My feet paused at the front door of our home.
Before Aria Amora Bella Fausti, I was a man with one single layer. After she came into my life, I had become multidimensional. I had a purpose outside of the family. I wasfinally a man who did not even consider any longer what it meant to have the respect of others regarding the love I shared with my wife.
The only opinion of me that mattered was my wife’s.
Was I a man she could love, respect, honor for the rest of my life and hers? If the answer was yes, then I was a man who was the mightiest king of all—I was called husband in truth.
With a rush of warmth inside of my chest that rivaled the lava flowing down Vesuvius, I stepped outside of our door. Perhaps the chill clashing with the heat inside of my chest was the reason for the fog that created a wall around me. Then thoughts from the night before caused the blood to freeze in my veins, although an internal fire continued to warm my heart—my wife; she was that eternal fire. Not even the coldest of winters could touch me again. I was made whole the moment her eyes connected with mine.
Brando set his hand on my shoulder, Dario and Romeo following behind him. “You are usually the first to arrive at any meeting or gathering,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Barely on time.”
Dario nodded. “Instead of running by the hands of the clock, it seems our brother is running by the hands of his wife.”
“Amen.” Romeo looked up at the sky and made the sign of the cross.
Even if I ran by my wife’s hands, our father would take our punishment for being late out on our flesh, and I did not want my wife to worry. This was our way, but it was a way most of the women had trouble accepting. However, my brother was correct. Our group would arrive by the skin of our teeth. I usually led them earlier.
By unspoken agreement, we started for the area of my property where we were meeting our father, taking a paththrough the many rows of grape clusters. We were all lost to our thoughts as we walked as a unit.
Brando cleared his throat when groups of men began to appear, dressed in hunting gear, rifles at their sides. Some had dogs, Maremma and Istrian hounds, that were salivating for the chase of the hunt. A rush of warmth that dissolved into pride rushed my chest when I noticed how some of the men were analyzing their rifles and feeding my son, Ludovico, praise about the design. He had taken over the family business, being one of the most praised gunsmiths in all of Italy.
Brando cleared his throat again. “You moved hours away.”
This stopped our group. We were a few minutes from reaching our father, and by my estimation, depending on how long this conversation ran for, we would be there a second before his clock ticked.
I began walking, and my brothers followed.
“Sì.” I nodded. “I have.”
Brando grinned at me. “You always move closer. Not further.”
I stopped again, and so did the group. Dario and Romeo both nodded at me in agreement with Brando.
“The thing is, brother,” Romeo started, “you have always kept us close. Now that you are married, you do not feel the chains of this family any longer.”
Brando squeezed my shoulder. “He means that with all respect. We all do.” He sighed. “But now my wife loves the area, so do Carmen and Juliette, and the three of us are buying property in the area.”
“Dario and Romeo will follow you here,” I said, not truly understanding.
“Nah, man,” Brando said in his American accent. “We’re all following you now.”
With that, Brando made a motion for me to walk ahead, and when I did, my brothers followed. My throat felt tight, as if I could not breathe as I was supposed to.
Sì. It was the truth. Wherever Brando had gone, I had followed. It was in the ways of our family to be close to our older sibling. I had made the decision to leave Tuscany on a whim. My wife was not comfortable where other women had been, and rightly so. I knew the property in Piemonte, that I had fallen for years ago, would please her. The moment we stepped foot inNel Cielotogether, it had become home for us.
Our father eyed the four of us as we grew closer. He could not punish us for being late. We were a half-second ahead of schedule, but I could tell he had the urge to. Brando was the only one of my brothers who pushed the limits with him but also did as he ordered. He did not give Brando a pass, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the two of them—Brando walked a fine line while the rest of us would walk the one our family had set before us.
My father’s eyes met each of ours before we greeted him good morning in Italian. He gave a stiff nod, then called the hunting party closer. He nodded at me, and I stepped up next to him. Mac handed me a map of the property, and as everyone drew closer, I gave direction on where the individual groups would hunt. We did not want any accidents, and we wanted to get the most out of our time. Mac believed the land was overrun withcinghiali, perhaps because the land had been vacant for a time.
“The meat is not yours to keep,” I spoke to the group. “We will be donating it to feed Italia. If a man wishes to keep his kill, he will pay for it.”
All the men nodded.
Our father clapped his hands together, and on his command, the groups separated with maps Mac handed to the heads. I noticed a familiar Shorty, as my wife referred to him as, in thecrowd, about to break off with his family, and before he could, I took him by the shoulders.
His father, Giovanni, stopped and stood taller. “SignorFausti,” he said out of respect.
I nodded to him. “I will have one of my men guide Ermanno back to you after I have a word with him.”
