The Calendar Brides (16 page)

He took both of Rachel’s hands on the tabletop. “Rachel,” he said, surprising her. “I want you to know something.”

She leaned forward. “What is it?”

He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled, creasing at the corners. “I’m so happy. So happy that you decided to marry me.”

She squeezed his hands. “I’m happy, too.”

“Which is why I want to help,” he continued. “Help you and your Nona.” He drew a breath, then released it. “I’m not a rich man and you know it, but I understand the family situation and I’m probably better set up than anybody. I’m comfortable enough, and have been saving up…”

“Tom?” she asked with a gasp, “What are you saying?”

“I’ve been reading your blog and I think it’s wonderful. The way you’ve recorded all the stories, and posted them there. I’m sure what you’ve written has been a boon to the project and your sales, but…”

“Yes?”

“I still worry that the money you make won’t be enough.” He held her gaze and kept talking. “I can’t finance the whole thing by far, and I also have our wedding and honeymoon to think of, but Rachel…” His grin broadened and her heart pounded. “I’d like to send you to Italy.”

“What?”

“I can’t cover two tickets. You’ll have to rely on the calendar to help with Nona’s. But I can fund your round trip.”
 

Moisture built in her eyes. “You’d do that?” she asked, her voice breaking. “You’d do that for all of us?”

“I’m mostly doing it for me.”

Tears leaked from her eyes. “You?”

“If I buy your ticket,” he said hoarsely, “I’ll guarantee your return.”

“Oh, Tom,” she sighed as tears ran down her cheeks. “I’ll always come home to you.”

Chapter Fifteen

Lucia

Luigi stood at the face of the cliff, teetering back and forth as if he were about to spill off its edge.
 

“Luigi! Don’t!”
 

He raised his chin in her direction. “I can’t imagine life without you!” He was fifteen. All bluster and bravado. Lucia hoped he was making this up. Gravel slid beneath his shoes, sending pebbles flying onto the craggy boulders below. Waves crashed and splintered around them, kicking up a fine spray.

She raced toward him, then stopped as he brought his hands to his chest. “I’d rather die a thousand deaths!” he bellowed. “Than have you leave me behind!”

Gusts raked her hair, fanning it around her face, as her skirt flounced in the breeze. “I don’t want to leave!” she cried, her voice cracking. Sea birds called and summer winds swirled around her. “Can’t you see?”

He stepped back from the ledge and turned toward her. His face fell as tears streamed from her eyes. “Lucia…”

“That would be two deaths for me! Two!” she quaked, her chin trembling. “To lose my home—and you—forever.”

He hung his head and kicked some stones. They skittered along the edge of the precipice, some of them tumbling over. They both watched and waited as each found its way to the sea, plummeting into the waves. “I’ve been an idiot, I know.”

“No…” She stepped toward him, but gently, so as to not startle him over the edge. “It’s both of us. We’ve both been wrong to blame each other.” Lucia held out her hands. “Come. Come away from there, Luigi, and to me.”

He stepped toward her and slipped into her arms. He tugged her to him so tightly, Lucia feared she might come apart like a fragile porcelain doll, shattering in his embrace. But inside, she knew she was stronger than that. “The gods have cursed us, Lucia.” His voice cracked and she realized that he, too, was crying, his tears threading through her auburn hair.

“No.” She stroked his head, then the back of his neck. “We’re blessed. Blessed to ever have found each other.”

He pushed back to gaze in her eyes and his were damp like sea stones swirling in eddies. Yet their color was still bright blue. “You promise that you’ll write?”

“Yes, Luigi, I will.” But her heart broke as she wondered how long the letters between them would last. A year? Maybe two? What of their future lives that would carry them forward? Hers in America and his right here?

He pressed back a tear on her cheek with his thumb. “I could bear any amount of separation, you know. Any number of years. If only I believed you’d return.”

“I’ll return,” she whispered, believing it in her heart.

He kissed her then, but it was bittersweet.

“And I,” he said firmly, “will wait.”

The sentiment was sweet, but illogical. “I know you’ll want to marry.”

“I’ve already married you.”

“The real way. In a church.”

“We’ll do that, too. And…” His lips pulled into a grin. “We’ll have babies. Lots of them!”

“Luigi!” She play-shoved his chest. “Be serious!”

“I am. Big strong boys like me.” He flexed his muscles to demonstrate, and Lucia giggled. “And very pretty girls.” He trailed a finger across her lips, teasing them in the corners until she smiled. “Like you.”
 

“I hope you have lots of children,” she said. “All of them good to you.”

“Likewise for you. Of course since they’ll all be the same—”

“Basta!”
She pushed him with a laugh. Then caught his elbow when she realized the push had been toward the cliff. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where should we go?”

“Anywhere we’re not in mortal danger.”

Luigi laughed. “You were never in danger.”

Oh, yes, I was. More than you know.

Hours later they lay on a blanket, outstretched under the stars.

“Your papa’s going to kill you when you get home,” Luigi said without looking at her. She studied his profile in the night, taking a mental picture.
 

“He’s going to kill you first,” she answered, reaching for his hand. He took hers and held on, still gazing at the sky.

“I guess when you’re there and I’m here, we’ll both see this.”

“The heavens?”

“They’ll remind me.” He gently squeezed her fingers. “Of the girl I lost.”

“You’ll never lose me,” she told him.

“Someday.
One day
…” He pressed her hand to his heart. “We’ll reunite, you and I.”

Lucia sighed deeply, resting their nested hands against his chest. “That would be a dream.”

“Dreams come true, you know.”

“Sometimes,” she said unsurely.

“It doesn’t matter, Lucia.”

“What?”

“How long we’re apart. I’ll always feel the same.”

“I will, too.”

She fixed her gaze on the sky, not daring to look at him again. For if she did, she might break down crying. That wasn’t how she wanted to spend her final hours with Luigi. In tears. “Let’s stay here until the sun comes up.”

“Really?”

“Papa’s going to kill us both anyway.”

“He’ll probably ground you,” Luigi teased. “Forbid you from seeing me.”

“He might even move me an ocean away.”

“Let’s not talk about that right now.”

“Okay, then tell me a story.”

“What kind of a story?”

“A beautiful one,” she whispered. “One that ends with
happily ever after.
”

Lucia ran a wrinkled hand along the plastic page of the photo album, finding it damp. She drew a tissue from her pocket and wiped it, before dabbing her tears with a sniff. All that time ago, and the memories were still as clear as yesterday. She wondered if Luigi recalled things that well, too, or if he’d only fabricated that to flatter her during their computer exchanges. She felt a sharp pang in her chest and flattened her palm against it. While she’d loved her husband dearly, there was something about her first love she’d never forgotten. No matter how many years, children, or grandchildren had come between. For time is of no consequence when the heart remembers.

Lucia flipped shut the photo album and observed the fading daylight through the windows. She’d missed seeing her granddaughters this past Sunday, but was grateful Rachel had stopped by. The others were busy with some project. Lucia found it odd it could occupy them all at once, though Rachel had hinted it had to do with Haley’s wedding and that made sense. Haley was marrying Peter the day after tomorrow. Such a nice young man. Once Haley was taken care of, that would only leave Bev and Susan without any prospective mates. Lucia would love for them to meet someone. How wonderful it would be to see them married before her final day on earth. She wouldn’t mind seeing herself walk down the aisle, either. Though that aspiration was pure fantasy and she knew it. Even for an old woman, it was a dream too big to hold. Her fingers trembled and she gripped the photo album securely.

Too big of a dream for an old woman, indeed.

Chapter Sixteen

The Shoot

“Hello! Where’s the party?” Emma peered around the corner, the puppy leading the way at the end of a taut leash.

“You brought the dog?” Angie asked in wonder.

“And Donny,” Jane deadpanned, as Emma tugged him into the room.
 

He waved at the gaggle of women who’d temporarily stopped chatting to stare at him.
 

“Emma,”
Trish warned, smiling tightly, “you didn’t.”

Lena waved her concerns aside. “Oh, it will be all right.”
 

Excited by the commotion, the puppy wound its way around a dress mannequin, nearly pulling it over. Haley caught it just in time before it toppled to the floor.

Tiny sighed heavily and surveyed the situation. “I’m sorry, Donny, people will be changing in here. Why don’t you wait in the showroom, and we’ll call you when it’s Emma’s turn?”

“Good thought,” Claire said. She snatched the leash from Emma and passed it to Donny. “Puppy can wait with you!”

Emma blinked, mildly affronted. “What’s the big deal?” she asked when Donny and the dog had gone.

Zoe smiled and raised her brow. “It’s just a man and a dog.” Emma noticed Zoe’s gown was different from the rest of theirs. It had a ruffled bodice tucked into a black leather corset almost like a dress worn by a
fräulein
in a beer garden.

“Victor had that?” Emma asked with surprise.

“He special ordered,” Tiny answered. She adjusted the long lens of a camera that sat on a tripod at one side of the room.

“Why are we photographing back here?” Emma asked.

“The lighting’s better,” Susan explained. She was dressed in a gorgeous gown, but was still furiously knitting something. Seriously. Did the woman never stop?
 

Bev appeared from a dressing room in a vintage lace Victorian gown. She looked dynamite, and it was a relief to see her without the scarf. “Oh, hi, Emma!”

“I like the look,” Emma quipped. “Real last century.”

“Actually, the one before,” Jane corrected.

“Huh?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bev told Jane.

Rachel smiled and lifted a bottle from a bucket on a white wicker table in Emma’s direction. “Prosecco?”

Emma glanced around, spying glasses holding various amounts of bubbly scattered about. “I should have known you girls would get started without me.”

“Well, maybe if you’d been on time—” Trish began.

“Let’s all keep our stuff together,” Tiny warned. “And stay in order.” She glanced at Emma and nodded toward a dressing room. “You’re supposed to be first. Go on and get ready.”

Rachel grinned and handed Emma a full glass. “Here you go, Miss January.”

Emma took the prosecco in one hand and held her garment bag in the other. She strode into the booth with an exaggerated sway to her hips. “It’s
Missus
, thank you very much.”

Emma set her wine on a low bench, then stepped out of her clothes and into her dress. “How come there’s no screen or anything?” she called over the wall.

“What?” Claire asked.

“I was talking to Tiny!” Emma yelled.

“Then why don’t you wait and talk out here?” Tiny screamed back.

Emma wriggled her dress into place, then popped open her door. There were gasps and giggles around the room. Emma’s lips locked in a frown. “That bad, huh?”

Susan set down her knitting with a smile. “Just the opposite. You look lovely.”

“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “Really stunning.”

Emma scuttled into the room and turned her back to Haley. “A little help with the zipper?”

Haley worked and tugged…and tugged and jimmied. Finally, she said to the others, “Anyone got any safety pins?”

Emma’s face felt bright red. Her boobs were on fire, too. Plus, they pinched. Maybe the new hot-pink push-up bra was a bad idea. Emma briefly wondered if that’s what the others had reacted to when she’d exited the dressing room, then quickly dismissed the idea.