Page 69 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘That’s why she’s so fascinated with all things English?’
He nods again.
‘And why your father doesn’t like incomers.’ I put the pieces of the jigsaw in place.
‘He would rather die than let a member of his family fall for the charms of a “foreigner” again.’ He makes quote marks around the word.
I swallow. ‘But what about you?’
He shrugs. ‘I will follow my heart where it takes me, if I know it’s right,’ he says, and a piece of melting ice drops from the ice cream pot and makes a little puddle on the table.
‘My father, he isn’t all bad. He is protecting his family, doing what he thinks is best. He doesn’t trust.’
‘And that’s why he wants you to marry your second cousin?’
‘It’s his way of looking after the family.’
I look at him, and he sighs.
‘It’s just not my way.’
‘Well, like I say, I’m here for the slow-cooked meal,’ I tell him with a dry mouth.
‘As long as it satisfies you and leaves you feeling happy,’ he says, looking up at me with those dark hazel eyes that I want to lose myself in forever. My stomach flips over and over, and there is a fire burning there that could outdo Etna any day.
‘I hope it will,’ I say, barely audible, finding myself inexplicably drawn closer and closer to him, my hands still holding the bowls and spoons. ‘I suppose it will all be in the tasting,’ I say, looking at his lips and feeling the draw of them, and before I can stop myself, my mouth is finally on his.
It’s as if my internal satnav is shouting, ‘You have arrived!’ Like the golden path I saw shimmering across the sea to a place I thought might feel like home. It’s an amazing homecoming, the best feeling in the world, and I never want it to stop. Everything else around me fades out, and it’s just Luca and me in my golden, sunny bubble.
‘Where’s the ice cream?’ I hear Barry’s voice as he comes into the kitchen, and it makes me jump and step back, breaking the moment. ‘Valerie sent me in to check on it.’ He laughs, and although I don’t think he saw us, I suddenly find myself blushing, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and, if I’m honest, desire. ‘Said you two were taking your time.’
Luca picks up the ice cream and slides off the table where he was perched before I kissed him. I kissed him! Oh God!
‘Here, you carry the bowls, Barry.’ I turn and hand them to him, and then Luca and I follow back outside with just the briefest of glances at each other.
Outside, my cheeks still bright pink, I avoid Valerie’s eye. Guilt is wrapping itself around me and trying to suffocate me. I know this has to stop. I have to find a way for Lennie and me to connect in the bedroom; a way to find satisfaction from our slow-cooked meal and try and make it taste like that kiss did. Like the best meal I’ve ever had, one that will stay with me forever.
Luca is dishing up glistening white ice cream into bowls in the shade of the lemon trees. I go to hand them round as the little round balls begin to soften and melt at the edges.
‘Wait!’ he says, and he opens the bottle of verdello limoncello and drizzles the green liquid over the ice cream.
When everyone has a bowl, he takes the last for himself. He bends his head to breathe in the smell, then digs his spoon in and lifts it to his lips. He lets it sit for a moment in his mouth, then slowly draws it out and swallows. He looks down, eyes shut, and I hold my breath, fighting this effect he has on me.
The whole table falls silent and watches him.
At last he opens his eyes, wide.
‘This,’ he waves his spoon at the bowl of lemon gelato and verdello limoncello, ‘this is Sicily. This is what fills and satisfies my soul. This place.’
I look at him, and there’s a sadness in his eyes, as if he’s yearning for something or somewhere he’s got to leave behind. And as we all tuck into the ice cream, I too have a sense of something special that I may never get to taste again.
Chapter Thirty-four
‘Ralph, how about it, you and me on washing-up?’ says Tabitha.
‘As long as you promise not to write an article about me whilst I’m doing it,’ Ralph says with a smile, standing and gathering bowls.
‘Promise!’ she says, and I think a truce might finally have been called. ‘On Billy’s chickens’ lives!’ she adds, and Billy glowers. ‘Joking!’ she finishes, and as we smile in relief, there is a burst of squawking and flapping in the lemon grove. It looks like Billy’s cockerel is ready to protect his flock.
