(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief (21 page)

“What’s going on here, Massimo?” Antonio asked. His voice was calm, but his expression made it clear that he was irritated.

“Cary won’t let me go play football with Carlo.” Massi was still openly defiant, although Cary thought he was less so than before. “He says I can’t go until after breakfast.”

“Then you won’t be going until after breakfast.” Cary nearly sighed with relief to hear Antonio speak the words; he’d worried that he’d overstepped.

“But that’s not fair!” Massi’s voice cracked as he shouted, and Cary knew he was crying.

“That’s enough, Massi. If Cary says you can’t go until after breakfast, that’s just how it will be.”

“But he’s
not
my father!”

Cary saw Antonio draw a deep breath. “Massi,” Antonio warned, “if Cary says something, you have to listen to him. He’s as much your parent as I am. Now go to your room until breakfast, and if you don’t, you’re not going anywhere at all this morning. And no TV for the rest of the day. I won’t have you speaking to Cary like that. Understand?”

Massi turned around and shot Cary a steely look, then ran to his room and slammed the door behind him.

“Shit,” Cary said. “I’m really sorry, Tonino, I didn’t mean—”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“But he’s right,” Cary protested. “I’m not his father.”

Antonio shook his head, then walked into the kitchen, took the pan that Cary was still holding, and set it down on the counter. “You’re his parent and you’re part of this family, caro.” He took Cary’s hand and brought it to his lips, then added, “You’re also the adult, and if you tell him to do something, then he must listen to what you say.”

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe I was wrong to tell him he couldn’t go.”

“Even if you were wrong, I wouldn’t go against what you said. I might talk to you about it later on, but I wouldn’t undermine your authority, especially in front of him. I trust you to make the best decision you can. But I don’t think it was wrong of you to tell him to stay for breakfast, caro. ”

Cary closed his eyes as Antonio hugged him. “Thanks.” He didn’t doubt Antonio’s words, but he still doubted himself. More than that, Massi’s words had stung, even though he knew the kid hadn’t meant them. Not really.

“So what’s for breakfast?” Antonio asked a few minutes later, meeting Cary’s gaze in a gesture of silent reassurance.

“Pancakes and maple syrup.”

Antonio grinned broadly. “And afterward?”

“Massi needs to go to the park,” Cary reminded Antonio.

Antonio sighed theatrically. “All right. But maybe later, when Roberta gets here, you and I can figure out something else to do with the syrup.”

T
HAT evening, Francesca and Marissa joined Cary, Antonio, and Massi for dinner. Massi, who had played in the park most of the afternoon, had said very little to Cary since breakfast and was still sulking. After they finished eating the main course, Massi stood up and announced, “I’m done.”

Antonio frowned. “Are you asking to be excused, then? You know once you leave, you can’t come back for dessert.”

Massi looked over at Cary and glared at him. Then he turned back to Antonio and said, “I know that. I want to be excused.”

“All right. But no TV, remember?”

“I remember.” Massi huffed loudly enough to be heard, then walked to his room and closed the door noisily behind him.

Antonio put his hand reassuringly on Cary’s shoulder, and Cary sighed.

“Tonino told me about this morning,” Francesca said. “I’m sorry he was so badly behaved.”

“It’s fine, really.” Cary tried to sound convincing.

“No, it’s not,” Francesca said. “But it’s probably a good thing. It means he’s beginning to see you as a parent.”

“I’d be happy to skip the growing pains and stick to the easier part of parenting.” Cary took a sip of his wine and leaned back in his seat. “The fun stuff like tossing a baseball around, reading bedtime stories. That sort of thing.”

“At least you got a few months’ grace period,” Marissa added with a laugh. “He still does that to me sometimes, you know. Tells me I’m not his ‘real’ mother.”

“Really?” Cary knew he shouldn’t be surprised to hear this, but he was anyhow. “But you’ve been his mother since he was born.”

“He’s understanding more about our family,” Marissa said. “When we told him how he was conceived, I think it made him think about it. He knows I want him to see me as his mother. And when he’s angry….”

“He doesn’t intend to be mean,” Francesca finished. “But kids that age want to be in control. They want to be grown up, so they push you sometimes.”

“He’ll get over it soon enough,” Marissa added. “You just need to be patient with him. It sounds like you handled it well, though.”’

“Thanks,” Cary mumbled, feeling awkward. In spite of the reassurances, he still felt woefully inept. He decided it was best to change the subject. “So, Francesca, how’s the gallery doing?”

“Business is pretty good,” she answered, although something in her expression made Cary wonder.

“You don’t sound all that excited about it,” Antonio pointed out.

“No, I guess I’m not. I asked Bruno, the owner, for more responsibilities. I hoped he’d put me in charge of bookings—that he’d trust me enough for that now. The few shows I’ve arranged on my own have been much more successful than the others.”

“Bruno is a control freak,” Marissa interjected.

“You should look for something better,” Cary told Francesca.

“I’ve been thinking about it.” Francesca smiled at him. “Marissa thinks I should too.”

“Then we all agree,” Antonio put in.

Cary raised his glass and smiled. “A toast,” he said. “To Francesca and her job search.”

The others raised their glasses as well. “To Francesca!”

“
Y
OU want me to put the stinker to bed?” Cary asked Antonio, who was up to his elbows scrubbing a pot from dinner. They’d sent Roberta home—she wasn’t supposed to have been working on a Saturday, anyhow—and Cary knew that Antonio always felt a little guilty about having her work overtime.

“You all right with that?” Antonio eyed Cary warily.

“I’m fine with it. I’m not so sure Massi will be.”

“He will. He loves you.”

“Yeah.” Cary sighed. “If you hear loud crashing noises, though….”

“I’ll come rescue you, princess.”

“Oh, you are
so
going to regret calling me that!” Cary chastised, swatting Antonio’s ass with the towel.

Antonio pulled his wet hands out of the sink and grabbed Cary around the waist. Cary took the towel and wrapped it around Antonio’s neck, then pulled him close and kissed him. God, he loved the way Antonio could make him feel better, stronger, just by making him laugh.

“Wish me luck,” Cary said as the kiss broke.

“
Buona fortuna
.” Antonio smiled at him. “But you won’t need it.”

“
H
EY, Stinker. Time for bed.”

Massi was sitting on the bed, reading a book. “Okay,” he said.

“Want me to get your pajamas?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Okay.” Cary watched as Massi pulled on the pair of flannel pj’s Cary had brought back for him from the US. They were printed with drawings of vintage airplanes and Massi loved them, but the fact that Massi chose to wear them tonight still surprised Cary. “Teeth, Stinker.”

Massi padded off to the bathroom. Cary pulled down the bedcovers and waited until Massi came back.

“Hop in.”

Massi complied. After a moment, though, he looked up at Cary and asked, “Where’s my blanket?”

Cary knew Massi was looking for the ragged baby blanket he still slept with. He’d sworn both Cary and Antonio to secrecy. He didn’t want his friends to know about it, although Cary guessed most of Massi’s friends also had their own little “secrets.”

“Under your pillow. It was on the floor.”

Massi reached under the pillow and pulled the blanket out. He held it to his nose and inhaled the smell of it. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Cary lifted the covers and pulled them over Massi’s shoulders, then bent down to kiss his forehead. “Good night, Stinker.”

Massi rolled onto his side, facing away from Cary. Figuring that was about as well as he’d do, Cary walked toward the bedroom door.

“Cary Papà?”

Cary stopped and turned back to Massi. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Cary’s vision blurred at the words. He walked back to the bed and reached out for Massimo, who jumped into his arms, causing him to fall back onto the bed. He held Massi as the boy clung to him tightly.

“I love you too, Stinker,” he whispered against his tears. It scared him to death how much he loved the kid, how much he wanted to be a father to Massi, and how much he wanted Massi to see him that way. But he knew he wouldn’t want it any other way. “I love you too.”

Chapter 18

P
HANTOMS
AND
A
PPARITIONS

Milan, March

M
ASSIMO raced across the living room, causing one of the glass bowls on the buffet table to ring with the vibration. “Massi,” called Antonio, shaking his head as he finished washing the dishes, “soft feet. Remember? Signora Corelli might still be sleeping.”

The early morning sun streamed in through the window near the sink. It had been one of the things they had loved about this place the moment they had seen it: the natural light that seemed to permeate every corner of the apartment. Now, nearly a year after they had first moved in, this was home: from the small practice studio that also served as guest bedroom to the room next to their own, which Francesca had painted like a sky with puffy clouds and which was filled with model airplanes hung from the ceiling.

Cary chuckled as he dried a glass and set it up on a shelf. “He told me he wants to go to the airport with us to meet his ‘grandfather’.”

“Are you sure it’s all right with you?”

“Of course. To be honest, I think the babbling might be a welcome distraction this time.”

“Nervous?”

“You think? ‘Scared shitless’.” The last two words were spoken in English.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Antonio said, wrapping two wet hands around Cary’s waist, “but it’ll be fine. He’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

“I keep telling myself it was the right thing, to invite him. But I worry you and Massi—”

“Let me do the worrying, caro. You take some time to get to know your father. Massi and I will be fine too. Besides, how often is it that we get to have you home for four weeks at one time?”

Cary slung the dishtowel over his shoulder and claimed Antonio’s lips with a sigh. “Roberta said she’ll be by around three. Massi’s going to help her with dinner, and she’ll make the bed up in the studio. You sure you’re okay with me practicing in the living room while he’s staying with us?”

“You’re worrying again. And you know I love to hear you play.” He nuzzled Cary’s cheek. “We’ll be here no matter what happens, caro. I promise.”

“I
S
THAT
him? Is that him?” Massi sat atop Antonio’s shoulders at the exit from customs at the airport.

“Over there,” Antonio said, taking Cary’s hand in his and walking over to greet Cary’s father. “Good to see you, John.”

“Thanks for meeting me.” John Redding appeared tired and pale, but he smiled up at Massi. “And this must be Massimo.”

“Hello!” Massimo said. “I am Massimo. Welcome to Milan.” He spoke the words in English, just as Antonio had taught him.

“Nice to meet you. You’re a big boy, Massimo.”

Antonio translated this into Italian, and Massimo sat straighter on his father’s shoulders, beaming. “Can I have a piece of gum?” Massimo asked, noting the gum John was chewing. Cary translated this time and a moment later, the boy was happily chewing away.

“We’ll go get the car and meet you both out front,” Antonio told Cary, squeezing Cary’s hand before leaving.

For an awkward moment or two, Cary and his father stood there in silence. “How was the trip?” Cary finally managed, offering John his hand.

“Long, but uneventful.” John took Cary’s hand and shook it.

“You look tired. Do you want to sit while we wait?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine. Really.”

“Good.” Cary shifted uncomfortably on his feet, unsure of what more to say.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem.”

“He really seems like a sweet boy,” John said, glancing over to where Antonio and Massimo had left.

“He’s a great kid. Smart, like his father.” Cary shoved his hands in his pockets. “I always told myself I hated kids, but I’m kind of liking this ‘parenting’ thing.”

“I’m glad you’re giving me a chance at parenting, after all these years.”

Cary fought the urge to clench his jaw, instead looking down. He thought of himself at Massimo’s age, dreaming about what it would be like to have a father, and the old anger flared again. This time, however, he said nothing.