Catarina's Ring

by Lisa McGuinness

  Each took turns kissing Catarina and Franco on the cheeks, then the rest of the guests jostled their way in, and trays of food and drinks appeared. Tables had been covered in white cloths, and pale-pink rose bouquets and white candles made the most elegant center pieces Catarina had seen. At home, wedding parties were often held outside with much less decoration and fuss. Here, the evening was filled with laughter, dancing, and feasting. Catarina had never danced with so many gentlemen in her life.

  She could seemingly hear Gregorio whispering dancing instructions. No matter how many times she tried to stop thinking about him, he still crept into her mind. She would not allow herself to think about what the day would be like if it were Gregorio and not Franco whom she had just married.

  Instead, she focused on being grateful for marrying into the Brunelli family. They had made her feel like one of them from the moment she arrived. They didn’t exclude her from decisions and made her feel comfortable among them, even though she knew her presence was forcing Gabriella and Carlo to share a room with their daughters until the wedding night, when she would switch from her own room into Franco’s.

  Her cheeks burned when she thought of that and how the entire family would know what was going on in Franco’s room that night. She already wondered how she would face them in the morning. For now, she decided not to worry about it as she turned around the dance floor once again.

  She met so many new people that by the end of the evening all she was capable of saying was, “Grazie mille per venire, è stato un piacere conoscerti.” Thank you so much for coming and it has been such a pleasure to meet you.

  Franco circulated and talked with the other men who had come to the party. Occasionally she would catch his eye and he would give her a warm smile and a wink. She smiled back, amazed that he was her husband.

  I am a married woman, she told herself. It felt strange, as if she were just playacting as she did with her sisters and Mateo when she was a little girl.

  After several hours of eating and dancing, Franco’s mother called Catarina and Franco over to cut the cake. It was three tiered and covered in white frosting with white filigree adorning the side. Pale-pink rose petals covered the top and were sprinkled on the table surrounding the elegant confection. Before they cut the first slice, Franco’s father made a generous and kind toast—welcoming her to the family, and talking about the long friendship between the Pensebene and Brunelli families, and what joy he felt to have them joined as one family at last. Catarina, proud to be a part of it all, raised her own glass of champagne to join in a toast with the guests.

  After his toast, she went over and kissed her father-in-law’s cheek.

  “Grazie, Papa.” She turned and gave Franco’s mother a kiss as well, then whispered to both of them, “You have both made me feel very welcome and I truly appreciate all of your kindness. I know my parents would have loved to have been here for this, but in their absence I want to say thank you.”

  “Eviva!” a bunch of people called out. “Cheers!” and then Franco and Catarina cut the cake.

  Shortly after that, Franco came up and whispered in her ear that he thought that they should sneak away.

  Catarina felt both a sense of thrill and fear at the prospect. Her feet ached and she was exhausted, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to end the day. And a tremor went through her body at the thought of going home alone with Franco and what that would mean.

  “How could we sneak away?”

  “I’ll dance you right to the back door and then we can sneak out. Once we’re outside I can cover you with my coat, so you won’t be so noticeable.”

  “Wouldn’t your parents be angry?”

  Franco laughed. “I assure you, it’s done all the time. Expected really. The group has had enough of us, and we can make our departure without them knowing. Come, we’ll slip out. I already left my coat by the back door.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to embarrass your family or upset them.”

  “Trust me, it’s customary,” Franco urged her.

  Catarina looked around nervously, wishing there was someone there to guide her in this matter. At home, it would never have been done, but she knew things were different here. She caught Gabriella’s eye. Gabriella could see what was going on right away. She remembered being snuck out on her own wedding day, and smiled encouragingly at her and gestured with her hand that it was all right to scoot along.

  “Go,” she mouthed. “It’s ok.”

  Catarina bit her lip in one more moment of hesitation, then allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor by Franco. They stopped once or twice to chat while they made their way casually to the door that led to the kitchen and then out onto an alley. Were the other guests in on Franco’s intentions? She wondered. She could swear she saw the hint of a conspiratorial smile on the faces of a few of them.

  As soon as he saw an opportunity, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the swinging door. She started to giggle, and he shushed her then wrapped his coat around her shoulders to hide her dress.

  He peeked out the back door and, taking her hand again, led her out onto the street. They ran down the block and then turned the corner onto a side street that went in the direction of home.

  “If this is customary, as you said, why do we have to run?”

  “Because it’s part of the fun,” Franco answered, pulling her along.

  “My feet are in great pain,” she said, as she tried to keep up with his fast pace.

  He stopped running. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Perhaps you should take off your shoes,” Franco suggested.

  “And ruin my beautiful stockings? Never!”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to carry you,” Franco said, and before she could protest he lifted her into his arms and ran with her for almost a block before he had to put her down because they were both laughing so hard. They stood on the corner for a moment so he could catch his breath, and then they continued walking along, but at a slower pace so Catarina could go easy on her feet.

  When they arrived home, the apartment seemed too quiet. Catarina realized it was the first time she had been there without the rest of the family.

  “Perhaps you should go change,” Franco suggested, “and then meet me in my room. I’m going to bring us in some food. I don’t know about you, but with all the talking and dancing, I hardly had time to eat and I’m famished.”

  “Now that you say it, I’m hungry too. I hardly ate all evening even though there was so much food,” she said over her shoulder, while she made her way to her bedroom to change out of her wedding dress and shoes. She unbuttoned the heavy dress, hung it on a hanger, and then slipped off the hose and looked at her feet. They were red and there was a large blister on each heel and each small toe.

  What Catarina wasn’t sure about, though, was what to put on. The formal nightgown she and her mother had made in anticipation of this moment somehow seemed silly and old-fashioned with its high, lacy collar. Should she put on a nice dress? That didn’t seem right either. But her regular house dress was dirty, and she wanted to look pretty for Franco on their wedding night.

  She chewed on her lower lip as she looked through her things. Finally she decided to wear a simple nightgown and a robe. She hoped he wouldn’t think she was too forward, but she knew that he would have one thing in mind when she got to his room anyway, so why not make it easier on herself, she decided with more confidence than she felt.

  The simple white linen nightgown her mother had made for her before she left was beautiful. It had a graceful V-neck and her mother had sewn a pearl at the bottom of the V and at the base of the straps she made to hold it up. It hung to her ankles and was almost as beautiful as her wedding dress, Catarina thought, except much more plain. She wrapped her robe around her and then brushed out her hair, which Gabriella had pinned up for her. It felt good to have her hair free of the pins.

  She looked at her face and decided to put on a bit of powder to get rid of the
shine, then she slipped out and gently knocked on Franco’s door. Her heart was pounding. She was afraid he would be naked and she wasn’t ready for that. She breathed a sigh of relief when he came to the door wearing the pants and shirt he had worn to the wedding. He had removed his tie though, and untucked his shirttail.

  “Come in,” he smiled. He seemed completely at ease, which helped Catarina feel more relaxed.

  “Here, sit down,” he said, indicating a chair he had placed by a small table that was covered with food. “You must be tired.” He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.

  She sat down and looked around his room. She hadn’t seen it before. It was bigger than she had imagined with a wonderful bay window.

  Franco sat on the bed opposite her and put some food on his plate.

  “Have some food,” he said, so Catarina helped herself to some antipasto.

  “Do you think everyone will be home soon?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think they’ll be home for hours,” he told her. “Wedding parties go on well into the night here. It’s only the bride and groom who are allowed to sneak away.”

  Catarina nodded. She was nervous and afraid her voice would give her away. She took a sip of wine and nibbled on some sliced prosciutto and olives.

  Franco sipped his wine as well, and then met her eyes, “Listen Catarina, nothing has to happen tonight if you’re not comfortable.”

  Catarina took a moment before answering.

  “It’s all right. We’re going to be together at some point, yes? And it is our wedding night. So, we should be together, don’t you think?”

  He came to her and kissed her as his answer. It was a different kiss than he had given her before and she tried to give herself over to it in spite of her nerves.

  She smiled at him, shyly. “I have to admit, I am nervous,” she said.

  “That’s natural,” he told her, and kissed her again.

  She wondered whether Franco was also a virgin and whether they would be sharing this new experience together, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  “How are your feet?” he inquired.

  “They’re killing me,” she told him. “Look at these blisters.”

  “Here, give them to me. I’ll rub them,” he said and patted the bed.

  She leaned against the headboard while he rubbed her feet. It felt amazing. No one had ever rubbed her feet before. Between that and the wine, she was feeling entirely relaxed.

  She took another sip and then set her glass down and moved so she was kneeling on the bed next to where he was sitting. His shoulders were strong even though he was thin, and she could see his wrists below the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt. His face was becoming increasingly handsome to her as she got to know him.

  She reached out and touched his arm and he kissed her again. She allowed herself to feel the sensuality of his mouth and his hands touching her. She was just getting comfortable with kissing, when he lifted her arms and took off her nightgown. She feigned confidence at first, but seeing his face while he looked at her naked body was too much, and she turned her face away.

  He took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes.

  “You’re beautiful, Catarina.”

  “Grazie,” she said, and forced herself to hold his eyes. He shifted and removed his own clothes. She could feel the pounding of her heartbeat, even at her throat. She touched his chest, but couldn’t bring her hand to venture further.

  “Don’t worry. It’s just me. It’s going to be fine,” he told her while he gently explored her. “And this is definitely more fun than pruning olive trees, right?”

  “We’ll see,” she laughed.

  His comfort and humor lightened the tension for her. He kissed her to divert her attention from being naked with a man for the first time, until she was able to relax and be drawn along with his passion. He tried to be gentle when he finally did enter her, but her sharp intake of breath let him know to wait a moment. He stopped and looked into her eyes until she nodded at him and he continued his gentle motion for their first time together.

  Afterword, she curved herself into the crook of his arms and enjoyed the feeling of being entwined with him. He ran his hands over her hair for a moment.

  “Are you ok?” he asked.

  “Si. I’m fine. Are you ok?”

  He laughed. “More than ok,” he said leaning up on one elbow and kissing her cheek. He then got up and brought her a basin with water and a cloth.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her quickly and excusing himself so she could have some privacy.

  They were asleep with Franco’s arm wrapped around her when she awoke in the wee hours of the night to the sound of the rest of the family coming into the apartment. They seemed to be purposefully noisy, she thought. Either that or they had all had a lot to drink and were unsteady on their feet.

  Franco didn’t wake up, but he did turn over in his sleep. She had a chance to see his face by the light of the moon.

  I’m married to him, she thought. It was strange how much her life had changed in such a short time. But she was too tired to reflect further. Instead, she tucked herself into the curve of his body and fell back into an exhausted sleep.

  When she woke up the next morning, Franco was already up. She could hear his voice in the kitchen talking animatedly to his mother. He seemed to be recounting some humorous incident from the wedding party.

  Catarina snuck out of bed and went to the bathroom to tidy herself, brush her teeth and comb her hair. Then she padded silently down the hall to get dressed in her own room before she went into the kitchen. She was embarrassed to see everyone, knowing what they knew, but she couldn’t put it off forever.

  She held her head up and walked into the kitchen. She tried to act as if nothing was different, but when she was walking by, Franco pulled her to him and wrapped his arm around her. He kissed her on the lips, which startled her. Isabella stood at the counter making coffee and she smiled at them.

  “Leave her alone, Franco,” she said to her son. Then she came over to Catarina and took her face in her hands. “How are you, sweet girl?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, embarrassed by the implications of her question. “Your son is a gentleman.”

  “See, Mama? I’m a gentleman,” Franco smirked at his mother.

  “How was the rest of the party?” Catarina asked. “Franco dragged me away. I hope you aren’t upset that we left early.”

  Isabella waved her hand as if to say “It was nothing,” and then regaled them with stories of who drank too much after they left, and who she saw kissing in a corner. Gradually the rest of the family made their way into the kitchen: the adults looking a bit hungover and the children subdued by the late night and excessive amount of cake consumed.

  Once the initial embarrassment of facing them wore off, Catarina was able to laugh at their stories and even add a story or two of her own. As they reminisced and drank coffee, Franco moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders while they stood together. It was a nice feeling. One that she knew she could get used to.

  Chapter 20

  JULIETTE, THE IDEAL SPACE, AND DRINKING CHAMPAGNE WITH IAN

  As she surveyed the space, Juliette could see dust motes floating in a sunbeam, which she found oddly appealing. The space had been gutted, so seeing what it could be was fairly easy for her. It wasn’t terribly big, which she considered a plus because she wanted to keep the atmosphere feeling energetic and almost crowded. That could be difficult in too large an area. There were windows at the front of the building facing the street, but none to the sides. It was deep and somewhat narrow. One side shared a wall with another business but the other brick side did not. She wondered if it would be possible to open it to the outside with a door and windows.

  Ian watched Juliette take in the space. She looked thoughtful and intelligent and also seemed to possess the dreaminess that occurs when a person is seeing what could be. She didn’t sp
eak for a few minutes.

  He stood aside, looking at the space with a contractor’s eye. He was curious to hear her ideas but didn’t want to disrupt her wheels from spinning. He could practically see the gears clicking into place behind her eyes.

  The owner walked to the back of the building to unlock the rear door so they could see the loading dock behind the space. When she was out of earshot, Juliette whispered to Ian.

  “I think this is a great space. What do you think?”

  “I agree,” he replied, in a soft voice. “It could be incredible. I like the brick walls. And the windows would be fairly easy to change out, if you wanted something with more character. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Changing the windows would definitely help. These are so plain,” she nodded towards the front of the store.

  Then she continued, “I think it would be great to have a counter that ran along one side. It could start around a third of the way back and then cut back to the wall and extend all the way to the front window with tall chairs. Then we could have tables along the opposite side and toward the middle with some space left open for traffic. And I like the idea of an open kitchen in the back.”

  “Sounds entirely doable to me. Not complicated at all,” Ian said, while he turned slowly to examine the space from all sides. “What types of materials are you thinking of using?”

  “I love an industrial look, but not too modern or cold. It has to be mixed with warmer touches. The brick already gives it warmth. I picked up some wonderful, huge pottery pieces when I was in Italy, and I’d love to incorporate them. I’m thinking about stained concrete for the counters and wrought iron paned windows.”

  “Sounds great.” Ian reached into his satchel and pulled out a sketchbook and pencil. He started by drawing a rectangle roughly in the building’s shape, then added in a counter. “Is this what you had in mind?” He tilted the sketchbook so she could take a look.

  She leaned in to see.

  “Hmm, I think I would want it to come out farther and then curve around here,” she ran her finger along the counter he had drawn and then over to the sketched wall.