Page 49 of Luca
It just about killed Nonno to learn his only daughter had ended her own life. It was his stubbornness and determination to ensure his legacy, our mother’s legacy, carried him on.
Margaret must have sensed Nonno’s grief. She reached out and patted his hand gently. Nonno covered her hand with his frail one.
“I want to join them,” he murmured softly. “My wife and my daughter.” Nonno’s eyes came to mine. “But this one is holding me back.”
Margaret’s crystal blue eyes came my way then returned to Nonno. “What do you mean?”
“I refuse to die before my last grandson is married.” He lifted his face towards the ceiling, as if he expected to see the sky. He was playing his part well. Although he was telling the truth. The pain of losing Nonna and then my mother hit him hard. He often said he carried on to ensure Cassio and I lived into our adulthood, married off and with our own families.
Margaret’s eyes glimmered and she squeezed his hand. “I’m sure Luca will find someone.” She turned her face to me. “Right?”
I didn’t confirm. I didn’t deny.
“Ah, mynipotewants a fairytale,” Nonno declared.
Margaret chuckled, looking at me with curiosity. “Do you really?” she teased. “I didn’t take you for a romantic kind of guy.”
Silence followed. My grandfather twisted his cane against the ground.
“Luca was young when he lost his mother,” Nonno started softly. “But he remembers my Penelope. He remembers the sorrow of losing her. He remembers her tales offiabe.” Fairy tales. “My grandsons might carry the King name, but they are mine. My blood.”
I glanced at Margaret’s dress. She looked beautiful. Like a pregnant Roman goddess. The color of her dress was light blue, almost the same shade as her eyes. Blue was her color although she rarely wore it.
Nonno switched subjects to a more neutral one. For the next half an hour Margaret and he discussed gardening tips, the best kind of dirt to use, and the perfect sun. It had been a while since I’d seen Nonno so happy and smiling. Cassio and Áine got married in City Hall and while Nonno was happy for them, he felt robbed because he wasn’t present to see it. They had a wedding ceremony in Sicily for Nonno’s sake but it wasn’t the same and Margaret never showed for that one.
My eyes scanned the tavern while Nonno and Margaret talked.
Nonno stood up and his men approached, sticking close to him.
“I shall see you again, beautiful Margaret,” Nonno said his goodbyes. Both of us watched him walk slowly out of the tavern, then Margaret’s attention came back to me.
“He’s a darling,” she said. “I never had a grandfather but I always imagined him like that.” Then she tilted her head and added, “Minus the head of the mafia.”
“Don’t hold that against me,” I said. Standing, I extended my hand. “Will you walk with me please?”
“I’m working,” she responded but there was no force behind it, only resignation.
“I’m sure I can convince Paolo to give you the time to take a walk,” I responded jovially.
“So gallant,” she murmured. “What’s the reason? Or does Sicily bring out the best in you?”
I grinned.
“Got to keep Nonno happy.”
The truth was that I felt more at ease here, in Nonno’s home, than anywhere else in the world. It was my safety zone from when we were children and somehow the feeling remained. Truthfully, Nonno was always home. Not our father.
Margaret put her small hand into mine, and I helped her stand before we strolled out of the tavern just as Nonno’s car pulled away. I could almost picture seeing his self-satisfied smug smile behind the tinted windows of his car.
If this plan worked, he’d probably take all the credit. Never mind that I came up with it.
The sounds of the waves against the shoreline traveled through the air. The sun shone brightly and warmed my skin. The temperatures in the October air were still mild here. Heck, some old folks even dared to go for a swim.
I glanced at her. She fucking glowed. Her thick, coal-colored hair fell down her back, strands flying with the wind. Her eyes were lowered to the ground, watching her steps. Cobbled streets and pathways were aesthetically nice but a bitch to walk on. Especially for women.
We walked in silence, her hand still in mine. I was surprised she didn’t pull it back. It felt right holding on to her. Her touch soothed something deep inside my soul.
She nudged me with her arm. “Why are you watching me like that?” she questioned.
