“Not that,” he said.
“Oh.” My cheeks heated.
Did he really want me to repeat it? I answered my own question when we stood on the steps, staring at each other, and he waited with an expectant look on his face.
“The part about wife?” I wanted clarification. Or maybe to buy some time. It was almost like the first time you say “I love you” without meaning to. Not that I didn’t mean it, because I did, but I wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
“Sì,” he said.
“Why do I need to repeat it?”
“It pleases me,” he said.
“Oh,” I said again, but this time it came out more like “ah.” Close to a sweet-sounding sigh. “What we have feels more serious than…girlfriend and boyfriend. I didn’t mean to say that, about wife, but it feels that way to me. Like we’ve already said vows, even if we haven’t.Ti amo.”
The last two words had come out soft, but I hoped he felt the meaning behind them down to his bones. After he said the words last night, they had healed me some.
He came up a step so we were face to face. He slipped his hand in my hair and pulled my face closer. Then he kissed me senseless. It wasn’t until he broke the spell that I realized a man stood on the other side of the fence, in the yard next door, and was watching us. Or maybe he’d been clearing his throat and I hadn’t heard it.
A few men had taken seats in lawn chairs on that side, too, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from the man who leaned on the chain-link fence, between two fig trees. A row of them was planted on the other side.
“Rosalia,” Aniello said, pulling my attention away from the man and back to him.
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember him?”
That was a loaded question. I couldn’t claim I remembered the man, but something about him made me feel…instantly comfortable. I wasn’t sure why, except there was nothing about him that intimidated me on a deeper level. He was a small man with salt and pepper hair. Nothing spectacular about his looks, but there was something extraordinary about him.
I shook my head. “I’ve met him—them—before?”
“Peppin,” Aniello said, nodding to the man.
“Yes or no, Aniello.” I couldn’t cool the heat behind the demand.
He met my eyes for a second before he nodded.
A breath left my mouth that I had no control over, and suddenly, the thought of having memories with these people I couldn’t remember made me feel almost…overwhelmed. I refused to let Aniello see it, but I had a feeling he felt it when my grip on his hand became tighter as we moved closer to the man.
No wonder he said we didn’t have to go far. We were right next door to them.
“The fig trees are beautiful,” I said.
“The mark of an Italian house,” Niello muttered, nodding toward one. “The fruit that drops on this side is ours.”
“Only if you come here to pick them. Maybe that’s the secret to get you home,” the old man said. His eyes narrowed on Niello. “I was wondering if you were still coming.” He looked at me and smiled. “You’re welcome in the kitchen,bambina. If you’d like to help.”
At first, I thought he was talking to my Bambina, but after she ran along the fence, I realized he was talking to me. Then I noticed how flooded with sadness his eyes were when he looked at me.
“I would love to,” I said, even though I was anxious. I hoped there would be introductions, because I knew these people, but I didn’t.
After Peppin turned and started to walk away, Aniello opened the fence and led me across the yard. He pointed out the men sitting in the lawn chairs, uncles and cousins. When he came across a guy who seemed around his age, Aniello said that he was Peppin and Lina’s son, Paul.
Paul muttered something about the “prodigal son” coming home and then took a sip of his beer before turning his eyes to the fence on the other side of the yard.
Peppin said Paul’s name like he was warning him.
There was no time to dwell on it. Not when a minute later I found out that Lina was a woman who was smaller than her husband but had a personality that seemed bigger than life.
