Hope's Angel

by Fifield, Rosemary

“Well, don’t get used to it; it’s not my style.” Connie kept her eyes on the brightly lit Christmas tree across from them. “Not that things were a lot different at your house. I didn’t see you or your brothers march into the kitchen at any point.”

  Greg stretched his arm across the couch behind her shoulders and rested it against her. “That’s not one of the things they teach you in boarding school.”

  “Too bad. It’s kind of a life skill, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I can cook, you know.”

  “Actually, I don’t know. You’ve never shown me that side.” Connie gave him a smile, her eyes traveling over his face. “Actually, there’s a lot about you I don’t know.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know if you’re a slob or a neat freak or somewhere in between. I don’t know if you ever do your own laundry or can fix a car or nail two pieces of wood together or—“

  “Whoa!” Greg’s smile had a worried edge. “Where’s this coming from?”

  Connie looked away from him, not sure of the answer herself. What was wrong with her? “I don’t know.”

  “I haven’t invited you to my house since Thanksgiving because I didn’t think you’d want to come. But if you want to see my room and watch me start a washing machine, we can arrange for that. And no, I’m not good at carpentry, but I am pretty good with cars.”

  Connie closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the defensive.”

  “I’m not on the defensive. I just don’t get what the problem is. You want me to cook something for you? I can do that. When do you want to come over?”

  Connie drew a deep breath. Whatever it was that was eating at her, she needed to stop it now. She turned to him with a smile. “It depends. What’s your specialty?”

  The concern in Greg’s eyes turned to mischief as a small smile teased at his mouth. “Breakfast.”

  “Brat.”

  His eyes turned serious once more. “I love you, Connie. Don’t scare me like this.”

  Connie frowned. “Scare you? How am I scaring you?”

  “Because I want you to marry me.” His eyes remained fixed on hers as he reached into his pants pocket with one hand and pulled out a small white box. “I was going to wait until we were in the car, but maybe now’s the time.”

  Connie stared at the box, the blood draining from her face. She had told him she wasn’t ready for this.

  “I spoke with your father already,” he said, watching her. “I asked his permission, and he said yes.”

  Connie looked up at him in shock. “You spoke with my father?”

  Greg nodded, his eyes full of concern once more. “That’s what he would have expected, right? It’s the proper thing to do.”

  “But you and I haven’t really talked about it officially—”

  “Connie, you know how I feel about you. And it doesn’t mean we have to get married before we graduate. Garrett and Emily were engaged for two years. I love you, and I want to make it official.”

  Something just didn’t feel right. Connie tried to read his face. “Why? You don’t trust that we’d stay together without a ring?”

  “Of course I do. I just want to tell the world that we love each other, and you’re mine.”

  Suddenly everything was clear. “This is about Paul,” she said.

  A flash of anger crossed Greg’s face. “Paul? No, it’s not about Paul. What the … Should it be?”

  Connie looked away from his eyes, ashamed for transferring her own confusion to him. Greg lowered the box into his lap. “You don’t want this, do you?” he asked quietly.

  Connie bit her lip to keep from crying as she looked into his eyes once more. “I love you, Greg. But I’m not even twenty-one yet. I’m not ready to make a commitment like this. Not yet.”

  “Because Paul is still a possibility,” he said.

  Connie shook her head. “No. Because I’m too young. I’m still figuring out what I want to do. I don’t even know if I want to be a nurse or a teacher or what. Maybe I want to go to grad school. I’ve thought about being an army nurse.”

  “An army nurse?” Greg’s voice rose as he scowled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Greg, can’t we just keep things the way they are? I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to lose you. But I‘m not ready for this!”

  Greg withdrew his arm from behind her and slipped the box back into his pants pocket, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his face out of her sight. “David is going to ask Gianna to marry him.”

  Connie swallowed. “I know. They’ve talked about it.” She rested her hand on the curve of his back, a small nag of fear beginning in her chest. “Is this going to ruin it for us?”

  Greg shook his head. “That would make a lie out of everything I just said.”

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Because I do.” She did love Greg. She just wasn’t ready to commit to a lifetime with him. “I’m sorry. If this is embarrassing or anything, please don’t let it be.” She watched the back of his head, wishing he would look at her. “Do your parents know? Did you talk to them already, too?”

  “No. We would have told them tomorrow. They have no idea.” He glanced back at her, a frown creasing his brow. “This isn’t about them, Connie.”

  “I’m not saying it is.” She gently rubbed his back with one hand. “I know it’s not. Just give me some more time, Greg, okay? Let me get used to the idea.”

  He sat back, and she was relieved to see a small smile softening his features.“Maybe this is better,” he said. “When you say yes, I’ll know it’s about us and not just the dream wedding you and your sisters used to talk about.”

  “When we weren’t talking about being nuns,” Connie said, smiling into his eyes.

  Greg’s eyes shone with amusement. “Seriously? You didn’t tell me that was you, too.”

  “I do love those long habits.”

  He grinned at her. “That’s kind of sexy to think about—making love to you in a nun’s outfit.”

  Connie laughed, then leaned toward him and kissed his lips. He pushed himself from the couch and offered her his hand. “We’d better go see what we can do to help,” he said.

  They drove to Nonna’s duplex in the Mustang, stopping before Mass to drop off pizzas and desserts. Cousin Tony had apparently just driven away, for a vacant parking space conveniently awaited them in front of the duplex, and Greg parked the Mustang there. The porch light was on at the Cefalu house to their left, and Connie’s eyes went to the lace-covered front windows. The living room was brightly lit, and a crowd of people could be seen moving about inside. She glanced down the street. Paul’s car was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there with the rest of his family. The probability that they would end up in church together was high.

  She and Greg turned in the opposite direction, taking the small sidewalk which ran alongside Nonna’s duplex between the house and the neighbor’s property on the right side. They followed it around the corner of the house to the back door and down the stairs to the quiet basement kitchen that stood ready for the family party.

  The rich perfume of simmering marinara sauce greeted them as they stepped into the warm room. Three huge pots sat on the burners of a black and chrome restaurant-sized gas stove, two of them holding water waiting to be brought to a boil when it was time to cook the pasta, the third containing several gallons of sauce. An oversized, homemade table sat along one wall between a long bench seat that ran its entire length and eight chairs lined up on its outside edge. Three ornate bottles full of burgundy-colored homemade wine were spaced along its surface, and several large pottery serving bowls sat among them, ready to receive the mounds of food necessary to feed the extended families of Nonna and her sisters.

  They left the unbaked pizzas on a work table in the far corner and went back up the stairs, into the frosty freshness of the clear night air. Connie guided Greg back along the side of the house, onto the public sid
ewalk. The church was four blocks away, and they welcomed the opportunity to walk it together. A powdery blanket of new snow sparkled in the glow of the streetlight and muffled the sounds of passing cars as they strolled past houses gaily lit with Christmas lights. A deep peacefulness settled over Connie as she took Greg’s gloved hand in hers and leaned into him. He gave her a long, slow smile that conveyed his contentment, and love for him filled her heart. She thought about the ring in the box, a ring she had yet to see, and pondered if she had been too hasty in refusing to accept it. What was she waiting for?

  Cars were parked along the curb in front of the church as they approached. The church’s stained glass windows poured colored light out onto the snow-covered bushes beneath them, and a welcoming, golden glow spilled from the building’s open double doors. Assorted people in hooded coats and winter jackets were arriving from all directions, sharing joyful greetings as they stamped the snow from their boots before going inside.

  Connie and Greg entered the brightly lit foyer. Gianna and David stood off to one side, holding hands and watching the door. Gianna’s face lit up with delight when she saw them, and she immediately headed their way. Her dark eyes were shining as she thrust her left hand toward Connie.

  A small, teardrop diamond glittered on her ring finger.

  Connie gave a stifled shriek of excitement, then looked up into Gianna’s glowing face. And she knew at that moment that she had made the right decision. Her time to be the center of attraction would come later. Right now, the moment should belong to Gianna. She gave her sister a tight hug and whispered her heartfelt congratulations, then moved on to give David a hug.

  “Hey, brother-in-law-to-be,” she said with a wide grin as she wrapped her arms around his torso. He was taller and sturdier than any other man in her life, and hugging him was a new experience for her. They laughed together as she pulled away, and the happiness on his face was unmistakable.

  Gianna left them to go upstairs to the choir loft, and David joined Connie and Greg as they entered the church proper and walked down the long center aisle to find a place midway in. Her parents and Angie were coming separately, and they would find their own place to sit in the rapidly filling church. Nonna was already up front with her sisters, occupying the first row pew where the three women and Tony always sat.

  David and Connie genuflected before entering their row of choice, while Greg stood by and waited, totally unfamiliar with their rituals. He followed Connie and sat on the lacquered wooden pew while she and David knelt side-by-side on the padded kneeler to pray. Connie took the opportunity to look around at who else was visible. No member of the Cefalu family was in sight. Perhaps they were simply enjoying their Christmas Eve together and would attend Mass in the morning. She stopped worrying about running into Paul and concentrated on the beauty of the festively decorated church around her. The glistening, gray marble altar with its gold leaf trim was covered with poinsettias of white and crimson, and in the alcove above it, Christmas garlands festooned the statue of Our Lady in her robes of cream and brown. The air smelled of incense and burning candles, and all felt right with the world. Connie said a quick prayer of thanks for all that was good in her life, then slid back onto the pew beside Greg and slipped her hand into his where it rested on his lap. Behind them, the pipe organ began to play, and she smiled into his eyes, then settled in to enjoy the pageantry of Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.

  ***

  The snow had stopped, and the night air was brisk when Mass ended. People streamed out of the church and headed for their cars with shouts of “Merry Christmas!” as Connie and Greg began their one a.m. walk back to the duplex.

  “You didn’t go to Communion,” Greg teased as Connie pulled up her collar and tightened the scarf around her neck.

  She slipped her arm into his. “Neither did David. I was in good company.”

  “We haven’t done anything that bad, you know.” Greg looked worried, and Connie laughed as she squeezed his arm.

  “It’s okay. Not everybody goes to Communion at Midnight Mass. Nobody will judge us.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this Catholic thing,” he said.

  Connie glanced at him. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  Greg wrinkled his nose. “It was a little long, but other than that, I actually enjoyed it.”

  “Good, because you’ll have to convert if you want to get married.”

  His eyes widened as he stared at her, and Connie laughed again. “Okay, maybe not convert, but we will have to go to marriage classes with the priest first.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Everybody does, even two Catholics. And you’ll have to agree to raise our kids Catholic.”

  Greg frowned at her. “Are you trying to discourage me or what?”

  “No, I’m just telling you the gory truth. Might as well get it all out there now.”

  “So then, does this mean you’re considering it?” A small smile played around his mouth.

  Connie fluttered her eyes at him. “Of course I’m considering it.”

  “Okay.” His smile widened. “So, what else do I need to know?”

  “We’ll have to get married in the Catholic church.”

  Greg gave her a questioning look. “Who makes all these rules?”

  “The pope, I guess. I don’t know. I just know they’re really strict about it.”

  He looked pensive. “So, if our minister is a family friend, and I want to have him marry us, I can’t?”

  Connie grimaced at the reasonableness of his question and the answer she would have to give. “Maybe we can arrange for a joint thing where he’s part of it, but a priest has to marry us or it’s not recognized by the church.”

  “And then what?”

  “We’d be living in sin.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “And my parents would disown me.”

  Greg’s face had gone serious. “You’re not making this up, are you.” His words were a statement, not a question.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  He was silent as they covered the remaining blocks between the church and the duplex, and Connie worried about what he was thinking. The more she thought about it, the more she knew she would accept his ring and his offer of marriage, just not on this day when Gianna deserved to be the center of attraction.

  “Have I scared you away?” Her heart pounded in fear at how he might answer the question. They were two houses away from the duplex, and she was afraid he might be changing his mind about joining her at the party.

  Greg shook his head but kept his eyes trained straight ahead.

  “My folks are just really religious,” she said. “And old-fashioned.”

  “You don’t have to explain.” He looked troubled, and Connie’s hopes plummeted.

  “I love you, Greg,” she said, squeezing his arm once more as she watched his profile.

  “I love you, too. Is that Paul?”

  Connie turned to follow the direction of his gaze. Several people, some with small children, were leaving the Cefalus’ house on the far side of the duplex, coming down the front porch stairs, crossing the short yard to the cars parked along the curb. Greg’s red Mustang sat beneath the streetlight in front of the duplex, and two young men had come over to admire it.

  Connie’s heart skipped a beat as she peered at the familiar silhouette. “That’s his brother Chris. The other one’s his sister’s husband.”

  “Why are they at your grandma’s?”

  “They’re not. His grandparents live next door.”

  Greg turned to her, his brow furrowed. “His grandparents live next door? You never told me that.”

  Connie shrugged, her eyes still on Chris Cefalu. She had never noticed before how much his build resembled Paul’s.

  “Is Paul there?” Greg’s gaze had returned to the men near his car.

  They were almost to the duplex. The narrow basement windows beside the little sidewalk were glowing
with light; family who had driven back from the church were already in the downstairs kitchen.

  “I have no idea,” Connie said. She was anxious to keep it that way, and so she nudged him to the right in an effort to let the house block them from view.

  “Hey, Connie. Merry Christmas.” The shrill female voice took Connie by surprise, and she turned toward the sound. Paul’s sister Anne stood roughly thirty feet away. She had joined the men beneath the streetlight, but her attentions were on Connie, not the Mustang.

  “Merry Christmas, Anne.” Connie forced a smile she didn’t feel and nodded to the men. “Todd. Merry Christmas, Chris.”

  “Paul will be out in a minute, Connie.” Anne’s voice was loud and harsh. “I’m sure he’d like to wish you a Merry Christmas.” Her eyes shifted to Greg, and she looked him up and down with undisguised disdain. Her gaze moved back to Connie. “I hope you’ll at least give him that much.”

  Todd took hold of his wife’s upper arm as if to pull her away, but Anne shook him off, her eyes glued to Connie’s face. “He’s given up a lot for you.” A hint of a sneer curled her upper lip. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

  A jolt of fear shot through Connie. Paul had told his sister their story? She tightened her grip on Greg’s coat sleeve and lifted her chin to make sure Anne couldn’t see the effect of her words. “Everybody’s waiting for us.” She held Anne’s gaze with her own. “Wish him a Merry Christmas for me. And your family, too.”

  She leaned into Greg once more, encouraging him to move toward the side of the house. They needed to distance themselves from Anne as quickly as possible.

  Anne’s words rang sharp and clear. “My family doesn’t want anything to do with you! Or your puttana of a sister!”

  Connie stiffened at the reference to Gianna, and Greg’s gloved hand came across to grip her arm where it crossed over his. His voice was low and firm. “Whatever she said, let it go.”

  She willed herself to keep walking, and Anne’s voice called out again. “You’re a disgrace to the neighbor—ow!“

  Connie turned in time to see Paul spin his sister around from behind. Anne stumbled into him, and he grabbed both of her arms to keep her from falling, his face fierce as it came within inches of hers. He never looked toward Connie, his eyes locked on his sister’s, and Connie quickly turned away and hurried Greg along until they were out of sight, shielded by the duplex. She was shaking and on the verge of tears when they reached the back end of the house and the silent expanse of snow-covered gardens.