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We’ve noticed the younger generations speak English very well. This young lady certainly does. We have our cell phones and we’re prepared to use Google Translate to communicate if needed.

“Actually, I’m looking for Matteo De Luca. Is this his home?” Slade asks with surprising confidence.

“Ah, yes.” She shrugs, shooting Ginevra a stern look. “I’ll get him for you.” She hollers in Italian, speaking so fast, I know neither of us understands a single word she just said.

A young man bounds down the stairs so fast he looks like he’s taking them two at a time.

“Ciao.” So much forciaobeing considered rude when you don’t know someone. “I’m Matteo De Luca. What can I do for you?”

His English is also highly accented, but basically perfect. I’m grateful so many Italians know how to speak English. Otherwise, we’d be lost.

We’re both numb with shock. We stand there silent and staring like idiots. The young man before us looks so much like Slade, I sort of want to burst into tears. This is his half-brother. I’m sure of it.

Slade regains his composure. “Is your father Matteo De Luca? That’s who I was looking for, actually.”

“Ah, he’s working from home today. I’ll go get him.” The young man laughs. “We have the same name. It always causes confusion. Please wait a moment.”

We nod dumbly and my eyes fill with tears, but I don’t let any fall. I nudge Slade and he nudges me back. It’s our way of saying, “He’s here!” Verbalizing anything feels impossible right now.

The young man says, “Papà! Papà!” Then a rush of Italian follows and we’re once again clueless as to what he’s saying.

“Oh my gosh,” Slade mumbles under his breath, his voice shaky. “This is happening.”

I give Slade’s hand a squeeze of reassurance.

Matteo, I assume, walks toward the door holding a mug in his hands. He’s dressed in black slacks with a button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His clothing almost makes him and Slade twins. Except the man is wearing leather slippers, and a gray sweater loosely covers only his shoulders to ward off the chill in the morning air. His black hair is thick and full, graying at the temples. He’s tall and slim, just like Slade. He was a few years older than Lauren when they met, so he must be fifty-three or -fourish. He’s rather handsome and debonair, a man who has aged well. His looks give me a clue as to how Slade will look in his older years.

“For you, Papà,” the young man says. “Americans.”

“Ginevra sent them away,” the young lady adds. “We almost missed them.”

The older Matteo lightly presses his cheek against his son’s left cheek and gives him an air kiss. Then he does the same on the right cheek. He repeats the action with the young lady. “Grazie.”

Graziemeansthank you. That much I know.

“Ciao. I am Matteo De Luca.” He hesitates, gasping as he studies Slade with sharp eyes. “My son…say you…look for me, yes?”

Silence.

Matteo looks confused as we say nothing for several beats too long.

“Yes. Yes,” Slade finally says. “Yes.” Again. “I am looking for you.” And enunciating every word.

At least Slade’s not shouting as though Matteo’s deaf, as many people do when trying to communicate in another language.

Suspicion washes over Matteo’s face. I don’t blame him. Our behavior is questionable. “You have found me. What you need?”

“Uh,” Slade trips over his words. I’m not sure he planned exactly what to say when and if he found his father. “Uh…I was wondering if you are the Matteo De Luca who knew a young lady named Lauren Sheridan who once visited Italy. It was many years ago. You might not remember.” He can’t hide the emotion in his voice.

Matteo’s eyes grow wide and he leans against the doorframe like he has a sudden headrush. “Yes, I knew Lauren Sheridan. Who is asking?”

Slade runs one shaking hand through his hair. The fact that his hand is shaking is not lost on Matteo. As he studies Slade, his face turns ashen. He’s way ahead of us, and I can tell he’s putting things together quickly.

“I’m Slade Sheridan, Lauren’s son. This is my girlfriend, Marin James.”

Matteo nods at me politely, but then his attention immediately returns to Slade. “You are Laurie’s son?”

Laurie. If there was any question about this man’s identity, it’s just been confirmed.

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