Full of Grace (31 page)

The next few hours were as you might expect. We called EMS and the paramedics were on the way. Nicky came crawling in, half in the bag. He was very surprised to see us all awake and walking around the house.

“What happened?”

“It’s Nonna, Nicky,” I said. “She’s gone.”

“What? You mean she’s…she’s dead?” he said. “Oh, my God!”

I gave him a hug and he choked up. Then I choked up.

“She went to bed, was saying the rosary and either fell asleep and had a heart attack or she had a heart attack and just went.”

“I’d like to think she died in her sleep,” Dad said.

“I would, too,” I said.

“Wow. This is terrible! Oh, my God! I can’t believe it,” Nicky said. Then he returned to himself as he said in almost a whisper, “We got anything to eat?”

“Kitchen’s closed, Nicky. It’s like two in the morning. If you want anything, help yourself and clean up behind yourself, too,” I said, thinking he was probably stoned. But then, I wasn’t sure because Nicky could always eat no matter what time it was.

“You want a sandwich, Ma?” Nicky said. “You doing okay? You all right?”

Mom was sitting on a kitchen barstool with her hands folded on the counter, staring into space.

“No,” she said.

Dad came over to Mom and said, “You know, I got that letter she gave to open on her death. I should get it, huh? While we’re waiting for EMS?”

“Yeah,” Mom said. She sounded like a zombie.

Dad returned in a few minutes and sat down at the counter next to Mom. There he was in his bathrobe and slippers, and as he put on his reading glasses he sighed, expelling his sadness over the sorrowful job he
had to do. Mom was in no shape to take over and so Dad just assumed he was the one who would direct everything.

“It sounds just like her,” Al said.

“Well, she wrote it, didn’t she?” Mom said.

On any other occasion Dad would’ve said,
Hey! Watch your mouth with your husband!
But at that moment he was so upset that he just agreed with her.

“No viewing, she says. Well, that’s good because they
skeeve
me anyway. Just a Mass and a get-together back at the house. She wants the Twenty-third Psalm read and she wants the organist to play ‘Ave Maria.’ Okay, that’s fine. For pallbearers, she wants Tony, Nicky, Frank, Paulie, Tony Junior and Michael Higgins!” Dad looked up. “Hey! She wants you to be a pallbearer, Michael! How do you like that?”

“It’s an unexpected honor,” Michael said.

“Right, but nice. Okay, she says to look in the freezer in the garage. There’s three trays of lasagna with Bolognese for the gathering after the Mass…”

“Oh, my God! How weird is that?” Nicky said. We all looked at him.
“I mean, how did she know she was going to die now? Man! That like spooks the crap out of me!”

He was such a moron it was almost intolerable. “Maybe she would’ve used it for something else and then replaced it?” I suggested. “What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe.”

“Okay, I know what we gotta do,” Dad said.

Dad called the funeral home Nonna wanted, and when EMS arrived, Dad went into Nonna’s room with the paramedics and took Nonna’s rosary from her hands. He brought it to me.

“Here,” he said. “She would’ve wanted you to have it.”

“Thanks,” I said, and started feeling weepy again. I didn’t think I had any tears left.

While they were taking Nonna’s body away Mom refused to look.

“I just can’t look at my mother like that,” she said.

“I don’t blame you. Mom? I know you’re not going to be able to sleep very well,” I said. “Can I give you something? Warm milk?”

“No. I’m just going to lie down and hope sleep comes. Who’s going to tell George?”

“I will,” Dad said. “Come on, Connie. Let’s go rest.”

“My mother is dead,” Mom said, and began to sob.

“Come on, sweetheart, there now,” Dad said. “I’ll rub your back.”

She put her head on his shoulder and they left the room, breaking my heart.

Nonna’s funeral Mass was arranged for Tuesday, so Michael and I stayed in Hilton Head. My mother gathered her strength and appeared to be getting a handle on her loss. She was, after all, a practical woman.

“You all right, Ma?” I must have asked her that every thirty minutes between Sunday morning and Tuesday night.

“I have to be all right,” she said. “Every time I sleep, there’s my dead mother giving me more instructions. How would you handle it?”

“With wine. A lot of wine. Or maybe medication. Ma! Tell her to give you a break!”

“She didn’t listen to me when she was alive. What makes you think she’ll hear me now?”

“Are you sure you’re not just dreaming all of this?”

“Well, here’s one way to find out. Ask Michael what he did with the wine buckets his father bought his mother. Nonna claims Michael’s mother came to her and said to tell Michael a few things.”

“Oh, brother! What?”

“To use the wine buckets from Tiffany and fill them with flowers, that she had prayed hard for his miracle and is thrilled it was given to him, and something else…oh, well, never mind.”

“What? Come on! That’s the worst thing to say.
Hey! Oh! Never mind
. Come on.”

“That Michael is meant to do great things.”

I was sure my mother was lying. “Yeah, sure, Mom. Come on. What did she say?”

“Something about him making a good confession, and you, too.”

I stared at her. In the past, I would’ve flown into a rage. Now, instead, I started laughing. Having a hotline to Nonna on the Other Side was going to be interesting.

“Well, I know you won’t believe this unless I can produce sworn affidavits, but Michael and I are going into counseling with Father John. You know, to see what we can do about the future of our immortal souls. I promised to call him this week.”

“Oh! Grace! That’s wonderful, sweetheart. You know there are a lot of reasons to be in a church besides the benefits of Mass.”

“Like what, Miss Connie with the Eyes That Pass Through the Veil?”

Mom laughed at that. “For community, Grace. It gives you a place where you belong.”

“I know where I belong, Mom. With Michael and with my family.”

We shared a long-overdue hug and sighed. Nothing was more consoling or comforting than my mom’s arms.

Nonna’s funeral service was lovely, and to my surprise a lot of people were there—parishioners who had known her, people from “the facility” and, of course, George, who sat with our family. Nonna’s obituary had
asked that donations be made to the church in lieu of flowers, but flowers came from Bomze and other friends anyway.

Afterward, Mom and I served lasagna, salad and garlic bread as Nonna had asked. For once, Marianne didn’t say anything stupid. That in itself was another miracle.

Michael was wonderful. The following day, he suggested that he and I go to the airport to drop off Uncle Tony and Aunt Theresa.

On the way back I said, “So, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Take this exit. Um, by any chance do you have a pair of wine buckets that belonged to your parents? From Tiffany?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“You don’t want to know. Here. Turn right here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Frank and Regina were leaving in the morning, and so were we. Once again, we were up late at night with them, this time toasting Nonna with a nightcap.

“Nonna was a good egg,” Frank said. “She made a helluva Bolognese. To Nonna!”

“To Nonna!” we all said.

“Michael, with all that’s happened, we haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on your clean bill of health,” Frank said.

“Thanks, Frank. It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Amazing! Regina and I were ecstatic when we heard,” said Frank.

“Oh, Michael, we prayed for you, and our prayers—all our prayers—were answered,” Regina said.

“Thanks!” Michael said. “
Now
I realize what prayer really means.”

“I knew your heathen brain would come around,” Regina said. “Just kidding, okay? Listen, seriously, we both just want you guys to know how happy we really are for you. Miracles don’t happen every day.”

“No, they sure don’t. I called Monsignor Mirenda, the priest I met in Mexico, a couple of days ago and we had a great discussion. This guy spent a lot of years at the Vatican and he’s no dummy. So we got into this business of miracles and you know what he said?”

“I’d love to know,” Frank said.

“He said that when you start digging into the mystical part of the Church and all the apparitions and miracles, you realize that science fiction has bubkes.”

“How come you don’t ever hear about it?” Regina said.

“Because miracles are extremely difficult to authenticate. The process the Church has is unbelievably complicated. They’re bigger skeptics than we are. All I know is that I’m cured, and boy, am I glad about that!”

“Absolutely! You know, Michael, Frank and I had some choice words on the way home after Christmas. Thank God the kids fell asleep. Frank thought I was rude to you.”

“What? When?” Michael said.

“See?” I said. “He’s so thick-skinned he didn’t even notice.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t mean to be rude. Anyway, I just want you to know that we love you.”

“Thanks, Regina,” Michael said. “I love you, too.” He shot Frank a glance. “In a platonic way, of course.”

“Of course,” Frank said, and smiled.

“Oh, and we want to be included in your audience with the pope when you have one.” Regina laughed.

“Well, the next time we get together, we’ll all be dripping in lavender and mint,” I said.

“Oh, please. When is the wedding?” Regina said.

“Memorial Day weekend. Help me.”

“I’m going to hit the sack,” Frank said, “and dream about the happy couple. Come on, Regina.”

Michael and I turned off all the lights, said good night, and I went to my room. As I waited for sleep to come I thought about Michael and me and my family once again. Against all odds, we had found our way into Connie and Al’s hearts as a couple, never mind occupying separate bedrooms. And against all odds, Michael had been given a second chance at life, by a God he had long refused to acknowledge until he’d exhausted all other explanations.

But both of these things were drastically changing our point of view
on everything with each passing day. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how things would play themselves out. It didn’t matter. I was convinced there was a higher hand at work that would see to the plan and all the details. Convinced. Wind was invisible, but you could see the effects of it. You couldn’t see love, but the power of it was everywhere in plain sight. For the first time in months, I was going to rest easy. Much more important, for the first time in years, my conscience was on the mend. I reached over in the dark to flip the button on my alarm clock so that I’d wake up early enough to say good-bye to Regina, Frank and their children. My hand brushed something else. It was Nonna’s rosary, which I’d left there. I gathered it up in the palm of my hand and held it close to my chest. Suddenly I remembered one of the last things Nonna had said.
Worry about God? No, I can tell you that God doesn’t want us to suffer. He doesn’t want us to ever feel alone
. For no particular reason and for every reason in the world, I finally believed it was true.

M
ay finally rolled around and FedEx delivered the box that held my dreaded bridesmaid’s gown. I decided to wait until Michael was home to try it on. No matter how I had worked on the tailoring, I knew it was going to look ridiculous. It did.

Michael waited downstairs in the living room while I descended the stairs, swishing and rustling taffeta, net and silk.

I looked at Michael’s face and his eyes grew as large as they could. “Well! I must say, um, yes. That is some, um, big dress, Grace.”

“It makes noise. I don’t like to wear clothes that make noise.”

“Like new corduroy pants?”

“Exactly. There are going to be eight of these noise machines rolling up the aisle. They’ll drown out the organist.”

“I doubt it.”

“Do I look like an idiot? Tell me the truth.” I put on the broad-brimmed dyed-to-match hat with the tulle veil and trailing bow so he could get the full effect.

“No, no.” And then he burst out laughing and so did I. “Of course you don’t…”

“The hat’s nice, too, right? Now you know why I hate her guts?”

“Because she has all the taste of a milkmaid from the Alps? Or what’s her name from
Gone with the Wind
? Melanie! You look like Melanie!”

“Shut up! I have to spend a whole night in this hemorrhaging tulle! I feel like a Civil War reenactor.”

“May I have this dance, Miss Hyacinth?”

“My name is Iris, you big jerk!”

There was nothing to be done about it. I was going to have to wear the disaster and the only comfort was that there would be seven other girls in the same dress, all looking equally idiotic, making noise like cows charging through a cornfield.

“I hate her.”

The best thing about the wedding weekend was the rehearsal dinner of steaks from Big Al’s grill. Dad was in his glory as he and Nicky supervised the cooking of the meat. The weather cooperated and we were able to eat on the terrace. Mom rented round tables and draped them to the floor in lavender-and-mint plaid linen. Her centerpieces were etched hurricanes with pale green candles surrounded by off-white roses, tucked in ivy all around the bottom in a shallow bath. This was my mother’s major foray into Hilton Head society and she was hell-bent and determined that it would all be perfect. It was.

It turned out that Marianne’s mother, whose actual name was Janine, came from a family that manufactured housepaint. They were loaded. I could tell by the wristwatches of the out-of-towners, always a dead giveaway. And haircuts. They were very nice and not horrified by my family at all. Or else they were just very polite. The whole gang of them came to my parents’ house for the rehearsal dinner, after I got to pretend that I was marrying my brother Frank during the rehearsal.

Sometimes in May you could have legions of mosquitoes and no-see-ums, but Dad had prepared for the worst with not one but two machines that attracted bugs and then sucked them into a bag.

“You see this pellet, Michael? It smells like sweat. Give it a whiff.”

What could Michael do? He whiffed. “Whoa! I’ll bet that works, too.”

“Hmm. Appetizing!” I threw in from the sidelines.

“Ninety percent of the bugs are gone. Just like that!” Dad snapped his fingers. “Well, actually, you have to get this contraption going
about six weeks before your party to be sure it’s working. But it really does the job.”

Dad was surely right about the importance of debugging the yard. There was nothing worse than a yard filled with hungry mosquitoes when you were trying to have an outdoor party.

Mom had hired some help to pass hors d’oeuvres and they were very professional and attractive. And she even hired a bartender.

“With seventy people you have to have help,” she said. “I’m just not willing to kill myself anymore.”

“Mom? Most people have help when they have a party this big. Otherwise, you can’t be with your guests.”

“You’re right, Grace.”

“You guys really went for the whole enchilada on this one, didn’t you?”

“Well, we don’t have a family wedding every day.”

Marianne actually looked beautiful. She wore an exquisite pale green linen sundress similar to something Jackie Kennedy might have owned. And she was nicely tanned, courtesy of a tanning salon somewhere on the island.

I didn’t want to hate her. I wanted to be a good sister-in-law. After all, she was going to marry my little brother and try to make him happy. To that end, I even bought her a gift from Crogan’s in Charleston—a beautiful gold bracelet. It was just a simple bangle, but I thought it looked like something she might like.

“You can exchange it if you would like to,” I said. “I mean, I want you to have something you want to wear, you know?”

“Oh! I would never do that, Grace! I think it’s beautiful and I can’t believe you did something so sweet for me! Thank you so, so much!”

There were actual human tears in her eyes. She couldn’t fake that, right?

So I said, “You’re welcome,” and I gave the simpleton a hug.

Saturday morning finally dawned and I got up early to start coffee for everyone. Frank and Regina were in Nonna’s old room; the air mattresses got one more inflation for the kids, who took the floor in the den;
Aunt Theresa and Uncle Tony were in Frank’s old room; and Michael was bunking with Nicky.

When I saw the kitchen I said a prayer of thanks to the caterer from the night before. The room was spotless. I set up the coffeemaker and took the breakfast breads out of the refrigerator to warm them.

“What are you doing up so early?” Nicky said, coming into the room.

“What are
you
doing up?”

“You kidding? I’m a nervous wreck! I’ve been puking all night.”

“Well, that’s nice. What’s up?”

“I’m getting married! I’m really doing it and I don’t know if it’s such a hot idea after all.”

“Oh, come on, Nicky. It’s going to be wonderful. Marianne loves you to pieces. She’s going to be a great wife. You want a piece of toast?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

He sat at the counter on a barstool and rested his forehead on the heels of his hands. I felt sorry for him. I popped a piece of bread in the toaster and got out the peanut butter.

“What you need is a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich with a Coke. Hangover food. Good for the stomach.”

“Okay.”

I made the sandwich, poured his drink and put it all in front of him.

“Now. Tell your big sister what’s worrying you. Spill it.”

“I don’t know. I’m just an asshole.”

“Well, Nicky? That’s not news.”

“Oh, thanks a lot.”

“Come on, be serious. What’s bothering you?”

“What if I get bored? What if I want to, you know, pick up some hot little girl and screw her brains out?”

“Ah! Fidelity issues?”

“Yeah. I worry about that.”

“Well, Nicky, I think it goes like this. You’re gonna do what you want to do. Just remember that you have to live with it and that if Mar
ianne found out she’d kill herself and you’d have to live with that. I’m not sure screwing around is worth the price.”

“That’s what Dad says.”

“See? I knew it! I always thought Dad stepped out on Mom from time to time.”

“What? Dad? Are you crazy? Mom’s the one who screwed around. Not Dad. Why do you think Nonna was always riding her ass?”

“What the hell are you saying?” My ears started ringing and I had to sit down. “What did you just say?”

“You didn’t know that?”

“Um, no!”

“Yeah, back in Jersey when Mom was a teenager, she had some hottie from the gas station she was tooling.”

“How about if you don’t say
Mom
and
tooling
in the same sentence, okay?”

“Whatever. Yeah, and he wasn’t the only one. After they got married, there was another guy who used to wash their windows or something and that piece of crap was like thirtysomething and Mom was like twenty-five.”

“Holy cow!”

“That’s why Nonna found Dad for Mom and made her—I mean she strongly encouraged her, to marry him and settle down. Dad was a dishwasher and then a bartender at the Knights of Columbus and Nonna used to go to dances there with Nonno. Nonna knew Dad for years before she brought Mom there to meet him. And after they got married and all that shit went down, that’s why Nonna and Nonno were always in our house every day! Then Nonno died and Nonna moved in with us! But yeah. That’s what happened. I thought you knew all this?”

“No! Wait, come to think of it, I had some conversation with Mom a while ago about passion and so forth. She was trying to make me understand that she knew how I felt about Michael.”

“This was before they canonized him?”

I laughed then and said, “Yeah. It was way before. So
that’s
why Nonna was always giving her hell. She didn’t trust her!”

“Nonna didn’t trust Mom to buy toilet paper.”

“Boy, that’s the truth, isn’t it? Poor Mom! She’s been a mouse all these years because of something stupid she did when she was young? That’s ridiculous.”

“Exactly! And I don’t know, Grace. You know me. I like a pretty girl and all that, and what if Mom’s genes kick in and I want to, you know…see what something else might be like?”

My head was still swimming from the notion that my mother had a wild youth and had gone on to actually commit adultery. But I thought about it and said, “Look, Nicky. You love Marianne, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure! I love her with all my heart.”

“Then you marry her, okay? You don’t stand a woman up on her wedding day. That’s grounds for murder. You’re just nervous. And you should be. This is a big step in your life. And she really loves you—why, I have no idea—”

“Hey!”

“A little joke, brother. Anyway, you two are perfect for each other.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yeah, I really do. Go get a shower. You don’t want to stink up the church.”

Nicky drained the rest of his glass and came around the counter to give me a hug.

“Thanks, Grace. You’re the greatest sister a guy could have. I love ya.”

“I love you, too. Now get lost. Brush your teeth. Your breath smells like a sewer.”

Nicky left and I stood there wondering just how guilty and insecure Nonna had made my mother feel all those years. And that there was something perverse in the way Dad let Nonna get away with it—that Mom just took it—and that Dad did nothing about it, perpetuated it. Families were crazy and they all had their secrets. Someday, but not that one, there was a conversation about all this with my mother that had to happen. I had to let her know she had overpaid for her sins and to let it go.

I poured myself a second cup of coffee, threw all the bread in the
oven to warm and walked out to the backyard. There was no sign that so many people had been there last night. There wasn’t a toothpick to be found.

My stupid little brother was marrying stupid Marianne in a few hours. Time to get the show on the road.

Back inside, I set up glasses and a pitcher of orange juice on the counter and mugs, cream and sugar, napkins and whatever else I could remember Mom would want to put out for everyone to help themselves to breakfast.

When I saw Lisa in her bridesmaid’s dress and she saw me in mine, we shrieked.

“You’re wearing my dress!” I said. “Take it off!”

“No, you’re wearing mine! You change!”

Lisa was bubbling over with excitement. She looked like she had grown at least two inches in the last few months. “Know what, Aunt Grace? I can’t believe I’m going to be in a wedding. This is the first time I’ve ever done this!”

Her clean-scrubbed face was just beaming.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m gonna do your makeup.”

“Really? Mom said—”

“Don’t worry about it! Just a little for pictures. Listen to me. By the time you’re my age, you’ll have enough bridesmaid’s dresses to give every girl you know something to wear on Halloween.”

I gave her a thin foundation, a little blush and mascara and a swipe of rosy-colored lip gloss. She looked beautiful. And she looked eighteen. Regina was going to kill me.

“If your mother says anything, tell her your grandma said you looked beautiful.”

Lisa looked at her face in the mirror. “Wow, you covered up my zits.”

“Yeah, and your childhood. Maybe we should wash it all off.”

“No way. I’m almost fourteen, Aunt Grace.”

“I keep forgetting, honey. You’re right. Now let’s go or we’ll be late.”

When we arrived at the church, we gathered in a large meeting room that had been transformed into a dressing room for the occasion. Marianne was just slipping her gown over her head and her mother was
helping her straighten out her skirt. She looked like a dream bride from a magazine. She really did. Her shoulder-length hair had been put up in a smooth French twist. Her makeup was flawless and the only jewelry she wore was pearl studs and, of course, her engagement ring.

“Holy cow, Marianne! You look so beautiful I think I might start crying!”

I couldn’t help it. The compliment just flew out of my mouth. There were years to come for me to rectify that.

The wedding ceremony was so traditional it made me grind my teeth. We went up the aisle, one by one, fueled by the music of Handel performed by a chamber-music quartet and the smiles of two hundred guests. The flowers on the altar were gorgeous. There were Nicky and Frank, standing up there, and I’m telling you the truth, Nicky looked like a movie star. No lie. I winked at him and he winked back. As I stepped into position the organ music rose and began the Wedding March. Marianne appeared at the back of the church on the arm of her uncle and everyone stood.

Marianne had a demure smile, but when she saw Nicky her bottom lip began to quiver. And wouldn’t you know it? The devil made her trip on her skirt, she dropped her bouquet and nearly fell on her face, but her uncle caught her by her arm and steadied her on her feet. He bent down, picked up the flowers and bowed dramatically as he offered them to her. The congregation oohed and aahed at his chivalry. As Marianne tried to compose her wits, the giggle monster arrived and possessed her like a demon. To the sheer horror of the guests and wedding party, poor Marianne giggled like an uncontrollable hyena the rest of the way to her mortified waiting groom.