Francesca's Kitchen (26 page)

“B
less me, Father, for I have sinned.”

It was Thursday, two days later, and Francesca had decided to attend the weekly Lenten penitence service at her church. She had been going through the motions the last forty-eight hours, feigning ignorance of what she had discovered and trying to show a happy face to everyone, especially for Will and Penny's sake. All the while, though, she felt as low and miserable as she could ever remember. It was draining the life out of her. She felt like a wretch, and the worst part of it was knowing that she had no one to blame for it but herself. Such being the case, Francesca had come to the one place where she knew she would find a sympathetic ear.

“It's been a month since I last confessed,” she went on.

“Ah, Francesca,” said Father Buontempo brightly. “I was wondering how long it would be before I saw you this Lent.”

“I've been busy,” said Francesca.

“That's good,” he said. “You need to stay active.”

“Whatever,” she grunted.

“So, what's on your mind this time?” said the priest, sensing that Francesca was not in the mood for small talk.

“I've lied to my children,” she confessed straightaway.

“Hmm,” mused Father Buontempo. “Maybe I'm wrong, but haven't we already covered this ground once before?”

“Yes, we have,” sighed Francesca, “but this time, it really cost me.”

“How so?” he asked.

“It's all my fault,” Francesca lamented. “It never occurred to me that something like this could happen, but because of me, my son has become involved with a woman, a single mother with two children.”

“Divorced?” said the father.

“No, she's never been married.”

“Oh, well, if it makes you feel any better, that actually could make certain things easier,” he opined.

“What do you mean?”

“Um, never mind about that for now,” he said. “Tell me about this woman. I take it that you're worried for your son because you disapprove of her.”

“Disapprove? Why no, of course not,” gasped Francesca. “I love her like a daughter.”

“Oh, I see,” said the priest. “Well then, I suppose the children are the problem.”

“They're angels!” protested Francesca.

“Okay, then I guess what you're saying is that you just don't think your son and this woman are right for each other, yes?”

“Who could think that?” huffed Francesca. “All you have to do is see them all together, how happy they are.”

There was a long pause.

“Forgive me, Francesca,” Father Buontempo finally said, “but I'm having a little bit of a hard time understanding just what it is that's troubling you.”

“So am I,” confessed Francesca, heaving a heavy sigh. She looked down at her hands and fumbled with her rosary beads. “I guess what's bothering me, Father, is that I came to know this woman and her children because I needed to be a part of their lives, to do something meaningful again with my own life, and I thought that they needed me just as much. It all felt so perfect, and I was so happy. But then this all happened, and at first I was so mad and hurt that I couldn't think straight. Then I suddenly realized something, that after all this time, it wasn't
me
they needed all along. It was my son. And now I feel…”

“Left out again?” said the priest. “A little cheated, maybe?”

“Yes, I suppose,” said Francesca miserably. “How did you guess?”

“It's why I make the big bucks,” he replied, hoping a bit of levity would lift her spirits. It didn't. That being the case, he drew a deep breath and pressed on. “Francesca,” he told her gently, “by now it should have occurred to you that your life has never been just about you alone. It's also about everyone and everything you touch. God has His own plan, and what
you
think you might need to make you happy might not ultimately be what God
knows
is the best thing.”

“So, what are you saying I should do?” said Francesca, growing a bit impatient.

“What I'm saying,” replied Father Buontempo, “is that if this relationship is meant to be, and if your son and this woman are truly in love, then just get out of the way and let God do His job. Trust Him, and let whatever is going to happen, happen. In the end, you might even consider lending Him a hand.”

“But how am I supposed to do that?”

“Think about it,” he told her. “Something will come to you.”

“You know,” griped Francesca, “you and God could try being a little more specific now and then.”

“Well, if you think it would help,” said the priest good-naturedly, “for now, you could say three Our Fathers. And while you're at it this time, let's really try to see if you can't stop lying to your children once and for all.”



That night, after she had performed her penance and returned home, Francesca sat at the table by herself, eating a plate of leftover polenta. She was feeling only marginally better, but at least her appetite had come back. While she ate, Francesca kept turning over Father Buontempo's words in her mind. Just staying out of the way and passively letting things happen had never been Francesca's style. Hers was a much-too-active personality. At the same time, though, she could not decide just how she could possibly lend God a hand in this situation, or if indeed He even wanted one.

When she was done eating, Francesca took her plate and silverware, and rinsed them off in the sink before standing there for a moment, gazing out the back window. A dark, cloudy night sky hung over the city, but off in the distance, the dome of the State House glowed like a half moon, while behind it, the lights of the houses up high on the city's East Side twinkled like earthbound stars.

“So, Leo,” she said aloud. “What do
you
think?”

No answer was forthcoming, of course, and so she went upstairs to bed to crawl under the covers and see what, if anything, her dreams might have to tell her.

F
rancesca awoke the next morning with her heart not feeling quite so heavy. As the hours passed, in fact, her spirits brightened quite a bit. The sacrament of reconciliation often had that effect on her. It also didn't hurt that it was a beautiful spring day, a rare pleasure after the horrendous winter just past. Outside, the sky was a brilliant blue, punctuated now and then by enormous puffy white clouds that drifted lazily by. The sun shone bright, and a warm, gentle breeze swayed the trees, whose branches were just starting to show their buds. Meanwhile, in the garden, the perennials had awoken from their slumber and were now stretching themselves up out of the soil. The robins had returned, as they do every spring, darting about on the lawn, which would soon need mowing again, while the little house wrens were happily pecking away at the new bird feeder Francesca had hung out for them. All in all, gazing out from the kitchen at the spectacle in her backyard, Francesca realized that it was going to be rather difficult to stay feeling blue that day when it seemed like all of nature was trying its best to cheer her up.

Just the same, as the day wore on, Francesca's thoughts dwelled on Joey and Loretta and the children. Later, as she readied herself to drive to Loretta's house that afternoon, her mind was still unsettled as to what she should do or say, if anything at all. Such being the case, she reluctantly decided to follow Father Buontempo's advice to just stay out of the way and bide her time.

In truth, there wasn't much else for Francesca to do. The moment they came home from school that afternoon, Will and Penny dropped their backpacks at the door and scurried outside to play. On such a fine day, who could have blamed them? Francesca might have occupied herself by straightening up the living room or sweeping the kitchen floor, but the house was already in excellent order, a state of affairs the old woman found strangely dismaying. In the end, Francesca settled onto the couch and contented herself by watching the afternoon talk shows.

As the hour grew later, Francesca began to eye the clock. It wasn't unusual for Loretta to come home a few minutes late now and then, but it was now nearing an hour past her normal time. By then, Penny and Will had come back inside and were hungrily prowling about the kitchen in search of a snack to hold them over till dinner. Growing a bit irritable, as children with empty stomachs often do, the two quibbled nonsensically with each other, until Francesca intervened.

“Where's Mom?” asked Penny testily.

“Yeah, we're starving,” said Will.

“Be patient,” Francesca told them, regretful that she hadn't thought to bake a little something for them that morning. “Your mother will be home soon.”

No sooner had she spoken those words than the three of them heard a car pull into the driveway. Will and Penny instantly dashed for the front door and out to their mother's car, pushing and elbowing each other the whole way. As Loretta tried to make her way up the walk, the two pestered her with questions about why she was so late and where she had been and, most importantly, what was for supper.

“Hey, you two, let your mother breathe,” Francesca cried to them. She held the door open and let the harried woman in, her still-jabbering children in tow.

“Go back outside and play for a few minutes!” Loretta ordered them. “I'll let you know when it's time for dinner.” Will and Penny reluctantly slouched off once more to the backyard, while Loretta went and flopped onto the couch. “I'm so sorry, Francesca, for being so late,” she said wearily. “I had to work late, which wasn't so bad, but then the traffic was all backed up downtown because of an accident, and it took me nearly an hour just to get home. I tried to call you from my car, but the battery of my stupid cell phone was dead.”

“Don't worry about it,” Francesca told her. “I don't have anyplace special to go tonight. Just relax for a while before you make dinner. You look frazzled.”

Loretta cast a nervous glance at the clock and let out a groan. “I feel frazzled,” she admitted. “I think we're going to be eating takeout tonight.”

As Francesca gazed at the young woman, she recognized that beleaguered, frenzied look that parents in general, and mothers in particular, sometimes wear on those days when they're feeling stretched a little thin and the kids are making them crazy. She had observed it often enough in her daughters and sons-in-law when she visited them. A little time to themselves, she knew, was all they usually needed to feel renewed. It was good for them, and it was good for the children, to get away from each other from time to time.

Just then, as she was about to collect her things and get on her way, an idea unexpectedly came to Francesca, just as her priest had told her one would. She stood there for a moment, turning it over and over in her mind. The thought of it filled her with an indescribable warmth, and finally, she understood exactly what it was that she was supposed to do.

“You know,” Francesca said thoughtfully, “I think you could probably use a little time to yourself. Just a day, even, to relax and be on your own.”

“What, you mean without the kids?” Loretta chuckled. Then, with a sigh, “That's a nice dream. What would I do with them? Leave them home alone?”

Francesca smiled and came closer.

“Well actually, I've been meaning to ask you—that is, if you wouldn't object—if maybe you'd consider letting me take Will and Penny to my house one of these days—maybe even let them stay over the night.” Francesca paused for effect. “That is, of course, if you think they would want to,” she added. “Maybe they wouldn't.”

“Oh, no,” said Loretta, straightening up, her eyes widening at the thought. “I know they would love to do something like that with you.” Just as quickly, though, she slouched back onto the couch. “But no,” she said in a hesitant voice, “I couldn't possibly impose on you like that.”

“What do you mean, impose?” scoffed Francesca with a playful wave of her hand. “I'm a lonely old Italian woman. I'd be thrilled to do it. So, what do you say?”

“Well, I'm not sure…” said Loretta, weakening. “I mean, when would you want to do something like that?”

“Tomorrow's Saturday,” Francesca noted with a shrug. “I don't know about you, but I've got nothing in particular on my schedule.”

“Neither do we,” said Loretta, staring into space as she drummed her fingers against her chin. Then, turning to Francesca, she said, “Honestly, do you think you would really want to do something like this?”

“With all my heart,” said Francesca earnestly, looking her straight in the eye.

Loretta at first said nothing. Instead, she bowed her head and gazed down at her hands. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were welling up. “That would be really nice of you,” she said at last with a sniffle.

“Then it's done,” smiled Francesca, patting the young woman's hand.

Loretta took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “Francesca,” she said after a moment, “there's something
I've
been meaning to ask
you
. That is, I've had something that I've been wanting to tell you. It's about—”

“Another time,” said Francesca gently, holding up her hand before she could finish. “Right now, I need to get home and get things ready for tomorrow, and you need to go get some dinner for your family. I'll call you later tonight, and we'll arrange everything.”

With that, Francesca said good-bye and hurried off, anxious to put into action the second part of her scheme. When she climbed into her car, she sat there for a moment, aware that Loretta was watching from the window. She put the key into the ignition and twisted her arm back and forth as if she were turning it to start the engine. This she proceeded to do several times, before opening the door and climbing back out. Feigning a look of annoyance, she trod back up the walk to the front porch, where Loretta opened the door for her.

“Is there something wrong?” the young woman asked, casting another nervous glance back at the clock.

“You're not going to believe this,” replied Francesca, “but my car won't start, after all the money I spent to have it fixed. Could I use your phone? I need to call my son again…”



Humming a tune to herself, Francesca was sitting on the porch, waiting with Loretta, when Joey drove up to the house a very short time later. He had arrived just in time. Loretta, Francesca could plainly see, was by this time a bundle of nerves and seemed nearly faint from the tension. For his part, as he pulled into the driveway and stepped out of his car, Joey had the look on his face of someone who suddenly suspected that he might be the subject of a
Candid Camera
episode. Hands in his pockets, he strolled up to the porch and nodded a casual hello to the two women.

“Trouble with the car again, Ma?” he said, making an obvious effort to avoid looking directly at Loretta.

“See for yourself,” said Francesca, handing him the keys.

Joey took them and went straight to the car. He climbed in and, just as Francesca knew he would, started the engine with no trouble whatsoever. With a bemused look, he left the engine running and climbed back out of the car.

“Sounds fine to me,” he called. “I'll just let it run a minute.”

“Well, imagine that,” exclaimed Francesca, trying her best to look completely flabbergasted. “What on earth could have been the problem?” She stepped down off the porch and began to walk toward the car.

Just then, Will came bounding around the corner of the house with Penny right behind.

“Hey look, it's Joey!” he cried excitedly.

Joey turned to Loretta with startled eyes. The two, in turn, looked in alarm at Penny, who, at the sight of Francesca, had the presence of mind to clap her hand over her brother's mouth.

“Oh, there you two are,” said Francesca nonchalantly. She was so exceedingly pleased with herself. She had them all right where she wanted. “Come over here. I have to tell you something.”

“What?” said Penny meekly, looking nervously at her mother as the two drew nearer.

Francesca looked down at the two children warmly before giving a little nod at Loretta, who was on the verge of hyperventilation. “Your mother said you two can come and stay at my house tomorrow. Would you like that?”

Penny and Will looked at each other and nodded enthusiastically.

“Beautiful,” said Francesca. “Now the best part is on Sunday, when all four of us”—she paused and looked Joey in the eye—“or should I say, all
five
of us, will have dinner together. Wouldn't that be nice?”

“Yes!” the two cried.

Joey gave Loretta a sideways glance and squirreled up the side of his mouth. “I'm not sure,” he said,
sotto voce
, “but I think she knows something that we didn't think she knew.”

Loretta, her jaw hanging open, could only nod in reply.

Francesca, meanwhile, stepped closer to her son and gave him a gentle slap on the cheek. “I'm your mother,” she told him. “I know everything.” Then she turned to Loretta, who was still too dumbfounded to speak. “So that's that,” she said pleasantly. “Now why don't the four of you go inside and have your supper.”

With that, she nodded them all a good-bye and climbed back into her car. As she was pulling away from the curb, she heard the voices of Will and Penny happily exclaiming, “Hooray, hooray, she knows!” Then, just before she turned the corner, she heard another voice, that of Loretta, who had finally recovered enough to speak.

“Oh, you think you're so smart!” the young woman called after her.

Francesca gave a wave in the rearview mirror, and the two women burst out in laughter.