Say Ye (17 page)

“What’s going on, you two?” she asked as she helped Lita clean up the kitchen. The sterile freshness of it made Lita cold. “Carlo’s out with Joe, so I thought I’d see why no one’s heard from you, or Lorenzo, since last week.”

“So you don’t hear from us for a few days. What of it?” Uncle Enzo said.

“I’m sorry,” Lita said. She hated the tiny worry lines Sophia got around her mouth when she fretted over someone.

“Well?”

“Lorenzo and I had a fight.”

“Let me guess, Dad, you and Celeste too. Got mad and said things you didn’t mean. So take her some roses. Lita, no need for gifts, I’m sure.” Sophia scooped coffee grounds into a filter.

“What? And you say I’m a chauvinist.” Uncle Enzo glared at Sophia, but Lita saw the sparkle in his eyes and knew he was okay again.

“Yes. Will you disagree it’s more likely Lorenzo’s done something than Lita?” Sophia clicked on the coffee maker and met her father’s eyes.

“He didn’t.” Lita sank into a chair. “I’ll make up if you will, Uncle Enzo.”

“If you insist. Where can I get a dozen red roses at this hour?”

“Wait until morning,” Sophia said, giving him the number of a florist she knew.

The next morning, Lita and Uncle Enzo drove down the hill. While her uncle dropped in on Celeste, she went to Lorenzo’s, but there was no answer. Her knocks echoed back in her ears, hollow and alone. She walked downstairs to Nick’s apartment. He came to the door and invited her in. He told her Lorenzo left town, he didn’t know where. Lita wanted to cry on his shoulder, but she shrugged and blinked back her tears instead. When she met Uncle Enzo a few minutes later, he smiled briefly—Celeste had accepted his apology--but his anger about Lorenzo’s disappearance only deepened Lita’s upset.

By Saturday, Lita was near frantic. Lorenzo must not have brought his cell phone, because he never answered it. She almost called Lee, but was afraid to, knowing what his reaction would be if he didn’t know where Lorenzo was either. That evening, the night before their engagement party, Lorenzo appeared in Uncle Enzo’s sitting room, where they sat watching an old Frank Sinatra movie. Lita pulled her black cardigan tighter around her, though the room was almost muggy, like the inside of a greenhouse where flowers waited to be planted, hoping for a sunny location to bloom.

“Where have you been?” Uncle Enzo asked.

Lita gave him a look she hoped showed she was grateful he spoke when she couldn’t.

“I needed to think.”

“You couldn’t do that at home?”

Lorenzo shrugged. “You and Celeste make up?” Uncle Enzo nodded. “Should we be planning a double wedding?”

Lita didn’t understand how he could act as though nothing had happened.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my boy,” Uncle Enzo said with his chess game face on.

“Would you consider marrying again?” Lita asked.

“Yes, certainly.”

“Should I make alternate living arrangements, just in case?”

“Nonsense. If I marry again, it won’t affect your situation. I won’t be marrying some young thing and having more children, heaven protect me. There’s plenty of room in my apartment for one more. I had hoped you would stay indefinitely.”

Lita looked at Lorenzo. “I’d love to stay, thank you. Lorenzo and I haven’t talked about where he wants to live after we’re married, if we get married.”

“I would love to have you both here. The house is large enough, and you could make whatever changes you like.” Uncle Enzo kept his eyes on her. Lita couldn’t quite meet his shrewd stare.

“That’s generous of you, but what about the family? I don’t want to overstep,” Lorenzo put in, as Lita sat quietly, overcome with Uncle’s offer and that they’d both ignored her statement.

“Bosh. It’s my house. I can do as I please. You know full well none of the girls want to live here and, quite frankly, I won’t have Gianni or Pete. As to their father, he’s gotten all I’m going to give him already. You two need to talk it over first, of course. Take your time. I only mentioned it since the topic came up. Though it’s almost a non-issue, as the house is in trust for Lita,” he finished.

Lita stood as they all wished each other goodnight. She gave her uncle a hug and thanked him.

“No need to thank me. I’m glad to have you here, as you know.”

Lorenzo and Lita went into the living room, where they sat on the couch.

“Seems we have a lot to talk about,” he said.

“Where were you?” Lita turned toward him, but he sat staring at the dark hole of the fireplace, his hands on his thighs.

“At Uncle Vittorio’s cottage in Point Reyes. Alone.”

“Why?” Lita clasped her hands, her ring digging into her palm.

“I told you.”

“You should have answered your cell.”

“The battery died.”

“You always have an excuse,” Lita said.

“Do you still want to get married?”

How could he be so unmoving? Lita had shifted her position at least four times in the last moments.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to marry you and live here, if you want,” he said. She wanted to believe him.

“I do love it here.”

“I love this house, too, always have. Would we have enough privacy?”

Now he glanced at her, but only for a few seconds, not long enough for her to know the truth.

“I don’t see why not. Uncle never comes upstairs, he doesn’t usually venture beyond the kitchen unless there’s company. And I wouldn’t miss you so much during the day, maybe, when you start working regular hours.” Lita marveled at how she avoided the real issue like Lorenzo had, or was.

“Better for you to be here, rather than by yourself. And we couldn’t afford much of a house the way the market is, especially here in the city.”

“It doesn’t matter. I want to live here, as long as you and Uncle Enzo are sure about it.”

“We wouldn’t say it if we didn’t mean it.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Her incomplete trust in him, in the miracle of their love, made her throat tighten.

“This is a mistake,” he said. He couldn’t mean that. Her breath shortened into gasps from the lack of his touch. She still felt the sting of his absence.

She somehow forced her breathing to steady. “You don’t really want to get married, do you? What about children? I want to have a family.”

“How many do you want to have?” he asked. Once again he ignored the vital question, pretended he hadn’t just called them a mistake.

“Five or six?” Lita played along.

“Really? I thought more like two or three.”

Lita studied his profile, hoping a smile would make his dimple show, but his face was smooth, impassive. “Okay, I guess that’s all we’ll have room for if we want any space to ourselves.”

“And I want you to myself for awhile first.” He turned toward her and her hands stopped fidgeting.

“Yes, I’m not in a hurry.”

Lita clenched her hands. She should be angry, but she only wanted him to hold her. Then she could forget, lose all her worries about their relationship in the enchanted circle of his arms. He leaned closer to her, his scent, his heat, made her start to feel lightheaded.

“Lita,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

He kissed her, in his forceful way. She believed she might drown, like the time a wave pulled her under and she fought to surface. But she wanted to sink with him. She didn’t want to come up for air. He grasped her arms, leaned her down, and pressed himself onto her. She was safe, loved, wanted, the sting mellowed to a delightful tingle.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he slid his hands under her tee shirt, up her midriff, cupping her. Her mind couldn’t keep up with the sensations. His touch made her forget everything except him. She moaned quietly as he teased her with his fingertips, his mouth hot and demanding. He kissed his way down, pushing her shirt out of his way.

“I need you,” she said, barely recognizing her own voice.

He stopped, smiled, and pulled her up with him, kissing her again as he held her face in his hands. He led her, dazed and still tingling from his touch, out and up the stairs, walking so fast Lita stumbled. When they reached the landing, he picked her up and carried her into the guest bedroom. He set her down and pulled off his shirt. She trembled. This was what always happened. Once she wasn’t in his arms, her thoughts returned and doubts and fears flooded her mind.

“We can’t,” she said as he unbuckled his belt.

He stopped and stared at her, his eyes bright in the dim room.

“What?”

“I’m not on the pill yet.”

“I have a condom.”

“I don’t want to.” She did want to, so much it scared her.

He came to her and eased off her sweater. It fell to the floor, almost hugging her feet. “Yes, you do.”

She stepped back. “Not like this.”

She wanted to tell him everything, how scared she was to trust him, how she worried all her bad experiences would mess up the joy she felt, how he made her feel loved, how his touch intoxicated her, how she wanted nothing between them when they finally made love.

“I don’t appreciate being teased,” he said. He looked tight, his whole body rigid even as he moved to grab his shirt off the ground and shrug it back on.

“Please don’t leave again. You promised.”

He gave her a look like she was either crazy or a bitch. Maybe he thought she was both. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“I mean the party’s tomorrow.”

“Right. I’ll be here.”

He walked out. Lita tried to follow him, but her legs were uncoordinated and limp, like the tangled cardigan at her feet. She sank onto the bed behind her, scooted up until she could curl her knees to her stomach, and waited until she slept.

The next morning, she tensed around Lorenzo, but he again acted as if nothing had happened. She pushed the thoughts away when they met Sophia and Carlo to pick out a tree for the house. The scents of the conifers and drifting smoke from chimneys, the Christmas songs playing in shops, and the red bows and other holiday décor made her grin and chatter like she did when she was a young girl.

They trimmed the eight foot noble fir, listened to Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby croon holiday cheer, ate panini by the fire, drank hot cocoa and ate sugar cookies. Lita knew she hadn’t smiled so much in a long time, it was just the sort of morning she imagined having with her family. Once Carlo and Sophia left to pick up Janetta at the airport, she noticed the quiet and realized Lorenzo had been silent most of the morning.

She watched him take the empty boxes out to store in the attic, pondering at his expression. Even after knowing him so many years, she often couldn’t tell what he felt. Uncle Enzo went to the kitchen to make sure everything was ready for the caterers, while Lita sat on the couch, looking at the tree, its lights twinkly, reflecting off the shiny ornaments.

“What happened to your smile?” Lorenzo said as he reentered the room.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’ve smiled plenty today, for me. Even Carlo noticed.”

“I guess I got wrapped up in everything. Thank you, I had a really great morning,” Lita said, smiling as he joined her on the couch. Now she remembered last night and shook her head at how easy it could be to pretend they hadn’t argued.

“Do I get to unwrap you?” Lorenzo touched her hair, his finger twining in a stray curl.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” she said. She wondered if a full body blush was possible.

Lorenzo gave her his sexy smile and chuckled. “You’re too sweet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I always knew you liked the holidays, but I’ve never seen you at Christmas much. I’m glad all this stuff makes you so happy.”

“It’s not the stuff, it’s the whole feeling I get and doing things with family.”

“That’s what I meant. You’re old-fashioned. Never thought I’d appreciate that in a woman.”

“Were you laughing at me earlier? That sounds like one of those back-handed compliments.”