“Il Papa said Mass this morning,” Giovanni whispered from behind her.
His breath set off a chain reaction of shivers and tingles and images that she could do without. Another failed romance was nowhere near the list of what she wanted to take home from Italy.
Amalie shrugged, trying to ward off the feelings, and looked over her shoulder.
“I was just thinking about the Pope, wondering if I’d get to see him.” And that was another frightening thing. Giovanni echoed her feelings as if he’d read her heart. How deep could he burrow under her defenses before he quit and walked away?
He nodded toward the altar. “Do you want to stay to the end of Mass? They probably won’t let us beyond the barriers, but we can listen if we get a bit closer.”
“I’d love to.” She glanced around, but the crush of people hid her cousin and Giovanni’s from her view. “Where are Casey and Leo?”
“Don’t worry about them.” He moved closer, his body pressed against her side. “They’ll find us if they want us. Just put your phone on vibrate.” He had his in his hand, doing as he’d suggested.
“Already did.”
He smiled, a distracted look in his eyes, and then put his phone in his pocket. He looked up and tipped his head toward the altar.
Amalie turned, listening. She recognized, even in Italian, the words. Wait...no. It was the reverence—the exact place in the liturgy—that called to her, told her she was home. She put a finger to her lips and turned to Giovanni, who nodded. Other tourists, unaware or uncaring, continued their touristy revelries, but Amalie and Giovanni gave the Mass the respect it deserved.
She closed her eyes, offering her prayers for her cousin and the man Casey loved. Slowly, as if it were drawn out of her on a thin thread, the worry left her, and she nodded. God would take care of them.
On that confidence, built a need to pray for the man beside her. To pray for the man she’d marry.
Maybe they weren’t the same man. But maybe they were.
She’d always prayed for that unknown man, even when she feared she’d never find him. For the last year and a half, since Alex rejected her so thoroughly, she’d obeyed the Holy Spirit and prayed for that elusive, possibly non-existent man.
Maybe that was God’s way of telling her He had a spouse picked out for her, and she just had to be patient.
And maybe that man was—
No. She wasn’t ready for that much of a revelation. Not yet.
Besides, she needed to focus on the Mass.
Except that, now, every time she prayed for the man she hoped to marry, she’d be seeing Giovanni’s face. She sighed.
Once, just after the Consecration, Amalie felt a tug on her purse, but she put her hand to it. Under her fingers, she felt warm skin. When she looked up, Giovanni smiled down at her. Maybe he’d tried getting cozy—but during Mass? Was that any worse than thinking about him at the same time? She shook off the thought and gave her attention back to God.
Only when the service was over did they move outside.
Amalie glanced around, dazed, then up at Giovanni.
How could attending a Mass with a man feel so romantic? And they hadn’t really attended—they’d come late and barely participated. But the act of worship, shared with Giovanni—Amalie shuddered as tingles of emotion once again filled her. This wasn’t right, nor was it safe. She barely knew him. How could she trust him?
But, oh, how she wanted to.
She wouldn’t let herself. She’d go home in less than two weeks. He’d go wherever he was going. They might meet incidentally through Leo and Casey, but not for any other reason.
Two weeks weren’t long enough to get her heart broken, were they?
Now, Amalie stood outside the basilica, staring up at the edifice, awed, amazed, humbled, and grounded. The sun beat on her head, and she pulled her hat from her bag and smashed it over her hair, tucking flyaway strands under the brim. When she turned to move out of the way of several tourists, she stumbled.
Giovanni was there to catch her. Just one hand on her arm, a quick bit of pressure lifting her, keeping her on her feet.
Amalie closed her eyes.
She didn’t want a relationship.
Didn’t need one.
Couldn’t bear thinking about the inevitable breakup.
The man probably had no idea of showing any interest in her anyway.
It was only her own heart in danger. What a blessing.
Sometimes, her blessings made her cry.
And sometimes, her blessings just made her try harder. She lifted her chin, smiled at Giovanni, and followed him through the vast hall.
****
Giovanni had seen the grandeur of Vatican City often enough that it no longer stunned him, but he saw the signs of overwhelming in Amalie—glazed eyes, a sort of open-mouthed wonder that could become dull acceptance all too easily.
“You need a break.” He took her hand, just to guide her through the crowds, he told himself. She curled her fingers around his, and something warm flooded his chest. When he looked down, he found the top of her head level with his chin. “You’ve got the rest of your two weeks. It’s OK to take it slow.”
“I know.” She looked around, probably searching for Casey and Leo.
He tugged a bit harder. “They ditched us a while ago. Come on. Let’s get a snack and a fruit drink.”
“That sounds perfect.” Her eyes seemed to focus, and her face relaxed some of its tension.
After what he hoped was an unnoticeable hint of hesitation, Giovanni slipped his arm through hers, and they walked across Saint Peter’s Square and out into Rome.
All of Italy was full of majestic architecture. Having spent so much time in the city had given Giovanni an appreciation for it and had influenced his final choice of a career. He pointed to an ornate light fixture. It swirled and curled on itself and held up each tiny lantern in loving arms.
“Look at that. Can you imagine something like that on a building in Los Angeles?”
She pursed her lips to one side, looking adorably pensive. “Not on a fast food place,” she finally said.
“They have other types of buildings there.”
“I know. I’ve been there.”
The way she said it, with a sort of sidelong glance, almost flirty, ignited a glow in his heart. She knew Los Angeles. His place. She might have even seen or gone inside some of the buildings he’d contributed to. He could go on, mentally detailing all the reasons that made her perfect for him, but then he’d miss talking to her.
He’d much rather listen to her voice, memorize the way she moved, and watch her face come alive as she experienced his second home. This time he led her to a small restaurant that was as much an alley as a business. Brick walls guarded the place, and they had to wind their way through darkly stained tables planted on a dark, painted floor to the far end of the alley to get their food. Once he had the tray, he nodded to a booth tucked behind what looked like the outside of a chimney.
“This is a unique place,” she said after the first long sip of lemon froth. She licked cream foam off her upper lip and let out a contented breath as she slumped against the seat.
“It’s a bit like some of the places you see in LA.” His hands encouraged her to look around. “Very different than you’d expect in Italy, so yes, unique.”
“You know buildings.”
He nodded. “I’m an architect.”
“In L.A.?” She tipped her head. “Would I have seen one of your buildings?”
“If you’ve ever been downtown, probably. Would you remember having seen it? Probably not. Have I ever designed a whole building by myself? Not yet. But I’m planning on opening my own business, so that might change.”
“And Leo wants you to move over here and run his parents’ restaurant for him while he studies?”
He unwrapped his sandwich, slowly, giving her question a lot of thought. “He wants to study, sure, and I think he expects me to help. But to convince
his parents to let him go to university, not for me to take over at Rossetti’s. They all know I’m not moving here. Aren’t you hungry?”
She shook her head. “It seems I’ve been eating ever since we landed.”
“It’s a cultural thing, I think. And since my family is the business of feeding people, I can’t help worrying if someone doesn’t eat.”
She picked up a slice of calzone and took a small bite. “Does that make you feel better?”
“Immeasurably. So, we talked about my job. What do you do?”
“Oh, me.” She leaned her elbow on the table, her fingers toying with the edge of the plate. “I work for an adoption agency. I’m not a case worker, per se. I do a lot of the research, legal filing, and so forth. It’s not a particular passion, but it’s a good job, and I’m doing a good service.”
“What would your passion be?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I love working with children. I’ve done some training to teach, and I might go into that. But there’s a glut of teachers right now, so I’m in no hurry to change careers.”
“What age group?”
Before she could answer Leo and Casey walked up. Amalie looked up at Leo, who leaned on the table, his arms taut, his face accusing.
“Hey, you should have waited for us,” Leo said. “You’re making a bad habit of this, you know.”
Amalie blinked up at him, as innocent as a newborn owl, and the clouds dissipated. “Did we know you were coming?”
Casey snuggled in next to Amalie and nibbled a corner of the pastry. “That’s good,” she said, before she leaned away from it. “OK, let’s be real here. You spent all that time in the church, didn’t you?”
“There was a Mass,” Amalie admitted. “We stopped for a bit. Just to be respectful.” Her glance caught Giovanni’s, and he thought she blushed. Then she lifted her glass. “You should try one of these. It’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”
Casey shook her head. “It’s probably fattening.”
Amalie took another long drink, draining the glass. “It probably is. Giovanni, may I have another one? Do you mind?”
“I’ll get everything,” Leo said. “What did you want, Casey?”
“It’s too close to dinner time,” Casey said.
Amalie shrugged. “We can eat dinner whenever we want. The only schedule we have is our tickets, and we know someone who can get us more if we miss something.” Her smile towards Leo sent more of the warm, gooey glow through Giovanni, and this time, a protective urge came with it. Whether he wanted to protect her from falling for Leo—even though, rationally, he knew that wasn’t a possibility—he wasn’t sure. But there was some jealousy nestled down among those warm feelings, and he needed to be careful.
His heart stuttered then raced into overdrive. Casey had spent the afternoon with Leo. What if they’d done more that admire religious artifacts or finish making up? What if Leo had told Casey about the family legend, the one where Giovanni thought himself a prince worthy of only the most exalted princess? The one that had very little to do with truth. Just family gossip.
And everyone in the family loved to share it.
“I was worried because when you weren’t paying attention in the basilica, there was some guy paying way too much attention to you,” Casey said.
Did she mean Giovanni? He frowned at her.
Casey shook her head then turned back to Amalie. “You can’t just go around as if you’re at home, no matter how holy the place is. People are people, and this guy kept staring at you.”
Amalie wiped her mouth with a napkin. “If you didn’t know where I was, how do you know there was some guy following me?”
Casey sighed. “This was before. I wasn’t going to tell you, but then you just disappear—”
“I’m all grown up, Case. And I’m very cautious, I promise.”
Leo brought the drinks and a platter of appetizers. “We’ll have dinner here,” he said. He set down the platter and scooted in next to Amalie.
Before Giovanni could suggest a change of seating, a waiter brought over place settings and recited the offerings, using broken English to talk the women into what he thought they’d like.
“Don’t pay any attention to Guido,” Leo said. “Get whatever you want.”
“I planned to.” Amalie smiled up at Guido. “Do you have menus?”
“Oh, si, I will bring.”
“Good. At least some places offer a choice.” But her eyes sparkled, and when she caught Giovanni’s eye, she winked.
Mesmerized by her, Giovanni decided he liked sitting where he was. Maybe it was just fine for him to be able to look across the table and watch her.
4
After the two men walked them home, Casey and Amalie both swore they were ready to fall into bed.
“I don’t even have the energy to take my shoes off,” Casey said.
Amalie rolled over and reached out a hand. “Here. I’ll pull yours off if you’ll get mine.”
Casey kicked her shoes to the floor, then sat up. “Hey, Amalie. What do you think of Leo?”
“I think he’s great.” Amalie yawned and pulled her blouse over her head. “You want to shower first?”
“No. You go ahead. If you don’t, you’ll fall asleep before I’m out.”
Amalie chuckled. “You’re about to do the very same thing.”
“I don’t think I can sleep.” Casey twisted to her stomach and lay her head in her hands. She looked like a child in that pose, a child about to sob her heart out.
“Oh, Casey—”
“You go on. I need to think.”
“All right.” Amalie headed for the bathroom then turned back. “Praying helps, too.”
“Yeah.” Casey sounded as though she hadn’t really heard.
Shaking her head, troubled, Amalie slipped into the other room. She could understand breaking up over betrayal—the way Alex had betrayed her—over vast differences in what two people wanted from a relationship. But over a place to live?
What if someone expected Amalie to move to Italy?
Shaking her head again, she plunged into the steaming water and tipped her head back. She couldn’t offer much advice. She could only cry inside and beg God to help her cousin.
As promised, Casey hadn’t gone to sleep. Amalie perched on the straight-backed chair and tried to stay awake until she heard the bathroom door click open again.
“I figured you’d do anything to stay awake so we could talk.” Casey poked Amalie as she headed for her bed. “Come on. If you fall asleep, we’ll just finish up in the morning, OK?”
“OK.” Amalie crawled onto her mattress, sure she knew what Casey would say but giving her a chance to surprise her. “So what’s up?”
Casey’s face burned. “You’ll think I’m nuts.”
“I always think you’re nuts.”
Casey jerked.
“Aw, honey, don’t,” Amalie said. “I’m teasing. You know that. Just tell me.”
Casey turned away. “I feel stupid. I feel—I don’t know. Disloyal.”
“Seriously? What about?” Amalie moved to Casey’s bed so she could wrap her arm around her cousin.
“OK, but it’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
“When I met Leo—that was on my first business trip here, oh, Am, he was so nice. So cute, so gallant, so good.”
Amalie nodded, hoping Casey could hold on to those opinions.
“And he felt the same way about me. Instant connection, you know?”
“Love at first sight.” Amalie smiled, but Giovanni’s face intruded on her pleasure. She pushed him away. For the moment, anyway.
“He asked me to marry him the fourth time I was out here.”
“Wow. That was fast.” And so very romantic.
“It didn’t feel fast. It felt right.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Italy.”
Amalie said nothing.
“Help me decide.
Please, Am?”
“How can I do that?”
“I don’t know. But can’t you just promise me you’ll try?”
On a deep breath, Amalie prayed. She wasn’t sure what kind of prayer Oh, God, help me was, but she prayed it, and His answer was to help her say, “I’ll try.”
“Thanks.” Casey lay down, and Amalie shuffled back to her own bed.
“Did you pray about it?”
“Not yet. I will.”
“We could pray together.”
“OK, but we’re both exhausted. Let’s do that tomorrow, OK?”
When she heard Casey’s breathing even out, Amalie stared into the dark corners of the hotel room, listening.
She’d flubbed her own one great romance, and now Casey expected Amalie to fix hers? Even if Casey wanted to put off praying, Amalie didn’t.
“I need wisdom, Lord. You promised wisdom if we asked. So I’m asking.” She went to sleep on the prayer.
****
“So how did you keep her from dumping you right then?” Giovanni shoved the cup of coffee Leo had set before him away. His cousin had awakened him far too early. “Remember, I just got here a couple of days ago. I’m not adjusted to Italian time yet,” he’d said, when Leo dragged him out of bed.
“I just told her nothing has been decided.”
“Hasn’t it?”
Leo leaned against his kitchen counter and stared out the window, which showed a stirring view of a typical Roman alley. “My parents would never forgive me if I left.”
Giovanni shrugged. “It’s your life.”
“That works if you’re an American.”
Which Giovanni already knew. “Yeah.”
Leo ran his hands through his hair, groaning. “I finally find the woman of my dreams, and she wants to live on another continent.”
What could Giovanni say? “There’s such a thing as compromise.”
“Oh, right. We could have a dual country marriage.” Leo added a few Italian clichés that told Giovanni he’d better not offer any more advice. “So I’m supposed to choose between Casey and my family.”
“And you’re asking her to choose the same thing.”
Leo shook his head. “It’s different for her. Americans have a lot more freedom.”
Giovanni shrugged. If Leo didn’t want advice or counsel, they might as well face the source of the problem. “We’re late.”
Hearts at the Holy See Page 4