by Susan Wiggs
Alex smiled at her from the bed. He was sitting up, wearing a pajama top printed, disconcertingly, with the Playboy bunny symbol. Furnished, he claimed, by his father. A singed right eyebrow gave him a perpetually quizzical look.
“When that tree fell on the shed on our property and took out a power line, they had to tow my mother’s old car—the blue Ford that had been parked there forever.” His voice was raspy and whisper-soft from a throat damaged by the breathing tube. “Your friend Sean Costello noticed something about the car.”
He handed her a glossy photograph of a right front fender with a long yellow scratch. “Sheriff Costello has a good memory. He was a rookie deputy the night your father was hit, but he remembered Pete rode a yellow bicycle. The tire treads match the marks, too.” He indicated a manila file folder. “Costello expects everything to be verified by the state crime lab, but it’s not a priority case since it...since she...”
Finally, with a queasy sense of certainty, Rosa understood. “Oh, no. Sean thinks...?” She couldn’t even finish the thought.
“It was a hunch. He paid a visit to my mother in Providence. She claimed she didn’t know a thing. Then the next day, she took her own life.”
“Oh, Alex. Oh, my God.” Rosa sank down on the swivel chair beside the hospital bed. She shut her eyes as anguish welled up. Mrs. Montgomery had been drinking that night; Pop had been trying to help her. She must have followed him, though Rosa could not fathom why. She was hysterical, her father had said. Who knew what she was thinking? She’d hit him by accident, surely. Rosa couldn’t help but wonder what Mrs. Montgomery had been feeling that night, knowing she was responsible for such a terrible thing. What was it like, Rosa wondered, to live with that kind of guilt for so many years?
Judging by the way Emily Montgomery had ended her life, it had been torture. “Alex,” she said, “I had no idea.”
“No one did. That was what she wanted. Appearances at any cost. Even if it meant living in hell for the rest of her life.”
Rosa let out a soft gasp. “You can’t let yourself be angry at her anymore, Alex. Everything she did was out of love for you. She made terrible choices, but she had the best of intentions.”
“She ruined your father’s life and destroyed herself, and you want me to forgive that?”
He was trying to put her off with his fury; Rosa could see that now. Along with the flash of rage in his eyes, she saw a glint of tears. That’s good, she thought. Finally.
With slow deliberation, she took his hand between hers. “Yes,” she said, “I do.”
* * *
Alex felt her sympathy like blows from a hammer, and the pain took him by surprise. He wrenched his hand away, unable to bear her touch. Still, her words, uttered with calm deliberation, cracked straight through to his heart, and his grief burst wide-open. For the first time since that blood-freezing early-morning phone call at the beginning of the summer, Alex came apart. All the rage and devastation inside him welled up and erupted, and his body convulsed with shuddering sobs.
His mother was gone. She’d driven him crazy all his life, and the way she had died would torture him forever. He shook with a violent, angry grief, the harsh sobs clawing at his throat. He wept for his mother and all the ways he’d failed her. He wept for the happiness that had slipped through her fingers, and he wept because he’d never been able to change that.
He had the presence of mind to turn away. “Shit,” he said when he could finally talk. “I didn’t mean to do that. God, that’s embarrassing.”
Rosa sat quietly by, waiting. She didn’t reach out to him, but she didn’t leave either. “Are you all right?”
He used the bedsheet to wipe his face. “That’s the first time I’ve cried for my mother,” he said. “It’s the only time.”
“You should have done that long ago.” She seemed completely unperturbed by his breakdown.
Alex lay back against the pillow. His head throbbed. He felt drained and exhausted, but for the first time since his mother’s death, he felt a certain quiet in his heart.
“I’m so, so sorry.” She put her hand over his again, and this time he didn’t take it away.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too. I need to talk to your father. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, though.” His mother had left him and his father to deal with the broken pieces she had left behind. He had no idea how to begin doing that.
Knowing the true nature of the issue between his mother and her father hadn’t put his guilt at ease. He felt weak and shaken as he put away the photographs and paperwork. “I need to tell your father I’m sorry. God, that’s so inadequate. I was there that night. I heard them, and I thought the worst. Then I turned around and took off. If I’d stuck around, they never would have—”
“Don’t, Alex. It’s over. It’s in the past and we can’t change it.”
He brought her hand up and pressed it briefly, fiercely, against his lips. “Then let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about the future.”
She tried to pull her hand away. “Not now,” she said. “You need to get better. Alex—”
He kept hold of her hand. He had broken down and cried in front of her, and she had watched him with a sense of awe. And in that moment, he could see everything in her eyes—regret and pain and hope and...love.
“Just listen, okay?” he said. “I need to ask you something.”
part six
DOLCI
Dolce is Italian for sweet, and it applies not just to music and food, but also to life itself. Just as every meal should end with something sweet, so should every life be filled with il dolce.
Torta Crema (Italian Cream Cake)
1 stick unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup shortening
2 cups sugar
5 eggs, separated
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon soda
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup flaked coconut
1 cup chopped pecans
Cream the butter and shortening, add the sugar and beat some more. Add egg yolks and beat. Mix flour and baking soda, and add alternately with buttermilk. Stir in vanilla, coconut and pecans. Fold in stiffly beaten egg whites. Pour batter into three well-greased round cake pans or a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan. Bake at 350°F for 40 to 45 minutes, until a stick of dry spaghetti inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool before frosting.
Cream Cheese Icing
1 package cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup pure unsalted butter, softened
1 box powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
Chopped pecans and coconut
Beat cream cheese until smooth. Add butter and sugar, then stir in vanilla and beat until smooth. Frost cooled cake in pan or in layers. Top with chopped pecans and coconut. Serve with good strong coffee, or espresso if you have the equipment.
forty-three
The groom was going to faint; Rosa was sure of it. As she gazed into his endearingly nervous face, she saw that he was sweating a little, and his eyes darted with barely suppressed trepidation. She could tell he wanted to get this right.
She knew he was wondering—Should I smile as I say my vows? Say something original, or is that too hokey?
Go for it, she wanted to urge him. Don’t be afraid. Nothing’s too hokey when it’s true love.
Rosa held her breath while he struggled with a moment of panic. His hand shook a little as he took the ring from the satin pillow.
Silly man, thought Rosa. He had no reason to be nervous. Didn’t he know their love would last forever and a day?
She sneaked a glance around, even though she was supposed to be paying attention. There was nothing, she thought, quite like the feeling of being with everyone you love on the most perfect day tha
t had ever dawned. Rob and Gloria were present, both resplendent in full dress uniform. Pop and Joey stood between them, beaming at her and then at Alex. Sal was officiating, his deep voice reverberating through the church.
Come on, she thought, her heart pounding with anticipation. Go for it. Just say the words. Just say it. I do.
Such a simple phrase, but so filled with mystery and magic, faith and uncertainty. For a second, a heartbeat, she was terrified that he’d chicken out. Then she saw his mouth form the words. I do. He spoke with all the depth of love she could see in his eyes. Wedding guests shifted in their chairs to look on fondly.
Beside Rosa, the bride’s sister let out a loud sob.
“Rachel, for Pete’s sake,” Rosa whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Not so loud. We want to hear them—”
“...pronounce you husband and wife,” said Sal in a triumphant voice. The music swelled and the happy couple turned to face the world as a married couple. Rosa saw the joyous love in their eyes and felt a flood of affection for them both. That and the sense that, finally, everything was as it should be.
At that point Rosa lost it, too, weeping with happiness for her best friend, Linda, and for Jason, who looked as though he’d just won the lottery. She mustered her courage, if not her dignity, and handed Linda the bridal bouquet for the recessional. Then Rosa took the proffered arm of Jason’s brother to follow them down the aisle while the music swelled romantically. As she walked past Alex, she knew her whole heart was in her eyes.
Two weeks after the fire, he looked wonderful, the cut on his cheek nearly healed and his right eyebrow growing in nicely. She still couldn’t believe what he’d asked her, right there in the hospital, only a day after he’d been brought back from the dead, literally. He’d asked her if her father’s home had been insured, and when she told him it wasn’t, he’d made an incredibly generous offer. He wanted Pop to live in the rebuilt quarters on his property.
“Isn’t that a little ghoulish?” Rob had asked. “After all, it’s where she left the car she was driving the night she creamed him.”
Sal had a different take on it. He had listened to the story from Rosa, from Pop and even from Alex. “Let Pop decide,” he’d said. “They’ve both got some mending to do.”
Under the August sun, there was a glorious shower of bird seed, a lengthy pause for photos, then a limousine cavalcade to the reception. After the short ride, Rosa stepped out of the limo and felt a thrill of anticipation. The deck of Celesta’s-by-the-Sea was festooned with white net bunting and satin ribbons. The weathered sign by the entrance had a special notice: Closed For Private Event.
“This is our first, you know,” she said to Alex. “Our first wedding reception.”
“It’s going to be perfect,” Vince said with confidence. “The ‘Best Place to Propose’ is good for other things, too.”
She felt Alex looking at her, and when she saw the pride in his eyes, she nearly wept again with happiness. This, she thought as she took his hand and led the way inside, this was what she’d been missing all her life. She used to believe she had it all, but that was just a smokescreen. She needed more. Deserved more.
She stopped in the foyer of the restaurant, which had been decorated with swags of white silk roses. The portrait of her mother by the podium had its own little garland over the top of the frame. Hi, Mamma, she thought. It’s a new day.
Rosa turned to Alex. “I love you,” she said. “You know that, right?”
“Yes,” he said, “absolutely. And, Rosa—”
“There you are,” said Leo, emerging from the kitchen, the thick doors flapping behind him. “We just ran out of polenta, and none of the table candles have been lit. Butch is fit to be tied.”
Rosa gritted her teeth in frustration, but held it in. If she freaked out, everyone would follow her lead. She let go of Alex’s hand. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Sure.”
Arriving guests soon filled the deck, the bar and the dining room, and Rosa headed for the kitchen. Tying an apron over her bridesmaid’s dress, she ordered someone to light the candles, then pitched in, finding a sack of cornmeal and setting it on to simmer herself. Within a relatively short time, things were under control, and she peeled off the apron.
The party was in full swing in the dining room, the ensemble playing, guests sitting down to a wedding feast they’d tell their grandchildren about. Rosa sat with the wedding party, but she scarcely ate as she scanned each table, making sure the salad was perfect, the entrée impeccable, the champagne flowing. People raised their glasses in toast after toast, and Linda and Jason looked ready to burst with joy.
Alex looked surprisingly at ease, seated with her father and brothers and Joey, whose hair was now back to its normal shade and length. Jake the dog slept under the table near Pop’s feet. At Linda’s insistence, Gina Colombo, Hollis Underwood and Mr. Montgomery had come to the reception. Only a few weeks ago, the combination of personalities at that table would have seemed bizarre, but now, everything was as it should be.
And then the simple truth dawned on her. She finally acknowledged that it didn’t matter who you were or where you came from. Love and respect put everyone on equal footing.
After dinner and countless toasts, couples crowded the dance floor. The best man claimed Rosa for a dance, and she was swept into the festivities. The next hour was filled with laughter and dancing, with greeting people and making introductions. She caught a glimpse of Alex a time or two, but never quite managed to connect with him. Every time they started across the room toward each other, one of them would be waylaid en route. Finally, after another hour had passed, she felt a pair of strong, familiar arms around her.
“I haven’t had this much trouble catching something since my father took me fly fishing in Vermont,” said Alex, smiling down at her.
“You never told me your father took you fly fishing.”
“I’ll put it on the list. May I finally have this dance?”
She laughed. “My feet are killing me.”
“I could always take you straight to bed.”
The laughter stopped, but the smile remained. “That’s tempting, but I’ll tough it out. They’re playing ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’ We can’t miss out on that.” She felt his hands skim over her bare shoulders and sighed with happiness as they moved onto the floor.
His arms tightened around her. “I feel like I need to make an appointment to talk to you.”
“What would you like to talk about?” she asked, inhaling his scent, practically floating. Her feet didn’t hurt at all anymore.
“Sweetheart, I think you know.”
She hid a smile against his chest. Please, let her instincts be right this time. She sensed her whole life had been leading up to this moment, that everything that had happened to them had brought them here, finally. “You definitely don’t need an appointment.”
The piece ended, but before they could steal away somewhere, Ariel grabbed Rosa’s arm. “It’s time,” she said, pulling her away from Alex.
“Time for what?”
Rosa didn’t hear the answer as squeals went up from the female guests. The throwing of the bride’s bouquet, of course. She aimed a helpless look over her shoulder at Alex as Ariel tugged her toward the stage. He grinned good-naturedly and stepped back to watch.
“I warn you, I have a wild pitch,” Linda was saying to the women gathered around her. Then she beamed. “I wish for every one of you what Jason and I found today.” She brought the beautiful pink and white bouquet to her face, then turned around and flung it up and over her back.
Rosa did not consider herself a superstitious person, but nothing—not one blessed thing—was going to get between her and those flowers. With a leap and a reach that nearly made her pop out of her bodice, she shot up in the air and snatched the bouquet. Amid hoots
and whistles, she waved it in triumph.
Then she waved it again in the direction of Celesta’s portrait. How am I doing now, Mamma?
Linda rushed down to give her a hug. “You did it, Rosa. Oh, I wanted it to be you. See?” she said to Vince and Teddy and anyone else who would listen. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“We all told you,” Vince added. “And we were right, weren’t we?”
“Yes,” said Rosa, holding the fragile bouquet against her heart. When she turned, she saw Alex coming toward her, weaving his way between the tables. In that moment, she didn’t see anything but him. “Yes, absolutely.”
* * * * *
Pasta with Garlic Scapes
and Fresh Tomatoes
In Italy, you can find a garden anywhere there is a patch of soil, and in many areas, the growing season is nearly year round. It’s common to find an abundant tomato vine twining up the wall near someone’s front stoop, or a collection of herbs and greens adorning a window box. Other staples of an Italian kitchen garden include aubergine, summer squash varieties and peppers of all sorts. Perhaps that’s why the best dishes are so very simple. Gather the fresh ingredients from your garden or local farmers’ market, toss everything together with some hot pasta and serve.
In the early summer and mid-autumn, look for garlic scapes, prized for their mild flavor and slight sweetness. Scapes are the willowy green stems and unopened flower buds of hardneck garlic varieties. Roasting garlic scapes with tomatoes and red onion brings out their sweet, rich flavor for a delightful summer meal.
2 swirls of olive oil
10 garlic scapes
1 pint multicolored cherry tomatoes
1 red onion, thinly sliced
Sea salt and red pepper flakes, to taste
½ lb. pasta—fettuccine, tubini or spaghetti are good choices