Vittorio lay on his side, looking down at her. “Can I ask you one thing?”
“Of course, my love.”
“Did you think of Charles?”
“I suppose in one sense I did. I was thinking that if the heart doesn’t choose it, then lovemaking is to be endured.” She learned toward him and kissed him. “I never dreamed it could be like this.”
They spent the week taking long walks on the beach, barefoot in the wet sand, shrieking when an ice cold wavelet splashed against their ankles, chasing each other, feeling as free as the seagulls that wafted on the wind.
They took turns driving Vittorio’s Ford, he pretending fright at her speed, laughing exuberantly, feeling so lucky in love.
They ate dinner in cozy little inns with big stone fireplaces, aglow as much from the nearness of each other as from the candlelight.
They looked for gifts for Dermot, finally choosing three sculpted seagulls aloft together.
Vittorio had brought a baseball and bat, and they delighted in their games for two, all arguments over cheating to be settled in each other’s arms.
It rained only one day. Looking out the window at the rain-soaked dunes, he sighed. “No beach today.” Kitty, still in bed, beckoned to him. “I have an idea.”
****
“Where’s the camera?” Vittorio had put the last of the bags in the car.
“I have it. I want to take a few more pictures of this lovely place.” Kitty asked the owner, a stern old man, to take a photo of the two of them on the porch. They stood arm in arm, Kitty slender and fair, Vittorio handsome and muscular, both smiling like children.
He handed them the camera. “I hope you young people know what you’re doing,” he volunteered, wagging his finger. “You’re too young to marry. I hope you two didn’t just rush into this.”
The two burst out laughing. “No,” they said simultaneously, and raced to their car.
From the window at Ottavia’s house, Dermot saw them drive up. “They’re here, Aunt Ottavia.” He and Doughboy, barking and jumping, were already out the door. The three of them hugged as the dog leaped on each in turn.
Ottavia waited at the door, her arms out. “I don’t have to ask if you had a wonderful time,” she said, beaming. “I just have to look at your faces.”
After dinner, they squeezed Dermot and the dog into the car and headed for home. Dermot was intensely curious about the box with the blue ribbon on it, but they made him wait until they had unpacked the car. He tore off the ribbons and paper and lifted the sculpture from the box. “Oh, I like this.” He held it aloft as he carried it to the table, then stood back to admire it. “One, two, three,” he pointed to each in turn. “Just like the three of us.”
Kitty checked her watch. “You’d better get to bed,” she said. “We have to be back at the restaurant tomorrow.”
He yawned as if in agreement. “Come on, Doughboy.” The dog jumped up and followed him up the stairs.
Kitty and Vittorio sat on the sofa, holding hands and talking over the evening. “I think we’d better get to bed as well,” she said. Vittorio headed up the stairs with the suitcases but stopped at the top. He pointed to the master bedroom which she had shared with Charles. “In here?”
Kitty shook her head and led him to the large guest room. He immediately noticed the elaborately carved bed. He ran his hand over it. “This is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse and moving toward him. “It’s a bed for lovers.”
****
Vittorio let himself into the restaurant late, the snow swirling around the streets like white twisters. “It’s me,” he called, warming his hands.
“Come find me.”
Grinning, he took off his coat and flung it over a chair. When they were alone in the restaurant, they played their own version of hide-and-seek. He walked to the kitchen and looked in the usual places. As he turned to look beside the stove, he heard her scamper out toward the coat room.
“I’m going to find you.” He approached the room when he heard a thump. Swinging open the door, he found Kitty dazed, sitting on the floor. He rushed to help her up. “What happened?”
“I’m all right,” she said as he helped her to a chair. “Just feeling a little dizzy and nauseous.” As she sat there sipping water, her color returned, but Vittorio hadn’t moved.
“You look stricken,” she said.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Not one hundred percent, but ninety-nine.”
“I want you to see the doctor tomorrow.”
“I already have an appointment.”
“You didn’t tell me. What’s wrong?”
She raised her hand to his cheek. “Dear Vittorio, I’m not positive, that’s why I have an appointment, but I am ninety-nine percent sure that I’m going to have a baby.”
His face lit up. “A baby!”
“I wanted to be sure before I told you, but you look so worried.”
“I won’t say anything till we know for sure.” He gazed at her, his face excited as a little boy’s. “A baby!”
He sat in the waiting room until Kitty emerged from the doctor’s office. He saw the happiness on her face and knew immediately.
“A baby!” he said, this time with certainty.
“Yes, a baby, in June.”
He took her in his arms. “Life could not be better to us.”
Vittorio came home one night, flushed with excitement, waving a roll of paper.
In the kitchen, Kitty stopped peeling apples. “What is it?”
He kissed her, then swept aside the bowl of apples and spread out the sheet before her.
“This”—he pointed to the blueprint—“will be our new house.”
She looked at him open-mouthed.
“I don’t like living in another man’s house. Together, we can have a house of our own, just as lovely, with a special room for our baby.” After his initial enthusiasm, he looked at her uncertainly. “Have I made a mistake to believe you feel the same way?”
She jumped up and flung her arms around him. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. The new house will belong only to us.”
They pored over the plans, Kitty asking questions and making suggestions.
“I’m so excited. Where will it be built?”
“I have a site in mind. If you feel up to it, we can see it right now.”
The land was a little out of the city, on a wide, tree-lined street. “Our very own,” she said. “This is lovely.”
Through April and May, she rode out to the site to watch the progress of the construction. She loved to walk through the wooden frame with Vittorio, imagining the baby’s room, Dermot’s room, and especially their very own master bedroom. It was wonderful, but by June, she couldn’t go anywhere. She spent her time reading and sewing, thinking about the turns their lives had taken and awaiting with awe this child that was part her, part Vittorio. He had a phone installed, called her every day, and rushed home in the early evening, worried that this might be the day she went into labor.
Kitty felt the first twinges of labor right after she had talked with Vittorio and assured him that nothing was happening. What began as twinges far apart gradually became stronger and closer together.
“He’ll come home soon,” she assured herself at five thirty, fifteen minutes later than his usual arrival. At five forty-five, she was frantic, but there was no answer on the phone.
She sent Dermot for a pile of towels to cover the chair in the foyer, then asked him to help her there. He opened the front door, then held her hand, frightened for her.
Finally they heard the car pull up. Dermot waved him in. Red-faced, Vittorio rushed in and half-carried her to the car.
“An accident on the way home. I’m so sorry.”
“Just get me to the hospital,” she panted, her hair wet with sweat.
In a panic, he swore at other drivers traveling too slowly as he swerved in and out of traffic.
“Please hurry.” With every plea, he pressed his foot down heavier on the gas. They arrived at the hospital, both of them shaken, leaving Dermot to get her suitcase. Dermot kept Vittorio company as he paced the waiting room. Two hours later, after he had inquired about his wife from every nurse who passed, a nurse emerged and beckoned the two inside. Vittorio rushed in, Dermot at his heels, to Kitty’s room, looking tired but glowing.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said softly.
Vittorio looked at the bundle nearest him, a sleeping infant wrapped in a white blanket.
“What did we have?”
“This is our little girl,” Kitty said, smiling.
He bent over to hold a tiny hand with his finger, enthralled at this new being.
“Vittorio, look,” Dermot pointed to another small bundle on the far side of the bed, half hidden by Kitty.
“What?” A puzzled expression on his face, he leaned over to get a look.
“What…what is this?”
Kitty shifted toward the bundle, a sweet smile on her face. “This is our little boy.”
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe it. Two babies? This is too good to be true.”
As if in greeting, the little boy began to stir and cry, and was soon joined by his sister.
Vittorio looked down at Kitty. “My wife. You are an angel that has lit up my life. Looking back, I realize that sadness is preparation for sweetness.” He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I have you, and now I have a son and daughter, too.”
Chapter 45
“I hear the front door. It must be Daddy.” Kitty sat on the sofa, the twins on either side, reading a picture book to them when she heard Vittorio wipe his feet on the mat in the entrance hall. Three-year-old William, whom they called Liam, was constantly active and now slid off the sofa and ran to greet his father.
Little Ottavia snuggled closer to her mother. “Finish the story for me first, Mama.” But when Vittorio appeared in the living room holding Liam in his arms, she scampered off the sofa and ran to her father. He freed one arm and swept her up as well. “How are Daddy’s boy and girl?”
“Good,” they squealed, and after hugs and tickles, he put them down.
“Finish the story now, Mama,” they begged.
“Not until I kiss your Mama hello.” Vittorio bent down and lifted Kitty off the sofa, the book falling to the floor and the comb falling from her hair.
“Now look what you’ve done.” She gave him a playful slap. “My hair is undone.”
“My favorite way you wear it. You get another kiss for that.”
Smiling, she lifted her face to him. He looked drawn and tired, as he had been lately, even more so tonight.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, “just a little tired.”
“Are you sure nothing more is bothering you?”
“I’m hungry,” he said to end the conversation. “What’s for dinner?” He rubbed his back as he walked upstairs to wash.
“Brasciole. Like your mother makes it.”
He stopped midway up the stairs. “You’re a good cook, but nobody can make brasciole like my mother.”
“You said the right thing.” Ottavia had just entered the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. “You get a kiss from your mother for that.” She held out her hands, and Vittorio, trying unsuccessfully to hide a limp, walked over and gave her a hug. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Antonia and Tomasso are away for a week, and Kitty asked me to stay.” She stepped back from her son and eyed him critically. “You walk with difficulty, and you look so tired.”
“First Kitty, now you, Mama. This is a conspiracy. I’m ready for your brasciole.”
Kitty and Ottavia exchanged glances as Vittorio, with none of his usual vigor, labored up the stairs.
Dermot appeared in the living room, and the children ran to him. “Play with us, Uncle Dermot. Please.” They grabbed onto his legs and hugged him, and Dermot immediately sat on the floor with them. He adored the children, as they did him, and they spent hours together at play.
Dermot continued to work at the restaurant, though Kitty did not. She had hired an excellent manager, and together with Dermot they kept things running smoothly. He was off that evening so they could eat a family dinner together.
“Dermot, I’m so grateful to have you keep the twins occupied while I get dinner on the table,” she said. Between his responsibilities at Eclipse and helping with his beloved niece and nephew, Dermot felt responsible and mature, as happy as he had ever been.
“This is perfect,” Ottavia said as she looked around the table at her beloved family. She loved Kitty as much as her son, for the happiness she brought him, for sweet Dermot, and for her grandchildren. “My little Liam and Ottavia. You are the best grandchildren anyone could have.”
“In the whole world, Grandma?” little Ottavia asked, and was quickly mimicked by Liam.
“In the whole world.”
Whenever her family was around her now, she drank in every moment of it. These times were all the sweeter because, as the doctor had told her, her time was limited.
When Kitty had the children ready for bed, they called for their father to come upstairs and kiss them.
“Uncle Dermot will come up tonight,” he said. “Daddy’s very tired.”
The adults sat around afterward, drinking coffee. “You haven’t been looking well lately,” Kitty said, “and you’re so tired.”
“I noticed it, too,” his mother said. “I think you should see a doctor.”
“You might as well know. I saw a doctor just yesterday.”
The two women leaned forward.
“I’ve had some pain in my back and legs.” Seeing the women’s anxious looks, he raised his hand to reassure them. “I’m all right. It’s work fatigue, and I should rest, but how can I? The business is having the best year ever.”
“What you need is a vacation,” Kitty said.
“But the business…”
“Paolo can handle things, I’m sure.”
“And I’ll take the children,” Ottavia volunteered.
Kitty’s eyes lit. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we all go? The whole family. We can go to Italy.”
Vittorio smiled at the thought.
“And you can meet your father.”
Vittorio’s smile evaporated. “I hate my father!”
“No, Vittorio, don’t say that.” Ottavia half rose from her chair, her face contorted. “He is a good man.”
“He abandoned us!”
“He didn’t know. I should have told him, but I didn’t want to take him from the priesthood. He would have left, I know. He would have married me.”
“Mama, how can you defend him?”
“Please Vittorio, there has been enough pain,” Kitty said.
“Yes, because of him. And you still love him, Mama.”
“Yes, I do…” Ottavia’s voice was almost a whisper. “Because I have known him. You have never known his kindness, his gentleness. The only time you were together, he saved your life, yet you hate him.”
Vittorio said no more. Kitty put her hand on his. “I suggested this trip to help you rest, but I also hope it will put to rest the feelings that torment you. You are a loving man, good to everyone. You should be at peace with your father.”
“Listen to Kitty,” Ottavia said. “She speaks the truth.”
Vittorio swirled his cup around in its saucer, staring intently at the table. “All right, I’ll do what you want, but I want all of us to come. You too, Mama.”
Ottavia sighed. “You’ve made me very happy. Go, make your plans. I’ll go with you, even if only in spirit.”
“What kind of talk is that, Mama? We will all go.”
Just two weeks later, Vittorio got the word at work. Dermot came to tell him that his mother was very sick. He left work and sped to her house. Kitty opened the door.
“The doctor is with her now,” she whispered. “The twins and Dermot and I were visiting when she had some kind of attack. We called the doctor right away.”
He knew from the redness around Kitty’s eyes that she had been crying.
He suddenly felt helpless to aid his suffering mother, who had done so much for him over the years. “What can I do?”
“The doctor will be out soon. In the meantime, we can pray.”
When the doctor joined them, his face was grim.
“How is she?” Vittorio asked, already knowing.
The doctor shook his head. “She has a heart condition, which she didn’t want anyone to know about. She has just had a massive heart attack.”
Kitty put her arm around Vittorio.
“I’m sorry. She is in and out of sleep. Stay with her. It won’t be long now.”
The two slipped into the bedroom. He sat by his mother’s side, his hand on hers. Kitty sat next to him, and together they kept their vigil. Late in the afternoon, Ottavia awoke, smiled, and tried to speak.
“Mama. rest yourself,” he said.
“No, I have to speak.” They leaned close to listen.
“You and my grandchildren have made me very happy. I have had a good life. Vittorio, when you see your father, tell him I always loved him. Now say the Pater Noster for me.”
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…” they prayed.
“Pater Noster, qui es in coelis, sanctificatur nomen tuum…” She was among green hills and olive trees and soft bowers. She was in Argiano, the fields more beautiful than she remembered…
He leaned close to hear her breathing. There was none.
Kitty held Vittorio tightly and said through her tears, “She simply went to sleep.”
Chapter 46
Kitty and Dermot each held little Ottavia’s hand while Vittorio walked behind with Liam. “What crowds,” he said as they made their way through the airline terminal in Rome. “It was a long flight, but nothing compared to two weeks on board ship. I was only seven, but I still remember it. At the time, it was a great adventure, but I never want to travel that way again.”
They made their way through customs and found a taxi to take them to their hotel on the outskirts of Rome, overlooking the Borghese Gardens. The first few days were spent walking the cobblestone streets of the city, having their picture taken on the Spanish Steps, eating their fill of pastry in little shops, visiting St. Peter’s Basilica, staring in wonder at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
Choices of the Heart Page 31