“Heavenly Father, we all need some miracles here.”
****
When next they met, the atmosphere was so uncomfortable that Giovanni could feel it even when he walked away from the others. He checked with the bus driver then returned to Leo’s side. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. They’ll let us on in about five.”
Leo nodded.
Casey crossed her arms and hugged herself, looking across the street.
Amalie stared at the ground, then at the back of the bus, then at the sky.
Giovanni scratched his ear. “So, Amalie, why don’t you tell us about these catacombs we’re visiting?”
Her gaze jerked to his face. “Don’t you know anything about them?”
With great effort, he kept his sigh inside. “You’re the one who’s been researching the place. I thought you’d have more details.”
Leo snorted. “Current details?”
Giovanni gave him a glare, and Leo subsided.
“It’s three layers of building.” Amalie tucked a strand of hair under her hat—orange sherbet colored, this time. “I mean, each time they built, it was on top of the last structure. Goes as far back as the third century. Building codes have really changed.”
Either she didn’t remember the original building materials, or she didn’t want to bring it up yet. Giovanni let it go. Forcing people to talk was more an inquisitorial style, not Giovanni’s.
Later, as they wandered through the catacombs, following the solemn tour guide, Giovanni watched Amalie. She’d given him a tremulous smile when they’d first met up, but everyone had been too intent on ignoring the awkward atmosphere to give him a chance to reassure her. And maybe that was best. At least she’d started to act a bit more natural when he touched her, however briefly, or brushed her shoulder with his hand.
Even Leo managed to shed his stiffness and wander through the area, his hands in his pockets. Casey seemed determined to put both Amalie and Giovanni between her and Leo, but Amalie seemed just as determined to thwart her cousin.
It was like living in an old-time movie.
And when Amalie finally decided to air her research, she gave everyone an excuse to act as if nothing were wrong.
Giovanni was a firm believer in acting as if. If only Amalie didn’t suddenly sound as if she’d turned on a spigot, and let out a torrent of words.
“I’m really looking forward to the new museum. We get there at the end of this tour. Tiny little place, but they’ve got the portrait of Saint Francis in Meditation. Carvaggio painted it. And now that we’ve got a Pope who took the name of Saint Francis, it’s terribly relevant.”
Casey glanced at her and nodded wanly.
Amalie poked her cousin as though she could get more of a reaction if she prodded for it. “You’ll see he’s got his book propped on a skull. That’s awfully relevant, too. Because all the small chapels are made up of Capuchin monks’ bones. And—”
“Are you kidding me?” Casey stopped walking, and Leo nearly ran into her. He braced himself just in time but didn’t back away. His cousin took a deep breath. Taking in Casey’s scent.
Giovanni hid a grin. At least he hadn’t reached that stage of infatuation yet. Did Amalie have a signature perfume or did she like changing up her scent each day? Or did she just stick to frothy frou-frou bath soaps?
Yeah, right, you’re not so far gone.
“No, I’m not kidding. You’ll see.” Amalie gripped Casey’s arm. “Case, they’ve been dead hundreds of years. It was done out of respect, to show how fleeting life is, not anything gruesome.”
“I’m not so sure I can appreciate all your research.”
They passed through to the crypt.
Giovanni agreed with Casey. The bones could be eerie, and Amalie’s enthusiasm seemed a bit out of place. But a glance at Amalie’s face had him hiding yet another smile. She obviously didn’t like the bones much better than Casey did. She listened to the heavily accented lecture the tour guide gave, but she shuddered when the man mentioned the three hundred cartloads of bones the monks had brought from their former home.
And all four of them were relieved when that part of the tour ended, and they moved on to the less popular but more bearable wall paintings.
“Italians sure like covering every bit of plaster with art, don’t they?” Amalie asked, her voice pitched low.
“We do.” Giovanni took the chance of reaching out for her hand as they crossed a raggedly paved floor. She let him give her balance then pretended she needed to grip her purse strap. He hoped Casey hadn’t been watching. It wouldn’t fool a child, the way she jerked away from him. And here he thought she liked him. At least a little. He wasn’t giving up now. Not when he’d convinced Leo to play along. Not when he’d convinced Amalie how much she needed to play along. Not when he’d finally admitted how far gone he really was.
Because he’d caught a whiff of her scent when he’d touched her, and that fragrance smelled as familiar as her voice sounded, as if he’d known her as long as the catacombs had been standing. Knew her as permanently.
Sunlight beckoned through one of Italy’s innumerable gates, and all four of them sped up to let it welcome them into daylight.
“I don’t much want to go back there,” Casey said.
Leo opened his mouth, caught Casey’s glare, and shut it.
“We’re not,” Amalie assured her.
“Because that was grisly.”
“I told you—” Amalie began, but Casey turned away.
“You keep telling me all these things about the church in Italy, and about Vatican City. And most of them are just—” Casey’s shudder took a long time to go through her whole body.
Leo twitched as he started to reach for Casey’s hand, and then he pulled back.
Now might be a good time for Leo not to restrain himself. Casey sure needed comforting. He gestured to Leo to go ahead, but his cousin just stared at him and then turned away.
“Tell me one thing,” Casey demanded. “One thing that doesn’t have to do with martyrs or saints or weird ancient practices. One thing from your research.”
“OK, I will.” Amalie stopped walking, her expression one of great concentration. Then she grinned. “Did you know the Swiss Guard only serves in Vatican City, nowhere else? Nothing scary about that, is there?”
“No.”
“And the uniform we see is their dress uniform. They wear very traditional weapons as well. Halberds and things like that.”
Casey yawned.
“Is that scary?” Amalie demanded.
Both Leo and Giovanni roared with laughter.
“Not hardly,” Casey muttered.
With her chin raised, and a jaunty swing to her steps, Amalie continued walking to the next stop of their tour.
Casey caught up with her. “Nothing exciting, either.”
Amalie smirked. “You didn’t ask for exciting, Case. In fact, you kind of insisted I leave that part out.”
After a minute, both cousins were laughing, then all four of them.
Giovanni shot Leo a glance, trying not to make it obvious. Good thing the guy was lightening up. That scowl could scare off the most dedicated woman.
Good of Amalie to distract both Casey and Leo long enough to erase it from Leo’s face.
This matchmaking gig was a lot harder than Giovanni had expected. On impulse, his fingers found Amalie’s, and he felt the coolness of the catacombs they’d just left, lingering on her skin. “Luce mia,” he murmured and felt Leo turn to stare at him.
“What’s that mean?” Casey asked.
Rather than answer, Giovanni grinned and shook his head.
Leo shot him another astounded look.
Still, Giovanni didn’t take his gaze off the sweet blush that covered Amalie’s cheeks. Yes, what he’d said—my light—was true. That blush told him so. And the light in her eyes was one of the first things he’d noticed about her. It still caught his attention every time he thought of her. It lit up her face a
nd brought a sweetness to her eyes that he wanted to keep for himself. Wanted to protect.
Amalie wrinkled her nose. “It means—uh—something’s locked?”
“No, of course not. It means…” He shared a look with Leo, which Casey interrupted.
“It means your fingers are cold.” Casey giggled.
“They are. But it’s nice and warm out here.”
“It’s only psychologically cold inside.” Leo gestured at the exit then edged closer to Casey.
“Mia means ‘my,’ right? Or ‘mine?’ So something that belongs to you?” Casey looked at Leo for an answer, blinked hard, and looked away.
Well, if that didn’t answer Leo’s worry that she didn’t care any longer, Giovanni saw it for what it was. She wanted to be friends with him again, she wanted to share the intimacy their fight had ruptured. She just didn’t know how to tell Leo. Or she did and wasn’t sure enough of Leo to take the risk.
Not that Giovanni wanted to spend much time thinking about his cousin. He nodded, and leaned closer to Amalie.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Some sort of secret code? Or—I don’t know. I’m your partner?”
He stared down into her eyes, nearly forgetting her question as he floated in the intensity he saw. “Mmm, no. Yes. Partners in romance. Matchmakers, that’s us.”
Her head tipped as she looked to her cousin. “We’ve got a ways to go.”
“Yeah, but that’s OK. We’ve still got a week and a half, right?”
A group that had stayed far longer among the bones than they had burst into the museum, and one of the boys made kissing sounds as he passed them. Amalie jerked her hand out of Giovanni’s.
Obviously rattled, she said, “Giovanni’s a really good sport, you guys. When you ditched us, he stuck with me and showed me around and everything.”
“Of course he is. He’s a great guy.” Casey tipped her head toward him, with enough feeling that Giovanni took a step back. When he looked up, Amalie was staring at him, a frown between her eyes. Now what had he done?
Then she smiled, a brilliant flash of joy, and grabbed both Leo’s and Casey’s arms. “Let’s get out of the third century and go up a level or two. I think you’ll like that a whole lot better.”
Trailing behind, listening to her chivvy both their cousins into interacting with each other, Giovanni reflected that his agenda was a lot different than hers. And he hadn’t made much progress. Not yet, anyway.
No wonder she thought he was a good sport.
7
What had been going on? Amalie resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at Giovanni—resisted at least two times out of every three—and went on prattling about San Clemente and the Swiss Guard and who-knew-what. She wasn’t sure what she said. But Giovanni’s bulk behind her, along with Leo and Casey’s silence, unnerved her so much that her research ran away with her mouth.
You’re not here to find another romance. You’re here to find out what God wants to do with you. And what He wants probably has a lot more to do with those in need than your silly, faltering love life.
Besides, every time she tried to concentrate on deciding if God’s will included Giovanni, a picture of Alex rose in her mind. That had to be God’s way of warning her off, didn’t it?
A tiny voice asked, what if God wants you to fall in love again? But she shushed it with so much fervor that her brain veered off into looking for some scrap of needy humanity. There had to be somebody in Rome who needed a person who wanted to be kind. Didn’t there?
She looked around. Nope. Not here, anyway, not wedged in with the tourists who all obviously had plenty of money.
And Amalie had never been good at searching people out, anyway. Half the time, her offers to help ended up offending someone. The other half—well, the other half, she managed to scare herself silly, coming up with a dozen possible scenarios that would likely follow her good deed, all of which ended with her cowering away from a multitude of conjectured evil people.
Casey, nearly trotting to keep up, gasped. “Amalie, please! Do we have to run?”
“Oh. Sorry.” Amalie let both Leo and Casey slip ahead of her.
Casey gave Amalie a reproachful glare, but Leo sidled up next to her, and she got so involved in not reacting to him, Casey forgot to be irritated with Amalie.
Giovanni took advantage of Amalie’s sudden isolation. She shook her head as he focused on her, smiling, looking as self-satisfied as a raccoon with a stolen cube of sugar. She stepped back and nearly toppled off the edge of the uneven pavement.
If only she could melt away as quickly as said sugar when the raccoon washed it.
How on earth would she figure out what God wanted her to do about the guy when the guy didn’t know enough to leave her alone to do her figuring?
Not that she’d spent much time figuring. She nearly bit her tongue, trying to grind her teeth. Why couldn’t she concentrate on listening to God?
Giovanni reached out, and his hand trailed along her sleeve.
He was probably just in the relationship for the length of his vacation. He kept mentioning how much time they had left in Vatican City. To him, it would mark the end of the story, and she’d be stuck wondering where the rest of the chapters went.
It didn’t matter that his fingers brought ripples of excitement when they brushed her arm or the sound of his voice made her heart do a happy dance. She didn’t even want to consider what the feel of his fingers intertwined with hers did to her heart. It didn’t matter that she’d give everything—almost everything—to fall in love with him.
He probably wasn’t interested, and she couldn’t set herself up for another heartbreak.
Better go back to trying to serve those not-so-needy people who didn’t want her, either.
****
The next morning, they gathered again in the hotel lobby to examine their tickets and plan the day. At least both Casey and Leo had given in to Amalie’s and Giovanni’s assumption that the vacation would continue as planned. Giovanni looked from his cousin to Amalie’s, trying to gauge their emotional temp, but gave up after a few minutes. If she needed to, Amalie would tell him.
Instead, Amalie pasted what looked like a horrendously fake smile on her face. “I’d love to see inside the library.”
“Can’t,” Giovanni pointed out. “It’s only open to researchers.”
With her hands on her hips, she frowned. “What do you think I am? Haven’t I proved how much research I’ve done on Vatican City and on Rome?”
“I think he means serious, scholarly—um—clerical students and researchers.” Leo rubbed the back of his neck as Amalie turned toward him.
“She’s teasing you.” Casey patted Leo’s shoulder then jerked her hand back, muttering, “She knows she can’t get in.” Casey wiped her hand on her skirt, as if touching Leo had left a smear of dirt she wanted to erase.
Giovanni nearly laughed. But one should not make light of a floundering romance. He glanced at Amalie. Or at a fledgling one, either.
“Anyway, we set this afternoon aside for shopping and relaxing.”
“Oh, that’s a really good idea. I know a great place that has the best pasta—”
Amalie tipped her head. “Leo, don’t you think we’ve had enough food?”
Leo blinked. Like most of his family, he’d never considered that to be a concept, but Giovanni didn’t have the energy to explain that to both sides.
“Shopping first,” he said, taking pity instead. “And then we can decide if we’re hungry.”
So close to Vatican City, they decided to start their quest for souvenirs in the Vatican Museum shops.
Giovanni wasn’t especially on the lookout to buy anything, and that gave him much more time to study Amalie as she wandered the aisles. Her rapt attention to books, art reproductions, and the myriad other items, entranced him. He delighted to see how anything graced with the face or words of the current Pope got her attention every time. Given the man’s popularity, though, Giov
anni wasn’t surprised. He leaned against a counter and concentrated on the way Amalie’s eyes lit up as she examined a handful of items and made her choices.
“I’d like to find something that isn’t holy,” Casey said, as she left the shop empty-handed.
“Why?” Leo cupped a hand under her elbow and led her past a group of loudly arguing tourists.
Casey waved her hand. “It’s all relics. Sacred stuff. Copies of relics and sacred stuff. Church stuff. It’s important. I get that, but it’s not everything in the world.”
“Places at home just sell what pertains to them, don’t they? Come on. You wouldn’t expect dinosaurs at an art museum, would you?” Amalie clutched a straw bag into which she’d stuffed her souvenirs, none of which, Giovanni had carefully noted, included any type of bone.
“If some artist suddenly made dinosaurs in oil popular, I would. Still,” she said, as if that were enough of a reason.
Leo grinned at her astonishment. “Cara, listen. Not everything that’s on exhibition is a holy relic.”
Casey reacted to his endearment by going bright red and turning away.
Leo seemed to fold into himself.
For the first time, Giovanni wanted to shake the woman. How dare she treat his cousin that way?
After a moment, Casey straightened her shoulders. “Could have fooled me.” She glanced around at the displays they could see from outside the shop. “OK, tell me one thing in there that’s not somehow related to the church.”
“I didn’t say that. I just mean, the world of Vatican City is not all religious paintings, or artifacts from worship services. Some things would be considered quite ordinary outside the Vatican.”
Slapping Leo on the shoulder, Giovanni stepped past him, letting the other man get closer to Casey. If they could move beyond the awkward moment and talk as friends, maybe they could eventually find their old feelings for each other.
Casey, with raised eyebrows, asked Leo to go on.
He shook his head. “I dare you to find something on your own.”
“Give me a hint?” She grabbed his arm and batted her eyelashes at him.
Hearts at the Holy See Page 6