day she felt more alone than ever. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips, and he kissed her back, more fully, and she felt lost in his kiss the way she always did with him, as his tenderness swept her away. In the next moment, he released her from his embrace, moving a strand of her hair back.
“Now, it’s your turn.” Marco got out of the driver’s seat, opened her car door, and gestured her out of the car. “Come on, get in the driver’s seat.”
Elisabetta recoiled. “Marco, are you crazy? I don’t know how to drive.”
“It’s easy. Idiots do it every day.”
“Not this idiot.”
“Look, this is the perfect place to learn.” Marco gestured at the country road, a dark line stretching into the night. “There’s no other traffic, and all you have to do is go straight.”
“Marco, no.”
“Elisabetta, what did I tell you? You can do anything. Come on.” Marco hustled to the passenger side and opened the door, where despite her objections, he lifted her bodily from the seat, marched her around to the driver’s seat, and closed the door.
“Marco, I can’t drive.” Elisabetta put her hands on the steering wheel.
“Yes, you can. I’ll help you.” Marco vaulted inside into the passenger seat and landed with a little grunt, then they both burst into laughter.
“You’re crazy!”
“You’re not crazy enough. Feel on the floor with your feet. There’s a gas pedal on the right and a clutch pedal on the left.”
Elisabetta fumbled for the pedals, then placed her feet on them. “Okay.”
“Brava! Now press your right foot down to feed the car gas, and press up with your left foot to engage the clutch.”
“At the same time?”
“Yes, but when I tell you. Right foot down, left foot up. I’ll do the rest.”
“What’s the rest?”
“The gearshift. Don’t worry about it.”
“Still, it sounds hard.”
“Only at first. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“So do it now?”
“Yes. Now.”
Elisabetta pressed one foot down and the other up. The car lurched, bucked, then stopped, the engine screeching as if in agony. “Oh no! Did I break it?”
“No.” Marco chuckled. “Try again. Ready? Now.”
Elisabetta tried again, but it happened a second time, which left her shaken, if determined. “Again!”
“Okay. Now.”
Elisabetta tried again, and though the car stutter-stepped forward and the engine screeched, this time it didn’t stop. “Oh, look! Did it work?”
“Keep going, give it more gas!” Marco spoke louder to be heard over the engine.
“No more clutch?”
“Not until I say!”
Elisabetta gave the car gas, squeezed the wheel, and tried to steer straight. The car’s headlights shone cones of light in the darkness, and she didn’t dare to look left or right, focused on her driving. The car sped up, and the smooth sensation of motion made her smile, then the engine whined at a higher pitch, like a cat with its tail stepped on.
“Clutch again! Now!”
Elisabetta didn’t understand. “The clutch is already up!”
“Press down and up! Now!”
Elisabetta did so, and it must have worked because the car jolted forward and they started to go faster. “I did it!” she yelled, excited.
“More gas!”
“Where are we going?”
“Forward!”
“Is it safe?”
“Of course not!”
Elisabetta laughed and gave the car more gas, then even more, pressing the clutch pedal when Marco cued her. They flew down the road, spraying gravel and dirt, and she felt thrilled by the sensation of speed and power at her command.
She began to giggle, racing a big black convertible to a place she didn’t know at all. She sensed that was her life now, in that she knew only what was behind her and had no idea what lay ahead. She gave the car more gas, feeling truly in charge, a free woman of Rome, and for all of that, she had Marco to thank.
She raced along, the car shuddering beneath her. Was it possible she had fallen in love with both him and Sandro? And if so, how would she ever choose?
Elisabetta kept driving, into the future.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sandro
5 September 1938
Sandro slid his bicycle into the crowded rack in the schoolyard. It was the first day of school, and all of the students were outside, standing in groups. Usually they’d be chattering, laughing, and fooling around, but they were quiet and seemed unusually subdued. Elisabetta was uppermost in his thoughts. He scanned the crowd for her, but she wasn’t here yet.
He spotted his classmates Carlo, Ezio, and Vittorio standing in a circle looking at a piece of paper, and approached them. “Ciao!” he said, happy to see them. “How were your summers?”