Page 22 of The Singing Trees
“I see that now,” he said with raised eyebrows. “Wait, are you saying there might be a next time?”
Annalisa shook her head and made a face at him. “I don’t know what I’m saying.” She really didn’t. Never had she been more confused. A small part of her—a minuscule voice in her head—was telling her that he was someone special and that she’d be crazy not to give him a chance. Another voice, much louder, screamed, “Remember what your father did to your mother!”
Nonna hovered over Thomas while he tore through two cannoli. His face turned even paler than the vanilla crème inside. What Annalisa noticed was the pride and perhaps approval that her family showed.Nino would have been shot dead had he brought home anyone other than a Catholic Italian girl.
When they all rushed to Thomas to say goodbye in the living room, Annalisa was reminded how lucky she was to have such a large family. It was a fact she so easily forgot, but in this moment, she felt their love and support and knew that she might not have made it if it weren’t for them surrounding her with love after her parents had died. She thought of what Nonna had said back in July.
He was my son! My son!
Similar to when he’d arrived, the entire family pressed their faces against the window as Annalisa walked him to his car through the cold night.
“I had such a good time,” Thomas said. “Really. Your family is incredible.”
“That’s one word for them.” But he was right.
“Seriously, you’re so lucky.”
An itchy awkwardness filled the space between them, and it felt like the end of a date—not that she’d ever been on one. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
He stopped near his car and waved at everyone in the house. To endure the Mancusos, he must be different from every other guy out there.
Returning his attention to her, he said, “I’d love to see you again.”
Instead of a joke or turning to hide her blush, she found his hazel eyes, which were as green as shamrocks, and said, “I’d like that.”
That he looked pleased would be an understatement.
They held eye contact for a long time. Would it be so bad if she let her heart lead? He might even be good for her painting, give her new feelings to explore.
Annalisa finally said, “Okay, can we stop giving them a show now? No hug—it’s time for you to go.”
He looked so purely happy, as if all he’d ever wanted was for her to throw him a scrap of attention. She liked the look on him, this senseof satisfaction. It was a good thing her family was watching, because otherwise she might have kissed him on the cheek.
“Could I have your number?” he asked, hitting her while she was weak.
No matter how strong she could be, there was no way she could reject him. Finally giving in, she asked, “Do you have a pen in your car?”
“I do indeed,” he said, lighting up. He produced a pen faster than she’d ever seen a human move in her life. As she wrote her number on the top of his hand, she felt that same surge of energy as she had when they’d touched in the car.
As he cracked open his door, he said, “Call you soon, okay? Have a good night.”
“Yeah, you too.” Her body tingled as they shared one last connection. Watching him pull away, she wondered if this was the feeling that girls always talked about when they fell in love.
A while after everyone left, Nonna entered Annalisa’s bedroom in her long nightgown. “How long has he been—”
“I haven’t been seeing him,” Annalisa assured her grandmother. “We keep running into each other; that’s all.”
Nonna nodded as if she believed her. “He’s a nice young man.”
Annalisa sat up, surprised. “He is, isn’t he?”
Holding up her pointer finger, Nonna said, “But he’s not for you.”
Annalisa rested her back on the wall in defeat. “He showed up. What do I do? Julia is the one who invited him in. You invited him to dinner.”
“I was being nice.” Nonna touched her own chest and said with exhaustion, “I have a bad feeling about this. Makes my chest heavy. He’s not like you. He’s from Davenport.”
Annalisa bit her lip, unexpected tears heating her eyes. In a whisper, she said, “I know, but...I think I actually like him.”
