“I love working on it, too. And even though I’m excited to have it finished, I think I’ll miss this phase.”
“Have you come up with a name yet?”
“It’s killing me, but I haven’t. It’s ridiculous. I’m tired of always thinking of it as ‘my place’ or ‘my café.’ I want it to have an actual name.”
“I don’t know whether this would help, but maybe you should call it something in Italian like ‘Taste’ or ‘Delicious’ or something. You know, kind of like the way tiramisu really means ‘pick me up’.”
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Gusto in Italian means taste, but it can also mean ‘to get pleasure from’ or ‘savor.’ You’re a genius. Do you think it should have an exclamation mark? No,” she stopped herself. “Never mind. That would be overkill.”
Ian smiled. “I like it. Gusto.”
Juliette laid down on the lounge chair next to his. She breathed deeply and took a sip of her beer.
“That’s all it took. A swim on a hot evening, a cold beer, and your brilliant idea. It’s so simple. I feel like a moron for not coming up with it myself. I like the one word name. Thank you, Ian. Truly.” She tapped her beer bottle again at his. “You’re a godsend.”
In that moment, she wished she could do more than just say thank you. Maybe rub olive oil all over his chest and shoulders and then let nature take its course.
Trying not to let him see her thoughts, yet digging around for more information from his often-reserved self, she decided to delve a little deeper into his past, but before she opened her mouth he said,
“You know the question you asked me when we were working earlier? Whether I’m seeing anyone?”
“Yes,” she said casually, “So what is your story, romancewise? Is this when I’m going to learn about your skeletons?”
Ian laughed. “Definitely no skeletons. Well, maybe one or two.” His mouth turned up slightly at one corner. “The thing is, I was engaged once, but that did not turn out well,” he said, and took a long swig from his Corona.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s ok. It was a long time ago. We went to college together and got engaged not long after we graduated. I got a construction job and she started grad school working on a doctorate in physics.”
“Sheesh.”
“Yeah, she definitely has some serious smarts but not so loyal as it turned out.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I knew she loved this one class in particular—Experimental Physics. And she was always working late at the lab. So one night I decided to surprise her there with dinner, which as it turns out was a much bigger surprise than I intended. When I walked in, all sappy with wine and sandwiches from our favorite deli, she was doing an experiment all right, but it involved her lab partner, John, in a way I don’t think was sanctioned in the syllabus.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah, on the lab table.”
“No!”
“Oh yeah. Since then, I’ve pretty much limited myself to short relationships that involve alcohol and a sleepover, followed by an awkward breakfast the next morning, I’m sorry to say.”
Juliette laughed, “You should be ashamed!”
“I am,” he smiled. “But, you know . . . once bitten, twice shy.”
Juliette mused, “And here I thought you were one of the nice ones.”
Ian raised one eyebrow at her and looked into her eyes. Juliette couldn’t keep herself from looking back and meeting his inviting look with a half smile and then ultimately a slow shake of her head before forcing herself to let the moment pass. It would have been so easy to allow something to happen.
She jokingly slapped herself in the face to lighten the moment, and then jumped back in the pool, hoping that Ian would not follow her in, because if he did, she wasn’t sure she would have the willpower to stop herself.
When she climbed back out, she wrapped herself in a towel and laid back down on the lounge chair. She closed her eyes, thinking for a moment about her time in Italy, then opened them and turned towards Ian.
“I had my heart broken, too,” she said. “Not as badly as what happened to you. I wasn’t engaged or anything, although I thought we were heading in that direction.”
“Your dad told me a little bit about it when I was working with him at his house.”
“What?” Juliette sat up.
“Don’t be mad at him, I might have been prying,” Ian feigned a sheepish expression. “After we met at the hospital, I was curious about you. I’m not confessing to anything, but I may have asked a leading question or two.”
“Really?” Juliette’s heart skipped a beat.
“Maybe,” Ian joked, keeping it light. “Anyway, tell me about what happened from your perspective.”
Juliette leaned back, visualizing Roman.
“I just fell. Dropped like a ton of bricks. I don’t know if it was because I was already so emotionally vulnerable or if it was just him and it would have happened either way, but within two months, I was visualizing myself staying in Italy, getting married, having little Italian babies, the whole thing. He was my instructor. An amazing cook. Funny, smart, nice, everything I wanted. But as it turns out, his real girlfriend was away on assignment for the newspaper she works for and I was simply someone to pass the time with.”
“Ouch.”
“You could say that. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that kind of romantic beat down. And, I definitely don’t want to feel it ever again.”
“You can’t close yourself off forever, you know.”
Juliette laughed, “Says the man who sleeps around to avoid getting attached to anyone.”
“Touché,” Ian laughed.
“To heartbreakers,” she raised her beer in a toast, “May they suffer,” she smiled at him.
“I’ll drink to that.”
Before Juliette left for home, they talked and joked more, had another round of beers, and finally raided the fridge. It was a perfect night. One she knew she wouldn’t forget.
Chapter 25
CATARINA, TWO REALIZATIONS, AND A TEARING APART
Catarina stood in line holding hands with Franco while waiting to register for her first painting class at Fort Mason. It was a rare warm, sunny day down by the water. She enjoyed watching the other people who waited in line to register for the class. There were both men and women of different ages, but none appeared to be Italian, which pleased Catarina. She was looking forward to meeting a greater variety of people than she had so far. She was elated about learning to paint, but two things were elbowing their way into her mind: one was that she had a secret notion that she was pregnant—which filled her with joy, terror, and excitement—all in equal portions. The first inkling she had that she may be with child was when the smell of coffee two days previously seemed unusually strong. She kept looking around for grounds that had burned on the stove, or something to account for the pungent smell. Suddenly remembered one of her sisters saying she had known she was pregnant with her second child as soon as the smell of coffee made her gag.
The moment the recollection and its implications struck, Catarina sucked in her breath, and instinctively moved her hand to her abdomen. She then quickly withdrew it and looked around furtively to see if anyone had noticed. At the time, Franco had been eating toast for breakfast and reading the paper, his father and brother bantered about the sport called baseball, which they were still trying to figure out, and Gabriella yelled at her son to find his sock. No one even noticed her sudden movements.
Although that should have been enough to preoccupy her, she also couldn’t stop Gregorio from continuously creeping into her thoughts. She was becoming so annoyed with herself. She was happy. She loved her husband and was going to learn to paint, and might even soon become a mother; so why, in the name of Dio, could she not stop thinking about another man? It was her own fault, she knew, for continuing to seek him out. She knew she should leave well enough alone, so she resolve
d then and there to stop seeing him. She decided to tell him the next morning. She would go in for coffee—no, that wouldn’t work. She would go in for lemonade—that suddenly sounded wonderfully refreshing—and tell him that she could no longer come in to talk to him. She had to dedicate herself to her husband and family. Enough was enough. She was resolved. Her determination grew while she and Franco spent the day together. After they were finished registering, Franco surprised Catarina with a trip to the De Young Museum, so she could see their collection of paintings. It was like nothing she had ever seen. She knew that vast museums existed in Italy’s cities, but she had never visited one. She felt inspired walking through the galleries, spending time with the works of art.
All day she reminded herself about her plan to end her relationship with Gregorio, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy.
“I’m going out to the market,” Catarina told Isabella the next morning as she folded the ironing board back into the wall cabinet and put away the iron. “Do you need anything?” she asked.
“Limoni, per favore,” she said. Lemons, please. She patted her daughter-in-law’s cheek. “Such a good girl.” She smiled. “Such a blessing you are to us.”
“Grazie,” Catarina answered, but she felt anything but a blessing as she walked down the street towards Flavio’s in hopes of seeing Gregorio. The previous day’s strong resolve had melted while she slept and the thought of severing ties was heartbreaking. She decided to stop at the produce market on the way to the restaurant to give herself more time, and as she pushed through the entrance door was surprised to see Gregorio himself walking to the adjacent exit door as she was entering. She had never seen him outside of Flavio’s, and for some reason she instinctively acted as if she didn’t know him. Gregorio picked up on her cue and walked away with only a quiet and brief, “Buon giorno, Signora,” spoken under his breath.
Catarina was flustered by running into him unexpectedly when she had just been fretting about whether to stop seeing him, but she gathered her emotions while picking out a half-dozen lemons to bring home.
She stalled, giving each lemon a good look and a little squeeze, and while she was doing so, she couldn’t help but hear the women behind the counter of the small market gossiping with each other.
“There he goes,” one said to the other. “There’s something I don’t like about him.”
“Always trying to sweet talk us into putting a little extra into his bag without paying for it. He’s slippery.”
Catarina looked around the store. Were they talking about Gregorio? She didn’t want to think so, but who else had just left? There were only other women doing the daily shopping.
“Tsk. I know the type. An oily charmer, that’s what he is.” The two women were still gossiping when Catarina approached the counter.
“Just lemons today, Catarina?”
“Si, grazie. Just these.” She handed over the lemons to be weighed and then put them into her shopping bag.
“Are you ok, my dear? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. Thank you, Signora Castilla.” Catarina managed a smile for the shopkeeper. “It’s just so cold today after the beautiful weather yesterday. I have a chill.”
“Well, keep yourself warm. We don’t want you getting sick.”
“Yes, dear, stay nice and warm,” added the other woman. “Tsk, this fog is enough to drive one mad, isn’t it? So cold all the time.” Catarina smiled warmly at them. She adored these two buxom Italian matrons.
“I’ll be careful. Don’t worry,” she said and then continued on to Flavio’s. Her mind reeled. She hated to think of anyone having such a low opinion of Gregorio. “An oily charmer.” It made her heartsick. But underneath, she had to admit, she did see a hint of truth to what they said. She had seen him being overly charming when he was waiting tables. Especially to the women. There was a certain slickness she hadn’t wanted to notice. She had smiled and shrugged it off before, but hearing Signora Castilla’s remarks gave her a slap.
Had he just been charming her instead of having true feelings? Her heart sank and she felt her cheeks warm at the thought. She put one hand to her face to cool them.
She looked up and saw Gregorio leaning against a building a half block away. He gave her his rakish smile and a small wave.
Maybe it’s better this way, she told herself. She could talk to him outside, instead of in the confines of the restaurant where anyone could overhear them.
When she caught up to him, he moved to walk beside her.
“Amore mio,” he whispered.
“Shh, don’t call me that!” Catarina whispered back.
“But you are my love, Catarina.”
“But I can’t be, Gregorio,” she paused and turned to face him. “In fact, I was coming to see you at Flavio’s to talk to you.” She looked down at the ground. “I can’t keep coming to see you. I need to put an end to this, now. It’s wrong and my behavior is disgracing my marriage and my family. I am a married woman. I love my husband. I can’t see you anymore.”
“This again?” Gregorio laughed. “Catarina, you’re always telling me you should stop, but always coming back.”
“This is different. I wanted to be friends, but I realize it’s not possible because my feelings for you are too deep. I was being foolish and I’m sorry.”
“You’re serious?” Gregorio looked into her eyes. “Don’t do this. Instead, run away with me. I asked you once before, but this time you have to. We can’t live without each other.” He put his hands on her shoulders.
“Listen,” he continued. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, I just hadn’t talked to you about it yet. See this ring on your finger?” He held up her hand with Franco’s ring. “It must have cost a fortune. We could sell it. We could leave here. We could go to New York, Chicago, anywhere. Even back to Italy.”
“What?” Catarina stammered. “I can’t,” she said in a quavering voice. Her eyes were suddenly stinging and her entire body felt tensed, ready to flee. “I’m so sorry,” she continued. “I’ve been stupid. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just couldn’t seem to stay away from you. But I know now that I should have. I’m married to Franco. I love Franco, and I think I may be pregnant.”
“You don’t love him. Maybe you think you do, but you love me. You want to be with me. That’s why you can’t stay away.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down a small side street and before she realized what was happening, he was kissing her.
“Listen to me, Catarina. I don’t care about the baby. We can raise it and your husband will never find out. We’ll sell the ring and go back to Italy.” His voice had taken on a tone of desperation. “We could go now. No one would ever find us.”
Catarina’s life with Franco was suddenly crystal clear before her eyes. It was a happy life and Franco was a good man. She knew she wanted her life to be with her husband—to grow old with him. She realized that she had come to love him for more than just companionship and duty, but with the depths of her heart. She couldn’t believe she had been confused before, because now, the right decision was so obvious. It was as obvious and dazzling as the ring Franco had put on her finger with a promise to be a good and faithful husband.
Gregorio’s character was suddenly clear to her and she realized she’d been foolish. He would not only take another man’s wife, but steal her away and leave him to worry about her for the rest of his days. She would never do that to Franco and she was ashamed that she had betrayed her husband with her feelings for Gregorio. She realized that the shopkeepers were right. He was oily and she had been blind. She had come too close to ruining the best thing in her life, but now she would be free.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Gregorio,” she said, backing away. “I made a mistake and I hope you’ll forgive me. But I love my husband and I am going back to him.” She removed her hand from his tight grip and turned to leave.
“I’m not going to wait for you. And this time I’m not going to look for you. If you walk away from
me, Catarina, then it’s over between us.”
“I’m truly sorry. Don’t wait for me or look for me. Goodbye. I hope you’ll live a happy life.”
As she began to walk back towards home, she felt a tremendous sense of relief. She had heard the American saying “a weight lifted off your chest,” and now she understood what it meant. She tried to compose herself before she walked through the front door, but as soon as she passed over the threshold and smelled the familiar smell of cooking and saw the two women of whom she’d become so fond, she began to cry and giggle at the same time. Isabella and Gabriella both looked at her in confusion.
“Are you all right?” Gabriella stopped spooning mashed bananas into the baby’s mouth.
“What is it?” Isabella asked at the same time.
“It’s nothing and everything,” Catarina answered. Then she set down her lemons, burst into tears, and blurted, “I think I might be pregnant!” Saying it out loud and then having her mother- and sister-in-law throw their arms around her was exactly what she needed to soothe her turbulent feelings.
“Oh, mio Dio!” Isabelle shouted. “Another blessing on the way!” She wiped her eyes with her apron.
“Don’t tell Franco yet, because I don’t know for sure and I don’t want him to be disappointed,” Catarina requested.
“Of course, of course! Don’t worry. We’re used to keeping these secrets,” Gabriella smiled in collusion with Isabella.
“It feels good to talk about it. I’ve been thinking for days that I may be pregnant, but didn’t want to say anything just yet.”
“Tell us your symptoms,” said Isabella.
Catarina told them about the coffee smell, which they both nodded knowingly about, and the fact that her monthly was late.
“Only a week. Not unheard of,” she admitted.
“Well, time will tell. But for now, you go wash your face and maybe take a little nap. You look like you could use it.”
“That sounds like the best thing I could imagine right now,” she said.
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