"Once Upon A Time - in Italy"

Chapter 1

The place was Southwest Philadelphia. The occasion was an Italian wedding, American style. A favorite cousin’s son was getting married with over two hundred of his nearest relatives and friends in attendance to help him celebrate his day.
The affair had started hours earlier with a beautiful wedding held at St. Catherine’s Roman Catholic Church followed by the traditional wedding breakfast. Then the celebration had moved to a large reception hall where singing, line dancing, good food and an open bar all contributed to the evening’s festivities.
Nick Bentley sat alone at a table at the rear of the room sipping a glass of red wine and watching the revelers. In particular, his attention was focused on a beautiful woman seated at a table across the room from him. Nick knew who she was - her name was Marisa Roberts and their paths had crossed at various family functions over the years - but if they shared some distant and remote relationship, Nick was unaware of that. Nor was it of any great import to him.
As the evening wore on, Nick reached a decision. He rose and walked across the room to her table. At his approach, those at the table with her who knew him, grew quiet and had he been interested he might have noticed. But he was not and so he did not. Instead he nodded briefly to them and bent down to Marisa. “Hello Marisa,” he said, “would you like to dance?”
To the surprise of her companions, Marisa accepted. “Oh hi, Nick,” she said, “yes, thank you, I’d love to.” She was later to tell him that she had been married for over twenty years to the only man she had ever dated, and this was the first time in all those years that a man other than her husband had asked her to dance.
They moved out to the dance floor and he took her into his arms. He thought again how beautiful she was. She was not tall, standing about 5’3”, but she had blond shoulder-length hair, pale green eyes and a ready smile which, when coupled with a natural grace and charm, made her utterly captivating. The effect wasn’t lost on Nick.
He held her at arm’s length. “Marisa,” he said, “how old are you?”
“I’m forty, why?”
“Nothing,” he said still looking into her eyes, “I just want to say that you give forty year old women a very good name. You are lovely.”
Her reaction was hardly what he expected. She pulled back from him, apparently shocked. “Nick,” she said accusingly, “You’re hitting on me!” She wasn’t loud; he didn’t think anyone else had heard her, but he was thoroughly embarrassed. All he had meant to do was pay her a compliment.
Without another word, he stopped dancing, turned and led her back to her table. Once there, he thanked her quietly and walked away.
They were not to meet again for fifteen years.

Chapter 2

The sleek silver-winged Jumbo Jet cut smoothly through the jet-black night on the final leg of its run to Rome’s International Airport. Far below, unseen by the passengers but noted by the crew, a three-ship U.S. Naval convoy slid through the choppy water of the Atlantic on its way to a North Sea port.
In a window seat, head back, eyes staring out into the surrounding darkness, a man sat reviewing the unusual chain of events that had brought him to this place at this time. The man was Nick Bentley. Nick was on his way, with his son and his son’s family, to visit the birthplace of his deceased father, the small mountain village of Pietraroia, in the Benevento Province of Campania in Southern Italy. It was his first trip to his family’s ancestral homeland.
Shortly after his arrival in America a century ago, Nick’s father Raymondo Bentillino, who later shortened his name to the more Americanized Ray Bentley, had met and married Julia Mallaca. The union produced eight children of which Nick was the sixth born. By the late seventies, Ray and Julia had both passed away and Nick had married and had children of his own - two girls and two boys. Divorced after a long stressful marriage, Nick had never remarried.
Sitting there, the quiet hum of the jet engines lulling him into revere, Nick closed his eyes and let his mind drift back in time. It was five years ago. Nick’s oldest son Steven had gotten married and he and his new bride had honeymooned in Italy. Almost before they hit the ground, the young couple fell in love with the country and its people. They left with a strong desire to return. Two years later, they did return and the second trip did nothing to lessen their enthusiasm for things Italian. In fact, shortly after returning from this trip, they began turning their New Jersey home into a vestry for all things Italian - pictures, paintings, music, food; they even placed impressive Italian statuary in their back yard. When they were done, their home resembled nothing so much as a little bit of Italy tucked away neatly in South Jersey.
It was following this second trip that Steven made a surprise announcement; he had decided to change his name from Bentley back to the original Italian –Bentillino. On their most recent trip, he and his wife had visited the town of Bentillino-Mutri from which the Bentley family had emanated and from which it had derived its name. So affected was he with the place and its history that he made a fruitful decision on the spot; he would revert back to the original Bentillino leaving Nick with two sons, one a Bentley and one a Bentillino. Although surprised, Nick accepted the change without further comment.
It was a mid-summer afternoon some time later, when Nick received a call from his newly minted Bentillino-son. “Hey dad,” Steven said brightly, “Debbie Bentley is a travel agent and she’s putting together a friends and family trip to Italy this fall at a great price. We’re going, how would you like to come along?” Debbie was Debbie Bentley-Stewart, Nick’s niece and one of five daughter of his brother Ray. Steven explained that the trip would be almost two weeks with visits to Rome, Sorrento, the Amalfi Coast, the romantic Isle of Capri, the lost city of Pompei, Michaelangelo’s Florence and ending with three days in Rome where they would visit the Old City, the Vatican and other culturally historic places.
“Oh yea,” Steven added, “the trip will be on me. It won’t cost you a cent, Dad, so what do you say?”
What was there to say? Nick had long wondered about the country of his parents and of his ancestors and his son’s offer was too good to pass up. He accepted it on the spot.
“It sounds wonderful, Steven. Thank you.” And so it was settled.
It wasn’t until the night before they embarked that they got to talk about who was going with them. Steven had called his father to check on last minute preparations. During the conversation, Steven surprised Nick. “Guess what?” he said, “Aunt Rose and Uncle Mike are going. That should be fun.”
Rose was Nick’s older sister and Mike was her husband. It was the first time their names had come up. “And Ray is going too,” Steven added.
That was a real surprise. “Ray?” Nick asked, “my brother, Ray?”
“No,” Steven said laughing, “not your brother, Aunt Rose’s son Ray, my cousin. He’s going along to take care of his parents.”
“Oh. What about Martha, is she going?” Martha was Ray’s wife.
“No, I don’t think so. Her name’s not on the list anyway.”
Hearing that Rose’s family was going was good news. Not only was Nick close to his sister and her husband but he had always enjoyed young Ray’s company, as almost everyone did. Ray was funny and talented, a singer and a piano player, and wherever he went he was always asked to perform which he did graciously. If they were all going to be in Italy together, it promised to be a fun trip from beginning to end.
But Steven had one more surprise up his sleeve for his father and this was to be the biggest of all. “Dad,” he said, “have you ever heard of Pietraroia?”
Nick shook his head. “Not that I know of, why?”
“It’s the mountain village in Southern Italy where your dad was raised. We’re going to visit that place and we will get to see the actual house where your dad lived and played as a boy before he came to America. Isn’t that great?”
Nick was speechless. “Oh my God,” he thought, “to walk up to the house where my father was a boy a hundred years ago and to reach out and touch that very building – “ The thought made him emotional and he was unable to speak for a moment. Nick’s dad was the most influential man in his life and to visit his birthplace in far away Italy would truly be the defining moment of his life. Rather than let his emotions overwhelm him, Nick changed the subject.
“Steven, that’s wonderful, I can’t wait. Do we know who’s all going yet?”
Seven pulled out the final list he had gotten from Debbie, and began to read off the names. Nick had heard most of the names before. Then Steven hesitated. “Oh yes, Marisa Roberts is going. You know her, don’t you?”
Marisa Roberts. At the mention of Marisa’s name, memories flooded Nick’s senses. He remembered a night fifteen long years ago and a beautiful woman. He remembered asking her to dance with him. And he remembered being humiliated by her. He remembered it all as if it had happened yesterday but he kept all that to himself.
“Marisa Roberts?” he said. “Are you sure? “I don’t remember hearing her name before.”
Steven double-checked the list. “Yep, she’s on here. You do know her, right?”
Nick nodded. “Yes, I do, for a very long time. I guess her husband is going?”
Once again, Steven checked the list. “It doesn’t say anything about him; just Marisa and her daughter, Sandy. That’s it.”
“Really? That’s odd. How old is the daughter?”
“She’s my age. Don’t you know her? I met her once at my house.”
“You did? What was she doing at your house?”
“She’s was with Debbie and Anna Pastore working on the family reunion last year. I let them use my house for a meeting so they all didn’t have to drive to the shore. Anna was the one putting the reunion together.”
Anna Pastore was Rose and Mike’s daughter, one of their three married children and the one who had persuaded her brother Ray to go to Italy to take care of their parents.
“Oh, I see,” Nick replied absentmindedly. But his mind wasn’t on Sandy Roberts; his mind was on Marisa. He wondered what her reaction would be when they met at the Newark departure gate for the first time after so many years; and he couldn’t help wonder if she was aware that he would be on the trip? And if she was aware, had she found out before or after she decided to go?

Chapter 3

Newark Airport is one of America’s busiest airports. Located in North Jersey on the outskirts of New York City, the airport rests along one of America’s most populated corridors. At any one time, dozens of planes are either landing or taking off or locked in a holding pattern as air controllers strive mightily to sort the whole thing out. It’s a wonder it works at all, but it does.
The vehicle traffic into and out of Newark Airport is always a mess and this day was no exception. Cars, trucks and buses seem to come from every direction and woe to anyone who didn’t know their way around the maze. Fortunately, Steven had driven to the airport many times before and knew his way.
They headed across the terminal area toward the remote long-term parking lot, where, finding a spot, they got out and unloaded the baggage. Then the four of them hurried together toward a shuttle bus that would deliver them to the main terminal.
As they settled onto the bus, Nick could felt the first real twinge of excitement. For the first time, he found himself actually looking forward to the trip. The question was what was he looking forward to? Was it Italy or was it seeing Marisa Roberts again?”
The memory of the last time they met was still crystal clear.
Their shuttle bus pulled into the terminal and they grabbed their bags and hurried inside. It was late in the afternoon, and time was growing short. They wanted to get their bags on board as quickly as possible and find their traveling companions. They checked in, and then hustled down the long corridors to Gate #54, their departure terminal. They were out of breath when they reached their destination and entered the departure area. At this point, there were twenty-one family members and friends in the group traveling to Italy most of whom were already there.
The departure area consisted of one long bench down the middle of the room with seats facing in both directions, a second bench facing the entrance to the room, and a third alongside the window facing the tarmac. As Nick entered the area, nodding to relatives here and kissing others there; his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Marisa. She wasn’t there. His spirit sagged. Then, off to the left and behind the main group, facing him – and smiling as if waiting for him to find her – was Marisa.
When he saw Marisa, Nick’s eyes lit up and he felt an unexpected surge of emotion, the strength of which surprised him. Certainly he had expected to be happy to see her but this was a lot more than that. Taking a deep breath, he told himself that Marisa was an old family friend, that she was a married woman, and if that wasn’t enough, that their last meeting had been anything but pleasant. In fact, as he reminded himself, it was downright humiliating. With that, he began to wonder what he was so damned elated about.
But if the situation concerned Nick, it didn’t seem to have any effect on Marisa at all. She looked at him and smiled, then squeezed down to make room for him beside her. Nick smiled tentatively and sat down.
Marisa turned to him. “Hi Nick,” she said smiling her beautiful smile, ”it’s good to see you again.”
Nick was flabbergasted. Marisa acted as if nothing had happened that night fifteen years ago, and maybe it hadn’t. At this point, Nick wasn’t sure about anything except that he was delighted at being here with her and apparently she felt the same way about him. He smiled back at her. “Thank you, Marisa, same here.”
She looked at him and the smile on her face lit her eyes and suddenly, Nick was struggling to find something impersonal to say. Then he remembered her daughter and rushed to relieve the moment. .
“Steven told me you were traveling with your daughter. I don’t think I know here. Which one is she?”
She looked around the room and pointed to a very pretty, animated girl standing near the window, talking to a group of people. “That’s Sandy. I guess you don’t know her but you must have seen her before. She’s been around a long time,” and she laughed.
He looked again. “I’m sorry, I’m sure I have but I have a bad memory for faces.”
“I’m glad you didn’t forget mine,” she teased.
He looked at her. She was older now, but still as beautiful as he remembered her. “No,” he said quietly, “not a chance of that.”
“Good,” she smiled.
For a moment he was tempted to reach out to her, to touch her. That’s what he wanted to do. Then he remembered their situation and it deflated him. What was he doing? Marisa was an old family friend, she knew everyone in his family and they knew her. And she was married. It was a situation that could easily get out of hand and they couldn’t let that happen.
So profound was his disappointment that it must have showed on his face. Marisa reacted immediately.
“What’s wrong?” she said, alarmed and looking around. “Has something happened?”
He searched for something to say. Something to hide his embarrassment, After all, he had known she was married when he agreed to make this trip. Now he must find a way to deal with it. “I’m sorry,” he said, recovering as best he could, “my mind wandered. I’m fine.” Looking away to hide the hurt he felt, he grabbed for the first thing that came to mind and he turned back to her. “So how come your husband didn’t come with you,” he asked, trying to make the question seem routine.
She looked straight at him. Her voice was low and calm. “I don’t have a husband,” she said.
Nick wasn’t sure he had heard her right. “What did you say?” he asked.
“I said I don’t have a husband, Nick. Not anymore anyway. I’m divorced.”
He would have been hard pressed to describe the effect these words had on him but it was as close to elation as he had ever come. He still wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. “You mean you’re not married?” he asked? They had been married for so many years.
She shrugged. “No, I’m not married, Nick, not anymore. I’m divorced.” He tried to sound sympathetic.
“Oh I’m sorry. When did that happen?”
“I have been separated for four years, divorced a year ago.”
“I didn’t know – “
“No, not many people do. I’m rather a private person.”
He stared at her. “I’m sorry,” he said honestly.
”Thank you, it was a long time coming. But it’s over now.”
He could hardly believe what she was telling him. But before he could let it take over, he had to ask one more question. He had to know he was not coming between a man and his wife. He would never do that. He had to ask the question.
“Any chance you might get back together? You and your husband?” If she answered yes, he would leave her alone.
She shook her head from side to side. “No, none at all.” And that was it. He let out a deep breath, or maybe it was a sigh. He didn’t know which. What he did know was that he was going to see Italy with Marisa and that she was single. Everything else was forgotten.
It was time to leave and the people began to mill about. The group had been split into two and the groups occupied different sections of the plane. Fortunately Marisa and Nick were in the same group. They got their carry-on baggage together and proceeded toward the boarding ramp. “If we get separated,” Marisa said smiling, “I’ll see you on board.”
“Okay,” he replied not the least bit happy about the possibility of being separated even for a brief time but choosing to make a joke of it. “If not, see you in Italy.”
She laughed. “Have you ever been?”
He shook his head. “No, you?”
“No. I guess we’ll see it together then,” and she turned and left.
The way she said it sent a chill up and down his spine. He knew, he absolutely knew, that she planned to share this adventure with him. He stood there staring after her as the feelings flooded his senses. It was like a dream. He was going to Italy, the home of DaVinci and Michaelangelo, of David and Pieta, the romantic Fountains of Trevi and Piazza Navona, artifacts of ancient history like the Roman Forum and the Coliseum, the Sistine Chapel, Florence, Capri, the cliffs of the spectacular Amalfi Coast and Sorrento –the city of lovers - and he was going to all these places with Marisa. A long time ago he had fallen in love with a beautiful woman and now, he was about to share an incredibly romantic experience with her – a visit to their ancestral homeland - Italy. He pinched himself to see if he was awake. Then he stopped because if he was asleep, the last thing he wanted was to wake up.
Fifteen minutes later, he was settling into his seat preparing for takeoff. An hour later, the big jet was lifting off the runway at Newark winging its way out over the dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
Nick shook himself loose from his musings. The way this trip had come about, with both him and Marisa being here, still amazed him. It was as if it had been pre-ordained. He turned to look at the woman seated on the aisle seat across from him. Her head was laid back and her eyes were closed. She appeared to be sleeping. “Even in sleep,” he thought, “she is beautiful.” Then, as if she felt him looking at her, Marisa’s eyes opened and their eyes met and locked. They stayed that way for a long moment, then a pleased smile passed over her face and she closed her eyes. She was asleep again.
Nick turned his face back to the window staring into the blackness lit only by the blinking running lights out on the wingtips of the plane. He closed his eyes.
In moments, he too was asleep. It was the end of a most remarkable day.

Chapter 4

The first thing that caught his attention as he disembarked at Rome International Airport, was that magnificent sign that brought him to stark reality. The sign that told him he was in the land of artists and poets, warmth and beauty, majesty and history, culture and tradition. The sign read:
LEONARDO DA VINCI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT – ROME.
Leonardo Da Vinci, the great one! Once a long time ago, a very important man had taken Nick and a business associate into his library. There on one whole wall, he showed them his extensive collection of books –about and by – Leonardo DaVinci.
The man had confided in them that he truly believed DaVinci was the Second Coming of Christ. At that time, Nick thought it was a strange thing to say; but now, standing in Rome in the airport bearing the great man’s name, it suddenly didn’t seem so strange at all.
He heard his name called and looking around saw Steven and Emily making their way hurriedly down the long corridor. He hustled to catch up. The group had split into several smaller groups, accidentally or purposely, he couldn’t tell, with some seeming to know where they were going and others not. But he was confident Steven did, so he stayed close to him. He hadn’t seen Marisa or Sandy since his arrival but that was hardly surprising considering the hectic nature of the terminal, everyone was running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. In any event, he didn’t know whether they were all supposed to be together at this point or not so he decided his best option was to forget Marisa and concentrate on getting where he was supposed to be, which is what he did.
They proceeded quickly across the wide, beautiful terminal. Their schedule called for them to spend their last three days in Rome, and they were looking forward to that, but for now, they had a plane to catch and that plane was way on the other side of the airport. The only way for them to get there was by foot so speed was of the essence.
The trip through the airport was chaotic, bordering on hilarious. No one really knew where they were going except maybe Steven and Debbie. Nick hurried up the long corridor and was shocked at one point to see his brother-in-law Mike and his nephew, Ray, riding on an airport electric cart being driven by a smiling Italian, but going the wrong way. He called out to Ray as they flew past.
“Yo, what happened?”
Ray just laughed and waved and they rolled by. Later they were to find out what had happened. It seems that Ray had taken his mother to the ladies room. Ray and Mike waited, Mike seated in his wheel chair. Somehow, they forgot about Rose and Ray started pushing his father toward the other end of the terminal. As he hurried along, an Italian airport employee on a cart, seeing the wheelchair stopped and offered them a ride, which they accepted. They folded up the wheel chair and got on the cart and were quickly flying across the terminal when Ray suddenly remembered his mother! She was back in the ladies room and he knew she would be panicked if she came out and they were gone. Frantically, he grabbed the smiling driver’s shoulder and tried to make him understand that they had to go back but with no success. Each time he shook him, the good-natured Italian just laughed and reached out grabbing Ray’s shoulder and shook him back. He apparently thought it was just a friendly game. Finally Ray hit upon a scheme. He pulled out the three passports with their pictures on them and showed him the first one. He pointed to himself. The driver smiled. Then he took out the second one and pointed to Mike. Again the driver nodded and smiled. Then he showed him the third one – the one with Rose’s picture on it – and gestured wildly in the direction they had come, and suddenly the light went on. The Italian got the message. “Madre Dia!” he cried out realizing Ray’s mother was missing, and he wheeled the cart around and began to speed back the way they had come, which was exactly the point at which Nick had seen them. What Nick didn’t know was that Ray had his hands full just trying to keep them from falling off the flying vehicle all the time laughing so hard the tears were streaming down his face. It turned out the driver on the airport cart drove much the same as the Italian drivers they were later to see on the roadways. Damn the torpedoes full speed ahead!
Nick stood there looking at the departing cart, then turned around. To his consternation, Steven and family had disappeared. He looked around him, then spotted them down the corridor, moving quickly. Steven hadn’t even noticed that his father wasn’t with them. Grabbing his bags, Nick took off after them. The last thing he needed was to lose them since he had no idea where he was going. Suffice to say it was a hectic first thirty minutes in Rome but in calmer times, they all were forced to agree that it was great fun. Their Italian trip had gotten off to a riotous start.
Despite the airport shenanigans, everyone did make the Rome connection and in minutes, the group was airborne, flying for the first time over the historic and magnificent Italian countryside. As they flew, a feeling of conviviality and congeniality blossomed, a feeling that was to remain with them for the remainder of their Italian odyssey. For those who had been here before, the flight was a reawakening to the marvels of this land; to those who had not, it was an experience they would never forget.
The plane touched down in Naples around noon, November 2nd, 2000. They disembarked and were loaded into a bus that was to take them across country to the storied city of Sorrento.
Nick boarded the bus and for the first time, saw Marisa. She was seated with Sandy, halfway down the aisle. He smiled and made small talk, then took the seat directly behind them. Looking out the window, he was amazed the see the city streets filled with flowers. They stretched from side to side and from one end of the block to the other. He reached for his camera only to realize it was packed away. He leaned forward and spoke to Marisa, wondering if the magic was to continue.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he said.
She looked back and smiled and her eyes told it all. He felt his spirits rise again. . “Yes,” she said, “do you know what the occasion is?” He didn’t. But in a few minutes, their driver explained. They had arrived on a national feast day – All Souls’ Day.- a day on which the Italian people bought flowers, and carrying them to cemeteries, placed them on the gravesites of their departed loved ones. It was a wonderful holiday, typically Italian, and a sight they would take with them when they left Italy. The streets of Naples looking like nothing so much as rivers of flowers. He leaned back. Despite the fact that she was seated ahead of him, he could swear he felt Marisa’s physical presence. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was feeling the same thing. He hoped she was. He believed she was. Anything less at this point, would have been a terrible disappointment.
He leaned forward and thought to engage her in conversation, but he realized she was talking with her daughter so he decided against it. He sat back and relaxed. The bus pulled out and began to make its tortuous way through the small Italian streets. After a while, the scenery began to change as they left the city behind. The sun was out and the day was pure Italian magic. As Nick sat looking out the window, his son tapped him on the shoulder. Steven and his family had taken the seat directly behind him.
“Well, what do think, dad?” he asked. .
Nick thought back to the ambivalence he had felt for this trip and wondered what had possessed him. But whatever it was, it was gone now. “I think it’s beautiful, thanks for inviting me.” Steven leaned back and grinned. He knew he had been right; once there, everyone fell in love with Italy. His father was no exception.
They made their way over what had now become a hilly countryside - and hilly is an understatement. For Nick, born and raised in the Philadelphia area of Pennsylvania where it is basically flat, Southern Italy was a revelation. It is not so much a hilly country – Italy is a mountainous country with mountains everywhere - breathtaking, scary, beautiful rises and drops along walkways, roadways, and highways. It is invigorating and frightening all at the same time.
Along the route, the visitors began to notice something unusual. Fruit trees lined the narrow road even though they were growing on steep inclines. Under the trees, they could see nets strung out mile after mile. At first the nets were a puzzle, then the driver explained. The nets were put there to catch the fruit that dropped from the trees so the pickers wouldn’t be forced to run up and down the hills to harvest. Quite an ingenious idea borne of necessity. Some of the trees appeared to be lemon trees. Others were olive trees. And still others were orange trees, their fruits visible in the nets below.
About thirty minutes later, the bus entered a town where the driver experienced difficulty maneuvering his bus through the winding streets. The cars in this town were small but the traffic was heavy and free flowing, without any of the visible controls that are commonplace in America. Traffic police were absent. Traffic signals seemed advisory rather than compulsory. And the drivers seemed pretty much on their own. They could see crosswalks in the middle of town, and in the middle of blocks, where pedestrians were supposed to be safe, but looking at the way the traffic flowed, that didn’t seem to be guaranteed either. It was becoming apparent that when one is in Italy, it is far better to stay alert than trust the Italian drivers. What with all of this, you might reasonably expect to find junkyards throughout the country littered with crashed automobiles, yet nothing was further from the truth. In all the time they were to be in Italy, members of the group would see only one remote automobile junkyard and that one, not very large at all. Whatever the system to outsiders, it seemed to work well for Italians.
As the driver proceeded to make his way carefully and very slowly along the busy streets approaching the center of town – the visitors were taken back by the beauty of the place. People strolled the narrow tree-lined streets. Outdoor café’s were crowded with customers taking time out of their day to enjoy their city and their lives. The Italian sky was blue and cloudless above them and the day was unseasonably warm; a variety of flowers decorated shop after shop.
A subdued murmur swept through the bus as those on board stretched this way and that to get a better look. But it was when the driver called out: “This is Sorrento,” that the real fun began. Now everyone wanted to see, and people leaned over one another to get a better look. As Marisa stood up, she glanced at Nick and smiled and their eyes met and locked for a moment. They were in Sorrento – together – and the love affair, which began long ago in Philadelphia, was slowly coming to bloom in Italy. Marisa turned away from him and joining her daughter, watched as the city of Sorrento flowed by their window.
Leaving the city, they made their way up a steep winding road until a hotel came into view. The sign read: Hotel Bristol – Sorrento, and the driver pulled up to the entrance. The door opened and they disembarked - a perfectly enthralled group of American tourists. As the baggage was being unloaded, Nick walked over to Marisa and Sandy who were standing, looking out over the bay. As he joined them, Marisa pointed. “Look, there’s Mt. Vesuvious.” The volcano loomed dark in the distance, small trickles of smoke emanating from its blackened peak. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Marisa asked softly, “beautiful and a little scary too.”
Sandy agreed. “You’re right Mare, it is beautiful.”
Nick was standing next to Marisa and he wanted to put his arms around her - to hold her as they shared this magnificent scene - but he feared the romance might be largely in his head, so discretion seemed advisable. Instead, he stood beside her drinking in the beauty of this storied Bay – and of Marisa. Vesuvious lay far to the right; Capri behind them and to the left, and he couldn’t wait to see these places with her. They stood there in silence for a moment, then Marisa broke the spell, pointing at the mountain. “If that’s Vesuvious,” she asked, “where’s Pompei?”
Nick pointed. “Over that way. They’re about ten miles apart. Pompei is closer to the Bay. Do you know if we’re scheduled to visit Pompei on this trip?”
Marisa shrugged. “I don’t know but I hope so. That would be really exciting.”
The baggage had been unloaded and moved into the hotel and so they turned and went inside. Their schedule called for them to take their meals at The Bristol and since it was getting close to dinner time, and everyone was hungry, the three of them wanted to get checked in as quickly as possible. Marisa and Sandy went to the desk, and as soon as the registration was complete, made their apologies and went upstairs to unpack.
Looking around, Nick saw his son and daughter-in-law busy with Joey, so he turned and walked to the big front window of the hotel. Standing there, he could look down at a panoramic scene of rare beauty – the clear blue waters of the Bay of Naples lying directly beneath him - soft white tufts of meandering clouds wandering across a sun drenched, deep blue Italian sky. Off to his right, the shoreline was shaped in a giant crescent embracing a marina littered with white pleasure boats. Further back, behind the marina laid the fabled city known to lovers the world around – the city everyone wanted one day to come back to – the city of Sorrento.
Directly across from him – but far in the distance, beyond view - lay the City of Rome. Even further to his left, further out in the bay, lay the fabled Isle of Capri and further to the right – and the Northeast – that small plume of black smoke continued to jet menacingly into the sky. It was Vesuvious, destroyer of Pompei and of over twenty thousand of its inhabitants, two thousand years ago.
Through it all, the picture-postcard scene was dotted with a myriad of red clay rooftops from the homes and condos which lined the marina along the shoreline, while off in the distance, nestled in the mountains, lay world-famous Sorrento, home to lovers since the time of the Caesars.
It was hard to remember there was a time that such a trip disinterested him. At this moment, he was certain it had become something bigger than life. He was deeply grateful to his son and daughter-in-law for making it possible.
He returned to the hotel lobby and joined Steven and his family. Picking up Joey, he followed his son into the elevator. Then he remembered. As of this moment, he had not yet met up with his nephew and roommate, the irrepressible, lovable, always fun to be with - Ray Pastore. He grinned at the thought and looked forward to that now-imminent meeting. But before the elevator door was closed, Joey erupted and began crying. Nick didn’t know what was wrong with him but Steven did. He took Joey’s hand in his. “Do you want to push the elevator buttons, Joey?” he asked. Joey nodded. He knew what he liked and what he liked was pushing elevator buttons. He leaned forward and Steven guided his finger toward the button for the sixth floor. He pushed it and the elevator began to rise. Joey leaned back satisfied. It was a routine that was to be followed all the time they were in Italy. If there were an elevator in the vicinity, Joey would find it and demand to push its buttons. For years to come, elevators and Italy would be intertwined in Joey’s memory. Steven and his family were on the sixth floor while Nick was on the seventh so they departed agreeing to meet up later and Nick resumed his trip to his room
Exiting the elevator on the seventh floor, Nick made his way down the corridor searching for room seven-seventeen. Putting his bags down at the door, he started to insert his key, but before he could, the door swung open and there to greet him with big grin - and an even bigger hug - was the ever-popular, musically gifted, always smiling - Ray Pastore, godson, nephew and now, vacation roommate.
He stood there, filling the doorway and they embraced. Ray was a big man. In his mid-forties, he was six feet tall and a pound or two overweight. He had a round face that always seemed ready for a grin and a genuinely dry wit that broke people up. Add a genuinely nice personality and you had a wonderful man and a perfect roommate. He had come to Italy with a purpose. Not to see the sights, as beautiful as they were, but to help his mother and father enjoy their trip. His father Mike, once a big, strong, robust athlete and auto garage owner, now had to use a wheelchair to get around. His mother, Rose, more ambulatory then her husband but still, seventy-nine years old, also needed help. Ray was tireless in providing that help. Day after day he would be a companion to his parents, watching out for his mother, standing behind his father’s wheelchair ready to push it wherever it had to go. It was his dedication that made their trip possible.
But he and Nick were rooming together, and Nick felt that certainly should afford them some time to enjoy one other and he looked forward to that time. They spent the next hour exchanging notes on what they had seen and what was yet to be seen. Then they unpacked and got ready for dinner.
At six o’clock, Ray and Nick left the room, Ray to assist his parents and Nick going to his son’s room. As Steven opened the door, Joey was there with his arms held open. Nick picked him up. Joey seemed to have weathered the flight just fine and was a bundle of energy. Even at that age he was bright and enthusiastic, two qualities which endeared him to the entire group. But there was to come a time when Joey’s ever-present precariousness nearly ruined the trip for both his parents and his grandfather.

End introductory Chapters.

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