“Tell me.”
For some unknown reason, he did just that. “She said she felt that being with me was a betrayal of Matteo and she just couldn’t do that.”
“She couldn’t, huh?” His mom sounded strange.
“Ma, what’s up? You sound seriously pissed.”
“I do? Must be a bad connection.”
“Ma…”
“Things with Johnny?” Her voice was softer, the anger he’d heard a moment before vanished as though it had never been. “They’re good?”
“Things with Johnny are excellent. He’s staying the night.”
“I’m so glad.” She was smiling. He could hear it in her voice.
They talked for a while longer, about his new place, about his plans for moving most of his business to the Flat.
After they said goodbye, he got out his whittling. While he worked, he tried not to think about Glory. To wonder how she was doing, alone at home, just her and Sera.…
There had been better nights, Glory thought as she walked the floor with Sera, who was wide awake and fussing, the same way she did a whole lot of nights. Sometimes Glory worried about her baby. Was there something more going on with her than colic?
But Brett had reassured her that Sera was just one of those kids. A more sensitive kid, whose digestive system acted up a lot. All Glory had to do was to be patient and keep nursing her. Sera’s system would catch up and she would grow out of this fussy phase.
Patience, right. Most of the time Glory felt like her patience was at the frayed end of a very short rope.
But at least there was nothing really wrong with her baby. Glory tried to take comfort in that.
And she tried not to long for Bowie. How pitiful was that? His first night in his new house and she was already desperately missing him. Even if she couldn’t let anything really meaningful happen between them, at least when he was around, she could see him every day, talk to him now and then.…
And hand him the dang baby when she couldn’t take it anymore.
It was after five when Sera finally wore herself out. By then, Glory could hardly keep her eyes open. She fell across her bed and sleep sucked her down hard and fast.
She woke to bright morning sun and the sound of the phone ringing. Muttering bad words under her breath, she groped for the phone and put it to her ear. “What?”
“I thought you were meeting us for early mass.” It was Angie, sounding disgustingly cheerful.
Glory forced her eyes open long enough to look at the clock. She’d been asleep for four and a half hours. And she was supposed to have been at church with her family at eight. “Ugh. Sera was up all night, which means I was up all night.”
“Say no more. I understand.”
“Can I go back to sleep now?”
“Bowie all moved out?”
“Do we have to talk about this right this minute?”
“You miss him. I can tell by your voice. You should—”
“Can I go now? Please?”
“Chastity wants to talk to you.”
“Fine. Great. And you think maybe she could just tell me that herself? But later. Much later.”
“I saw her on Main Street, on the way home from church. She asked how you were doing and said she needed to have a little talk with you. It all sounded very mysterious to me.”
“Mysterious. Great. Whenever. Except not right now. Right now, I want to go back to sleep until Sera wakes up.”
“Sleep tight.”
“Hah. Yeah, right.” Glory hung up before Angie could start talking again.
She flopped back on the pillows, yanked the covers over her head again…and realized she was suddenly wide awake. With a moan of sheer frustration, she jumped from the bed, pulled on her rattiest robe and went downstairs to get some breakfast.
The kitchen was empty. No Johnny chattering away a mile a minute. No Bowie at the cooktop, her favorite hunky breakfast-making man. Just Glory in her old blue robe, considering whether to go all the way and have bacon and eggs or if maybe it was more of a Froot Loops kind of morning.
She settled on the Froot Loops. Lots of bright colors. Cheerful. Today, she needed all the cheerful she could get. She was just pouring the cereal into her bowl when the doorbell rang.
Bowie.
Can a heart dance? Hers felt like it was dancing.
Could it be? Was it possible? Maybe he’d brought Johnny over, maybe he was going to cook breakfast today after all, because he knew she would feel low, and he couldn’t just leave her alone with her Froot Loops waiting for the baby to cry.…
But then her dancing heart sank. She knew it wasn’t him. She’d made it more than clear that she wanted him to keep his distance, that she wasn’t going to let anything further happen between them.
She drooped all the way to the front door.
It was Chastity, looking wide awake and disgustingly alert. “Yep, I have a morning off. My four guests at the B and B left before breakfast. Is that coffee I smell?”
“No, but I can make you some.” Glory led her back to the kitchen and loaded up the coffeemaker.
“You look like a victim of enhanced interrogation,” Chastity said.
“I was up all night with Sera. And yeah, I’m beat.” As the coffee brewed, she went to the fridge to get the milk for her cereal. “Angie said you wanted to talk to me.”
“Life is short,” said Chastity briskly. “And at the end of it, you die.”
Glory poured the milk into her bowl. “I noticed that.”
“I know you sent Bowie away.” It was an accusation.
“Yeah.” Glory kept her voice noncommittal because she really did not want to get into it. She put the milk back in the fridge, took her chair and spooned a big mound of bright cereal into her mouth.
Chastity watched her. “So, then, you really don’t get the meaning of what I said a minute ago.”
Glory swallowed the mouthful of sweet cereal and milk. “Okay, Chastity, what’s this about?”
“If you really understood how short life is, if you really got that it can end out of nowhere like it did for Matteo and you don’t get a do-over no matter how much you regret the big, fat mistakes you made—”
Glory was becoming annoyed. “If, if and if, what?”
“I’m only saying if you understood all the things I just said, you would not have sent Bowie away for the second time.”
Glory’s spoon clinked against the bowl as she dropped it. “What do you mean for the second time? You can’t lay his leaving town and not coming back for almost seven years at my door.”
Chastity sighed. “Well, all right, I’ll give you that. He needed to leave you that first time. He had things to learn and he had growing up to do and he just couldn’t seem to make any progress while he was living here. But this second time? This was your choice. Do you deny it?”
Glory really, really did not want to hear this. “Chastity, you know I love you, but—”
Chastity put up a hand. “Don’t tell me that this is not my business. It is very much my business. My son matters to me. You matter to me. And so does Johnny and that sweet baby sleeping upstairs. My son loves you. You’re the only woman he’s ever loved. And you love him. You love him more than you loved Matteo Rossi.”
Heat flooded up Glory’s neck. “How dare you say that to me.”
“Oh, maybe because it’s the truth—and don’t go giving in to that famous temper of yours and getting all worked up to give me a big piece of your mind. I know you loved your husband, too. And you were a fine wife to him. You made that man happier than he ever believed he could be. So you can just stop feeling bad about loving Bowie more. Because the real truth is, you weren’t Matteo’s first choice, either.”
Chapter Thirteen
Glory almost choked. “I…what?”
Chastity got up, got down a mug and filled it with coffee. “Matteo never told you about his first love, did he?”
“I don’t…I…but…”
“You are sputtering, Glory Ann. Now you just be quiet for a few minutes and I’ll be happy to tell you about the love that Matteo Rossi threw away.”
“I don’t…” The most bizarre thought occurred to her. “Chastity, are you saying that you and Matteo…”
“Oh, dear heavens, no. I’ve never been the type who goes for men the same age as my own sons—not that I begrudge any woman love wherever she finds it. Besides, I was still waiting for Blake Bravo at the time, even though I knew good and well he was never coming back. That’s how smart and pulled-together I was.”
“Then who was she?”
“Years ago, when Bowie was in the ninth grade and you were still little more than a child, I hired a Grass Valley girl to clean rooms in the summer.”
Glory waited, round eyed. “Matteo fell in love with her?”
Chastity was not about to be rushed. She put the pot back on the warmer and reclaimed her chair. “Her name was Emma Sand. She was the sweetest girl. And so pretty, with long golden hair and hazel eyes. She had a room in the back at the Sierra Star, the same one you had, Glory, when you worked for me. I don’t know how she and Matteo met, but it’s a small town. And boys and girls will find each other. He came around often. I know that some nights he was with her, in her room. And every time I saw them together, well, it was the same as when you and Bowie first found each other. There’s no mistaking that glow, that…connection, when two people are head over heels in love. It’s like a light shining from inside of both of them. They share a glance, and it can blind you, the brilliance of that kind of love.”
Matteo. In love with a girl Glory had never even known existed. And making love to that girl in the room that would be Glory’s a decade later…
It was too strange. And Glory suddenly wanted coffee, even if she was nursing. Just one cup. With a whole bunch of milk in it…
She got up to get a mug as Chastity continued, “Matteo and Emma kept their love affair a secret.”
Glory guessed why. “Matteo’s mom was still alive.”
“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but facts are facts. Serafina Rossi was about the most self-centered woman I have ever met. She lost her husband when the poor man was barely forty and she grabbed hold of her only son and wouldn’t let go. Matteo was a dutiful son. Loyal to the core. He lived in this house with her until the day she died.”
“Serafina found out about Emma?”
Chastity nodded. “She made Matteo break it off. He just never could go against her wishes. It was pathetic, it really was.”
“And to think, I went and named my baby after her…”
Chastity grunted. “It’s a pretty name. Don’t blame a name because a mean woman once had it. Plus, Matteo’s grandmother was named Serafina, too. She was a lovely person.”
“And Emma?” Glory leaned back against the counter and sipped her milky coffee.
“She came to me, crying. Told me everything, that she loved Matteo with all her heart, but he loved his mother more. She said she couldn’t stay in the Flat any longer, that her heart was broken and she had to go—and to go far, far away. She had a letter for him, for Matteo. She asked me to see that he got it. She was afraid to mail it, for fear his mother would get her hands on it first.”
“Did you know what the letter said?”
“No, Emma didn’t tell me. I didn’t ask.”
“Did you give it him?”
“I did. I went into the hardware store one day when he was there alone and handed it to him. He thanked me with tears in his eyes.”
“And that was it? That’s the story?”
“Not quite. After Serafina died, Matteo came to me. He asked me if I knew how to find Emma.”
“He still loved her.”
Chastity gave a sad little shrug. “I told him I didn’t know where she’d gone. And I really didn’t. She’d left no forwarding address. Matteo took off.”
“Left town, you mean?”
“That’s right. He closed up the hardware store and he was gone for months.”
“Looking for Emma?”
“That would be my guess.”
“But he never found her.…”
“Yes, he did find her.”
“But she wouldn’t try again with him?”
“I guess you could put it that way. When he came back, he was thinner. And sadder. And alone. He came to see me. He said that Emma had gotten married, that she was happy with her husband and their two little children.”
“He was too late.”
“Yes, he was.” Chastity sipped her coffee. “And later, when he started going out with you, he paid me another visit. He asked about Bowie first. About how he was doing. I told him the truth. That I really didn’t know. I knew where to write to him by then, but Bowie had never done a whole lot of writing back. Matteo told me that he was going to ask you to marry him. I kept my peace as to my opinion on that. I knew Matteo was a good man. And I thought that you could do a lot worse. Then he asked that I not say anything to you about the past, about Emma. He said he wanted to tell you about her himself. I agreed to keep his secret.”
Glory admitted, “He never did tell me.”
“I’d kind of figured as much. And I would have honored my promise to him and never said a word to you about how he went and chose his mother over the woman he loved. But there comes a time when the living need the truth more than the dead need their secrets kept.”
“I always thought of Matteo as so…transparent.” Glory shook her head. “Shows what I know.”
“We all have secrets, Glory. Most of us think that if our secrets were revealed, the world might come to an end. But the world just keeps turning. And eventually, we figure out that other people have their secrets, too. At the core, we’re all the same. With our sadness. Our yearning. Our striving. And our blind, foolish hearts. We throw away our own happiness. And then when it’s too late, we wonder where it went.”
After Chastity left, Glory ate her soggy cereal and stared at the far wall for a while. She felt cast adrift somehow, lost in the tragic story Bowie’s mom had shared with her.
Then Sera started crying. Glory fed her and changed her. For once, the little sweetie settled right down. Glory put her on a play mat in the family room and she kicked her feet and waved her arms and giggled at the mobile of bouncing bees and butterflies suspended above the mat. When she dropped off to sleep again, Glory carried her upstairs. She went into her crib without a peep.
Glory did some laundry. She cleaned the house.
Johnny came home at noon, as promised. Glory was dusting the family room when she saw Bowie’s SUV drive up. Johnny jumped out and stuck his head back in to say something to Bowie before he shut the door. Then he came running up the front walk, hauling his backpack along with one hand.
As usual, he talked nonstop all through lunch. It was dad this and dad that. Glory smiled to herself. Johnny had finally started calling Bowie the D word. Glory realized that was just fine with her.
Better than fine. She was happy. For both of them.
They went to her mother’s for an early dinner. The whole Dellazola clan was there, including Nonna and Pop Baldovino, Glory’s grandma and grandpa on her mamma’s side.
Before they sat down to eat, Rose got Glory off in a bedroom and lectured her for not inviting Bowie. “As far as we’re all concerned, that man is one of the family, and if you’re not going to ask him to come to Sunday dinner, well, next time I’ll just do that myself.”
It was the kind of ultimatu
m that usually had Glory grabbing her children and heading home in a huff. But this time, she only said meekly, “You’re right, Mamma. Next time I’ll be sure to invite him.”
It was almost worth being such a doormat about it, just to see her mamma’s mouth drop open in shock at Glory’s gentle response.
Because Bowie wasn’t there for Johnny to visit before bedtime, he gave his dad a call. They talked for half an hour, which Glory found kind of cute. And then at eight-fifteen, when she finally tucked him into bed, he said, “When can I go stay at Dad’s again, Mom?”
Strangely, hearing that question hardly hurt at all. “How about Wednesday night?”
“That would be so sweet.”
“You can call him tomorrow and ask him if that will work for him.”
She kissed him good-night and went to feed Sera, who was really on a roll with being easy to deal with. The baby ate, cooed and giggled through her diaper change, and went right back to sleep.
Glory watched an hour of television, had her bedtime tea and climbed the stairs to bed.
She fell asleep quickly—and then woke with a start. It was ten minutes of eleven. She’d barely had her eyes closed for half an hour.
But she’d had the strangest dream, a dream of something that had actually happened, something she’d completely forgotten until now. A dream of Matteo, out in the workshop, one evening not too long after they were married.
Glory had come out to call him to dinner. She opened the workshop door without knocking and found him standing at the nearest workbench, a carved wooden box open in front of him.
He glanced over at her with a start. “Glory! You surprised me.…” Already he was pushing the contents back into the box, shutting the pretty hinged lid that was carved with a nature scene—a weeping willow and a graceful doe, her slender, delicate head bent to drink from a stream.
Glory had laughed. “Okay, what are you hiding there?”
He laughed, too—a nervous sort of sound. “Just some of my mother’s keepsakes.”
“Ah.” She went to him, kissed him on the cheek. “Dinnertime.”
33 The Return of Bowie Bravo Page 18