He looked between the pictures and me, and his demeanor hardened. He must have understood I was feeling their tragic history, having a hard time separating their lives from ours, because he pulled me to him so hard, I was having a hard time taking a breath.
Aunt Lola was right. We were not even at war, and Avelina and Ricco’s tragic love story was heightening our feelings for each other—the desperation to make every breath count between us.
“It is time,” Uncle Tito said in a gravelly whisper, but his voice was anguished as he kissed Aunt Lola’s hand, his face tilted up to the sky. His voice continued to rise as he said the same thing repeatedly, kissing her again and again.
Rocco and I rushed to where they were. Aunt Lola’s head was tilted back toward the sun, her face a mask of peace while she clung to Uncle Tito still, but there wasn’t a breath left in her to take.
Chapter 20
It's time...or Is It?
Aria Amora
My husband, along with all the men in his family, were exceptionally quiet after Aunt Lola’s passing. Uncle Tito refused to speak, and even though all the women were worried about him, the men seemed to understand why he was doing this. All he wanted to do was keep his eyes closed. His mouth moved constantly with silent prayers.
Juliette looked around to be sure Marciano, who was the second youngest of Scarlett and Brando’s sons, wasn’t close enough to hear whatever she was about to say. He had been sitting in a dark corner, his head down, and a constant stream of tears dripped to the floor. Matteo, their oldest son, had forced him to go home with him for a while.
“He’s asking for God to take him, isn’t he?” Juliette had asked Scarlett.
Scarlett was being quieter than usual. All she did was nod in answer. Carmen and Juliette gave me a look, as if to say, things are changing, and we’re all feeling it. To be honest, I was at a loss for words too. All I did was nod in acknowledgment.
Change was on the horizon. I could feel it in my bones, like an older person feels a storm or the oncoming cold.
Even in the short time I’d been around, it almost felt like I’d been with this family forever, and there were times I wondered if Avelina’s time was continuing through me somehow. My place in Rocco’s life felt so natural. As if I’d always been in the wings, waiting for my chance to show myself to him. And that gave me an advantage. I fell into place right away, and even the slightest tremble in the waves of this family, I felt just as strongly as Scarlett, Carmen, and Juliette.
Of course, I didn’t know Aunt Lola as well as they did, but…I had shared a connection with her too. She was automatically my great-aunt. I accepted her, and she accepted me.
My heart was hurting, and finding her that way, without a pulse, brought back memories of my own grandmother when she had taken her last breath. I remembered thinking, repeatedly, one word:
Final.
Thandie went with me to the small religious ceremony we had at our local church, St. Jude, and the priest who had been our priest since I’d been baptized had taken me to the side and looked into my eyes.
“You look lost, Aria,” he had said to me.
My eyes had snapped to his. For the first time in days, it was like someone had gotten through to me. I heard his words, and not only…final. “I am,” I had barely gotten out. “I’m so lost.” Nonna’s last arrangements had been on me solely to take care of.
He had squeezed my hand. “Nothing is ever final. If we believe, if we love, that is the promise. The ones we love never die. You’ll never die. You have everlasting life if only you believe. You believe, don’t you?”
“I do,” I’d said, and even though the pain didn’t magically disappear, I found faith that day in a way I never had before.
Yeah, I was alone—but was I really? If I believed, had faith, I was never alone. One day, I’d see my grandmother again. Peacehad settled over me like a blanket at the warming thought. Maybe my grandmother had covered me with it as a last act of love.
I knew my grandmother and Aunt Lola were two separate people, but I’d fallen in love with Aunt Lola, and again, I’d accepted her as a part of my life, my heart, and losing her hurt. It hurt so badly.
Scarlett, Carmen, and Juliette had had her for years. So many memories between them. I only had a few. What was harder then? Losing after so many memories had been made, knowing no more would be, or not having enough?
Then there was my husband—his feelings were the center of this nagging anxiety. His eyes were void of life, like they’d been when I’d first found him, except for when he would look at me. It was like his thoughts were running wild, away from him, and when he looked at me, they all came running home. To me.
One word came to mind when he looked away from me—lost.
One word came to mind when he looked at me—home.
He was desperate not to lose his home again, like Uncle Tito had lost his.
Aunt Lola’s passing had unnerved the men, because they all saw the way Uncle Tito was grieving, grieving like I had never seen a man grieve before, and all the women knew the men were looking at us, but seeing a void where their hearts should be.
It, quite frankly, unnerved me. I wasn’t sure if the sum of the women together could pull the sum of the men out of this.
