She pointed to the counter. “Deal with the salad.”
I grinned the entire time I put the salad together, thinking about both Mia and I with lettuce in our hairs after Scarlett had flung handfuls of it at us. Mariano had grinned the entire time he had picked it out, saying he wished he had a rabbit close.
ZiaBianca sighed. “Young love.” She pinched my cheek. Then she got back to work on the main course. She was makingpappardelle al cinghiale, pasta with wild boar.
I was just happy she was not making anything with sardines. I did not enjoy them. I enjoyed herpappardelle al cinghiale.Our family had property in Tuscany, and my grandfather and father hunted wild boar there. We had it quite often when we went there for a visit.
Sardines.
My sister came to mind.
She loved them.
I once told her this was why herfigasmelled like fish.
She swatted me so hard she had bruised me.
Of course, I should not have said something so grotesque to her, insulting her tender sensibilities, although she had told me a few moments before that I looked like a sea urchin.
“Easy, niece,” my aunt said in soft Italian to me.
“Ah.” I had not realized I was chopping the lettuce back to the water stage. I often felt I had some repressed resentment when it came to my sister and family, but I had buried it down so deep, just as I had done the night with Atta in the snake barn, that it was easy to overlook when I concentrated on other things.
My aunt was not a soft woman. She was tough. She helped her husband run the family ranch with two small children. She often worked as hard as the men, especially after my uncle had been killed in the car accident. Her skin almost resembled leather, her hair hay, and her fingers were as calloused as my husband’s.
However, there were times…
She pulled me in and hugged me. She hugged me so tightly, I almost started to sob. I knew she had pulled me in and hugged me because we could relate to each other. Our stories were similar, even if I had not been able to toughen my skin as much as she had. She released me in a rush, cleared her throat, and went back to cooking the meal.
It was enough. Always enough. I did not feel so alone in the burdens I carried because of the family name.
Atta entered the kitchen with Angelo, and after Atta started to help with dinner, Angelo went to find Mariano. It did not seem as if Angelo wanted to leave his wife as well. I had my own language with my husband, and Atta had one with hers. However, when he sent her a look, I understood it.
Our honeymoon cannot come soon enough.
I sighed.
Atta sighed.
ZiaBianca looked between us, then shook her head and said, “Even when love feels as if it will break if we stretch the connection, our stomachs still need to eat.Cook.”
Atta and I started laughing. She fed me a piece of apple I had chopped for the fall salad and then took one for herself. When Hannah came into the kitchen, Atta went to feed her grandmother a piece, but she shook her head.
“There’s a phone call.” Granny Hannah looked directly at me. “For you.”
“For me?”
She nodded. “Italy.”
I had not realized it, but my aunt and cousin came to stand on each side of me, almost protectively.
“My father,” I whispered.
Granny nodded.
I stared at her for a second before I borrowedZiaBianca’s new kitchen towel to wipe my hands on. They were still sticky, but my heart was racing, and it felt as if I needed to get this over with. My boots tapped on the old wooden floor as I made my way to the phone. It was an older one. It had actual buttons to dial.
My father heard the breath I exhaled when I picked up the phone. He did not wait for me to greet him. He plowed right into his message.
