Northern Moonlight (5 page)

“Good evening, Sabrina.” Gio took her hand as she smiled charismatically at him.

“Good evening, Gio.  I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She said, aware that she was a few minutes late.

“You were worth the wait.” Gio said simply, as Sabrina allowed him to lead her towards a table for two lit by a single lavender candle.  The table was situated in a secluded spot overlooking Lake Champlain, glinting in the starlight and moonglow.  Gio thought how captivating Sabrina was by candlelight and how the dancing flame seemed to warm her pale skin.  He hardly took notice as a waiter came over and handed them menus. 

Shyly, Sabrina perused the menu as Gio followed suit, stealing glances at her while trying to concentrate on making a selection.  The waiter soon returned, as Gio ordered a bottle of wine.  Then, he nodded towards her to order before he did.  After the waiter took their orders, Gio and Sabrina launched into conversation.  Swallowing his nervousness and speechless attraction to her, Gio initiated the exchange.  “You mentioned at the waterfront how you came to Burlington five years ago.  How do you like living here?”

“I love living here. Vermont has so much nature. That’s probably my favorite thing about it.  I’m a swimmer and I also enjoy tobogganing, although I must admit that
the slopes intimidate me.” Sensing that she might be chattering too much, she turned the conversation to him.  “What about you?  What kinds of things do you enjoy?”

Gio spoke passionately about his favorite outdoor activities: skiing, camping and fishing.  Sabrina listened with interest, and her artistic eye recognized an ideal photography subject in him.  His handsome face was a study in male beauty, brooding, well-sculpted, and enlivened by the most captivating eyes she had ever seen.  When Gio paused to taste the sparkling water, Sabrina probed, “Tell me about your work.  What made you decide to become a fireman?”

The perplexing mask she had glimpsed at the waterfront once again dominated his face.  Gio seemed to be fighting an internal battle about what to say, or not to say, next.  Before he could formulate a response, the waiter served their wine, a bottle of Chianti Classico from the restaurant’s private cellar.  The waiter cracked open the bottle with ease and poured a swish into Gio’s goblet.  “
Signor
?” He prompted, waiting for Gio’s evaluation.

Gio inhaled the full-bodied aroma of the red wine, swirled it around in the glass, and took a lingering sip.  “It’s very good. 
Grazie
.”  He smiled cordially and Sabrina noticed for the first time that he had dimples.

“
Bene, signor
.”  The waiter proceeded to fill Gio’s goblet halfway and do the same with Sabrina’s. 

“Your plates will arrive shortly.” The waiter announced before disappearing into the recesses of the dimly lit restaurant.

Gio raised his goblet and toasted, “To a wonderful evening.”

“To a wonderful evening.”  Sabrina lifted her glass to his and put her lips to it, letting the wine flow in and savoring the luscious, fruity flavor.  “Excellent choice of wine,” She complimented with a flirtatious smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” he answered, reaching for a wedge of herbed focaccia from the breadbasket. 

“You were about to tell me what led you into your line of work.” She persisted.

“Well it certainly wasn’t the salary.” He continued to evade her question.

“Then what was it?” She asked plainly.

Gio exhaled shakily, almost resolutely, as he rejoined, “I may as well tell you.  You should know that this is something I never discuss, so I’m going out on a limb here.  The only person in my life who knows this story is my buddy Max.  And I’ve known
Max since ninth grade.  He’s a private investigator with his own firm here in Burlington.”  Sabrina listened in anticipation, wondering what he was about to share.

As if trying to rationalize his pending confession, Gio said, “If we continue to see each other, you’ll find this out anyway, so there’s no use hiding it.”  Gio’s voice transformed into a complete monotone with emotionally vacant eyes to match.   “My parents and brother were killed in a fire when I was eighteen.  The fire destroyed our house completely.” 

At his horrific admission, Sabrina gasped and put her hand to her heart, “My God.  How awful…I mean it’s unimaginable.  I am so sorry.”  To Sabrina, her words seemed inadequate, but they were spoken in all sincerity and compassion.

Gio continued, determined to tell her the whole story and then proceed more pleasurably with the evening, especially to learn about her.  “It was just three months before my high school graduation.  Ironically, I had been planning to go to college to study architecture.” He sneered the last word and gritted his teeth.  “I had wanted to build.  Yeah, I wanted to design and build a house like the one I grew up in until the night I came home to an empty plot of land…nothing but ashes.  I realized in that moment that there is nothing permanent in this world.  Why would I build houses when nature’s elements can so easily take them down?  I told my girlfriend at the time, Madeline, that I couldn’t stand to stay in Vermont and would be moving in with my uncle for a while.  So, I took my father’s truck, the same one I still drive today, and went to my Uncle Stefano’s apartment in Brooklyn.  He and my aunt Helena are the only family I have in this country.  The rest are still in Italy.”

Fidgeting now and desperate to change the subject despite the fact that there was much more to the story, he asked, “Are you Italian, Sabrina?  You certainly have the eyes, like ripe black olives, my father would have said.”

Sabrina smiled and replied, “Yes, I am Italian on my mother’s side and French on my father’s.”  Inwardly, Sabrina knew he was trying to switch the topic of conversation.  She thought sadly how the old truck was the only tangible thing he had left of his father and realized why he had not junked it long ago.

“A beautiful combination,” Gio remarked, the smoldering intensity returning to his regard.

“Thank you.” She lowered her lashes.  “But please go on with your story…I mean, if it’s not too difficult.”

Gio continued, “My uncle and aunt took me in, but treated me very coldly.  I was so distraught that I ended up dropping out of high school and basically inhabited their
cramped guest room twenty four hours a day until I could no longer stand their attitudes.  They all but ignored me and even seemed hostile at times.”

“That’s odd.” Sabrina interjected.  “Perhaps they were just grieving for the loss of your parents and brother?”

“No, they definitely didn’t seem to be grieving.  They just seemed burdened by my presence in their home.  So when summer rolled around, I decided to leave and move back to Vermont.  I contacted Madeline, but she had already found another guy.  Max was the only person who would take me in.  I lived with him and his parents for a few months until I was ready to strike out on my own.  I was totally broke.  My father had been prudent with money, but he didn’t earn enough to be able to save.  That man poured every dime he ever made into the house that went up in flames.  Anyway, when I moved out of Max’s house, I chose a place to rent here in Burlington because, obviously, it was too painful to go back to Mount Hollow.  Then I decided to turn my tragedy into victory.  I applied to the fire academy.” Gio stopped there.  He felt depleted and stripped bare after his lengthy monologue.  But from Sabrina’s warm, benevolent expression, he knew it had not been a mistake to tell her.

The waiter brought over their entrees, and Gio inhaled the spicy aroma from his plate of steak pizzaiola, dripping in warm tomato sauce and garnished with fresh basil.  Sabrina was equally pleased with her bowl of pasta primavera, overflowing with bow-tie macaroni, colorful spring vegetables, and creamy alfredo sauce. 

Seizing his fork, Gio exclaimed with a wink, “
Mangiano
!  Let’s eat!” 

Sabrina grinned at him and for a few moments they ate in silence, thoroughly relishing the expertly prepared cuisine in between swigs of wine.  Gio studied her while she ate heartily, silently marveling at her beauty and overwhelming desirability in that snug black dress.  Trying not to stare at her daringly cut neckline, he took an extra long gulp of wine and hastily refilled his goblet.

Still brimming with questions and becoming accustomed to the raking perusal of Gio’s stare, Sabrina pursued the topic of the fire.  “How did that horrific inferno start?”

With an irritated sigh, Gio replied plainly, “I don’t know.  No one does.  The fire department conducted a brief investigation, but because of the destructive nature of the fire---it crumbled the house into smithereens and charred all its contents---there was no evidence to analyze.”

“But that’s crazy!” She exclaimed, appalled by how a disaster could be given such cursory attention.  “How could they let this awful tragedy go unsolved?  I mean,
was it arson?  If it was, then this would be a triple homicide in addition…” Sabrina trailed off, noticing the hard look on Gio’s face.

“Let’s just change the subject, alright?” He spoke in a firm tone that begged defiance. 

But Sabrina would not relent and gently reached out her hand to clasp his across the table as he softened his expression.  “I don’t mean to pry, Gio.  I just find it unconscionable on the part of the authorities to have given up so easily on this case.”

“It’s not a case.” Gio ground out.  “It’s my life.  My family!  What are you anyway?  A travel photographer or a tabloid journalist?”

Refusing to take umbrage at his rude comment, Sabrina said softly, “I’m certainly not a journalist.  And I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped my bounds.  You don’t have to discuss this with me, but at least for yourself---for the memory of your family---you must have some theories about how this happened.”

“I do.” Gio admitted slowly.  “I’ve always had suspicions about our neighbors, Bert and Cathryn Shanty.  They hardly ever left their house, and when they did, they were miserable.  Didn’t want to talk to anyone.  In all honesty, I’ve always wanted to question them, but I’ve never looked back.  Besides, they were pretty old back when I was growing up, and I don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

“But what if they are alive? Would you consider going back there?  To question them and maybe get some degree of closure?”

Closure
.  The word and alien concept reverberated in Gio’s mind.  The mystery behind his family’s deaths and fall of his childhood home had never allowed him any closure.  Perhaps Sabrina was right.  Even Max had told him dozens of times to sleuth for answers.  It had been so many years since the loss.  If he wasn’t ready to face it now, when would he ever be? Gio’s next statement surprised even himself.  “I guess I might consider it.  But we can’t just show up at their door and accuse an elderly couple of arson and murder.” 

“We?” Sabrina repeated.

“Yes, you and me.  And maybe Max if he’s not out of town on assignment.  Since it was your idea, wouldn’t you be willing to go?”

Sabrina was taken aback by his changed attitude and suddenly felt uncertain about what he was proposing.  “Well…if you feel comfortable with my being there.  But I’m just a stranger.”