Sugar Creek (13 page)

It wouldn’t be the first picnic they’d been on, just the two of them. She and her brothers had been living and working with Giovanni Romo for nearly a month now, and it was clear he’d taken a special liking to her.

But he’d never touched her—never once. And she was burning up inside, hungering for that. She knew it was bad—Brother Trapp at the Trinity Church back home had preached against such things—but it didn’t feel bad. Except for the-not-getting-what-she-craved part, that was. All she had to do was look at Giovanni and she melted inside—and not from the June heat. She thought about him all the time, from the moment she woke up until she fell asleep at night. When she got dressed in the morning, she tried to make herself pretty—for him. When she cooked, or cleaned the house, or worked in the garden or the grapevines, she did it all with a mind to please him. She’d never felt so wrapped up in anyone or anything.

As for him never touching her, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Almost every boy she’d spent even a few minutes alone with—behind church after Sunday-evening services, or times she’d end up walking with one of Wally’s friends when he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her—had tried to touch her. Seemed to her that touching and kissing was all boys wanted to do, and she’d told them all no. Yet the one boy—well, man—whose touch she longed for wouldn’t give it. So maybe Giovanni only saw her as a friend.

Edna put together a basket with sandwiches, apples, some grapes from the vines on the fence, and a couple slices of the apple pie she’d baked yesterday, along with two bottles of Coca-Cola and an opener. She covered it all with a gingham cloth, tucking it in on the sides, as Giovanni grabbed their usual plaid picnic blanket from the closet.

He led the way through the trees across the lane, taking them deep into the orchard, picking a spot near the creek—she couldn’t see the water, but she could hear it gurgling past as they spread the blanket in the shade of a billowing tree, the apples overhead beginning to show the first hints of red color. “I love the sound of the creek,” she said. “It makes me feel all peaceful inside.”

Giovanni smiled as they settled on the blanket. Edna’s summer skirt fluttered a bit in the breeze, revealing her knees for a second, and she simply laughed, pushing it down, but she wondered if Giovanni had noticed.

“You told me that once before,” he said, stretched out on his side, propped on one elbow. “About the creek. That is why I chose this spot.”

Edna flushed lightly, embarrassed about repeating herself. She wanted to seem smart to him. “Guess I just…can’t really get over it.”

“Over what?”

“How…nice it is here. Not like at home.”

“It is not good at home?” he asked, and she instantly wanted to smack herself for being so honest—she didn’t want to answer.

Yet she couldn’t think of anything but the truth. “Well, times are hard,” she explained. “It keeps Mama and Daddy irritable, strained. And…”

“Go on,” he prodded, reaching into the basket for the sandwiches and soda pop.

She pursed her lips, then let out the rest. “Our house ain’t so nice as yours. And you’ve seen our old rattletrap of a truck. And…I like all the color here. We got color at home, of course, but…I like the flowers in front of your house, and the red barn. I guess…everything here just seems brighter to me.” She looked into his eyes as she said that last part, ready to be bolder than usual—she didn’t mind him knowing that when all was said and
done, it was really
him
that made everything seem so bright in her world right now.

“It pleases me that you are so happy here, Edna,” he told her, and another bead of sweat rolled between her breasts. Even in the shade, it was hot, but with Giovanni, she didn’t mind it. “I want you to know,” he said, “that I have been very happy since you came here, too.”

Edna bit her lip, her chest tightening with excitement. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.

And his answer came smooth as fresh-churned butter, not at all nervous like when she spoke. “I enjoy being with you very much.”

She glanced down at her sandwich, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Um, same here. I mean, I…I like your company.”

“Edna, you are the first person since I left Italy who has made me feel…almost as if I am at home again, just in a new place.”

She wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, only that she liked it. “Tell me more,” she requested, “about home.” She asked him often, and he told her stories of his past, or bits and pieces of information about his family or the village where he’d been born.

“What would you like to know today?” He always made her come up with a particular question to spur his thoughts.

So she bit her lip, thinking. “How long has your family been in Vernazza?” He’d shown her wonderful snapshots of the village that always reminded her all over again that he came from the other side of the globe. And he’d asked the same recently about her family’s history, listening as she’d explained that her people had been in the Appalachians as far back as anyone knew. “A hundred and fifty years at least,” she’d boasted.

And that had always sounded like a long time to Edna, until he said now, “The Romos have resided in Vernazza
since medieval times. The name signifies someone who has gone on a pilgrimage to Rome.”

It left her stunned. “And you don’t mind leavin’ it behind? I mean, that’s a mighty long time.”

But Giovanni only shrugged. “I love Vernazza, but it is a tiny village, trapped between hills and sea—there are no opportunities for a man who longs for open land and wants to build something of his own. If my ancestors saw fit to travel and find someplace new, why should I not follow my own course, as well?”

And in that moment, Edna thought about how fate, or God, or something, had led her to Destiny. And that maybe it was all meant to be.

Soon Giovanni was unwrapping the slices of pie, and teasing her. “Oh, two for me? That is very generous.” Since the apples on his trees weren’t yet ripe, and Giovanni hadn’t stored any last winter, he’d grown impatient and bought some at a produce stand for her to use in a pie. Like everyone, he’d loved it, and this was the third she’d made.

Feeling a little giddy, she reached in the basket for the deep purple grapes she knew he adored—he’d brought the vines all the way from Italy to grow here. “Then I’ll just eat all your grapes,” she said playfully back.

“Hmm—perhaps we can bargain. One slice of pie for half the grapes.”

“Sounds fair enough.” She smiled.

“Except…you must feed the grapes to me.”

Edna met his gaze and something about the demand made her cheeks flush with extra warmth. “Feed them to you?”

Edna met his gaze and something about the demand made her cheeks flush with extra warmth. “Feed them to you?”

Edna didn’t know much about Roman times, but lean
ing nearer, she eased one plump grape into Giovanni’s lush Italian mouth. His lips closed over it—and around her fingertips, as well. She felt it at the juncture of her thighs, and their eyes met, and she knew he knew. All she felt. Every bit of it.

After a long, hot moment, she slowly began to draw her hand back—surprised when Giovanni caught hold of it and gently pulled her closer, closer, until she was lying down alongside him.

He lifted her hand back to his mouth then—taking her index finger, running the end of it along his moist lower lip. Inside she shuddered but tried to be brave. This was what she’d wanted, yearned for. It wasn’t happening exactly like she’d expected, but she should have known Giovanni Romo would make it more exotic, more intoxicating, than any Kentucky farmboy could.

He lowered a soft, sensual kiss to her fingertip—before turning her hand over and kissing the palm. It was all she could do not to shiver, even amid the June heat. Still holding her hand near his mouth, he met her gaze and spoke low. “I suspect, my dear Edna, that you are as delicious as a fresh grape off the vine, or as your sweet apple pie.”

Then he kissed her. Not her hand this time, but her lips. And then it was like she’d expected, like she’d imagined lying awake in her bed every night the last few weeks. She felt Giovanni’s kisses everywhere, spanning her whole body somehow—both gentle and deep, soft and capturing.

His hands cupped her face, making her feel treasured. Then one skimmed downward, across her breast, over her stomach, caressing her hip through her skirt. Nearby, Sugar Creek still gurgled, and the sun still shone brightly overhead through the thick branches of the apple tree—but Edna knew nothing in her world would ever be the same. Giovanni’s kisses, his touches, were the best thing she’d ever experienced.

And so when he began to unbutton her blouse, it never occurred to her to say no. And when he reached under her skirt, sliding his strong hands up her thighs, she hadn’t the power to resist.

“I’m kinda nervous,” she told him. Because she wasn’t even totally sure what would happen next. And this was all going faster than she’d envisioned.

“Do not be nervous, Edna,” he whispered between kisses, and then his mouth dropped to her neck and his fingers were stroking between her legs and the pleasure almost paralyzed her. “I only wish to be closer to you.”

“I want that, too,” she assured him.

Edna shut her eyes as if to close out the overwhelming sensations—the pleasure was almost too much to take. But she felt her body moving against his hand, and she heard her own breath grow labored, heavy, and she knew that, despite her fears, she wanted whatever he chose to give her.

When he drew her underwear down and settled between her parted thighs, she began to tremble. “I’m…scared, Giovanni.”

His face hovered just above her now—oh Lord, he was handsome—and his warm voice reassured her. “Everything will be all right, Edna. Everything will be all right because I love you.”

Oh. Oh my! He loved her! And she knew then his words were true—this would be okay. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

Giovanni was patient, his touch gentle, sweeping Edna up in the wonder of it all—when he pulled back to extract something from a pouch in his back pocket. “Wh-what’s that?” she asked.

“Shhh,” he whispered soothingly. “Just something to protect us.”

“Protect us?”

“From having a baby.”

Oh. She didn’t ask any more. She didn’t want to know any more. She just wanted to let Giovanni keep making her feel this good forever. She was almost even relaxed—when the hardness she’d felt between his legs pressed into her, and…oh God! It hurt. She cried out, then crushed her eyes shut, trying not to weep.

But then Giovanni was soothing her again, gently brushing her hair back from her face, promising her the difficult part was over, raining kisses across her forehead, and then her mouth. And she realized with startling clarity that they were connected, deeply. She hadn’t known what that part would feel like, and it surprised her.

And it was true, the hardest part was past. And then an even better, more shocking part came. He reached between them and touched her again. And she soon felt her whole being exploding into bits, as if she’d left her own body for a few seconds, and when she opened her eyes, Giovanni was smiling down at her, telling her she was beautiful.

When it was over, they lay side by side again on the blanket—and Edna knew she’d been right: everything had changed. She knew secrets now that she hadn’t before. She’d just become a woman in Giovanni Romo’s arms. The mere knowledge took her breath away.

Next to her, Giovanni stroked her cheek, then drew his touch gently across her breasts. How strange it felt to have them bared, out in the open that way. “You make me happy, Edna.”

“You make me happy, too,” she breathed, over whelmed.

“Do you think your brothers would approve of me? As your…um, what word do you use here? Your beau? Boyfriend?”

Giovanni was hardly a boy—he was well into his twenties, while she was only eighteen—but she didn’t bother correcting him because she liked the sound of that so much. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure they would.”

“And you would, too, yes?” he as ked with a smile.

It felt like bright lights were being turned on all through her body. “Very much.”

“Then it is official,” he said with the confident manner she so admired. “You and I, we are…um, what would be the word for…?”

She knew what he meant. Something like going steady. But with a man as sophisticated as Giovanni, that sounded childish to her. So, instead, she said, “In love. You and I are in love.”

“Completely,” he a greed, gazing down into her eyes.

Holy God. Rachel sat in Edna’s truck outside the old General Mercantile, waiting as she finished talking to Grampy, and trying to wrap her head around everything Edna had just told her. Mike Romo’s grandfather had been Edna’s first lover! At some point before Grandpa Farris had shown up in her life. Even after hearing Edna had been in love with the guy, she somehow hadn’t realized things would go this far.

Or, more likely, maybe she just hadn’t imagined she’d be hearing about it in such detail. From her grandma!

“Well, what happened
then
?” she’d asked when Edna had finished the tale of her deflowering.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Edna had said. “Besides, we’re here,” and she’d pulled the Toyota pickup into a parking space in front of the old wood-façade storefront just off Destiny’s town square.