Absolution (Disenchanted Book 3)

by L. D. Davis

  She exchanged a few words with Massimo. His voice was quiet, but his tone was sharp. Celia’s face fell, and of course, Marco jumped in to protect her, even against his deathly ill brother. His words sounded gentle, but they were clearly a chastisement. Tess studiously ignored everyone and kept her focus on Massimo. Finally, after what was the beginning of an argument between a worsening Massimo, Celia, and Marco, Michael issued a command. He pointed to the door with an expectant look on his face, and after a moment, Marco stood up.

  “Michael wants us to leave his patient in peace,”

  “Lydia,” Massimo’s soft voice called. “Come back and see me soon.”

  I smiled. “I will.”

  Celia stood in the middle of the room, no longer smiling. Her bottom lip trembled, and I couldn’t help but think how damn good at that she was. I barely knew her, but I would have given her four stars for her performance. As Marco and I approached her at the center of the room, she gave Marco those sad puppy dog eyes, brimming with fat tears. He released me to hold her. I wasn’t jealous, not exactly, but baffled and irritated that he didn’t see what she was doing.

  With a sigh, I glanced away from my boyfriend holding someone else in his arms, and my gaze fell on Tessa and Massimo. I should’ve looked away, but I couldn’t. I was so drawn to them as they spoke in whispers that barely carried across the room, their eyes locked, or as much as they could be as he struggled to keep his open. When his eyes finally closed and stayed that way, Tessa leaned over him, pressed her forehead to his, and moved off the bed. The contact was quick, but no less heart wrenching, and I had a feeling it wasn’t something I was supposed to see.

  She left the room without another word to anyone, without even a glance at any of us. I stared at the door for a few seconds before my gaze drifted back to Marco and Celia. He was murmuring something in her ear while she nodded.

  “Marco, we need to get back.” I didn’t bother to say it kindly.

  Maybe I should’ve given Celia the benefit of the doubt. The circumstance was very sad and troubling, and I didn’t know her, but I was perfectly fine being a judgmental bitch in this case.

  He finally released her, and after a few seconds, she unwound her fingers from his sweater. With a final brief kiss to her temple, he took my hand again. I met her eyes, felt her hatred once more, and knew in my gut that she was going to hurt me in some way before my trip was over.

  Chapter Six

  Lunch, or pranzo, was served in a large room on the longest-ass table I’d ever seen. Granted, it was really several tables pushed together, but it was long, and full of food. We missed aperitivo—the equivalent of cocktail hour—while we visited with Massimo, but we made it in time for the antipasto, which included cheeses, meats, veggies, and even some fish.

  I usually wasn’t an adventurous eater, but I was in Italy and presented with authentic Italian food at an authentic Italian’s table, and for once, my stomach was behaving. There were some things I didn’t care for, but there was even more that I loved, like marinated mushrooms. Everything tasted so fresh without all the added crap Americans put in their food. Marco explained to me that some things were purchased in the village, like a lot of the in-season vegetables and fruits and some of the meats, but most of it was made by the family. Elena, for example, had made the mozzarella in the antipasto dishes, and the olives came from her sister’s olive trees. Giovanni’s mother and a few others all made bread, and judging by the amount and varieties of pasta that came out for primo, almost everyone had a hand in that course. As for the wine, some of it came from Elena and Matteo’s household, but there were so many bottles being passed freely around the table that those, too, had to come from several sources. Sadly, I didn’t partake in the wine and stuck with fruit juice.

  Marco, however, practically went through two bottles all on his own. He probably didn’t notice, but I did, because the more he drank, the more animated he became. Like almost everyone else around the table, he talked loudly and laughed louder. I watched him as much as I could without seeming like a creep. I liked this side of him. Seeing him amongst his family and old friends in his home country was like placing several pieces into a puzzle I hadn’t known I was putting together.

  There were so many people clustered around the table, elbow to elbow, and so many conversations flying about that it was often hard to keep up unless Sofia or Salina translated. I sat between the two women. Mandy was happily seated in Sofia’s lap. Cora sat between Elena and Francesca. She was super excited about every new thing she ate and quickly learned what each item was in Italian. I was surprised by how well she was holding her own, speaking and understanding the language. Gavin was between Marco and Massimo’s and Celia’s middle child, Armano. My son had been teaching himself Italian basically since we met Marco, and apparently, Armano knew just enough English that the two boys were able to communicate. There were lots of giggling and snickering as they messed up on words. My kids had basically assimilated themselves into the Mangini family in a matter of a couple hours. Meanwhile, I felt awkward and anxious around so many people who were literally foreign to me, especially when so many of them often looked my way, their eyes burning with curiosity.

  “It takes some getting used to,” Salina murmured.

  I supposed I hadn’t been as good as I thought I was at masking my nerves.

  “The first time I met all these people, I locked myself in the bathroom to cry.” Her shoulder lifted and fell, and she gave a wry smile. “Then again, my experience was much different from yours. They already accept you, even though they don’t know you. I’m accepted by default. Grudgingly, I might add.”

  I stared at her, surprised by how much she’d just revealed to me in a few sentences, but her smile just grew, and though there was sadness in it, it was genuine. I got the impression she’d accepted things as they were.

  “Why? I mean, why do they only grudgingly accept you? You seem fine to me.” My eyes widened. “Is it because you’re black? Because I know Celeste comes here, and according to her, everyone loves her, but then again, that could just be Celeste being Celeste.”

  Salina laughed. “Definitely Celeste being Celeste, but they do love her. Then again, she is only a visitor, a friend. She isn’t family, at least not outside of this household. As for my racial background, of course, it was a topic of discussion for many, but one thing about this family is that despite how traditional they can be, they are also very progressive. It’s the way I came into the family that was and still remains the conflict of interest. I won’t get into that, but as you’ve probably noticed, Giovanna’s father and I aren’t together. We live together, and we raise Gia together, but that’s as far as our togetherness goes. Unlike Tessa, who they have all known since she was born, I’m still very new, and therefore, still on the outskirts. You’ve already been accepted because you and Marco are together. Even if you weren’t…” Her eyebrows rose at that, making me believe Celeste had given her some intel on me before I arrived. “He obviously loves you and your children, and that is enough.”

  She picked up a bottle of wine, offered me some, and continued to refill her own glass when I declined with a shake of my head.

  “If you want to go cry in the bathroom, I’ll cover for you.” Salina’s offer came with a lift of her lips and a wink.

  “I’ll let you know if that becomes necessary. How long have you been here in Italy?”

  “I was in the country for about a year before I moved into Giovanni’s house, and I’ve been there for about two years now.”

  A shadow passed over her face so quickly that I could’ve missed it had I looked away for even a second. Whenever she spoke about Giovanni, it was with a clinical detachment, but I was queen of pretending not to care when, indeed, I cared too much. There was a story there, and I knew that, especially because I’d seen how Giovanni’s eyes purposely skipped over Salina when he glanced around.

  Honestly, though, I almost felt insulted on Salina’s behalf, even though I didn�
��t know the details. Glaring at someone is one thing, pretending indifference when you did see them was another, but pretending the chair that person occupied was nothing more than dead air was a whole other level of disrespect. To me, it seemed like Salina didn’t even exist to Giovanni.

  “So, you’ve met Massimo,” Salina stated, interrupting my nosy ruminations.

  “Yes, yes I have. I didn’t get to spend too much time with him. He wasn’t doing too well when we left.”

  Her voice softened. “Tess told me when I called her to see if she was coming today. It may be difficult to see now, but Massimo is such a great guy. He was especially welcoming when I came here. By the way, Tess wanted me to apologize to you. She said she left abruptly without a goodbye or anything. She wanted me to let you know it wasn’t anything you did, and she looks forward to meeting with you again.”

  “You can tell her I understand and no hard feelings.”

  “Or, you can join us for brunch tomorrow at Gio’s and tell her yourself.”

  Recalling what Celeste had said about both women and feeling kind of excited about having girlfriends again for the first time in years, I readily accepted the invitation.

  “I’ll just check with Marco to make sure he didn’t have any plans for us,” I said with a grin.

  “Perfetto. Bring your children if you like—that is…if you can peel them away from Elena. She’s clearly already in grandmotherly love.”

  We both looked down the table. Elena was beaming at Cora, adoration apparent on her face as the two conversed.

  “It seems like your children are already adapting. Gia was the same. I still occasionally struggle with the culture and the language, but my daughter dove in feet first and flourished. How is your Italian, by the way?” She eyed me with shrewdness, a twinkle in her eye.

  “I know how to cuss at Marco and ask for wine.”

  “All the important things then.”

  We laughed, not loudly, not obnoxiously, but both Giovanni and Marco looked our way. Marco with a lift of his lips and Giovanni with a stone face that was all too familiar. It was the same expression Marco wore when he didn’t want anyone to know his emotions, but I was getting better at seeing through that façade. Salina had years to understand the truth behind Giovanni’s empty expressions. So, I wasn’t all that surprised when she inhaled deeply and turned away from him as if she were trying to control her own emotions.

  His stony look fell away when he gazed down at his daughter at his side, though. His eyes grew bright and his whole demeanor softened. Whatever the issues between Salina and him were, he loved their daughter.

  “Marcello.”

  Salina snapped to attention at the same time I did at the sound of Celia’s soft voice. Conversations continued around the table, but they were somehow muted and seemed distant. She sat a few seats down from me and had been quiet for the most part.

  Marco gave her his attention with the lift of his chin and flicker of his eyes.

  “Torni a trovare Massimo oggi?”

  “Ovviamente. Ci fermeremo prima di cena,” he responded.

  “Noi?”

  “Sì. io e Lydia.”

  There was a pause, and then Celia said, “Ovviamente. Immagino che voi due sarete attaccati all'anca tutto il tempo.” Her mouth curved up. To others, especially Marco, it probably appeared playful, but to me, it was catty.

  “O collegati a altre parti del corpo,” one of the male cousins added, making those around them chuckle and throw amused glances my way.

  “No, se senti mia madre. Sono di nuovo un ragazzo di diciassette anni, non mi è permesso di stare da solo in una stanza con una ragazza.”

  There was more laughter, this time with more people. Elena, who had stood up to make another trip to the kitchen, walked up behind her son and popped him on the back of the head. In the same instant as everyone guffawed, she leaned down and kissed his cheek fiercely and repeatedly.

  “Condividi la tua camera con la tua bellissima fidanzata, Marcello. Sei tu quello che dovrà confessarsi domenica.” More laughter.

  Grinning, Marco glanced across the table at me as his mom walked away, Cora’s hand tucked in hers. I raised an eyebrow as if to ask for an explanation or translation, but he just shook his head dismissively like none of it was important.

  Someone pulled him into another conversation, and I pretended to be dumb and unbothered by the whole exchange. I felt Salina’s eyes on me, and when I turned to meet her gaze, her brows rose.

  “Solo dire parolacce e ordinare il vino?” she murmured amusedly before sipping her wine.

  I was caught. I knew it by the way she looked at me, as if she were waiting for an explanation. I picked up my own glass of juice and drank it down as if it were wine, and wishing it was.

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t understand the language,” I said low enough for only her ears. “I just don’t speak it very well.”

  “So, you know what they said?”

  After a brief hesitation, I nodded once.

  In fact, not only did I understand the quick conversation between Marco and Celia, but almost everything I’d heard since I arrived. Some things took a little longer to process, and I didn’t understand perfectly, but I comprehended enough Italian to have a rough idea of what people said. So, I’d heard the comments about my red hair earlier, and the disagreement Maria had with Francesca about the older sister’s standoffish attitude toward me. I’d had an approximation of the argument that had occurred when we visited Massimo when Celia had seemed unwelcomed in her own husband’s room, and she’d received even more of his ire when she tried to kick Tess out. I certainly had a rudimentary understanding of the conversation at the table. Celia had asked Marco if he was going to visit his brother again today, to which Marco replied that “we” would be over there sometime before dinner. Celia had asked “we?” as in “we who?” as if she hadn’t known who he could possibly be speaking about. Petty.

  Marco told her the obvious, that he’d meant him and me, and she had said something sarcastic about the two of us being attached at the hip for the duration of our trip. One of his cousins then said something about us being attached by other body parts, but Marco said something about his mother not giving us the chance. However, from what I gathered, Elena gave him permission to sleep in his old bed with me, but it was the part about Sunday or maybe Monday I didn’t grasp. If I had to take a wild guess, though, Celia and Marco made plans to talk or see each other—without me—on one of those days.

  “Does he know you can understand?” Salina questioned.

  “No, I don’t think so. When I first started to learn, I thought it would be cool to be able to communicate with him in his language, but…” I trailed off, not exactly sure how to say what I meant or explain how I felt, but she seemed to get it.

  “The illusion of ignorance may be one of few defenses and weapons you have at your disposal while in unknown or enemy territory.”

  My eyes widened a bit at that, but I nodded my agreement. She’d hit the nail right on the head. “Hopefully it’s a weapon I won’t need to wield.”

  With a quick glance in Celia’s direction, Salina shrugged delicately. “You never know with that one. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

  It felt strange to trust someone I barely knew, but I did trust her. “Thank you.”

  She smiled warmly and reached for another bottle of wine. “No problem. Are you sure you don’t want to share in my mostly liquid lunch?”

  I returned her warmth with a smile of my own. “I’m sure.”

  Lunch was over not too long after that. After all, it was a weekday, and most people had to go back to work or tend to their lives elsewhere. Salina left as well, but she gave me her contact information. I promised her I would get back to her before the end of the day about our tentative brunch plans. I liked her a lot so far. She was down to earth, funny, and she was strong. She had to be strong if life in Italy for her was the challenge I suspected.

  Unfortun
ately, I did not make it through the rest of the day without getting sick. I had to toss my cookies in the bathroom for five minutes before I joined Marco’s family in an informal living space for the afternoon. Without all the extra people who had been at the table, I felt more at ease amongst them, or as much as possible after revisiting my meal.

  Only Maria and Matteo were absent; they went to visit with Massimo. Thankfully, they took Celia and her younger two kids with them. The twins, Carlo and Clarice, were okay but rowdy. They were close in age with Cora, but she shied away from them. Armano was ten, not much older than Gavin, but he was quiet, polite. Massimo’s two older children were with us as well. Roberto was twenty, already married with his first child on the way. Roberto reminded me of Massimo in both looks and demeanor. Laura was eighteen. She looked a lot like her mother, but I didn’t sense evil in her or have the desire to douse her with holy water. However, she eyed me with distrustful eyes and kept her distance.

  The conversation was pleasant, even with Sofia and Marco having to translate for me. They didn’t know I could mostly understand, but that would remain my secret for a while.

  I relaxed in my seat on the couch beside Marco. Even though I was genuinely enjoying myself, my eyelids began to grow heavy, and I couldn’t stop yawning. Finally, Marco took mercy on me. He guided Mandy and me back upstairs. Cora wanted to stay downstairs, and Gavin insisted he was too old for “baby naps.” No one seemed to mind them staying. I wasn’t too old for baby naps. Neither was Marco, because he got into bed, too. Mandy was between us, fidgeting and whiny. I really didn’t have the energy for her toddler antics.

  Marco reached across her and brushed my hair away from my face, tucked it behind my ear. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.”

  One of his brows rose. “Would you like to try that again, Tesoro?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was fine, or as fine as I could be. His family so far was great, especially Elena, and Sofia was a wiz with the kids. The only hiccup was Celia, but I couldn’t exactly tell him that I thought she was evil when he obviously adored her so much. I would just appear to be jealous, which I wasn’t.