Page 110 of The Singing Trees
The pope, John F.Kennedy, and Frank Sinatra greeted them from their positions above the holy water font on the wall in the foyer. He looked into the dining room and up the fancy staircase, and Annalisa knew he had to be wondering what had led her here.
Graystone definitely looked like the Italians had moved in. Shrines of the Virgin Mary graced almost every room. There were washed and starched doilies and crucifixes absolutely everywhere. They’d kept the furniture, but the walls were now covered in art that Annalisa had collected or painted.
“Smells good in there,” he said, poking his head into the kitchen, clearly delaying the intent of his visit. He referred to the smells of thesugo di pomodorosimmering in two giant pots on the stove. Bulbs of garlic, bunches of basil, and baskets of homegrown tomatoes rested on the counter next to the pots.
“It’s sauce day in the Mancuso house,” she said, leading him that way. “Nonna is still at it.”
Brazenly making himself at home, Thomas buried his nose into one of the pots and took a good sniff. “God, I miss your family’s food. I used to lie there at night in the jungle and dream of eating dinner at Nonna’s house.”
That was his fault.
Or was it? Had she vastly overreacted? Something wasn’t adding up, and the foundation of her secrets seemed to be crumbling. “You didn’t have pasta night over there?”
He pulled himself away from the smell. “The navy might have, but no, not in the army. We pride ourselves in removing all enjoyment from eating. Never will I touch ham or lima beans again. So you’re still painting all the time? I loved what I saw at the gallery.”
She didn’t want to talk about painting right now, but she answered him anyway, putting off the inevitable for a few more minutes. “Yeah, I’m still having fun, staying busy.”
As what happened between them filled the room, she said, “So what are you doing now? Did you finish school?” How often had she wanted answers to these questions?
“Working on it.” He stayed safely on the other side of the counter. “I’m back at Weston and in hot pursuit of a career in academia. Emma’s a year behind me, studying psychology, of all things. We’re living together in a house near campus.”
“I’m happy to hear you and Emma are together,” she said, wondering if his sister had told him about the baby. “And that she’s in school. Good for her.”
He locked eyes with her. “Yeah, she’s definitely coming around.”
She and Thomas could have had such a rich life together, she thought, reminded of how much he’d fought for her and how well he’d treated her. Until he’d kissed another girl.
Finally looking away, she waved him toward the living room. “I think Nonna’s in here. Come say hi.”
“Yeah,” he said, finally leaving his spot by the stove. “I’d love that.”
Nonna sat at the sewing machine repairing a torn pillow and humming along with a Mario Lanza record spinning nearby. If she wasn’t in the kitchen or in her recliner, this was where she’d be. Her little sewing table was pushed up under one of the windows overlooking the sea, and she could sit there for hours without getting bored.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Annalisa said, thinking that maybe she should have warned Nonna before leading him in.
“Hi, Nonna,” Thomas said, stepping into the room to face her. “It’s been a long time.”
Nonna switched off the machine and turned. Her eyes bulged like balloons as she crossed herself. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Yes, it has.”
Then her wide eyes met Annalisa’s with question marks in her pupils. She probably thought the same thing, that Thomas was about to find out the truth. No way could she let him leave without telling him about Celia. Her guilt over hiding his daughter tore at her like a shark on flesh. He would have said something by now if Emma had clued him in.
Thomas and Nonna embraced and caught up for about five seconds before Annalisa interrupted. “Would you mind giving us a chance to chat? Glen took Celia down to the water. Maybe you could see what they’re up to?”
Her grandmother was clearly still in shock, but she jumped at the opportunity to get out of there.
She used her cane to stand, and Annalisa and Thomas watched her walk out the back door to the patio into the cloudy August afternoon.
Annalisa’s mind was a wild storm, lifting up her thoughts and slinging them around like a hurricane snatches up and tosses cars. Why was he here?
“She hasn’t changed a bit,” he finally said, approaching one of the windows to enjoy the view. He turned back. “Is she okay to get down there by herself?”
Annalisa’s eyebrows shot up. “You think a few steps can slow her down? Good thing she didn’t hear you say that.” Annalisa dragged a finger across her throat.
He cracked up, which acted like a rope and bucket pulling up all their memories from down the well. “I can’t believe you have a daughter. Gosh, I feel awful barging in.”
We made her together,Annalisa thought and then decided they’d both better find a seat before the revelations came. Yes, he had cheated on her, but she had hidden his daughter from him. Her sin was more unforgivable. Today was her day of reckoning.
She opened the back door, feeling sick about what was to come. “Let’s go out here.”
