Chapter Thirteen
April 1978
Ronald had been back from Florida for a whole week, and still he hadn’t told Francesca nor anyone what had befallen him and why he looked so downtrodden, so lacking in hope. Often, he locked himself in his room and didn’t join them for dinner. Benjamin had begun to grumble about it late at night when they got ready for bed, wondering if Ronald was going to help out at the Lodge this season at all, or if he was going to waste both his time and theirs. Francesca never knew what to say to this. She wanted to point out that a brother was never someone who “wasted your time,” that Ronald was clearly going through something and needed their help. But she remembered her own frustrations with Angelo and how difficult it was to describe her complicated relationship with a brother who broke the law and her mother’s heart. How can you handle it? People had always asked her. And because Benjamin adored his brother and would do anything for him, Francesca kept her mouth shut.
It was a fifty-three-degree day in mid-April when Francesca took the kids outside, spreading a blanket on the grass directly beside the sand. As Allegra cooed gently and watched the clouds sweep through the blue sky, Lorelei and Alexander ran wild and free, their giggles flying. From where she was, Francesca could see Benjamin and Jefferson Albright discussing a few recent purchases of horses and what needed to be done to train them adequately for their summer of tourist horseback riding. She could see on her husband’s face that he genuinely liked Jefferson Albright, that he felt he was a worthy new character in the White Oak Lodge scene. When Benjamin turned and cut back toward the house, Jefferson’s face shifted toward hers, and their eyes met. A shot of electricity went through her, and she dropped her eyes to her baby. She stretched her fingers over her stomach. “I love you,” she said to little Allegra, her heart throbbing.
That afternoon, Ronald took one of the horses out. Francesca watched as he trotted out across the beach, his hair flying out behind him, his posture loose and comfortable. Both Benjamin and Ronald had been trained to ride well as boys and had never lost their nerve. Ronald disappeared across the grounds, and Francesca busied herself with tasks for the children, grateful that Ronald had decided to do something active, something to ease his mind.
But more than an hour later, there was a yelp in the backyard, and Francesca hurried to the window to see Ronald, slumped over, one hand gripping his shoulder. He walked toward the Lodge with Jefferson hot on his heels, peppering him with questions. Ronald’s eyes were unfocused and filled with pain. He was headed straight for her in the kitchen.
Francesca put the pieces together swiftly: Ronald had fallen from the horse. It was nothing that had ever happened to him, and it obviously bruised his already-fragile ego. She put water on the stovetop for tea and opened the door so that he couldamble in and collapse at the kitchen table. “Darling Ronald,” she breathed, looking at the awful way his shoulder hung, as though it had popped out.
Ronald screwed up his face. It was tomato-red. It was clear that he was doing his best to keep his tears at bay. But she could feel it: his Floridian heartbreak, his shame, his horror at being alive. She’d never met a person as depressed as Ronald, and she was suddenly unsure if she or anyone else could ever pull him out of it. She put a package of frozen peas on Ronald’s shoulder, bent down, and whispered, “Ron, what happened?”
But Ronald could hardly speak to her. He pressed the peas against his shoulder.
Suddenly, she heard Benjamin’s voice, calling out across the grounds. She returned to the window and watched her husband and Jefferson Albright discussing something. Benjamin looked enraged and shocked. Francesca was frightened. But when she turned back to look at Ronald, she understood still more of the situation. They didn’t need to explain a thing.
Ronald had fallen off the horse, but the horse had carried on without him. Now, something had happened to the horse—it was lost or on the run or perhaps hurt. Francesca knew how vital, essential, and expensive each horse at the Lodge was. And now, Ronald had “damaged” one of them. Ronald’s shame made more sense now. He hated disappointing his brother, yet it seemed he disappointed Benjamin at every turn.
“Ronald,” Francesca breathed. “It’s all right. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m glad you’re here.”
But Ronald could hardly hear her. He sat there, shuddering, until Francesca called the island doctor and told him what had happened to Ronald’s shoulder. While they waited for him to come by, Benjamin went into the kitchen, his breathing ragged. But he took one look at his little brother and deflated. He sat down beside him and spread his fingers out across the kitchentable. Watching them, Francesca could suddenly picture them twenty years ago, when they’d been boys who’d always been occupied with one game or another. She suddenly missed her brother Angelo with a horrible burst in her chest.
“It’s going to be all right,” Benjamin finally told Ronald. “Jefferson already tracked down the horse. He’s back in the stables, safe and sound.”
But is Ronald safe and sound?Francesca wanted to ask her husband.Isn’t Ronald the one who matters here?
When the doctor arrived, it took him five seconds flat to pop Ronald’s shoulder back into place. Relief spread across Ronald’s face. He got up and staggered to his bedroom, where he disappeared for the rest of the day. Francesca paid the doctor and asked him to stay for dinner, which he did. That night, Jefferson, Benjamin, and the doctor had a rowdy conversation over pasta, laughing often and eating second and third portions. Francesca’s mind was on Ronald upstairs. Finally, she made him a big bowl of food and took it upstairs, knocking briefly and setting it on his bedside table. Ronald was lying down, staring out the dark window, where an April storm brewed.
“You’re going to be all right, Ronald,” Francesca told him, sounding much more sure than she felt. “Eat this and sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”
“My mother always said that,” Ronald offered.
“I know,” Francesca said. “It’s how I learned it in English. But in Italian we say domani è un altro giorno, which is the same thing. All across the world, we’re all thinking about our tomorrows.”
Ronald looked like he was going to cry again. Francesca urged him to take one bite of pasta, and she waited in his room for him to swirl it around his fork and eat. Within three minutes, he’d eaten half the bowl. Nobody could resist Francesca’srecipes, she knew. Not even a depressed man who felt he had nothing to live for.
But Francesca couldn’t have reckoned on what was going to happen next.
It was a strange day at the onset. At eight thirty in the morning, as Alexander ate applesauce, covering himself with it, Francesa received a long-distance call from her mother, explaining that Angelo had disappeared again. Francesca nearly collapsed. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Explain what happened.”
Francesca’s mother did her best to articulate that they saw very little of Angelo anyway, that he’d gotten himself involved with another bad crew in Florence, and that they were at the end of their rope with him.
“You can’t be at the end of your rope with Angelo,” Francesca said, her voice icy. “He’s your son. He has an endless rope.” She felt this way with her own children, whom she couldn’t imagine ever abandoning.
“He’s broken your father’s and my hearts over and over again,” her mother explained. “We don’t know what else to do.”
They hung up shortly after that, conscious of the incredible costs of calling across the ocean. Francesca sat dumbly at the kitchen table for a long time, Allegra in her arms, Alexander playing with blocks on the floor, and Lorelei half asleep in a carrier. Outside, wind thrashed through the trees and threatened to rip the White Oak Lodge from the bluffs. Everything felt ominous.
By midafternoon, the weather had cleared enough for Francesca to take the children outside. It was warm and muggy, and Alexander ripped off his jacket and ran. Lorelei chasedhim, and Allegra cooed happily. From where she stood at the edge of the sand, Francesca could hear Jefferson Albright and her husband in the horse stables, discussing a redesign of the interior. And then, to her surprise, Ronald appeared on the grounds wearing a windbreaker and a pair of loose slacks. His eyes were focused and clear. When he saw her, he gestured at the bright blue sky. “It’s beautiful today.”
“It turned into a gorgeous one,” she said. “Where are you off to?”
“I’m going to take the boat out,” Ronald told her. “I need to get out on the water and clear my head.”
“Does that work?” Francesca asked.
