Читать книгу Mirror, Mirror at 1600 D.C. - Edward Galluzzi - Страница 9

Chapter 2

Remembrance

Hannah twisted and turned for almost an hour as her wedding dress was tailored to the curves and lines of her elongated, beautiful body. She bit slightly and pulled down her upper lip as she addressed her seamstress: “Rosella, are we about finished?” The seamstress nodded and smiled, “Uno minuto.” Hannah has waited through numerous “uno minutos.” ‘After all, my wedding day will only happen once’ she prayed as she crossed her wedding ring finger of her left hand. As she did so, Hannah admired the diamond engagement ring given to her by her betrothed Harrison. She extended her ring toward Rosella and asked for a second time that day, “Isn’t this the most beautiful engagement ring you ever saw?” Rosella eyed the ring for a second time and responded politely as she did before, “Si, bello.” Hannah turned her hand toward herself and cherished the ring that she believed would be on her finger forever.

Rosella was a family friend of Harrison’s and it was in her home in Carrara that Hannah’s wedding dress was being tailored. The home was nestled in the side of a small mountain. It was a two-story structure set in white stone and red brick. The home was set between two large verandas. The main front porch was screened and contained a variety of comfortable outdoor furniture utilized for chat, cards and other table games. The rear porch was rectangular and the wide base lent itself to an extended dinner table. The traditional Italian grapevine draped the perimeter of the porch causing the sun’s reflection to appear as moving dots on the table.

“Finito,” Rosella said finally. The seamstress stepped back to admire her work and again repeated, “Bello.” She helped Hannah out of her wedding dress and remarked that she would have the alterations completed in two weeks. Hannah thanked Rosella for her exquisite tailoring and apologized for her impatience during the fitting.

Hannah stepped out of Rosella’s home into the hot summer day. Like most homes in Carrara, air conditioning was rare. Yet, the humming of many fans kept the home sufficiently cool so that Hannah gasped slightly from the sudden intake of outdoor heat. She was off to the train station and headed for Rome to meet Harrison for dinner. It would take several hours on the Italian railway before arriving at Rome’s Saint Peter station.

The train ride to Rome was mundane leaving Hannah to her quiet thoughts and the anticipation of being with her beloved. She thought about their first meeting in Rome and how the Pontiff, Joseph Josetta, intersected their lives. Hannah was covering the failing health of the Pope as a journalist while Harrison was comforting his old friend Josetta. The man of God was their bond, the cornerstone of their first meeting.

Hannah smiled to herself as she recalled her first glimpse of her handsome Harrison. He was a lean, tall man, ‘four inches above six feet’ he always informed her. His hair was dark brown with some distinguished graying at the temples. Harrison was a muscular man, but not grotesquely so. He often trained to sustain the physical demands of his employment.

‘His employment,’ the words echoed in Hannah’s mind. She knew that Harrison conducted special assignments for the President of the United States. ‘Similar to the Secret Service’ he had said. It was not the danger inherent in Harrison’s assignments that permeated her thoughts at the moment, but the fact that the President of the United States was Elizabeth Ashton, the first woman President in the history of America— and her husband-to-be conducted ‘special’ assignments for madam President. Has jealousy reared its ugly head so early in their relationship? Hannah dismissed the thought with a confident, quiet laugh.

Hannah’s thoughts returned to the attractiveness of the man. She certainly was not the only woman who buckled under the spell of the suave Harrison Rossetti. Elizabeth Ashton was no slouch even for a bureaucrat. Harrison, the man, certainly did not escape the eye of madam President. ‘Hmm?’ Hannah thought rhetorically. She shook her head as if the act itself would magically jar the thought from her mind.

The lives of Hannah and Harrison intersected near St. Peter’s Basilica about four months ago. Hannah was on her way to Vatican City for a news briefing on the health of Pope Joseph Josetta. Harrison was leaving the Vatican after visiting his holy confidant. He was somewhat dejected and out of sorts as he leaned against the wall. Neither Harrison’s attractiveness nor his demeanor escaped Hannah’s observant eye. Her heart raced as she approached the disconcerted man and asked with genuine concern, “Are you all right?” There came no immediate response as Harrison was immersed in his own deep thoughts, oblivious to the sights and sounds that surrounded him. Hannah repeated her question; however, this time she tapped the preoccupied man on his shoulder. Harrison gazed up for the first time and the once indifferent surroundings sharpened into focus. He was aware of a woman’s presence, but not what was asked of him. Harrison said uncertainly, “Excuse me?” Hannah repeated for a third time, “Are you OK?”

Harrison managed a terse smile. He looked deeply into the eyes of the questioner noticing for the first time the beauty of the woman before him. “Yes, yes I am” he managed to interject. Hannah smiled and seemed relieved that she did not have to begin emergency procedures. Harrison’s disposition brightened as he gazed beyond Hannah’s eyes. She was indeed a stunning woman. She was tall and slender with pleasing features and a most endearing smile. “Steady Harrison,” he said barely aloud. “I’m sorry?” returned Hannah. Harrison gathered himself and extended his hand as he introduced himself, “I’m Harrison Rossetti …and you are?” “Hannah, Hannah Littleton” she offered and shook his hand firmly.

“You seemed troubled,” said Hannah. ‘Troubled, always’ Harrison mused to himself. “My friend,” he paused, aware of some swelling in his eyes, “Pope Josetta is quite ill.” “You know personally the Holy Father?” asked Hannah. “Yes, I have known him for a long time” Harrison managed to reply. “I am very sorry,” replied Hannah. He looked at the beautiful woman and nodded gratefully in response. The pause grew into an uncomfortable silence that shrouded the two strangers.

The stillness was broken by the bells of St. Peter’s Basilica chiming out their noonday hymn. “Angelic, aren’t they?” commented Hannah. Harrison nodded affirmatively and listened to the harmonic chiming that permeated the square. Hannah and Harrison found themselves drifting with the bells. They chimed a peaceful song that slowly melted away one’s troubles even if for a fleeting moment.

The melodic chimes ended their serene song as Harrison’s and Hannah’s eyes met once again. Harrison broke the silence and asked, “Are you visiting Rome?” “Actually I’m working,” Hannah replied. “I’m a journalist for the Washington Sun. I was sent to Rome on special assignment to cover the Pope’s…” Hannah stopped suddenly and chose to modify her response in hopes of showing some sensitivity to the holy man’s friend. “I’m writing a documentary about Josetta’s papal reign and his impact on Roman Catholics, Catholicism and Christians around the world. I started the assignment about six months ago before the Pope became ill. You said you just visited the Pontiff? How is he?” “Off the record?” retorted Harrison. “Off the record,” Hannah echoed. “Not well, I’m afraid” said Harrison. He continued, “But he is a strong man, a man who has weathered many crises throughout the years I’ve known him—even before he was elected to the Holy See. He won’t die until he is ready for death.”

Hannah nodded as if underscoring Harrison’s comment. She asked, “Are you in Rome to visit an old friend or does something else bring you to Italy?” Harrison was cautious in his reply: “I’m on assignment just like you.” ‘Just like you’ he thought to himself. Harrison could hardly believe what he was saying. “I work for the U.S. government,” he stated and decided not to convey his special duties for the President of the United States. After all, he did not trust Hannah; for that matter, he seldom trusted anybody except those he has known over the years and who were part of his inner circle. Harrison concluded that not confiding in others was the primary reason why he was still living today. Beautiful or not, he was not about to go against his training and judgment.

Hannah interrupted his inner thoughts and asked, “What do you do for the government?” “I’m a negotiator, sort of a troubleshooter if you will,” replied Harrison with somewhat of a grim look on his face. He hoped that she would let it go at that to avoid covering up for national security issues and what not. Untrue to journalistic prying, Hannah accepted the response and did not force the issue. She simply said, “Interesting.” Perhaps Hannah already surmised the situation and was being prudent. ‘Perhaps,’ Harrison thought to himself.

Yet, her lack of interest interested him. He asked, “Would you care to join me for lunch?” “Yes, very much, thank you,” replied Hannah without substantial thought.

“I know a small place that is within walking distance from here,” said Harrison. “Casa di Pasta,” he offered while putting his hand out to motion her down the steps. Casa di Pasta was one of Harrison’s favorite dining establishments, one that he visited often in his many taps to romantic Roma. It was conveniently close to the Vatican and featured a variety of Italian cuisine.