Arthur Hailey - Evening News

They had come to the Parker-Meridian on West Fifty-seventh, where Jaeger was staying. Partridge had preferred what he thought of as the more cozy Inter-Continental on East Forty-eighth.

”We're a couple of old war-horses, Harry,” Jaeger said.”See you in the morning.” They shook hands and said good night.

* * *

A half hour later, in bed and surrounded by several newspapers he had bought on the way to his hotel, Partridge began reading. But before long the newsprint blurred and be pushed the papers aside. He would go through them in the morning along with fresh editions which would arrive with breakfast.

Still, sleep did not come easily. Too much had happened in the preceding thirty-six hours. His mind was full—a kaleidoscope of events, ideas, responsibilities, all of them intertwined with thoughts of Jessica, the past, the present memories revived . . .

Where was Jessica now? Was Teddy right about a twenty-five-mile radius? Was there a chance that somehow he, Harry the Seasoned Warrior, like some medieval knight in shining armor, could successfully lead a crusade to find and free his former love?

Cut the whimsy! Save thoughts about Jessica and the others for tomorrow. He tried to clear his mind to rest, or at least to think of something else.

Inevitably, that something else became Gemma . . . the other great love of his life.

Yesterday, during the journey from Toronto, he had relived that memorable papal flight: The Alitalia DC-10 . . . the press section and an encounter with the Pope . . . Partridge's decision not to use the pontiffs "slaves” remark, rewarded by a rose from Gemma . . . the beginning of their mutual passion and commitment . . .

No longer avoiding thoughts of Gemma, as he had for so long, he resumed in memory where he had ended the day before.

* * *

That papal tour, through Central America and the Caribbean, was long and arduous— It was one of the most ambitious undertaken by the Pope. The itinerary included eight countries and long flights, with some at night.

From the moment of their initial encounter, Partridge decided he wanted to know Gemma better, but his CBA reporting duties allowed him little time to see her during stops. Yet they became increasingly aware of each other and sometimes in the air, when Gemma wasn't busy, she came to sit beside him. Soon they began holding hands and once, before leaving, she leaned over and they kissed.

When it happened, his already strong desire for her increased.

They talked as often as they could and he began to learn about her background.

Gemma was born in Tuscany, the youngest of three sisters, in a small mountain resort town, Vallombrosa, not far from Florence.”It is not a fashionable place where the rich go, Harry caro, but very beautiful “

Vallombrosa, she told him, was a haven of the Italian middle class, who stayed there during summers. A mile away was Il Paradisino where John Milton once lived and, legend claimed, found the inspiration for Paradise Lost.

Gemma's father was a talented artist who made a good living restoring paintings and frescoes; he often worked in Florence. Her mother was a music teacher. Art and music were an integral part of the family's life and continued to be part of Gemma`s.

She had joined Alitalia three years earlier.”I wanted to see the world. There was no other way I could afford it.”

Partridge asked, "This way, have you seen very much?”

"Some pieces. Not as many as I would like, and I am growing tired of being a carneriera del cielo.”

He laughed.”You're much more than a waitress in the sky. But you must have met many people.”With a jealous twinge, he added, "A lot of men?”

Gemma shrugged "Most I would not want to meet again outside an airplane.”

“But there were others?”

She smiled, that flashing sweet smile, so much a part of her.”There has been no one I have liked as much as you.”

It was said simply and Partridge, the professional skeptic, wondered if he was being naive and foolish in believing her. Then he thought, Why shouldn't I believe when I feel exactly the same way, when no other woman since Jessica has had the same effect on me as Gemma?

Both of them, he sensed, felt the journey was going too quickly. So little time remained At the end of it they would probably walk away, never seeing each other again.

Perhaps because of that sense of time running out, one memorable night when the cabin lights were turned low and most others were asleep, Gemma curled up beside him and, under a blanket, they made love. In the confines of a tourist three-seat section, they should have been uncomfortable but somehow weren't, and he remembered it always as among the more beautiful experiences of his life.

It was immediately after their lovemaking—on impulse, and reminded that he had lost Jessica through indecision—he whispered, "Gemma, will you marry me?”

She had whispered back, "Oh, arnor mio, of course I will."

The next stop would be Panama. In a low voice, Partridge asked questions and made plans while Gemma, laughing softly, mischievously in the semidarkness, agreed to everything.

In daylight they landed at Panama's Tocumen Airport. The Alitalia DC-10 taxied in. The Pope disembarked and, like the trained actor he had once been, smoothly kissed the ground as a multitude of cameras zoomed in. After that, the standard formalities began.

Before the landing, Partridge had talked with his field producer and camera crew, asking them to cover the Pope's activities during the next few hours without him. He would join them later in narrating and helping edit the regular National Evening News report. Panama, which did not have daylight saving time, was only an hour behind New York so there would be sufficient time.”

While clearly curious, the other CBA staffers asked no questions, though Partridge knew it was unlikely that his and Gemma's growing attachment had passed unnoticed.

He also approached the New York Times reporter on the flight, who happened to be Graham Broderick, asking if he would share his notes for that day with Partridge. Broderick, while raising his eyebrows quizzically, agreed. Working journalists often made such trades, never knowing when they might need help themselves.

When the others disembarked, Partridge held back. He had no idea what explanation Gemma gave to her chief the senior purser, but she joined him and they left the DC-10 together. Gemma, still in Alitalia uniform, began explaining she had no means of changing into other clothes. But he stopped her and said, "I love you as you are.”

She turned to face him, her expression serious.”Do you truly, Harry?”

He nodded slowly.”Truly.”

They looked into each other's eyes and each seemed satisfied with what they saw.

Inside the airport terminal, Partridge left Gemma briefly. Going to a tourist booth, he asked several questions of a pimply youth behind a counter. The young man, smirking, told him he must go with the sefiora to Las Bovedas, part of the Old City wall in the Plaza de Francia. There he would find the Juzgado Municipal.

Partridge and Gemma took a taxi to the Old City. They got out near a towering obelisk topped by a chanticleer, the crowing rooster commemorating French canal builders, among them the famed Ferdinand de Lesseps.

Some twenty minutes later, inside the old wall and standing before a juez in an ornate office that had once been a prison cell, Harry Partridge and Gemma Baccelli became husband and wife. During a five-minute ceremony the judge, casually dressed in a cotton guayabera, signed an Acta Matrimonial which cost twenty-five dollars and Partridge paid twenty dollars each to two stenographers who served as witnesses.

The bride and groom were informed that the additional formality of registering their marriage was optional and, in fact, unnecessary until they came back for a divorce.