Say Ye (39 page)

“Can you forgive him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“You know we all love you.”

Lita nodded and leaned on Sophia. “I miss the baby. Is that strange?”

“No, the minute I knew I was pregnant, I talked to my babies. I imagined how they would be.”

“Me too. Does it get better?”

“After some time, yes.”

Lita sighed and thanked Carlo as he handed her a cup of tea. They sat with her, their arms linked behind her. Lita felt another tiny feather float in, filling her. She sat back, remembering what she’d said to Lorenzo on their honeymoon. She had done that, plucked all the feathers out of her wings for him, for her idea of what they should be. If the feathers came, she could sew new wings. She could be herself again, but different.

Lita went to church that Sunday. Two weeks now--she prayed for strength, for healing for everyone. She cried, but some were tears of relief. She felt something again, not only sharp pain but also the gentle light of hope and faith, a divine presence.

She went to dinner at Nick’s with Janice and Paolo, who proved the best company she’d had. They laughed and joked, not a single sympathetic look. She had a few setbacks: she couldn’t see a baby without wanting to cry, couldn’t walk by the park filled with children running, mothers smiling, fathers giving piggy back rides, without a deep ache, her throat closing. Shopping with Paolo distracted her, baking and listening to Sophia comforted her, watching Sophia and Carlo or Joanna and Pete dangled another feather in front of her, but she still itched with envy. She couldn’t believe she and Lorenzo would ever have that ease and love again.

The Wednesday of the third week, she met Celeste and Michael at the food bank. Lita couldn’t face volunteering at Joanna’s school, but she wanted to get back to normal, as much as she could, whatever normal was. She forgot about her problems for a few hours, they weren’t so bad, really. She had so much, family, friends, and love, all to a degree she hadn’t before. They had dinner at the D’Angelos with Celeste’s daughter-in-law, Eva. As they sat over dessert, Lita finally asked the question that had been, was always, on her mind.

“How’s Lorenzo? Does he want to see me?”

“He tries.” Celeste smiled in her Mona Lisa way. “He doesn’t talk much.”

“He apologized to me,” Michael said. “You know, for the scene at your house and for, well, hurting you. I guess I might have told him what I thought of him when I saw him.”

“Lorenzo said he was sorry to you?” Lita could hardly believe it. This was not the Lorenzo she knew, apologizing to a guy who’d probably insulted him.

Michael flushed and nodded. “Maybe he’s not so bad.”

Lita couldn’t respond. She sat in silence as Celeste and Eva talked. Michael drove Celeste and Lita home, dropping Lita off first. After she got out, she leaned in the window and kissed Celeste’s cheek.

“I miss you and Uncle Enzo.”

“We miss you too, but we want you to have happiness, however you choose to find it.”

“Thank you. You didn’t answer my question, about Lorenzo.”

“You should ask him yourself. Enzo told the family to come for Christmas. He wants to see everyone before we visit Gianni and Sal in New York for New Year’s.”

Christmas. Even seeing the decorations and hearing the festive tunes hadn’t made it real.

“Really?” Lita smiled. If Uncle Enzo would see his son Sal after over ten years, maybe she could hope. Celeste patted her hand before Lita turned and went inside. Two days, in two days she would see him. She still didn’t know what to do. She only knew she had managed without him when she never believed she would. Another feather dropped in.

30

Lorenzo wanted to run away, like he had when he was a boy. But he wasn’t a boy. He wanted to be the man Lita believed he was. So, each day, he made himself get up, forced himself to eat, to go to the gym, to go to work again. Pete tolerated him, Vittorio appreciated his help, and Vincente encouraged him. He kept all his appointments with the therapist, started going twice a week. Paolo talked him into helping him with a gala charity event over the next few months. The busier he kept, the less time he had to think.

Nights were the worst. He lay there, often unable to sleep, pacing the room, looking at pictures of Lita, or playing the video of their wedding and other events, especially the one she’d made as a belated birthday present. That one was almost torture, though. His dad, Nick, tried to help, but he could tell the family had enough. He couldn’t keep dumping his problems on them. Also, part of him resented their interference. He knew Lita wouldn’t have left him without their influence. However, he soon knew they were right and he needed to admit his responsibility. He couldn’t keep blaming his father for his brooding temper, or those women for kissing him, or Lee and their family for trying to protect Lita.

Finally, the day came. He would see her. As he paced his room, he stopped at a knock on the door. Vincente entered. Lorenzo invited him to sit on the sofa chairs by the fireplace, which sat cold and unused since Lita moved out.

“How’re you doing?” Vincente said.

“How’s Lita?”

“I hear she’s okay. Celeste said she asked about you.”

“Doesn’t mean she forgives me.”

“Everyone else forgave you, right?”

“Grudgingly, except Lee. None of it will matter if…” Lorenzo stopped and stood, rubbing the heart necklace in his pocket with his fingertips.

“She loves you. Anything is possible.” Vincente rose and squeezed his shoulder.

Lorenzo nodded. Before he knew he had no faith, now he simply didn’t know. He knew he would do what Lita wanted and he would live through it, his heart whole even if it hurt.

After Vincente left, he lingered upstairs. He thought he might be sick, his stomach roiled, his palms sweaty, fine beads of perspiration across his brow. He paced their bedroom, went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, and changed his sweater again. Some of Lita’s clothes hung in the long closet, all color coordinated, her shoes in neat rows. He ran his hands over her clothes, feeling the soft sheen of cottons and silks, the fuzzy softness of cashmere and merino wool. She would be downstairs. He had to see her.

Walking slowly down, her twinkling, sweet laughter came from the bright, crowded living room. Without a sound, he made his way to the doorway. He stood still and searched for her. She sat giggling with Michael D’Angelo. For the first time, Lorenzo didn’t feel the sudden grip of jealousy.

He studied her. She wore her black and pink dress. She still needed to gain a few pounds to be back to her former curves, but her face sparkled, her dark hair shone, her skin smooth and almost back to its usual burnish. The firelight played on her back. He blinked. For a moment, a flash, he swore he saw wings, tiny and incomplete.

She must have sensed him staring. She turned to him and her smile faded. He felt someone had punched him in the stomach, but he stood still. Celeste called everyone in to dinner. He turned and walked into the dining room, sitting where Celeste told him to.

He glanced down the table at Lita. Lorenzo pushed his food around his plate and wondered how he could talk to her. He was about ready to get up, grab her, and carry her upstairs, but then he would catch Lee and Carlo surveying him with an angry spark in their eyes and he resolved to wait. Finally, after dessert, some of the extended family started trickling out. Uncle Enzo told Lorenzo to follow him to the kitchen.

An ambush: Lee and Carlo sat at the table while Sophia, Celeste, and Lita finished putting away the dishes. He wished his dad could be here, but there had been a crisis at the restaurant. Uncle Enzo sat at the table and motioned Lorenzo to do the same. As he did, Janetta entered and sat next to him. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.

“Lita, won’t you sit here, my dear?” Uncle Enzo said, pointing to the chair next to his, directly across from Lorenzo. Sophia and Celeste joined them. Everyone glanced at each other, until Janetta spoke.

“So, Grandpa Enzo, do you and the men have a pronouncement to make? Decided Lita’s future for her?”

“Lemon blossom, you know that is not my intention.”

“Maybe not yours, but I think that’s what Lee has in mind.”

“No one will decide anything for me. But thanks, Janetta,” Lita said.

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Lorenzo fidgeted with his coffee cup. Its milky, sweet scent uncreased his forehead but it wasn’t much when his whole body clinched with tension.

“I’m not trying to run Lita’s life. I’m trying to protect her,” Lee said.

“By having Lorenzo followed?”

“What?” a few of them said at once.

“I thought it would be easier if I had proof.”

“And?”

“I didn’t get any, but it’s only been a month. Maybe he knew he was being watched.”

“I didn’t. I’m not going to cheat on Lita. I know you won’t believe me, Lee, and I don’t blame you. But it only matters if Lita believes me.” Lorenzo stared at her, willing her to look at him. She blushed and glanced at him. There were tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know.” She crossed her arms on the tabletop and buried her head in the crook of her elbow. Lorenzo pushed his chair back and went to her. He knelt beside her.

“Leave her alone, we’re not done,” Lee said.

“Yes, we are,” Uncle Enzo said.

“Enzo, don’t you think--” Carlo began.

“I think they’ve both done enough. We’ve had our say. Leave them be.” He rose. Lorenzo glanced up at him. Uncle Enzo stood tall again. He strode out last, Celeste on his arm, giving Lorenzo a wink before letting the door shut behind him. Lita leaned up, her head on her hand. He sat next to her.

“What do you want, Lita?” he said, trying to sound calm.

Lita gazed at him, a tear slid down her arm. He ran his finger along the track it left. She shivered but her eyes stayed on his. “I want to believe. I want to know what you want.”

“I want you. I want you to come home. I want to earn your trust back. I want to never sleep apart again. I want to start a family someday. I want to walk out of this kitchen with you, like Uncle Enzo did with Celeste, behind our children and grandchildren, still in love after fifty years.”

“You’ll try to boss them all around like Uncle Enzo, too.”

“I’ll persuade them to cooperate, you mean.” She giggled and lifted her face to him. He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Lita squeezed his hand.

“You’ll come home?”

“I will. But I don’t know if I’m ready…”

“We can pretend we’re just engaged again.”

“I don’t think we need to get that extreme,” she said. A sly smile flashed as she stood.

“Will you help me take care of this again?” he asked. He held the necklace out to her.

“Yes, we’re in this life together.” They draped it around her neck and redid the clasp.

Lorenzo held her hand and kissed her. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” She smiled and returned his kiss.

They walked hand in hand into the living room. The sofas looked cushier, the walls creamier, and the fire brighter, the color had come back to everything.

“Well?” Uncle Enzo asked from his seat next to Celeste. The room became hushed.

“I’m coming home,” Lita said. Uncle Enzo smiled. Lorenzo hadn’t stopped.

“Lita, are you sure? Have you really thought about this?” Lee said, coming over to them.

“Yes.”

“Really? What makes you think he won’t cheat again? He’s not the same anymore. He’s lost control. Think of the situations he’s put himself in. If Gianni hadn’t caught him, what do you think would’ve happened? You think he would’ve used protection? What then? Have you thought of that?”

Lorenzo gripped Lita’s hand tighter. He wouldn’t let go this time. The room was so quiet he heard Lita swallow, heard his own heart beat faster.

“But that didn’t happen. I have to believe, Lee. I love him. I choose to believe.”