine.

The woman who opens the door of the beach house has eyes the exact same shade of blue as Aris. She looks at all three of us, and her gaze lingers an extra moment on Daniel in my arms. She smiles incredulously, and a tear rolls down her cheek. Aris takes her hands in his.

“Mom,” he says with that faint voice that indicates how excited he is, “this is my wife, Emilia, and our son, Daniel. My family.”

“No, dear,” Adele responds. “Our family.”

EPILOGUE

The time has come, and Daniel’s ready. I watch him, resisting the urge to help him, as he tries to get to his feet.

“Aris . . . ,” I whisper.

Aris turns, and his eyes quickly go from me to Daniel, who’s sitting on the floor. Father and son stare at each other, until finally, Daniel pulls himself up using the workbench above him and stands on his own two feet. Aris kneels with open arms. Two pairs of blue eyes gaze at each other across the wood shop. After a few moments, our son takes one shaky step, then another, and another, until Aris scoops him up just before he falls.

We enter Benedetto’s café, with Daniel holding on tightly to our hands, Aris on one side, I on the other. Adele is behind the counter.

“It’s not quite there yet,” she says. “I think it needs a little more cinnamon.”

She sees Linda watching us over her shoulder and turns. As if that was some kind of planned signal between him and his grandmothers, Daniel lets go of our hands and walks by himself. He makes it only two steps before they run over to lift him up, laughing.

“I bet that first happened in the wood shop,” Benedetto’s voice thunders. He quickly joins Linda and Adele.

“And where else?” I say, hugging Aris. “Let’s hope he doesn’t end up with a carpenter’s mark too.”

My husband shrugs, then smiles at me. He still doesn’t talk much, but he smiles all the time. Our life together has become so perfect that even though I haven’t expressed it aloud, I’m almost afraid.

Tonight, the house in the woods is full of lights, red-and-green garlands, and bells hanging from the ceiling that jingle every time the door opens to welcome another guest. Along with our family, the house has changed too, after long months of hard work, noise, dust, and laughter. In the hallway, there’s a new dining table that’s set for the guests, who are gathered around the big Christmas tree in the living room. Daniel is darting here and there, chased by Giorgia, who insists on dressing him in the red sweater she knit. She’s recently discovered a passion for knitting, but who knows how long that will last.

Emma and Helga are quietly chatting, glasses of wine in hand. I have to struggle to remember what Helga used to be like. She and I are now comanagers of the bookstore. Helga has slowly remade herself and her life, starting with the day she slapped Mr. Moser in front of everyone (including his wife) at Benedetto’s café. When Aris, Daniel, Adele, and I returned to Bren, Helga came to see me that very evening. She started apologizing to me with her characteristic intensity but then was quickly softened by Daniel’s smiles. She ended up spending most of the evening crying on my shoulder while Aris, in total disbelief, looked bewildered and simply kept refilling her wine glass. That night, she appointed herself our little frog’s aunt, and her presence is now well-known at the house in the woods.

Adele, with her captivating French accent, is now the most sought-after woman in Bren. When she’s working at the café with Linda, eligible bachelors and widowers line up, hoping to earn a smile or have a chat. Some of the men who live in the neighboring town have become regulars at the café since her arrival, and Benedetto is pretty sure he knows why. Tonight Adele is more radiant than ever. She’s wearing a dress that matches her eyes, which are, of course, the same color as her son’s. I often find the two of them sitting close together, rapt in conversation. His mother’s presence continues to fill Aris with gratitude toward me, as he says that if it weren’t for me, they never would have met.

Benedetto and Linda, who never had children, have discovered the joy of being Daniel’s grandparents—which has carried over into other parts of their lives. When they’re not at the café, they can usually be found reading to the children of the bookstore’s regular customers. They come to all the bookstore’s events, as well as all our celebrations at the house in the woods: birthdays, anniversaries, engagements . . .

And finally, Emma is engaged to Matthew, the new director of the post office. It was love at first sight for him. One morning, Emma and I were out walking, and he stopped suddenly in our path, making her do the same. There wasn’t a need for too many words after that: a cup of coffee, a slice of Linda’s pie, and everything else was communicated with glances. Emma, however, was a tough nut to crack. She only agreed to go on a date with him after he threatened to transfer districts otherwise.

Now Emma looks at me for a moment, with her knowing smile, the one that says, “Look at how wonderful this is. Aren’t you glad you came back?” While Aris, Daniel, and I were staying with Adele in Bandol, Emma continued to write me. She told me everything that happened in Bren: Helga slapping Mr. Moser, which was hot gossip for the longest time; Marcello Ferrari getting fired after being sued for sexual harassment by the school’s secretary; Benedetto throwing Teresa out of the café for good after hearing her say that Aris and I were “finally out of the way”; and many other anecdotes that kept Bren and its residents alive in my mind. Emma always ended her letters the same way: “We miss you.”

Aris would draw at Adele’s living room table, but I knew that he missed working with wood. He felt like he somehow belonged to the place where his father raised him, although he never specifically expressed a desire to return, perhaps out of fear of losing his mother again. I missed Emma, Giorgia, Benedetto, Linda, and even Helga, not to mention the bookstore. They all popped up in my dreams every now and then. Daniel was getting bigger every day; the fresh sea air and home-cooked meals were doing him good.

Then another letter arrived from Emma, in which she told me that the house in the woods was up for sale. I didn’t realize until then how attached I was to that house. I couldn’t stand the thought of never being able to go back. Despite everything that had happened, Bren had become a part of me. I went to find Aris, who was walking on the beach with Daniel and Adele. I didn’t say anything when I found them. I simply looked at him, holding out the open letter. He immediately took it and read it quickly, then raised his eyes to meet mine.

“They’re selling it,” I told him. “That means we’ll never be able to go back.”

Aris held my face in his hands, saying nothing.

“What if . . .”

He finished my thought with a kiss, and when I opened my eyes, he smiled the same way that he had when he’d first seen his son.

“Let’s go home, Emi,” he said.

I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but during those months we spent in Bandol, Aris and Adele had discussed the possibility of us all returning to Bren. Adele was a widow and had never had any more children. We were the only family she had left, and she said she would follow us anywhere. Aris didn’t even think to suggest Bren to me, given everything that had happened to me in that town. He was willing to stay in France for the rest of his life, if that’s what I’d wanted.

That same afternoon, after we returned from the beach, Aris called Valerio, the real estate agent. Yes, the same one who instilled so much jealousy in Aris that he risked losing not only me, but also his life. Well, Aris told him that he didn’t have to sell the house, because we’d be back in a few days and that we were prepared to make him the highest offer. While Valerio was talking, I saw Aris’s lips press together and his eyes cloud over. Then he said something else and hung up.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“That we can keep the house, of course.”

“And what else?”

Aris shook his head. “Will you ever let me keep anything from you?”

“I hope not,” I replied.

“He said he’s
really
happy you’re coming back to Bren.”

His tinge of sarcasm made me smile. “And what did you say?”

“That I’m happy that he’s happy my wife is coming back to Bren.”

A devilish smile played on the lips of my angel.

We kiss and hug all our guests and wish them a Merry Christmas. They have helped us put everything back in order, wash the dishes, pick up all the abandoned toys left scattered on the living room floor, and clear away all the empty glasses lying around. Adele has already gone to bed, and even Daniel is sleeping peacefully in his bed, exhausted from this exciting day.

I grab a blanket from our bedroom and go outside to meet Aris, who is watching Benedetto and Linda head down our driveway. He turns toward me and holds out his hand. We sit on the threshold of our house in the woods and wrap ourselves in the blanket, just as we did on our first Christmas together. Many things have changed since then. But there are a few things that remain the same. The love that we will always share. The joy that we feel at simply being together, without speaking. Because for us, every silence is a river of words that we cross together.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2015 Piero Gaggi

Laura Mercuri was born in Rome, Italy. She studied psychology, specializing in family therapy, and has worked as a psychotherapist for eighteen years. In 2013, she published a romance novel called
La vita di carta
. She currently lives by the sea with her son and husband.