Home to Italy (20 page)

“Don't say that,” said Lucrezia, her eyes filling with tears. “Why did you have to tell me that?”

“Because that's just what I felt,” said Peppi.

The tears were streaming down Lucrezia's cheeks now. “Why did you have to tell me that?” she said again, bowing her head as if she were going to break down and sob.

To Peppi's astonishment, however, Lucrezia did not break down and sob. Instead she slammed her hand down on the table so hard that all the plates and silverware leapt off the tablecloth. Then she herself jumped up. In a fury far surpassing the weather outside, she reached out and grabbed the flower vase. Instinct told Peppi to duck, for he was certain that in another moment the vase would be whizzing past his ear. Instead, she slammed the vase down on the table, causing the piece of porcelain Peppi had just reglued to topple out.

“Lucrezia!” he exclaimed.

“What are you trying to do to me!” she screamed.

Peppi was too dumbfounded to reply.

“What are you trying to do!” she screamed again. Her voice, though, had taken on a more pleading tone. “Haven't I told you that my heart is dead inside me?” she cried, tearing at her dress. “Haven't I told you that my world fell apart when I lost my husband? Haven't I told you that I could never love another man?”

Lucrezia stopped at that point, panting from the outburst. She looked down in horror at what she had done to the vase. “Now look what you made me do,” she cried.

She turned her eyes back to Peppi and stared at him with a look of torment and utter surrender. He gazed back, unable to take his eyes off her. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Lucrezia muttered something beneath her breath, rushed around the table, and flung herself into his arms. Peppi squeezed her tight and the two pressed their lips together.

As he cradled her on his lap and Lucrezia smothered his face in kisses, Peppi knew right away that he was powerless to resist what was happening between them. He was too overcome with emotion, the intoxicating scent of her hair, and the thrill of her body against his. Nonetheless, despite the overwhelming tide of passion he felt carrying him away, Peppi knew that they had to stop what they were doing at once or it would end in disaster for both of them. As difficult as it was, he tried to pull back from her.

“Lucrezia, stop,” he told her.

“No,” she sighed, taking his face in her hands and kissing him once more.

“Please,” begged Peppi. He was trying desperately to control himself, but knew that he was losing the battle. “Please,” he said once more, “we must stop.”

Lucrezia responded by pulling open his shirt and running her hands across his chest and shoulders. Her lips moved along his cheeks and down the side of his neck. She was devouring him.

“I won't stop,” she murmured.

“But we must,” he insisted.

“I can't stop myself and I won't,” she said. “I don't care if it's right or if it's wrong. I don't care about anything anymore. I won't stop!”

“But Lucrezia,” Peppi pleaded, “you don't understand. We must stop this
now!”

Finally, at hearing the urgency in his voice, Lucrezia relented for a moment and gazed at him in breathless confusion. “Why, Peppi,” she gasped, “why must we stop? Are you saying you don't want me?”

Peppi shook his head. “No,” he told her, “I'm not saying any such thing.”

“Then what?” she asked, bewildered by the look of alarm in his eyes.

“It's this chair!” Peppi blurted out. “It's so old and rickety that I don't think it can hold the two of us for much longer. If we don't stop now it's going to collapse into pieces and we'll both end up on the floor!”

Lucrezia gave him a coy smile and pushed herself away from him. “In that case,” she said, her eyes smoldering like embers, “why don't we end up someplace else where the two of us will be safe?” With that she turned from him and walked to the bedroom, letting the straps of her dress fall from her shoulders as she went.

Peppi rose from the chair and started across the floor. Just as he reached the bedroom, Lucrezia's dress came flying out the door. He caught it against his chest and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Do you think that old chair's strong enough to hold
that
?” he heard her say.

Peppi considered the question for a moment. Then he tossed the dress over his shoulder and hurried inside to join her.

The downpour
had let up, but a steady rain was still coming down when Peppi opened his eyes. He thought that he had perhaps been asleep, that what had just transpired was merely part of a very beautiful dream. The warmth of Lucrezia's thigh resting against his and her arm draped lazily across his chest told him otherwise. She snuggled closer and laid her head on his shoulder. For a long while the two lay there in bed listening to the rain and the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing.

“Dio,”
Lucrezia finally sighed, running her fingers through the coarse hair on his chest, “I'd forgotten how that felt.”

“I hadn't,” said Peppi. He looked over at the picture of Anna on the table beside him and let out a nervous groan.

“What's the matter?” said Lucrezia.

“Oh, boy,” he sighed, rubbing his face and eyes. “I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do someday.”

Lucrezia lifted her hand and gazed at the ring on her finger. “We both will,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you think they'll ever forgive us?”

“I don't know,” said Peppi. “I'd like to think so. But what about us? Do you think we'll be able to forgive each other for letting this happen?”

“Hey, this wasn't my idea, you know,” said Lucrezia, giving one of his chest hairs a painful twist. “I was perfectly content being alone and miserable for the rest of my life until you came along.”

“Ow!” winced Peppi, rubbing his chest. “Well, don't blame it on me either. All I wanted to do was come home to my little mulino and die. Now look what's happened.”

“Yes,” said Lucrezia, arching up to kiss him on the cheek. “Isn't it amazing?”

“It's frightening,” said Peppi.

“What on earth is there to be frightened of?”

“I'm not sure,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess it's just that not too long ago everything in my life seemed so dark, like I was stumbling around in a cave, trying to find my way out. Now that I've made it back out into the light, I can't bear the thought of ever going back in there.” He paused and caressed her cheek. “And I couldn't bear the thought of making someone else go back there,” he added.

“I know what you mean,” said Lucrezia after a time. “I've felt the same way. But what can we do?”

“I don't know,” sighed Peppi. “Some things in life are just out of our control. There's no way of knowing what
Dio
has in mind, so I guess there's no point in worrying about it. If you do, you just end up with
agita
for the rest of your life.” At that he let out a chuckle and shook his head. “I sound just like my cousin,” he said.

“But can't you see that it's true?” said Lucrezia. “Can't you see that sometimes we just have to trust life instead of fighting it all the time?”

“That's easier said than done,” said Peppi.

Lucrezia sat up and gazed out into the night where the flicker of lightning continued to light up the sky. “What's the alternative?” she said. “Would it be better for us to go through the rest of our lives wandering around alone, never letting ourselves find out if we could love someone again, or even just to feel love at all?” She paused and lay back down beside him. “But in any case, it's too late to worry about all that now, isn't it? What's done is done—and you did it rather well, if you don't mind my saying so.”

“Experience counts for something, I guess,” said Peppi, allowing himself a contented grin. “I feel bad, though, that we've let a perfectly good meal go to waste. Those pork chops really were delicious. I had no idea you were such a good cook.”

“Hmm,” grunted Lucrezia, “well, don't get used to it. I'm a busy woman, you know. I have better things to do than to tie myself to the oven just to keep a man happy.”

“I don't mind doing the cooking,” he replied. “I'm not so bad at it myself, you know.”

“You
are
very self-sufficient,” Lucrezia agreed. “I've noticed that about you. Most women, of course, hate that in a man, even if they don't say so.”

“Do you hate it?”

Lucrezia propped herself up on an elbow. For a while she said nothing, but simply studied the features of his face while she ran her fingers across his cheeks and nose and lips.

“I don't hate anything about you,” she finally said, barely above a whisper.

“You'll have to speak louder,” said Peppi with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I'm an old man, you know.”

“All right!” exclaimed Lucrezia, throwing her hands up. “I love you, old man! There, I've said it. It's out in the open. Now, does that make you happy?”

“Yes, more happy than I can tell you,” said Peppi. “But
why
do you love me? That's what I want to know.”

“Oh, God,” groaned Lucrezia, collapsing back onto the pillow. “How can anyone explain these things? You can't pick the people you fall in love with any more than you can pick your father or mother. Life just sorts it all out for you whether you like it or not.” She paused and rested her head once more on his shoulder. “But maybe,” she said softly, “the answer is simply that you and I just need one another. Isn't that enough?”

Peppi smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. “It does put a different perspective on life,” he said, nodding in agreement.

“And what about you?” she said, poking him in the side.

“Oh, I love you,” he told her. “And quite honestly, it really doesn't matter to me why.” With that he gently cupped her chin in his hand and brought his mouth to hers. Just as their lips met they were both startled by the crash of a tremendous clap of thunder outside.

“Wow,” laughed Lucrezia as rain began to pound once more against the window. “You really know how to kiss!”

Then the smile on Lucrezia's face suddenly vanished and she pulled away from Peppi. She sat up on the bed and simply stared at him with a questioning look, as if she was trying to come to a decision about something. Finally, Lucrezia did something that took Peppi by surprise even more so than anything else that had taken place that night. Looking down at her hand, she slowly slipped her wedding ring from her finger, kissed it, and placed it on the table by the bed. She turned back to Peppi and gazed deep into his eyes.

“I'm yours now,” she said, “if you truly want me.”

Peppi nodded and raised his own hand, letting her slip from his finger the only ring he had ever worn. “And I'm yours,” he said as she placed the ring beside hers on the table. “But how long can it last?” he added, unable to conceal the worry in his voice.

“That's not for us to decide,” said Lucrezia. “But however long it lasts will be enough for me.” She smiled and lowered herself onto him, letting her hair fall down over his face as they wrapped themselves around each other.

“You know, this doesn't change things,” said Peppi.

“What?”

“You still owe me a vase.”

He reached over and turned off the lamp just in time to let a brilliant flash of lightning illuminate the darkness.

The news
that Peppi and Lucrezia were to be married came as little surprise to those who lived in and around Villa San Giuseppe. By and large, the announcement was greeted with a shrug and a communal
“Come no?
Why not?” Everyone understood that no matter what the age, love has a way of blossoming wherever and whenever it pleases—and there's not much two people can do to stop it. Even Luca, who was at first unsettled by the notion of having his best friend as a son-in-law, finally decided that if Lucrezia and Peppi were happy, that was all anyone else needed to know.

On the opposite side of the Atlantic, however, the reaction to their engagement was not quite so muted. Carmine was out mowing the lawn the morning the letter from Italy found its way into their mailbox. It was a steamy August day and he was happy to take a break from his toils when he saw the mail truck pass by. He turned off the mower and went to see what of interest the mailman might have left them. Amidst the usual pile of bills and junk mail he spied the letter addressed to Angie. Pleased to have an excuse to go back into the air-conditioned house, he tucked the mail under his arm and headed straight inside.

“Let me see that before you sweat all over it,” said Angie, whipping the letter out of his hand the moment Carmine showed it to her. “It's about time he wrote,” she added under her breath. “No one has heard from him in almost two months.”

While his wife opened the letter, Carmine went to the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of lemonade. With his drink in hand, he sat at the table and began sifting through the rest of the mail. He was delighted to find a lingerie catalog hiding in the pile. Wasting no time, he opened it up and began to flip through the glossy pages.

“So, what does Peppi have to say for himself?” he asked his wife as he scrutinized one particularly appealing photograph.

When Angie didn't respond, he looked up and saw that his wife's face had gone white and her hand was trembling.

“Oh, my God,” she said to herself.

“What, what is it?” said Carmine. “Did somebody die?”

“Oh, my God,” said Angie aloud as she read on.

“Come on now,” said Carmine. “You're starting to worry me here.”

“Oh, My God!” his wife suddenly screamed, dropping the letter to the floor. She ran to the telephone and hastily dialed a number.

“What is it?” cried Carmine. “Come on, tell me!”

“Delores!” she yelled into the phone. “You're not going to believe this. He's getting married! What do you mean, who am I talking about? I'm talking about
Peppi!”

Carmine's jaw dropped, but then he laughed to himself when he heard the squawk of incredulity coming from the other end of the line. He reached over and snatched the letter off the floor to read the happy news for himself.

“This should set tongues wagging,” he chuckled as he looked the letter over. Then he put it aside and settled back to enjoy his lemonade and the rest of the catalog while Angie and Delores carried on in fits of near-apoplexy.

Meantime, the postal service delivered a second letter from Italy that day to the barber shop. Despite the arthritis in his hip, Ralph felt like jumping up and doing a little dance around the shop when Tony read the part of Peppi's letter that told them of his plans to get married. He started to get up, but then decided that it wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he plopped back down on the chair, grinning nonetheless from ear to ear.

“Can you
believe it
?” laughed Gino. “You see, I told him that the best thing to do was to go out and find another woman!”

“I
was the one who told him that,” said Tony proudly.
“You
only agreed with me.”

“Who cares who told him?” said Sal, waving his hand at the two of them. “I just want to know who she is and what she looks like.”

“Hold on, let me keep reading,” said Tony, turning his attention back to the letter. “Oh, my God!” he laughed. “You're not gonna believe this.”

“Tell us, tell us!” cried Ralph.

“It's Luca's daughter!”

At that announcement the four of them burst into joyous laughter.

“Holy smoke!” roared Gino. “What is she, half his age?”

“She'll kill him!” laughed Sal. “I don't care how strong his heart is from all that cycling.”

“What else does he say?” asked Gino.

Tony picked up the letter and skimmed it to find the spot where he had left off. “Okay, where were we?” he began. “Here we are. He says at the end, ‘I know that all of this sounds kind of sudden, guys, but this is Italy. Things happen fast over here when people fall in love.'” Tony looked up. “And that's all he wrote,” he said with a shrug.

They were all quiet for a time.

“Well, isn't that just beautiful?” Sal finally snickered. He looked about at the others and rolled his eyes. “What is this, the Victorian age?” he groused. “I want some solid details here, not the PG version!”

They all laughed, except for Ralph. “Hey, wait a minute,” he said, suddenly very serious. “Something just occurred to me that I hadn't thought of before. I mean, what's the big hurry? Why is Peppi suddenly getting married so fast? Hey, you don't think that maybe he
has
to get married?”

The other three gawked at him for a moment in silence as they mulled over the possibility.

“What are you,
nuts?”
they yelled in unison.

“Well, who knows?” said Ralph, throwing his hands up. “I was only asking.”

Just then the door to the shop opened and a customer walked in. Tony dropped the letter onto his desk and ushered the gentleman over to the barber's chair while the others settled down to finish reading the newspaper.

“Peppi, getting married,” mused Gino as he looked over the sports section. “Who would have thought it?”

“I'm not surprised,” replied Sal, who was scanning the headlines of the business section. “These things happen all the time.”

“I wonder if it will be a big wedding,” wondered Ralph. He looked at the others, expecting a reply, but by then no one else was listening. That being the case, he picked up a section of the newspaper for himself and perused the death notices to see if anyone he knew had departed this world. “Weddings and funerals,” he muttered. “What else is there to life?”