Say Ye (27 page)

They kissed. She wanted to stay like this all night. But he pulled away. She pressed herself into his side after he rolled to his back. He put his arms around her.

“Better?” he said.

“The best.”

“Yes,” he said.

He yawned. She brushed her lips over his. His eyes flickered shut, he smiled. She made him smile. She beamed and melted into him. The best man, her man, her husband. Family, marriage, togetherness, a honeymoon in Italy, a lifetime, all miracles, but she expected nothing less.

19

“Good morning,” Lorenzo said in his deepest voice.

Lita opened her eyes fully and smiled. Lorenzo, propped on his hand, watched her. His free hand caressed her hair, her forehead, tickled the bridge of her nose, brushed her lips, tweaked her chin. He kissed her. She sighed, satisfied and cozy. Her eyes roved the room, wanting to remember each detail, the light shafting in onto the pale carpet, the walls shadowed, the orderliness of the few accessories, the lamp, chair, clock…seven-thirty. Lorenzo nuzzled her neck.

“Aren’t we meeting everyone for breakfast at eight?” she asked.

He made a low noise.

She pushed on him. “I’ve got to shower. Pete’s driving us at nine. We’ve got a plane to catch.”

She scooted away and hurried into the bathroom. Lorenzo’s solid body flopped on the bed as he groaned in frustration. A lot of sounds he made were still new to her, but she knew well those of his frustration. She smiled as she turned on the water, steam billowing out. But now she could make it up to him later, now she could give him what he wanted—what they both wanted.

He snuck in a few kisses and pinches when he stepped into the shower as she got out. Fifteen minutes later, they sat at a large table in the hotel’s restaurant. Lita’s hair stuck to her neck, still wet underneath. Soon Pete, Joanna, Sophia, and Carlo joined them, all hugs and smiles. Maybe not Carlo, who hugged them both but whispered something to Lorenzo as he did. Lorenzo tapped his foot while they ordered. Lita glanced at him but was soon distracted by Joanna, who wanted to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything she needed to do.

“Carlo and Sophia made sure all the presents got to your uncle Enzo’s. I’ll take your dress and bouquet to be preserved and follow up with the photographer,” Joanna said.

Lita thanked her.

“Where’s Janetta,” Lorenzo asked. “I want to make sure she remembers that meeting on Tuesday.”

“You’ve already been over everything with her. She told me. You know she likes to sleep in on weekends,” Sophia said. “Besides, we have the number at the villa.”

“Honeymoon. Remind Janetta, huh?” Lorenzo said.

He took Lita’s hand and circled her palm with his thumb. She returned his touch.

“We know. You don’t have to answer.”

“But no extending your vacation,” Pete said. “You need to be back by August.”

“Why?” Lita asked. A snap of excitement made her smile as Pete and Joanna glanced at each other.

“We’re getting married,” they said.

Lita squealed and ran to hug them both. “If you need any help, we’ll be back June thirtieth.”

“Of course I’ll need your help. I’d like you to be a bridesmaid,” Joanna said.

Lita hugged her again and bounced in joy. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Better finish breakfast,” Pete said. “We’ve got to leave in twenty minutes.”

Lita chattered away with Joanna and Sophia. Lorenzo had congratulated them, but remained silent, even once they were in the town car with Pete and Joanna.

“What’s wrong?” Lita asked him as Pete merged onto the freeway.

“I can understand why Uncle Vittorio offered me the cottage in Point Reyes for our honeymoon. I want you alone. Now,” he whispered. He held her hands, tracing her fingers.

“We will be,” she said. She kissed his ear, his neck. “By tomorrow we’ll be all alone. We just have to wait.”

“I’m done with waiting.” He glanced at her.

The wicked grin on his face made her giggle. “Aren’t I worth it?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t care that Pete and Joanna chatted in the front seat, she kissed Lorenzo for the rest of the fifteen minute drive to the airport.

Lita wore Lorenzo out with her nonstop talking on the flight to New York. He told her so before they landed. At least he said it with a laugh. She had to stop as they rushed across the terminal to catch their connecting flight to Naples.

Once they settled into their oversized first class seats and the seatbelt light dimmed, Lita slipped off her heels and curled up next to Lorenzo. She tucked away the armrest and took his arm. Just when she got comfortable, she realized she had to use the ladies’ room. She tugged her shoes on and stood.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He pulled her to him. “Why don’t I meet you back there in a few minutes?” he whispered.

Lita cringed and shook her head.

“Come on, Lita.”

She still bent over him. He brushed her breasts in a quick movement.

She pushed his hands. “No.”

She strode down the aisle. She wouldn’t even sit all the way on a seat in a public restroom much less have sex in the tiny, probably dirty, airplane bathroom. As she washed her hands, she tried to imagine how he could even accomplish such a thing, but she failed.

When she returned to her seat, a tall Nordic-looking stewardess blocked the aisle with a drinks cart. And stood smiling at Lorenzo, whose deep chuckle made Lita clench her hands into fists.

“Excuse me,” Lita said. The flight attendant glanced at her. “I’d like to sit with my husband.”

“Of course,” she said with a calm, cold smile. She inched the cart back so Lita could reach her seat. “Can I get you anything?”

Lita pulled the armrest down. “A Sprite, thanks.”

The stewardess handed Lorenzo a glass of champagne.

“Nice to see you again, Lorenzo,” the attendant said.

“You too. Have a good time in Naples,” he said.

Lita stared at the bubbles clinging to the glass.

“I will, but we’ll miss you. Safe travels.” The cart clattered a few feet before her voice disturbed Lita again.

She sipped her drink. Clouds obscured the window view. Lita’s ears hurt, but not from the altitude.

“Why don’t you meet her in the bathroom?” Lita whispered. “She seems willing enough.”

“I can’t help it if we run into women I’ve known.”

“It’s never your fault.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Not lately.”

He exhaled. Lita made herself see him. Her stomach dropped at the hurt in his posture, his shoulders hunched, his face like a boy’s who wouldn’t cry even though his best friend hit him.

She pushed the armrest up and snuggled into him. His arm tensed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She smoothed a hand over his chest and he slid an arm around her. “I love you. I don’t want to fight.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

He kissed her on the top of her head, which was cradled on his chest. She caressed his arm until he relaxed into her touch.

“Just us once we get to the house,” he said.

Lita nodded and asked about the villa again. Soon after, she drifted to sleep in his arms.

The pilot’s voice woke her as they descended into Naples. Lita stretched, careful not to bump Lorenzo with a careless elbow or hand. She kissed him and he smiled. The swell of excitement took over as she stared out the window. So many buildings, so much history and life down there. But, like New York City, exploring Naples would have to wait. Lorenzo promised he’d take her back to both someday, when they had time to devote to sightseeing. She knew for now he just wanted to see her. She grasped his hand.

She kept a tight grip on him through the crowded airport, customs, and into the terminal, where Uncle Enzo’s cousin, Eduardo, would meet them. The tall guards with big guns dressed in khaki and dark red sent a shiver of fear through her and she clutched Lorenzo’s arm harder. He glanced at her.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

She kissed him and smiled. “I know.”

Eduardo guarded them as well when they walked out to his car, parked in a lot across from the terminal. Lita wondered again at the strength of Italian genes. She looked like her aunt Angela, while both Lorenzo and Eduardo strongly resembled both each other and Uncle Enzo. Eduardo’s hair, though, was salt and pepper, where Uncle Enzo’s was silver and Lorenzo’s still dark brown, as the older men’s had once been. Lita linked arms with the two men as they walked. Contentment floated through her, as when Lorenzo and Uncle Enzo escorted her somewhere, like when they’d gone to “The Nutcracker” last Christmas.

Eduardo insisted she and Lorenzo sit in the backseat together. Lita snuggled into his embrace while Eduardo sped through the city, talking as fast as he drove, gesturing to the landmarks. Lita blinked, unable to follow his mixture of Italian and English or his quick pointing. She leaned her head on Lorenzo’s shoulder and gave up trying. She would see it all again another time.

The drive to Sorrento reminded her of cruising down the California coast, except the sky seemed more blue and clear, and the buildings distinctly Italian. Within the hour, they approached the family villa, which Lita had seen many pictures of, but still she noted the sun-washed mellowness, the bright purple and yellow flowers against the eggshell walls. It overlooked the sea, a unique deep turquoise blue. Low-growing leafy green lemon trees dotted the grounds. Off to the side stood a smaller house, where Eduardo and his wife, Philomena, lived. They took care of the property, since the villa sat unused many months of the year.

A tiny, round woman ran down the steps to greet them, wiping her hands on her orange apron. She spoke too quickly for Lita to understand, but her warm smile and bosomy hug made Lita feel welcome.

She held Lita’s face a moment. “Ah, che bella, Lorenzo.”

“Sí,” Lorenzo said.

The air mingled citrus and fresh, warm sea breezes with Lorenzo’s scent. The two were similar, but his had a different edge. Mena, as she liked to be called, had slowed her Italian enough for Lita to understand. She led her into the house, while Lorenzo and Eduardo followed with their bags. Mena showed Lita the kitchen, all the food she’d prepared for them, the downstairs bathroom, and the phone. The colors reflected the beach, worn light woods, blues, sandy white, as well as the bright lemon yellow and waxy dark green of the lemon trees. So similar to her home back in San Francisco, except again Lita noticed the clear quality of the light, as if they were a step closer to heaven.

“You and my father were cousins?” Lita asked as Mena dished up a chopped salad on two plates, the same as those at home.

“Yes, Timo was my favorite. He was seven years my senior but always kind. He had so much love to give and how he missed Angela, who moved away with Enzo when Timo was seven, the year I was born.”

Lita blinked as Lorenzo walked in the room. He frowned and she thought he shook his head at Mena.

“Thanks,” Lorenzo said.

Mena nodded and took off her apron, which she hung in the closet by the back door.

“Are you going?” Lita said. Mena nodded again. “I wanted to hear more about my father.”

“The family’s giving us a party tomorrow evening at Aunt Arianna’s house in Vico Equense,” Lorenzo said.

Lita smiled and thanked Mena and Eduardo, who waved goodbye in uncharacteristic silence as they closed the back door behind them.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Uncle Enzo’s younger sister and the DeGrazia cousins. Will some of the Sabatinis be there too? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Eduardo just told me. Yes, some of your dad’s family will be there, what’s left of them, and probably some neighbors. Everyone will want to meet you, no doubt.”

“And I want to meet them,” Lita said.