Home to Italy (15 page)

Lucrezia yawned
and sat up on the edge of the bed. She stretched her arms over her head for a moment, stood, and looked out the bedroom window to the mountains in the east. To her surprise, she discovered that she had slept well into midmorning, early enough for most people to arise on a Sunday morning, but not Lucrezia. Most mornings she awoke with the birds, sometimes even before the sun had a chance to peek over the mountaintops or the rooster to crow. On those mornings, a low, thin white carpet of mist would cling to the cool, dark ground, making the world outside a dreamy place half between sleeping and waking. It was her favorite time of the day.

By now, though, the mist had long disappeared, chased away by the warming rays of the morning summer sun. With another yawn, she turned away from the window and sat back on the edge of the bed. She felt too tired to start her day, but too restless to go back to sleep. It was the aroma of freshly brewed coffee that finally tugged her out of bed for good. She put on her robe and slippers and walked wearily to the kitchen.

As Lucrezia had suspected, Filomena was there at the table sipping her first cup of coffee of the day. Lucrezia smiled, for she knew that daily life for her mother, and most Italians for that matter, could not begin otherwise. For them, caffeine was an essential nutrient. The mere thought of starting a day without the bracing jolt of a good cup of coffee was beyond comprehension. She gave her mother a nod and went to the stove to pour herself a cup.

“You're up early today,” she said as the dark, warm brew filled the cup.

“And you're up late,” Filomena replied, barely looking up from the magazine she was leafing through.

“Papa out for his ride?”

“Mm-hmm,” nodded her mother. “He left just a few minutes before you got out of bed.” She turned the page of the magazine. “I didn't hear you come in last night. What time did you get home? It must have been late.”

Lucrezia brought her mug to the table and sat down. She said nothing at first but simply gazed out the window as she drank her coffee.

“We stopped for a coffee on the way home,” she said after a time. “It was a long ride, so we decided to stop and take a break.”

“That was sensible,” noted her mother, still focused on her magazine.

“We got to talking,” Lucrezia went on with a yawn. “The time passed so quickly.”

“That can happen,” said Filomena.

Lucrezia stretched out her legs and flexed her feet and toes.
“Dio mio,”
she winced, “my legs are aching today. I'm not used to dancing anymore.”

Filomena peeked over the page she was reading, took a sip from her cup, and studied her daughter for a moment. “Sounds like you two really enjoyed yourselves,” she said before hiding once more behind the magazine.

Lucrezia slammed her cup down.
“Cosa?”
she said, glaring at her mother. “What are you trying to say?”

“What do you mean, what am I trying to say?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” fumed Lucrezia. “I know from that voice of yours. I can tell when you're trying to say something. What have you been doing, waiting out here for me to get up so you can start something first thing in the morning?”

“I haven't been waiting to start anything. I've just been sitting here reading my magazine.”

“Well you're reading it upside down!”

Filomena's face reddened and she tossed the magazine aside. “I was looking at an advertisement, that's all. I don't see why you're acting so upset. What did I say, anyway? I only said it sounded like you two enjoyed yourselves. What was wrong with that?”

Lucrezia scowled at her. “What, are you trying to say that we
weren't
supposed to enjoy ourselves?”

“Of course not, just the opposite!” said her mother, throwing her hands up. “It's natural for a man and a woman to enjoy each other's company.”

“Then why don't you just come out and say what's really on your mind?” said Lucrezia.

“Maybe you should come out and say what's really on
your
mind,” Filomena replied, locking eyeballs with her daughter.

“I haven't got anything on my mind!”

“Well, it's about time you did have something on your mind,” cried Filomena, slamming her hand down on the table, “something other than running that stupid candy factory at the bottom of the hill!”

“What on earth are you talking about, Mama?”

“What do you think I'm talking about? I'm talking about you and that cyclist who's living two flights of stairs above the office you work in every day.”

“Me and
Peppi
?” answered Lucrezia, gaping at her mother.

“Ayyy, don't act like you don't know,” said Filomena with a wave of her hand. “You know exactly what's going on.”

“No, I don't know,
madre mia,”
huffed her daughter. “Why don't you explain it for me.”

“What's to explain? You're a woman, he's a man. Figure it out for yourself.”

“Ma, tu sei pazza, Mama!”
Lucrezia exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. “You're crazy!”

“You're right, I am crazy!” Filomena shot back. “What a mistake we made, your father and I, letting you come back here after poor Francesco died. We should have made you keep your old apartment in the city and forced you to start your life over again. Instead we let you come back here and hide yourself where no one can find you.”

Lucrezia stood in the middle of the kitchen, glaring at her mother. “Is that what this is all about,” she said, suddenly calm, like the calm before a tumultuous storm, “you want me to move out?”

“No,” said Filomena, shaking her head. “All I've wanted for you is to find another man. I want you to be happy. I told you before, it's time to put away the black dress. You can't go on mourning Francesco forever.
He
wouldn't want you to.”

“But, Mama, listen to yourself. Are you telling me I should start my life over with
Peppi
?”

“Why not?”

“Please, Mama, he's Papa's friend,” cried Lucrezia. “Have you forgotten that? And besides, I'm too young for him—or he's too old for me.”

“So what?” said her mother. “He's strong and fit. And believe me, there's nothing old about the way he looks at you—or you at him. Anyone with eyes can see what's happening between you two.”

“There's nothing happening between us! We're two people who have both lost someone they once loved, and now we've become friends. What's wrong with that?”

Filomena stood and brought her cup to the sink. “Trust me on this,
figlia mia,”
she said as she rinsed it out. “Men and women aren't supposed to be friends. They're supposed to be lovers and husbands and wives. It's what makes the world go around, in case
you've
forgotten that.”

“And
you
make my head go around,” snapped Lucrezia, holding her forehead. She collapsed wearily onto a chair, then suddenly sat up straight. “You haven't talked about this to Papa, have you?” she said, clearly alarmed by the prospect. “He hasn't said anything to Peppi, has he?”

“Please,” said Filomena with a dismissive gesture. “Men almost never figure these things out for themselves. Your father is as blind to all of this as Peppi. It amazes me sometimes how stupid men can be.”

Lucrezia stood up once more. “I can't talk about this anymore,” she said as she started to leave the kitchen.

“Go to him,” Filomena called after her. “Go today, don't wait. Just let it happen.”

Lucrezia whirled around. “I won't,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“But why!” cried her mother.

“Because I'm not ready!” she screamed back. “And because…and because I'm afraid!”

“Afraid of what?”

“That he'll die, all right, Mama? There, I've said it. I lost one man and look what it did to me. Once was enough. I can't give my heart to someone again knowing it could all end tomorrow.”

Filomena stood there with her arms crossed. “Lucrezia,” she said very softly, “listen to me. There are no guarantees in this life. You of all people should understand that. Young man, old man, it makes no difference. If God wants him, He takes him. So Peppi's no spring chicken. Maybe he's got ten years left in him. Maybe he's got twenty or thirty. Or maybe he's only got one. But if it means one good year of happiness for you, isn't it worth it?”

Lucrezia covered her ears and turned away. “I told you, I don't want to talk about this anymore!” she said, hurrying to her room.

“But where are you going?”

“I'm going to take a shower,” she cried, “and then tomorrow I'm going to Milano!” With that she slammed her bedroom door so hard that a painting fell off the corridor wall.

“L'amore,”
Filomena said, shaking her head in wonder. “Who can figure it out?”

Peppi shifted
the chain of the bike to a smaller gear. The hill they were ascending was not particularly steep, but just the same he was having trouble keeping up with Luca and the rest of the group. Taking several deep breaths, Peppi sat up straight, relaxed his back and shoulders, and did his best to spin his legs at a nice even cadence. Nothing seemed to help, though, and he drifted further and further back. At last, Luca looked over his shoulder. At seeing his friend struggling behind, he sat up and waited for Peppi to catch up to him.

“Cosa fai oggi, Peppi?”
he chided him. “What are you doing back there?”

“Mannagia,”
Peppi groaned, “I'm really suffering today. I just don't have the legs.”

“Eh, what did you expect? That's what you get for staying out till all hours of the night. You should have stayed in bed this morning.”

“What, and miss all this fun?” Peppi grumbled.

“Hah!” Luca laughed. “It's days like these that will turn you back into a tough
Abruzzese.”

“Or maybe a dead one,” Peppi replied.

“Don't worry,” Luca told him. “We can turn off from the group and stick to the valley today if you like.”

“Only if you insist,” puffed Peppi.

As they approached the foot of the mountains where the roads would start to climb in earnest, Peppi and Luca bade the rest of the group farewell before turning off onto a flatter road that would wind its way through the valley. Peppi led the way, for by now he had once more become familiar with most of the roads throughout the region. He was in the mood for a leisurely ride, so he chose a route that would take them by the mulino.

The fresh coolness of the mountain air that had greeted them when they first set out from the piazza early that morning had vanished. By now the sun had climbed high into the cloudless sky and was beating down upon them. The sweat rolled off both men's arms and legs. As if on cue, they reached for their water bottles and squirted a few drops on their faces and across the back of their necks before taking a swig. They were both thankful that they had chosen to avoid the arduous mountain roads that day.

It was nearing midday when they finally came to the mulino. Peppi dismounted his bike and leaned it against what remained of the front wall. Luca, though, stayed by the edge of the road. He clicked out of his pedals, straddled his bike, and rested his elbows on the handlebars.

“Where are you going?” he called after Peppi, who had wandered off to the other side of the building.

“I pommodori!”
Peppi replied. “I want to see how my tomatoes are doing.”

The prospect of having fresh garden tomatoes again one day soon was enough to motivate Luca into joining Peppi. He leaned his bike up against Peppi's and hurried off to see how matters stood in the tomato garden.

Peppi was already fussing with the plants by the time Luca arrived. Kneeling in the soil, he went from plant to plant, meticulously pruning away with his fingers any unwanted branches or yellowing leaves. It was important to constantly trim off the little offshoots, the suckers as Peppi called them, otherwise the plants would never grow to their full potential. By limiting the number of branches, the plants might bear slightly less fruit, but the tomatoes would be lush and full and bursting with flavor. Judging by the number of little yellow flowers blossoming on the branches, there would be an ample crop.

“Your plants are doing very well here,” Luca observed. “How are you keeping them watered?”

“From the river,” said Peppi, nodding his head toward the little stream tumbling down from the mountains nearby. “I just fill up a bucket or two and that's all they need.”

“Good,” said Luca approvingly. “That water is the purest in all Italy. It's the best thing for them.”

“I know,” smiled Peppi. “I grew up drinking it, remember?”

“Just remember not to give them too much or it will break their skin when the tomatoes start to grow,” Luca warned him. He let out a sigh and looked with longing eyes at the garden.
“Dio!”
he cried. “I can't wait. I can almost taste them already!”

“Who says you're going to get any?” Peppi teased him.

“Ayyy, I'll come and steal them in the night if I have to,” said Luca, and the two of them laughed. Luca sat down at the edge of the garden and watched while Peppi pulled up some weeds that had dared to start growing between the plants.

“I don't get out here often enough,” said Peppi when he was finished. “This garden needs a lot more attention.” He straightened up and let his gaze roam across the property. Except for the well-ordered space of the tomato garden, everything was in disarray. “The whole place needs a lot more attention,” he added ruefully.

“What are your plans for the place?” asked Luca.

“I don't know yet,” Peppi admitted. “I've thought about trying to rebuild the house, but I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of project.”

“Why bother?” said Luca. “Sell the land and leave the work to someone else. There are plenty of people who would love to have a house on a spot like this. Why give yourself
agita?”

Peppi looked about and smiled. “I couldn't let it go,” he said, “not yet.”

“Eh,” shrugged Luca, “everything in its time.” Letting out a grumble of irritation, he settled back on one elbow and stretched out his legs.

“What's the matter?” asked Peppi.

“I was thinking about tomorrow.”

“What about it?”

“I have to go to Milano, so do Filomena and Lucrezia.”

“What's in Milano?” said Peppi, sitting next to him.

“A trade show that starts on Wednesday,” Luca lamented. “I hate it. Five days of smiling and trying to act sweeter than the candy we sell. Even that's not so bad by itself, but then afterwards we leave to make our annual trip around the country to meet with vendors and all our distributors. It's just one of those things that has to be done.”

“How long will you be gone?” said Peppi.

“Two weeks,” groaned Luca. “Two long, hot weeks, but when we get back, that's it! Filomena and I head straight to the ocean to get an early start on the
ferragosto.
Meantime, Lucrezia will come back and finish up whatever needs to be done here before she starts her vacation. You'll have to come stay with us. We have a nice little place on the beach in Alba Adriatica. There's an extra room, so you'll be comfortable.”

“But what will you do with the factory in August?” asked Peppi.

“We shut it down completely,” explained Luca. “It's the only civilized thing to do. Who can work in this heat? It's barbaric to even make them try.”

“In America we have something called air conditioning,” noted Peppi.

“An equally barbaric invention,” scoffed Luca. “Terrible for the lungs, to go from hot air to cold air then back again. Better to just let our bodies adapt to nature.”

Peppi grinned and looked off into the distance. High above the treetops, a hawk floated along, drawing a wide gentle circle through the air. The effortless grace of such large birds had always fascinated Peppi. Seeing this one brought back to mind the many lazy summer hours that he had passed as a boy, lying on his back in this same grass, staring up into the same azure sky. How many dreams had he dreamt in those carefree days when it was simply too hot to work in the mill? How often had he wished he could be up there soaring with the hawks, gliding away to wherever the winds wished to take him?

“So you'll be gone two weeks,” mused Peppi, a sad, faraway look coming into his eyes. “Lucrezia too.”

Luca studied his friend for a moment. “You two have become good friends, haven't you?” he said.

Peppi gave a shrug. “We have some things in common,” he said. “I guess it helps both of us to have someone to talk to about them.”

“It's good,” said Luca, patting him on the shoulder. “I can see my daughter finally coming out of her shell. I have you to thank for that. But of course, you'll be thankful she's away these next few weeks. Her wedding anniversary is coming up, so, trust me, it's better that she's away.”

“Should I expect to hear some rumblings coming from the north?” joked Peppi.

“Don't laugh. Keep an eye on the headlines,” Luca quipped. He plucked a blade of grass from the ground and clenched it between his teeth. “But she'll be all right,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I think Lucrezia plans this trip for this time every year just so she'll have something to take her mind off of Francesco.”

Peppi looked back into the distance in time to see the hawk suddenly dive out of the sky. No doubt it had spotted its prey on the ground and was zooming in for the kill. In a flash the majestic bird disappeared from sight amongst the trees.

Peppi stretched his arms over his head for a moment and got to his feet. “Come on,” he said, giving Luca a tug to help him up. “Let's get going again before our legs stiffen up.”

“Who cares?” laughed Luca. “It's all downhill from here to Villa San Giuseppe. We can practically coast the whole way.”

The two walked back to their bikes. As they clicked into their pedals, Luca looked back over his shoulder at the garden. “You know, Peppi, maybe you're right about not getting rid of the place just yet,” he said. “You've got good soil with tomatoes growing and fresh mountain water flowing nearby. I think there might be a lot more life left in the old place after all.”

“It all depends on how much life is left in the old
man,”
said Peppi. Luca nodded his head in agreement and the two rolled off toward home.