Catarina's Ring

by Lisa McGuinness

  “It smells delicious in here,” she said as he led her through the swinging door and into the main part of the restaurant, which was still empty. Knowing they were short of help, she understood the tranquil atmosphere was like the calm before a storm.

  Unlike the kitchen, the dining area was exactly as Juliette imagined. Cream linen tablecloths and a rich brown polished floor. There was a huge Deruta urn on a table in the middle of the room filled with olive branches dripping with black fruit. She made a mental note of it. It was exactly the type of thing she would like to decorate her own café with someday. Next to it on a plate, was a chunk of parmesan cheese wrapped and tied in a linen napkin with a fine cheese grater sitting next to it. The room was warm and inviting. Standing at the front near the door was Roman’s mother. Juliette knew right away. She was rail thin and wore a perfect suit with not a hair out of place. She turned when she heard them enter the room and Juliette looked into the same brown eyes as her son’s.

  “Roman, how did you get here so fast? I just left a message for you five minutes ago.”

  “I didn’t get the message from you. I was on my way here anyway. I brought a friend,” he indicated Juliette with his hand “to show around Florence and have dinner here. Then I saw Mario and he told me about Antony and Nicco.”

  “Si, well, I’m afraid we’re going to need you tonight,” his mother said, giving Juliette a tight little smile, which clearly indicated that she found her nothing more than another problem in her day.

  “Buona sera, Signora,” Juliette said to Roman’s mother and continued in her most formal Italian. “I’m also a trained chef, and I’d be happy to assist if you need help.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Roman’s mother answered in English, and looked to Roman to put a stop to Juliette’s embarrassing offer.

  “She’s talented, Mama,” Roman told her. “And you shouldn’t refuse a gift, no? You yourself have told me that many times.”

  “Can she truly cook?” she asked her son, giving Juliette an appraising look, as if she was at worst an imbecile and at best a child.

  “Like a goddess. And if you want me, you are going to have Juliette cook as well, because I’ve run that kitchen shorthanded, and it’s un incubo, a nightmare, no?”

  “Fine. Get her an apron and show her around,” she said with a dismissive wave of her long-fingered, diamond-covered hand and then turned back to the reservation book.

  Juliette was surprised by her cold demeanor and wondered how she could have raised such a warm, kind son.

  Roman frowned at his mother and grabbed an apron out of a pile of linens.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “she can be brusque sometimes.” He exaggerated a grimace and rolled his eyes good-naturedly, which put Juliette back at ease.

  They went back into the kitchen where he quickly showed Juliette around, then printed off the menu for the evening and posted it above each work station. He gave Juliette the recipe for the items he assigned her to cook and suggested she do a quick run through of each dish while he began prepping.

  Juliette grinned at him as she tied her apron strings, suddenly glad she had dressed casually after all.

  “This is going to be fun,” she said. After taking down a large skillet she began to peruse the recipes. Roman smiled conspiratorially back at her and touched his lips to hers before walking into the refrigerator and bringing out boxes of ingredients.

  “Eccoci,” he said. Here we go.

  Juliette’s heart leapt, surprised and pleased by the light kiss.

  Mario walked out of the refrigerator right behind Roman, saw Juliette in an apron, and asked Roman if he could have a word with him. Juliette tried not to notice as the two men had a discussion in whispers and hand motions.

  When they returned, Mario smiled warmly at Juliette and said, “Our bella savior.”

  “Hopefully,” Juliette smiled. “We can decide at the end of the evening.”

  The dinner rush hit and the kitchen became a hive of activity. Roman kept an eye on what she was doing and yelled out instructions and encouragement on occasion. Juliette made a few missteps here and there, but managed to keep up with the items that were ordered from her station in the kitchen—even if she occasionally had to improvise when she wasn’t sure how they prepared specific menu items. After she got used to the small size, she actually came to enjoy the kitchen’s economy. There was no shuffling back and forth for ingredients. Everything was within reach. The prep cook also did the garnish, so Juliette didn’t have to worry much about the presentation. Her job was all about preparing the dishes as they were specified. She was happy for the years of training she had under her belt.

  Occasionally she and Roman would catch each other’s eyes. There was a new intensity between them. His deep brown eyes held hers and turned her insides to warm, melted chocolate. She had to tear her eyes away and force herself to stay focused in order to keep up with the deluge of dinner orders being hooked on the thin, metal line that stretched across the shelf between Juliette and the dining room. She realized that her lips were curved into a perpetual smile in the midst of the chaos and was again happy that she wasn’t spending her mom’s birthday alone. She felt giddy and light—energized in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Finally things started to slow down and Juliette stepped outside to take a break and get some fresh air. She leaned against the wall in the precise place she had first seen Mario hours before. She took a deep breath and then looked over as she heard the sound of the door swing open.

  “That was the best date of my life,” Juliette smiled at Roman as he walked through the door, meaning every word. It had been incredible working together.

  Roman walked up to her, placed his palms on either side of her face and kissed her. The kiss began softly at first and then deepened. She put her arms around his neck and she felt him move his hands into her hair, which had come loose from the twist she had fastened.

  Finally they broke apart, both of them trying to gain control.

  “Thank you for helping out tonight,” he murmured into her lips.

  “Is that how you always thank the help?” Juliette asked him, tipping up her chin and holding his eyes.

  “Certo,” Roman said playfully. “Is that not customary in your country?”

  “Of course it’s customary,” Juliette bantered back. “I just didn’t realize it was the same in Italy.”

  Roman snorted. “Come on,” he said, giving her another quick and playful kiss. He took her hand and steered her back inside, grabbing a stool for her to sit on. “You rest while I clean up the kitchen, and then at least I can take you out for a drink before we go back home.”

  Juliette set aside the stool and started to clear the dirty pots and pans, but Roman took the pile from her and pointed her back to the stool.

  “Sit,” he ordered. “You’ve done enough already.”

  Juliette tipped the corners of her mouth up. “I will gratefully say ‘yes,’ but would it be ok if we had a drink here instead of going somewhere else? Maybe we could make ourselves something to eat and have a glass of wine.”

  “Oh, mio Dio! I never gave you dinner! You must be starving, no? I suddenly realize I’m hungry, too.”

  “I am actually. Can we make something?”

  “Of course. After all the help you gave us, we can make anything you want.”

  “I would settle for some of the carabaccia you told me about with some bread and a glass of wine.”

  “Perfetto. Why don’t you go relax at the bar while I finish up here and then I’ll bring out the soup and wine, ok? I’ll meet you at the bar in a couple of minutes.”

  “That sounds great. Thanks,” Juliette said and then slipped into the bathroom with her purse to freshen up.

  Juliette looked in the mirror. She was relieved to see that she didn’t look too bad. A bit flushed and a little greasy from all the cooking, but she had powder and lipstick, which were the only two truly necessary cosmetics in her
opinion. She took down her hair and brushed through it with her fingers. She contemplated putting it back up, but decided it looked better down. She splashed her face, then dried it, powdered it, and put on a touch of lipstick.

  When she made her way to the bar, she found Roman there with two glasses of Pinot Grigio, bread, cheese, olives, and two steaming bowls of onion soup.

  She tipped her face toward the bowl of soup and inhaled deeply, catching the tantalizing aromas and the clean scent of herbs. She was ravenous. She wanted to rip off big hunks of the bread and dig in to the soup, but she could see Roman’s mother surreptitiously glancing their way so she forced herself to be dainty about it.

  The chemistry between them, so evident in the kitchen, was still at a simmer. They couldn’t stop looking at each other as they ate their meal and rehashed the unexpected evening they’d had.

  When they were ready to leave, and went to say good-bye to Roman’s mother, the spell was only slightly broken. Juliette hoped for a bit more warmth than when she first met her, and she was rewarded by a genuine smile. His mother said all the right things. She thanked her, said ciao, even kissed her cheeks, but while her mouth was expressing the kind words, something in her face let Juliette know that she was not entirely welcome in her son’s life. The hard pinch she gave her son’s cheek left her curious as well.

  “Ouch, Mama!” Roman laughed at her and playfully slapped her hand away. “This, for the man who saved the night?”

  “I don’t know what you’re up to young man, but watch yourself, do you hear me?”

  “Si, si, how could I not?” He purposefully stood over her small frame.

  “You’re a terrible boy, Roman.” She shook her head, but with a look of love for her son. “Be careful of this one, young lady,” she said to Juliette, then waved them away with a good natured shake of her head.

  Back in the car, Juliette replayed the scene in her mind. It was slightly odd, but she didn’t want to ask Roman about it and break the spell they were under. Instead she sank herself into the comfortable leather seats and turned to look at him. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. She loved the way he listened when she talked, the humor in his eyes. His was a perfectionist in class but she knew that was part of the reason he was stretching her cooking skills. He demanded more from her than the other students, but she could tell she had earned his respect and that gave her a surprising sense of pleasure. She knew she was dangerously smitten and that she had better be careful. She couldn’t remember the last time her feelings for a man had become so intense in such a short time.

  He kept his eyes on the road for the most part, occasionally looking over at her. He kept his right hand in hers, his fingers stroking her palm as they drove, talking a little, but mostly listening to music, lost in their own thoughts. The sound of the motor and the comfort of the seats lulled her into a sleepy state. Her eyes burned with the desire to close, but she didn’t want to miss a moment of her time with him. He was unguarded and real to her in a way she loved. Roman reached over and twisted a loose lock of hair absently and then gently stroked her cheek.

  “It’s ok, rest,” he whispered. “I’ll wake you when we arrive back at your door.” His car was a small coupe, with a low console, so she leaned right across it, put her head on his knee and dozed, but didn’t drift all the way to sleep.

  By the time they reached Juliette’s apartment, Lucca was dark and quiet. The city was bathed in moonlight. Roman hated to wake up the beautiful complication who dozed with her head on his lap. He knew he was wading into deep water with her but didn’t want to stop. He gently shook her awake and then walked her up the stairs. He smiled at her sleepy face and rumpled hair. It made her look vulnerable and appealing. She was unlike any of the women he knew. She unlocked the door and then turned to thank him for the unusual but perfect evening. But when she opened her mouth to speak, he moved towards her and without even a second of hesitation they were kissing again.

  Juliette was lost in the sensation. It was intoxicating, warm, sweet, and left her wanting more. When they finally broke apart, Juliette leaned her forehead against his collarbone. She breathed in deeply and then lifted her eyes to his. They didn’t speak, but the communication was clear. She reached behind herself and opened the door. They both stepped in.

  Chapter 11

  CATARINA, THROWING LOVE AND EMBROIDERED HANDKERCHIEFS INTO THE SEA

  Catarina lay in bed in the stuffy cabin under a thin blanket for a long time before sleep came. Maria snored softly beside her and the ship rocked gently, which should have lulled her to sleep, but even that couldn’t quiet her churning thoughts. She played and replayed every moment of the most exciting evening she had ever had. She could hardly believe how wonderful it had been. Even the festivals at home weren’t as much fun. She wished she could stop the ship from continuing on to America so she could stay right where she was. She discovered that she loved dancing and enjoyed wine with dinner. She felt giddy and knew that the wine she’d drunk was only one part of it.

  Before she dropped off to sleep she thought of Franco. She wondered what he would be like. Surely not as wonderful as Gregorio, she thought. She wished she could switch the two men and that when she got off the ship Franco would have miraculously turned into Gregorio. She tried for the thousandth time to picture Franco’s face from her memory. All she could conjure was dark hair and a thin face. It wasn’t much to go on, but nonetheless, she tried to push Gregorio out of her mind and focus on Franco. When she finally dropped off to sleep, her dreams betrayed her efforts and Gregorio’s face was the one she saw.

  When morning came, Maria gently shook her awake.

  “Fa giorno,” she said. It’s morning.

  Catarina sat up groggily, rubbed her eyes, and wondered how it could be morning already, when she felt as if she’d just fallen asleep.

  How many days were left? she wondered. Her thoughts immediately went to Gregorio, and this time she didn’t push them away. Instead she got ready with special care, in case she ran into him during the day. She wondered what he did on the ship. They had been so wrapped up in talking about his childhood and where he grew up that she had completely forgotten to ask him about his job.

  The day passed slowly. A cold sea wind arose and the sea was the color of steel. It churned, rocking the boat relentlessly. Many of the passengers felt ill. Maria was among those who did, so Catarina brought damp cloths to her throughout the day. She couldn’t bear to stay in the swaying cabin for long, though, and spent most of her time wrapped in a blanket on deck.

  By dinnertime, Maria felt worse than before so Catarina had to venture to the dining room alone. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Would the kitchen be closed because of the lurching of the ship? Would Gregorio be there as he said he would?

  She had only two nice dresses, so she wore the one he hadn’t yet seen. It was the same blue as her eyes with a fitted bodice and a lavender sash that cinched tightly around her waist. The slim skirt made her feel taller than she was.

  Gregorio was there waiting for her. Maria’s absence made the meeting feel forbidden. In her mind’s eye, she could see Babbo’s eyebrows knit together and a frown on her mama’s face. He wore his black crew uniform, which made him look elegant and sophisticated. He was speaking with one of his shipmates and they were laughing at something he said. She enjoyed watching him unawares for a moment. He seemed so at ease with himself and others. She admired that about him.

  He must have felt her gaze because he turned towards her and she saw his expression change. It was a mirror of her feelings: excited and full of anticipation. He patted his friend on the shoulder and then turned and walked towards her. She met him in the middle.

  “Catarina.”

  “Buona sera.”

  “You’re as beautiful as I remembered. Your face is like the Madonna and it was in my mind every second of the day.”

  Catarina felt her face flush.

  “I should remind you that I’m engaged to be married. Y
ou shouldn’t speak to me like that,” she said properly, but she was pleased to know that he had thought of her as much as she had thought of him.

  “You’re right. Scusi! My apologies. But what am I supposed to do? I meet the girl of my dreams but her hand is already spoken for.”

  Catarina decided to laugh, as if it were a joke, so that they could go on being friends, but her face showed that she shared his regret.

  “Perhaps I can entice you to run away with me instead of getting married,” he bantered, allowing himself to say what he wanted under the guise of verbal play.

  But Catarina wasn’t skilled at that kind of interaction and simply looked down at her shoes for a moment.

  When she regained her composure, she said, “Let’s not talk like this. Let’s have dinner and dance again. It was so much fun last night. But, I can’t stay too late and I have to bring some bread back for Maria. The rocking of the ship is making her queasy.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry for being too forward. We have eight days left. Let’s just have fun,” said Gregorio, and then he took her hand and led her to the same table as the previous night.

  The next eight days were by far the most exhilarating of Catarina’s life. The sea air agreed with her and she stayed healthy throughout the voyage. Maria recovered once the sea calmed and the two became inseparable. She wrote letters to her family each day and collected them in a ribbon to post upon her arrival in New York. She and Maria washed out their clothes together each morning and hung them to dry in their cabin. They sat on their bed and up on deck for hours while they stitched borders on handkerchiefs for their future husbands. They talked about their fears and about missing their families, about whether a war would come and whether Italy would fight in it if it did. They talked about what it would be like to be a soldier and what it would be like to be a mother someday. They talked about what it was like to marry unknown men, as they were both planning to do.

  The one thing they didn’t talk about was Catarina’s feelings for Gregorio. To speak about them out loud would be to acknowledge them as real. That she could not do. She thought about the words Gregorio had spoken during the second evening they were together. At night when she was supposed to be sleeping, she took them out and polished them in her mind to save forever: “Perhaps I can entice you to run away with me instead of getting married,” he’d said. She knew she would remember those words and his face forever.