Read Online The Miracle by Irving Wallace - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Irving Wallace
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independent and cheerful as possible. Although forced to give up her budding stage career, she had tried to maintain the life that she had known. Rejecting a Seeing Eye dog, refusing a white cane, she had encouraged her Aunt Elsa to guide her and teach her to get around on her own, in the apartment, in the street, in the antique shop her parents had on the Via Veneto. Aunt Elsa, her mother's younger sister, had been a perfect companion for her, a realistic and practical spinster in her late forties. Natale loved her parents, but their emotions had been hard to cope with, and she adored Aunt Elsa, who was solid and stable. Natale had continued to visit with her friends, and to go to the movies for the dialogue. Superficial changes had included wearing dark glasses at all times, learning Braille, and subscribing to a Talking Books service. As for church, she had gone to Mass more often and, when by herself, prayed more frequently. Her major sacrifice had been to deny herself dating or being with young men alone. There had always been so many, because of her beauty, she supposed, but with her handicap she had not wanted to become involved, become someone's burden.
This summer, for the first time since her blindness, she had wanted a vacation, to go back to Venice for three weeks, to the last city outside Rome that she had seen and loved before her loss of sight. Understanding and indulgent as her parents were, neither had been able to accom-
pany her to Venice, not during Rome's tourist season, their busiest time of the year. But they had agreed that Aunt Elsa, who was the manager of their shop, could take Natale.
Now, in the familiar third floor bedroom of the two-room suite at the Hotel Danieli, Aunt Elsa was unpacking their bags, and Natale stood before the twin beds, singing as she changed her clothes for their first foray into the streets.
Natale had already zipped up her blue jeans, pulled on the tight T-shirt (knowing, by feeling the raised initial sewn inside, that it was the becoming yellow one that contrasted so well with her loose shiny brunette hair), and with sure fingers she had patted down her hair and tied it at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. She fumbled on the bed for the dark glasses and adjusted them on the ridge of her small but perfect nose. She pirouetted in the direction of the unpacking and asked, "Aunt Elsa, am I together? Do I look all right?"
"Neat and beautiful as ever."
"You wouldn't be prejudiced, would you?"
"I've always told you, you could win any beauty contest. Why not? You take after me."
Natale laughed, remembering that her dumpy Aunt Elsa, with her straggly black hair and faint outline of a mustache, always believed that everyone else was beautiful.
Natale heard her aunt approaching, enjoyed her companion's warm hug, her aunt's forehead pressed against her cheek. Aunt Elsa was five feet two inches, and Natale was five feet six, thin and graceftil as a reed.
She took Aunt Elsa's arm. "Let's go outside. You can finish unpacking later. I want to see Venice again." She felt Aunt Elsa unconsciously wince at the use of the word "see," and Natale said with determination, "Yes, Auntie, I will see it if you point things out. I'll remember exactly."
"Very well," said Aunt Elsa. "I'm about ready, too."
"We'll go to the Piazza," said Natale, taking her purse from her aunt. "I want some fruit juice at Quadri's, a little walk on the Mercerie, and then lunch at Harry's Bar."
Leaving the two-room suite, Natale would not let her aunt guide her. Starting from a familiar fixed point, the familiar suite, she felt sure of herself. She had been to Venice and the Danieli many times with her parents, when she had been growing up. The last visit, three years ago, was still fresh in her mind. Touching the railings, she descended a few steps ahead of Aunt Elsa, recalling that the second flight of stairs down into the lobby was marble. In the lobby, she slowed to let Aunt Elsa
catch up with her, then
This summer, for the first time since her blindness, she had wanted a vacation, to go back to Venice for three weeks, to the last city outside Rome that she had seen and loved before her loss of sight. Understanding and indulgent as her parents were, neither had been able to accom-
pany her to Venice, not during Rome's tourist season, their busiest time of the year. But they had agreed that Aunt Elsa, who was the manager of their shop, could take Natale.
Now, in the familiar third floor bedroom of the two-room suite at the Hotel Danieli, Aunt Elsa was unpacking their bags, and Natale stood before the twin beds, singing as she changed her clothes for their first foray into the streets.
Natale had already zipped up her blue jeans, pulled on the tight T-shirt (knowing, by feeling the raised initial sewn inside, that it was the becoming yellow one that contrasted so well with her loose shiny brunette hair), and with sure fingers she had patted down her hair and tied it at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. She fumbled on the bed for the dark glasses and adjusted them on the ridge of her small but perfect nose. She pirouetted in the direction of the unpacking and asked, "Aunt Elsa, am I together? Do I look all right?"
"Neat and beautiful as ever."
"You wouldn't be prejudiced, would you?"
"I've always told you, you could win any beauty contest. Why not? You take after me."
Natale laughed, remembering that her dumpy Aunt Elsa, with her straggly black hair and faint outline of a mustache, always believed that everyone else was beautiful.
Natale heard her aunt approaching, enjoyed her companion's warm hug, her aunt's forehead pressed against her cheek. Aunt Elsa was five feet two inches, and Natale was five feet six, thin and graceftil as a reed.
She took Aunt Elsa's arm. "Let's go outside. You can finish unpacking later. I want to see Venice again." She felt Aunt Elsa unconsciously wince at the use of the word "see," and Natale said with determination, "Yes, Auntie, I will see it if you point things out. I'll remember exactly."
"Very well," said Aunt Elsa. "I'm about ready, too."
"We'll go to the Piazza," said Natale, taking her purse from her aunt. "I want some fruit juice at Quadri's, a little walk on the Mercerie, and then lunch at Harry's Bar."
Leaving the two-room suite, Natale would not let her aunt guide her. Starting from a familiar fixed point, the familiar suite, she felt sure of herself. She had been to Venice and the Danieli many times with her parents, when she had been growing up. The last visit, three years ago, was still fresh in her mind. Touching the railings, she descended a few steps ahead of Aunt Elsa, recalling that the second flight of stairs down into the lobby was marble. In the lobby, she slowed to let Aunt Elsa
catch up with her, then
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