“You belong to me,” he said, kissing my hand. “I’m so damn proud of that fact. I’d marry you every day of my life.”
Brando had taken my parents’ offer to heart. It had touched him, just as much as it had touched Mitch. When Brando loved, he loved hard. Being the kind of man that he was, he took sole responsibility for those who were close to his heart.
“Gold digger,” I said, laughing, attempting to lighten the mood.
He grinned.
Sybil had accused Brando of this, despite the fact that Brando had made enough of his own money to live for the rest of his life in more than relative comfort. The sheriff had supporters when it came to that opinion.
“I know where the gold is, baby, and I can give my word to Sybil Lewis that it’s not in your bank account.”
We became quiet after that. Gravel under the tires crackled with the weight of the Land Rover, and by unspoken agreement, we both rolled our windows down. Spring was in the air, filled with pollen that coated the deep green of Louisiana with gold. The mugginess of summer was close, but still in the distance, leaving us free to enjoy all of the new life bursting into existence.
The closer we came to home, the thicker the smell of honeysuckle, magnolia, and gardenia was. Come summer, it’d be so thick in the air that it could perfume clothes. But for now, the southern breeze felt good on the skin, and the zest in the air lingered in a languorous attempt at attaching itself to the world’s roots.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” I clasped the cross around my neck as more than just the house came into view.
My mother stood out on the porch, waving a dishcloth in the air like a beacon. It was something Eunice did for us after we had been away from home for extended periods of time. It made goosebumps pucker my skin. It was something my father’s mother had done, a tradition that stemmed from that side of the family. Pnina had never done it before. Eunice, being loyal to my fathers’ side, always did.
My mother’s hair was done up in a French twist, her long bangs sweeping on each side. She wore a casual white eyelet tunic over a pair of jeans, a pair of leather sandals on her feet. She didn’t look nearly her age.
Brando and I glanced at each other—a quick look, but one that conveyed the same meaning: shock.
“Mati,” Brando said, his eyes narrowing.
We looked at each other again and then we both exploded with laughter.Matiwas the Slovenian term for mother. He had never called her that before.
Brando parked the car in the spot reserved for visitors. As I waited for Brando to open my door, I almost itched to get out and touch the ground. Once he did, he offered me his hand and we held tight, smiling as she gave us another wave.
We each kissed her cheek when we came close enough.
“Mitch is all settled,” she said. “He’s resting now, but we’ll get him up in a bit to enjoy the day. We have a packed house.” To prove the point, Mary zoomed out, followed by Paul and then Diego. “You and Brando will stay in your room?”
“Yes,Mati,” I said. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Good, good. Come in.” She used the cloth to wave us forward. “I have supper on the stove. The cabinet is stocked with whiskey, and your father is entertaining the men with fishing stories.”
I realized, with a start, that she wasn’t talking to me about the whiskey or the fishing stories—she was talking to Brando. She had called my father his. Brando had noticed, too. His eyes had gone soft—the only outward change in his demeanor. It was unnoticeable to the most casual of observers, but it was glaring to me.
I stopped moving, holding Brando back. “I think she has been taken over by a ghost,” I mouthed. “Save yourself!”
He grinned, pulling me forward.
There was a certain kind of magic that always enchanted him when we were home—me too, come to think of it.Maticould’ve been taken over by a ghost, but it didn’t seem to matter.
We were home.
* * *
But only for a week, then we were traveling to Italy for Romeo and Juliette’s wedding in Verona. Brando grumbled at this, being content to stay home and enjoy what he had missed: rain on a tin roof, the opportunity to fish whenever, reconnecting with old friends, and hanging out with Mitch.
Romeo’s wedding was important to him, too, but after being uprooted for so long, he had missed those aspects of being home and wasn’t ready to part with the idea in his head ofhome.
We were coming home directly after the wedding, so this placated him for the most part. My parents were flying with us. Violet and Mick offered to stay at my parents’ house while we were out of town. Understandably, Mitch wasn’t up to it.
Our bags were all packed, and we had a day to kill until we flew out. Brando was restless, standing in the kitchen with me, watching while I mixed ingredients to make a hummingbird cake.
I gave anmm hmmin response to a comment he made about my kitchen—in our house on Snow—needing more use than this one.
