Autumn 2006
It was just an average Saturday for Rafaela Lombardi. She opened the bookshop just in time for the first tourist ferries to arrive in town. She set up outdoor displays with souvenirs and little flower pots to bring some life and color to the cobblestone walk out front. She greeted her neighbors with a smile as the breeze rustled her blonde hair.
Soon, the visitors from every part of the world would swarm the streets. The bells of Santa Margherita di Antiochia would signal the beginning of the day. Rafaela charmed those who walked by, easily conversing in English, French, Spanish, Arabic, Mandarin, Greek, and her native Italian. She had not been in Vernazza long, but the locals were all enchanted by the newcomer from Turin and gladly accepted her into their community.
All day, Rafaela entertained her customers, selling guidebooks and decorated dishtowels, novels and painted plates. The work was a bit exhausting, but she loved it. When the evening came, she closed up shop and went across the street to the church. She sat inside and lit a candle and quietly prayed. After that, she went up to her flat on the top floor of the building.
And when she finally threw open the windows to the rooftop balcony and locked her front door from any visitors, Ruth Evershed began to cry.
For Rafaela, it was an average Saturday. For Ruth, it was the birthday of the man she loved. They were going to spend the weekend in Paris. She was going to make his birthday really wonderful and special, walking the Parisian streets hand in hand, perhaps kissing in the rain on the banks of the Seine. But instead, she had travelled down the Thames in a tugboat to get ship passage to France and a train to Italy and finally another boat to this tiny coastal town of the Cinqueterre. It had been two weeks since she had kissed Harry goodbye, when he had promised that he would come for her soon.
Ruth kept faith that Harry would indeed come for her. Harry loved her. She had faith in that more than anything else. Harry Pearce was not a particularly loving man, not one to bother wasting time giving his heart away. But somehow, Harry loved her as she loved him. So it would just be a few more weeks, pretending to be Rafaela Lombardi, the bookseller of Vernazza.
As she looked out over the bay behind the roof of the church, Ruth wiped her tears away and tried to think happier thoughts. She would probably be home by Christmas. Perhaps, if they didn't have to be on the Grid, she and Harry could go to Paris for Christmas. Or New Year's, even. They would have plenty of time to make plans for their future once they were reunited. Just a few weeks, he'd promised. A month or two at the most. She could surely survive till then.
Besides, Malcolm had given her the most wonderful legend. If she couldn't be Ruth Evershed for two months, being Rafaela Lombardi was a nice alternative. Everyone liked Rafaela. She was friendly and bright and outgoing in a way Ruth had always wished she could be. Rafaela didn't have Ruth's same misgivings about the world, didn't fall into depression so easily. It was nice to be her.
Ruth went to bed that night dreaming of Harry, hoping he was having a nice birthday. Hopefully Adam and Malcolm at least took him out for a drink or to dinner. Perhaps Catherine had called him. Was he taking care of her cats as he'd promised? If so, Mopsy surely had cuddled with him. If Harry ever fell asleep on the sofa, Fidget had probably ended up lying on his chest. The thought of it made her smile as she fell asleep.
November went by quickly and uneventfully. Six weeks since she'd left London. Any day now, Harry would be arriving to bring her home. He hadn't come yet, but there was still plenty of time. He was usually very punctual, after all. It was Ruth who had always been chronically late.
December brought the first bit of dreary weather. It did not rain, but there was a thick fog and fine mist surrounding the coastline. The tourists dwindled. Rafaela did not bother to put the displays on the sidewalk. Instead, she left them in the window and kept the door shut to keep the moisture away from the books. She still went to church every evening and prayed.
Despite the lack of tourist trade, December did bring a newcomer to Rafaela's shop. A man came in who practically took her breath away. He was the absolute epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. His smile was easy and gentle; joy and laughter were obviously familiar to him. He spoke to Rafaela in slightly broken Italian. She asked if English would be easier, which made him sigh in relief and blush in slight embarrassment.
"I am staying in town for a few weeks. Maybe longer. I have been trying to find where the locals like to go, and everyone I have spoken to told me to come to the bookshop."
"I'm very flattered that my neighbors think so highly of me," Rafaela told the man, feeling her face grow warm. "What brings you to Vernazza?"
"A holiday of sorts. I am from Cyprus, actually. My cousin lives up in the hills outside of the main town, away from the tourists, as she says. Her husband works for an oil company and must travel for work, and she is pregnant, and I am a doctor, so she asked if I could stay with her while her husband is away, in case anything goes wrong. She is in good health, so I don't have to do much," the man explained.
"What a very lovely thing to do for your cousin. I hope she and her baby remain in good health through her pregnancy," she replied kindly.
He held out his hand. "My name is George."
"Rafaela," she answered, shaking his hand. "It is very nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is very much mine," George said. He bowed his head and gallantly kissed her hand.
George then asked for a recommendation for a book that could help him learn better Italian. Rafaela busied herself finding a few that might help him. He paid for all three that she found and wished her a goodnight. Rafaela could not stop smiling.
When Ruth took a deep breath of the night air from the balcony of her flat, she let Rafaela fall away. Ruth was flattered by the attention, certainly. Quite the charmer, that George. A man like that would have never given Ruth Evershed a second look. But Rafaela Lombardi was blonde and friendly and smiling. It made sense that she would attract a handsome doctor like George. But Ruth still went to bed looking at the calendar to see how close she was to two months since she'd had to leave home, wondering when—and frankly, if—Harry would come for her.
Every day for two weeks, George came by the bookshop to see Rafaela. He told her of the progress he'd made in the books she'd given him. She asked him all about his home in Cyprus and his medical practice in the city of Polis. She enjoyed speaking with him and having the attentions of this charming man.
And at the end of two weeks, he finally asked her, "Rafaela, would you like to have dinner with me on Friday? As much as I enjoy talking to you in your shop, I think it would be nicer to take you out."
Oh he was so very charming! Rafaela was still surprised at his interest in her, but was supremely pleased by it. But lurking far too closely to the surface beneath Rafaela was Ruth, begging to run away. "I don't know…" Rafaela said, faltering slightly from her normally confident and friendly demeanor. "Can I give you my answer tomorrow?" she asked.
"Yes, that would be fine. I hope that my interest in taking you on a date is not a surprise. I would like to get to know you better," he told her, his tone and expression showing his genuine sincerity.
Rafaela just nodded, unsure of what to say. George wished her a pleasant night. And after quickly closing up the shop, she rushed out to the church and prayed for guidance.
No one would have ever known, seeing Rafaela in the church every night, that she wasn't a very pious Catholic. No one would have ever known that it was Ruth sitting on that pew, communing with Harry a thousand miles away, fantasizing that she could speak to him and he could answer her back. She would silently ask him when she would see him, she would remind him that she loved him, she would tell him how much she missed him, she would say how she ached for him deep in her soul. Ruth realized she was becoming extremely melodramatic, but every day past the two months Harry had promised made her die a little bit more inside. It had been nine weeks, now. Christmas was nearly upon them, and she would be spending it alone in Italy where no one knew her real name.
Ruth started to wonder if her hope was just a bit foolish, now. If Harry had not yet been able to clear her name and bring her home, would he ever? Was she doomed to be Rafaela Lombardi for the rest of her life? And if so, should she try to start getting used to it?
When Rafaela opened her shop the next morning, she decided that she would commit to her life in Vernazza. For the time being, at least. She would stop thinking of Rafaela as the false part of herself. Rafaela was who she would be. And Rafaela was very attracted to the lovely Cypriot doctor who had asked her out on a date. When George came to see her that day, she would tell him that she would very much like to go out to dinner with him on Friday.
That had been her plan. That had been what Rafaela had decided. But when George walked through her door, Ruth had somehow escaped and made herself known. As he stood before her, smiling in a hopeful but somewhat nervous manner, Ruth blinked and saw John Fortescue looking at her from beside the fountain, making her feel shy and afraid and so very confused over why it was so bloody difficult to express her feelings to a man.
"George, I'm so sorry," she blurted out.
"Sorry? Sorry for what?" he asked in confusion.
"I can't go out with you."
"Oh. I see."
She put a gentle hand on his arm. "I'd like to explain."
George just nodded.
"I came here because the man I love was in trouble. And he needed to get out of trouble before I can go home to be with him. It has taken a long time. Too long, perhaps. I don't even know, some days, if I even still believe that he will come for me. But I do know that I still love him. And I will always love him. And even though you are so very wonderful, it would not be fair to either of us if I were to agree to go out with you." Ruth spoke those words, vague as they were, and felt nearly sick with guilt. Rafaela should have gone out with the handsome doctor. But it was Ruth's heart that beat in her chest, and it was Ruth whom she could never escape.
Surprisingly, George just smiled. "I understand. I admire your devotion to your beloved. It is my loss and his honor, I am sure. But I suppose it is just as well. I just found out that Chiara's husband will be coming home for Christmas and he will be able to stay until after the baby is born. My cousin will not need me. And that means that I will be able to go home to Polis. I was nervous to tell you, but I am not anymore. I have a son. He is seven years old. His name is Nico. And perhaps before I go, you can help me find a Christmas gift for him?"
Rafaela was glad that he was not hurt. He was kind and charming through her rejection just as he had been since the moment she met him. He was a good man. "I would be happy to help find something for him. What sort of things is he interested in?" she asked.
The two spent some time wandering the shop, trying to decide what Nico would like best. When George finally decided on the historical mystery novel that Rafaela recommended, he paid and thanked her. He kissed her on the cheek, and she never saw him again.
After George left, Rafaela was lonely. And she felt just a little bit foolish. She should have given him a chance, she should have allowed herself to try to find some happiness in Vernazza. Ruth, though, felt relieved. As much as she had felt momentarily infatuated with George—and with John Fortescue—it did not come easily to her to spend time with such men. Harry had always been so easy for her to talk to. Even when it was difficult and frightening to be so very much in love with him, being in his presence had always been a relief. Even if it was foolish for her to try to keep her faith in Harry, Ruthwould not have been herself if she did not wallow in her desperate love for the man she sacrificed her life to protect.