Everything Beautiful Began After Part 38

After some fresh coffee, Kristina said she wanted to cool down in the sea.

"Wait until you see our car," George said, signaling to the waiter.

"My husband loves his car more than he loves his wife."

"This must be some car," Henry said. Then he took out some bills.

"I have a tab," George said. "Keep your money."

"Don't argue with him," Kristina said. "For someone who grew up rich, he's very generous."

"Well, thank you, Signora Cavendish," George said, slightly embarra.s.sed.

"I just meant to say that you're kind."

"I know," he a.s.sured her with a wink. "Let's not argue in front of Henry."

Henry took the handles of her chair. The lanes of the town were warm.

George carried her up the stairs to the front door. She talked to Henry the whole time. George looked tired but didn't say anything. They all freshened up, and in an hour were outside again. George wheeled his wife toward a row of garages that faced their 1930s apartment building.

"For my wedding present," George said, "I finally took my father up on his guilty need to buy me things."

George fiddled with a rusty padlock and then slid open the garage door. The front end of a deep green automobile glinted where the sunlight reached inside the open door. Henry brushed his fingers along the headlight.

"It's not an E-type, is it?" Henry said.

"But that's not why it's special," George added. "Of course, 1966 E-type Jaguars are unique-but this is truly a one-of-a-kind, modified by Jaguar at the factory to accommodate Kristina's chair."

"A bespoke E-type? You've certainly gone up in the world, George."

"They changed my chair too," Kristina said, "to bolt in next to my husband."

Henry and Kristina waited outside the garage as George started the engine and slowly pulled forward into the light. The hood was enormously long.

In George's absence, Henry and Kristina looked at one another with a simple, unspoken appreciation for the parts they had played in the life of a man they both loved.

The engine fired and spat.

George got out and unfolded a ramp. Kristina positioned herself at the foot of it and George pushed her up. Then he clamped the chair to chrome bars that held the chair in place.

"Amazing," Henry said. "It's so quick."

Henry clambered into the very small backseat behind Kristina as she brushed strands of blond hair from her face. Then she helped George find his sungla.s.ses.

Like many vintage automobiles, the seats carried the particular odor of leather, oil, and wood that had been cooking under gla.s.s for decades. The streets they negotiated were only wide enough for traffic to proceed one way. People waved from chairs set in doorways. The car was very loud.

"They all know me," George shouted above the engine. "She has a peculiar throatiness, doesn't she?"

"She?" Kristina shouted.

"His other wife," Henry pointed out.

As they neared a tunnel, two cars swerved around them, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with an oncoming truck. Vespa scooters overtook on the inside, raising small clouds of dust. Their pa.s.sengers bounced along unperturbed.

"If you consider that the driving is largely unregulated-it's actually civil," George shouted above the engine.

Behind them a small Fiat roared at its engine's full capacity-inches away from the antique Jaguar. Henry turned around to see a middle-aged man with a perfectly calm face, close enough for Henry to tell that he needed a shave. The man nodded h.e.l.lo. Henry waved.

"The Italians don't really like to be alone-even when they're driving," shouted George. "And I love that about them."

"He's always talking about 'the Italians,' " Kristina said.

"What do you do for work?" Henry shouted to her.

"Cardiologist," she shouted back.

"That's interesting."

"Yes," she said. "I love it. I work mostly in hospice."

George turned down a small, dusty road that didn't seem to lead anywhere. Flowering oleander that lined the narrow lane was coated with white dust. As the road condition deteriorated, George slowed to a crawl.

"When I was at boarding school," he said, "I never dreamed I'd be driving an English E-type with my two best friends somewhere in the Mediterranean." He turned and looked at Henry. "And so happy after everything we've been through."

"You've come a long way since then," Henry said.

Kristina nodded. "Yes, he has-I'm very proud of him."

Henry smiled, wondering how much George had told her.

The road ended in a mess of cars parked crookedly against a stone wall. Henry could neither see the water nor hear it.

A scatter of children climbed the wall and then set off along a narrow path with bags and chairs.

It had been many years since Henry had walked on sand.

George parked at a distance from the other cars. Henry asked Kristina if they wanted to be parents, but then quickly regretted it-suddenly conscious that somehow it was beyond her physically.

George pulled up the handbrake. "If it happens it happens."

Then he took up his wife's hand.

"I'm just happy we're together. That's the main thing. That's enough for me."

"We don't know yet if I can," Kristina admitted, turning to George. "But we hope, don't we?"

"Would you raise them in Italy?"

"Right here in Noto," George said firmly.

The sunlight was very bright, and fell evenly upon the ground, washing everything with a bright glaze. The path to the beach looked narrow and rocky.

"How far is it?" Henry asked. George was unbolting his wife's chair.

"About a five-minute walk," he said without looking up. "Not too far-would you grab the bag of towels in the trunk?"

Henry nodded. He sensed a tension in George's voice and again regretted bringing up the idea of children.

"We have grapes somewhere in a brown paper bag," Kristina said.

Kristina unbuckled from her seat as George unfolded the ramp and lined up the wheels of her chair with two grooves in the door frame. When she was out of the car, George folded everything back up and bent down to lift her. She kissed him once and then reached her arms around his neck.

"Do me a favor, Henry, and put her chair in the car, would you?" George asked.

"You're going to carry her all the way?" Henry said.

"I am," George replied. "I always do-it saves me from having to join a gym."

"Stop it," Kristina said. "And concentrate-I don't want to be dropped."

"Stop what?" George answered with an exaggerated innocence.

"Stop teasing."

"Who am I teasing?"

"Me."

"I love carrying you," he insisted.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

She turned to Henry. "This will be good."

Henry put down the heavy canvas bag of beach towels.

"It's simple," George said. "I need to be needed."

Kristina glanced up at Henry.

"It's actually true," she said. "It's his only flaw."

When they were halfway, George stopped to maneuver Kristina onto his back. He stepped carefully past low thick plants and the occasional jutting rock. The sky was a heavy blue, and the sun weighed down mercilessly upon them.

When they arrived at the beach, people were camped in groups-huddling in the shade under cotton umbrellas. The water was very still and of a light brown tint. Children splashed laughing. Old men slept under wide-brim hats.

In the distance, rocks rose up against the horizon. Some people had swum out to them with snorkels. Kristina said the plants that grew on the rocks attracted fish and other forms of life.

After George drove the umbrella into the sand, they lay on brown towels and ate grapes. Kristina was wearing an orange bathing suit, with a towel folded over her legs.

"I still can't bring myself to go out there," George said.

Kristina touched Henry's arm.

"We're so glad you came," she said.

"She's right, Henry, we don't have to talk about it," George sighed. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

Henry lifted a corner of the towel to dry his eyes.

"I'm glad you said it, actually," Henry admitted. "I'm glad you said it because I was terrified you were going to ask me to go swimming." After saying this he cried a bit more, and then he laughed.

Before leaving, Henry watched George carry his wife to the water. She screamed as they entered the sea. It must have been cold on her legs. George didn't flinch. He bore her weight with the poise of the truly devoted.

It was very hot on the sand. People strolled by looking at Henry, not rudely, but as if they wondered who he was.

Henry carried Kristina on his back to the car. George trailed with the bag of towels making comments about an ancient ruin in the distance.

They slept away what remained of the afternoon.

At dusk, George entered Henry's room with a gla.s.s of water.

"We like to dress up for dinner, Henry, if you don't mind-just for fun, you understand."

"Dress up? Like in animal costumes?"

"No." He grinned. "Kristina is wearing a dress and I put on a tie-it's very Italian."

"I'm not sure I have-"

"Borrow something else of mine-though my shirts might be too big for you. I can't believe you've traveled with only these things for two years-it's almost religious."

"Don't worry," Henry said. "I have plenty of other baggage."

Over dinner, they opened the doors to the long balcony that ran along the edge of the apartment.

The sound of life from the street below filled the house.

Insects chirped and hissed from tall palms nodding over the piazza.