Say Ye (7 page)

“Where is he?”

“He died a few years ago.”

Lita stared at the photo. Dead. Her family had kept her father from her and now she’d never know him.

“You’re better off not knowing, okay? Jane did the right thing--”

“How can you say that?” Lita paced now, wanting to hit something. “How long have you known? Who else knows?”

“Just me and my mom, I think. I don’t remember when I found out—I think I overheard Jane and my mom talking a long time ago.”

“You knew how important this was to me.” Lita trembled. She took a deep breath to try and stop the screams and accusations she held back. Emma had lied to her. Jane, Aunt Cass—who could be trusted? What else had they lied about? What if Lee knew? Lita stopped and hugged herself. Lee was the one person she could always trust. Lee—and Lorenzo.

“Lita, come on, sit down.”

“No, I’ve got to go. You pick up Jane and your parents by yourself. I won’t be here.”

Lita grabbed her purse and ran out, tucking the photo away. She could stay with Lee—or maybe Lorenzo.

She called a cab, which took her on the short ride to North Beach. Strolling along the last few blocks before Nick’s, where Lorenzo lived on the top floor, she took in the busy streets and sidewalks, the restaurants and compact shops, the tall spires of the Catholic Church on Washington Square, a neat patch of park in the middle of the bustling, crowded streets. The neighborhood seemed more alive and cooler from the bay breezes than hers though she wasn’t sure she liked the more boxy Victorians as much as the more well-known Victorian style of her own neighborhood. Yet it seemed a better place for Lorenzo. Somehow it all felt more masculine to her, though she shook her head, feeling she merely missed him.

She walked up to Nick’s restaurant, which she’d heard about from Lee. She paused knowing Lorenzo lived there, on the top level of the old maroon building. But she didn’t know where the entrance to the apartments was—maybe on the side. She crossed to an alley and then to a small parking lot behind the building. There was the door. With quick steps, she went inside and up the carpeted stairs. The building was clean, nondescript. There was only the one apartment at the top—she knocked on the door. No one answered, so she knocked again. Still nothing. The emptiness of the hollow echoes sank into her. She decided to walk around outside and come back.

About a block up, she passed a small grocery store-café. The scents wafting from inside were too enticing to miss, so she stepped in. Metal shelves lined one part of the space, a few café tables and chairs stood nearby the counter. She went to the bakery case, an array of lightly browned breads, a few types of fruit-filled pastries, and a couple trays of cookies lined the shelves. A tall but stocky man with steely blue-green eyes greeted her. She asked for a couple amaretti and a cappuccino. Then a beautiful, serene older woman came out of the back carrying a tray of fresh amaretti. The scent delighted Lita, so almondy and sweet.

“Good afternoon,” the woman said. “Frank, have you helped this young woman?”

“’Course, Mom.” He smiled at Lita. “Maybe give her a couple of those while I make her coffee.”

The woman nodded. “How are you today, dear?” she said as she slid some cookies on a plate and pushed it toward Lita.

Lita smiled, for some reason at ease. The woman had a soothing presence. “Fine, thanks, and you?”

“Well, thank you. What brings you in on this lovely day?”

“I was hoping to find my friend at home, but he’s out. He lives up the street, above Nick’s.”

“You mean Lorenzo Calabra?” The woman kept smiling, but the man, who Lita assumed to be her son, clattered a spoon to the floor behind her. Lita nodded. “Lorenzo used to come in here often in high school, with his friend, Lee. They were quite a pair.”

“Lee’s my older brother,” Lita said, brightening.

“Lita Lawson? My, I would never have guessed, you’re very different. I haven’t seen Lee in years. How is he?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“I’m Celeste D’Angelo, by the way, and this is my son, Frank.”

Frank gave Lita her coffee with a nod.

“Pleased to meet you,” Lita said.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mrs. D’Angelo said with a motion toward the back.

Lita nodded and smiled before taking her cookies and coffee to a nearby table. Lita almost wanted to follow Mrs. D’Angelo; there was something so reassuring in her Mona Lisa smile and her calm but animated manner. Lita breathed deeply, comforted by the mellow yeasty and pungent coffee aromas.

As Lita sipped her cappuccino, she spotted Lorenzo entering the shop behind an older man who looked like he should be his father, but Lita knew he was his great uncle Enzo. She’d met him and Lorenzo’s late mother at his and Lee’s college graduation. She stared at Lorenzo. He stopped short as his eyes met hers. Lorenzo looked so sexy, as he always did, with his tall, toned frame, coffee brown short hair, dark eyes, strong features, and well-groomed, stylish appearance. Then his mask, that unreadable expression, fell and he turned away.

“Lita Lawson?” Lorenzo’s uncle said. He approached her table.

Lita nodded and scooted herself to the edge of her chair. Lorenzo whispered to his uncle as his uncle waved a hand at him.

“Won’t you join us, young lady? We haven’t met in many years.” Mr. DeGrazia took her hand. “I’m pleased to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you again, too, Mr. DeGrazia.”

Lorenzo stared out the window when Lita gazed at him. Even though she wanted to be angry with him for not returning her calls, she smiled and her body mellowed, sultry and soft, as though she’d been lying out on the beach on a hot summer day.

“Perhaps you could join us? We were about to have coffee,” Mr. DeGrazia said. “Shouldn’t she, Lorenzo?”

“How are you,” Lorenzo asked, meeting her gaze.

“Fine. Better if I could find out something about my father.” If she could regain a sense of herself, something, someone to trust.

“You found out who he is?”

“Yes, I found a photo, and Emma told me. His name was Timo Sabatini, he owned a bookshop in Naples--”

“My God,” Lorenzo’s uncle said. His face paled as he studied Lita.

“Are you okay, Uncle Enzo?” Lorenzo said.

“Wonderful,” he said. He smiled and took Lita’s hand before kissing her cheek. “That’s why you look like her…my dear, Timo Sabatini was my late wife Angela’s younger brother. You are her niece, my niece.”

Lita laughed and cried at the same time. Uncle Enzo hugged her. He was warm and the aroma of lemon, bright and fresh, soothed her.

“Sophia, my eldest daughter, will want to meet you. Will you come with me? We can pick her up on the way. I’d like to show you some photos of the family, your family.”

“My family,” Lita whispered. A big family, a traditional family full of love and warmth—her own small miracle. Proof. She smiled as she wiped away her tears.

“Would you like to join us?” Uncle Enzo asked Lorenzo.

“No, thanks, I’ve got work to do. I’m happy for you, Lita,” he said. He didn’t look it.

“Thanks,” she said. “Are we cousins now?”

“Not really,” he said. “Only by marriage. I’ll see you.”

He walked out with a wave as Lita followed with Uncle Enzo. She smiled up at him as he opened his car door for her.

“I have so much to tell you,” Uncle Enzo said.

“I want to hear it all, Uncle Enzo.”

She studied the older man, his silver hair gleaming, as he drove away, talking about his family. She listened, all the while a feeling warmed her, a feeling she would be okay.

5

Lorenzo had underestimated his uncle Enzo again. Somehow he talked him into coming over for dinner, making it sound like Lita wouldn’t be there, but she was. As he’d feared, seeing her giggling, smiling, and chatting with Uncle Enzo, Sophia, Carlo, and Janice, only made her more appealing. She fit easily into his family, their family. He couldn’t share anything with her or it would spin out of control and he would lose everything. He followed his uncle and Carlo upstairs, hoping to say his goodbyes before Pete and Lita returned from Jane’s with her things.

“You all right, Enzo?” Carlo said as he stopped behind him.

“Yes, fine,” Uncle Enzo said. Lorenzo hadn’t seen him climb these stairs since his aunt Angela died five years ago.

“Don’t you think we’d better have Lita at our house?”

“You just want her to be around Joe,” Uncle Enzo said.

Lorenzo gripped the banister harder than Uncle Enzo, who did so to support his bad knee, whereas Lorenzo needed to keep himself from punching the wall.

“She would be an ideal daughter-in-law. She and Sophia were talking and laughing together like old friends over dinner.”

No. He had to leave or he would either break his promise to himself or do something worse. He trudged up behind Uncle Enzo and Carlo. His shoes sank slightly in the deep blue carpet.

“And why shouldn’t they?”

“They are cousins, it’s true. You got another girl,” Carlo said.

“I did. And I want no more nonsense from you about taking her away.”

Now she had even more protectors, he’d never be able to…he had to leave.

Carlo shook his head. Uncle Enzo entered his daughter Sophia’s old room, now almost bare, just the two twin beds with their matching white chenille bedspreads, a lamp on the maple nightstand, across from the large dresser. It was clean, though the upstairs was mostly unused since Uncle Enzo moved into his apartment downstairs over four years before. Uncle Enzo glanced at the dresser and checked the empty closet; probably to be sure there was enough room for Lita’s things. She would like the light blush pink of the walls. She would like the window’s view of the back yard, where his great aunt Angela had planted roses in varying shades and an extensive herb garden in the small space. This home would be Lita’s sanctuary now. He had no place here anymore.

Sophia walked out of the bathroom and smoothed the bedspread before she stood next to Carlo, who put his arm around his wife. Lorenzo wouldn’t even know what a happy marriage looked like if it hadn’t been for Sophia and Carlo and Uncle Enzo and Aunt Angela.

“Now Lita will be here you and your sister can stop nagging me to sell the house,” Uncle Enzo said. Lorenzo leaned against the dresser.

“You have a plan, don’t you?” Sophia said. Uncle Enzo raised an eyebrow. “I hope everyone will cooperate, though none of this will change your situation, Dad. Things will only get worse if someone else fails you the way you think Sal and Vincenzo did.” She glanced at Lorenzo. He straightened and crossed his arms.

“Don’t start that psycho babble again, telling me I’m depressed. And I know those two were failures. I don’t need some psychiatrist to tell me that,” Uncle Enzo said. Therapists were for people like Jane.

“Sal is happier now. I wish you’d try to talk to him, it’s been ten years.”

“I will not speak to any son of mine who left his wife and two sons. If anyone doesn’t like how I run this family, you can leave.”

Lorenzo put his hands in his pockets. If he ever hurt Lita, he’d be persona non grata like Pete and Gianni’s dad, and not just with Uncle Enzo.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Gianni and Pete are talking about moving. Janetta’s still down in San Luis Obispo and we hadn’t seen Janice in almost two months. If you interfere with Lita--”

“Who says I’m interfering? Lita wants to stay here.”

“She wants to feel useful. She can see you need to be taken care of.”

“Bosh. She knows I care.”

“And we don’t? I feel sorry for her, having to deal with you,” Sophia said. Lorenzo wondered if she tried to pick a fight with her father. Usually that was Janice’s thing.

“You and your sister. Disrespectful, the lot of you. Telling Lita we’d have to get a blood test-- nonsense. She’s Timo’s daughter and she’ll get his inheritance. Your mother knew what she was doing when she wouldn’t touch it and told me to save it. She always knew.”