Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  He veered left off the path into the crowded area. He’d apologize to his dance instructor later. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to still find her hanging around by the time he got back to the center.

  Right. Fat chance of that happening. Chiara waited for no one. He’d probably face the fifty-year-old’s wrath next time he saw her. He drew in a deep breath then sighed, unable to shake the feeling that he needed to take his chances.

  Michael strolled across to the small group gathered in front of the auburn-haired beauty. Dare he even ask?

  “Perdono, how long is this tour?” he asked the uniformed tour-guide dressed in a burgundy polo shirt and black knee-length skirt, and Alessa engraved in black on her gold nametag.

  With a smile she pointed the branded flag she held, its colors matching her clothing, toward the sign behind her. “One hour.”

  Michael glanced at the Ancient Steps Tours’ board. What a stroke of luck. Or was it fate? The last English tour for the day was at three o’clock. Ten minutes more.

  “Is it possible to join?”

  Alessa eyed him, her gaze scanning the length of him as she raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a booking?” She seemed surprised, taken aback that someone would even think they could join a tour of the age-old walls without having pre-booked and pre-paid.

  Michael shook his head, resisting the urge to pout or allow his eyes to beg. He doubted either would score him brownie points with this woman.

  She shrugged. “Okay, I do have an unreserved place. That will be twenty euro.” She held out her hand.

  This is the girl you’re going to marry, God’s voice whispered in his soul.

  What, Lord, you can’t be serious?

  Of course He was. Michael had learned from an early age that God never joked with him. Exactly why he’d obeyed and moved to Italy when his Lord had spoken.

  He handed over the tour fee. Small price to pay for the chance to get to know the girl you were destined to marry.

  For the next hour, Michael hung on her every word, and not just because she brought the place to life. For once, he didn’t have much to say, preferring to listen to the sound of her voice.

  After the tour, everyone thanked her and the group dispersed. Michael watched as some pressed a gray five euro note into her palm. Pity he’d used up all the cash he had on hand.

  Michael followed Alessa to her scooter. She was about to put her helmet on when she spotted him.

  “Yes…?” She raised her perfectly penciled brow again with the single-worded question.

  “Uh…” It took all his American gumption to utter the next few words. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

  Maybe it was his accent, but Alessa didn’t seem to understand what he’d said to her. For a few seconds, she merely stared at him, seemingly astonished before bursting into laughter.

  “In your wildest dreams.” And with that, she slid onto her little white Vespa and buzzed off up the road.

  Chapter One

  WITH HER HEAD STUCK FAR out of the train window, Alessa Rossi shouted to her brother and his new girlfriend, even though by now they had diminished to tiny, unrecognizable dots on the platform of Chiusi-Chianciano station. “Ciao, Rafaele! Arrivederci, Jayne! See you in September.” Her hair blew in the breeze as the locomotive gathered speed, and she swept the wayward strands of hair from her face.

  Sienna, her older sister, tugged on her T-shirt and laughed. “Alessa, sit down. I’m quite sure they can no longer hear you.”

  Alessa plunked down onto her seat facing Sienna and released an extra-long sigh, mostly for the drama of it. “I’m going to miss them and Nonna so much. Jayne is so nice—Rafaele couldn’t have chosen a woman more perfect for him. She’s beautiful, caring, and it’s abundantly clear that she’s madly in love with him.”

  Sienna flicked Alessa’s arm with the back of her hand. “And what about me? Aren’t you going to miss me too? At least you can all see each other when you want—two hours by car or train isn’t far.”

  “Not like you…living on the other side of the world.” Alessa leaned across the table separating them and clasped her sister’s hands. “Of course I’m going to miss you. Madly. I wish you lived closer.”

  “Me too, sorellina. Me too.” Sienna relaxed into her seat. “At least we still have three more days together—let’s make the most of it. I want you to show me everything you’ve discovered about Roma during your time as a tour guide. It’s been so long since I’ve visited our capital.”

  “Everything? In three days? Impossible, but I’ll take you to the places I love most. The Colosseum, the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, the Vatican—”

  Sienna pushed upright, her eyes widening. “Ooh, can you take me to see the graves beneath the city?”

  “You mean the catacombs?”

  “Sì.”

  “How about Sunday? I’ve other plans for us for today and tomorrow.”

  “Sunday sounds great. So long as it’s after church.”

  Alessa’s heart bounced against her rib cage. “Church?”

  “Yes. I know you haven’t come to the place in your life”—Sienna grinned and waggled her brows—“yet, where that’s important, Alessa, but it is for me. I’d love it if you’d come with me.”

  “Well, there are plenty of cathedrals and churches in Roma, so I’m certain we’ll be able to find somewhere you can go and worship.” She could always study the frescos or paintings on the walls to while away the time—or beautiful stained glass windows—like she had as a child. Alessa pulled her cell phone from her handbag to search for one close to her apartment that had services.

  “But please, I don’t want to go to a stuffy, ritualistic service,” Sienna begged. “If only you could visit me in Australia, so I could take you to my church. Then you’d see how fulfilling church and serving Jesus can be. And just how much fun it is.”

  Whatever. Alessa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. All she could think of when she heard the word “church” was Nonna dragging them to mass on a Sunday whenever Papà would allow it. And instead of concentrating on what the priest said, she would study the architecture and art of the building—the cupola, the bell tower, the frescos. Every nook and cranny. It was no small wonder she’d chosen the career she had. Her fascination for the subject had been rooted from an early age.

  Sienna slid Alessa’s phone out of her hands. “Don’t try to look for something now. God will provide a place for us before Sunday. You’ll see. You will come with me, won’t you?” Her dark eyes entreated.

  It would be difficult for Alessa to refuse. Besides, finding a church without looking on the internet for it…now that should be interesting. “If He does miraculously find the perfect place for you, I wouldn’t want to miss that for the world.”

  Alessa and Sienna chatted non-stop on the journey to Rome, and when they looked again, the train had pulled into the station.

  The walk to Alessa’s apartment wasn’t far, but with Sienna toting two suitcases, and Alessa her own, they chose to take a taxi home. Besides, Rafaele had given her money for the ride, knowing it would be too difficult for two women to tote three suitcases, their handbags, plus gift bags of olive oil from Villa Rossi. Not that she needed her brother’s money anymore, but he’d insisted.

  After paying the fare, they strode through the portico leading into the courtyard of her apartment building. The four-story structure bordered the quadrangle.

  “This is beautiful, Alessa,” Sienna said, dragging a suitcase in each hand.

  “Wait until you see the inside.” Alessa lifted her case and sprinted up the steps to the landing and the two apartments it serviced.

  “Which one is yours?” Sienna plunked one suitcase down beside Alessa.

  “This one.” Alessa pointed to the door to the left. She unlocked it and swung it open wide. She turned to get her case as Sienna disappeared down the steps to fetch the suitcase she’d left in the courtyard.

  Propping her luggage against the wall in the pa
ssageway, Alessa headed for the kitchen and the coffee machine, desperate for an espresso.

  The front door closed, and Alessa peeked around the large archway into the long passage where her sister stood. “Your bedroom is the turquoise one to the left,” she said.

  With a nod, Sienna dragged her two cases to her room. Moments later, Alessa heard Sienna’s footsteps heading her way, and then the click of the bathroom door. She’d make them each a cup of coffee before they headed out for lunch. The caffeine would give them both the energy boost they’d need to sightsee this afternoon.

  By the time Sienna finally sat down at the small table for four in the kitchen, she’d explored the entire apartment—not that two bedrooms, a bathroom, passage and kitchen could take very long.

  Sienna gladly accepted the small cup Alessa set before her. Twisting around, Alessa grabbed the jar filled with biscotti and placed it on the table as well.

  “This place is amazing!” Sienna took a sip of her espresso. “But can you afford this on a tour guide’s salary? Do you get paid that well? Or are tips from tourists lucrative? Are they even allowed?”

  Alessa chuckled and shoved her hand inside the jar as she sat down beside her sister. She rummaged until she found a biscotti with bits of cherry inside. “Thanks to my degree, I am well paid. And yes, tips from tourists are permitted and welcomed. They certainly do help me to live more comfortably. Ah, it feels so good to finally be able to stand on my own two feet and have a place of my own. Having Rafaele pay for my studies and the digs I shared with four other girls while studying… Let’s just say I’m glad the sharing part of my life is over. And the being dependent on someone else.”

  She fist pumped the air. “Yay, I’m finally independent.”

  “Until you go for that master’s degree in—” Sienna narrowed her gaze, her brows inching toward one another. “What was it you studied again?”

  Alessa laughed. “Architectural history and archaeology.”

  She dunked her biscotti into her espresso—it barely fit in the tiny cup. Raising the coffee-soaked snack to her mouth, she bit into it. Mmm. So good. After swallowing the mouthful, she continued, “I guess it’s possible I’ll need Rafaele’s help when and if I do study again, although he might not have as much cash to spare now that he’s given up law for farming. And he has a serious girlfriend now as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two are married by the harvest festival.”

  “You don’t think he’ll go back to practicing law? He’ll be named as partner if he returns, you know.”

  “Hmm, it would kill Rafaele to admit it, but I think Papà might just have been right that our big brother was made for the lands, not the boardroom. I’ve never seen him this happy.”

  Sienna reached for the jar. She broke a biscotti in half and dropped one portion onto Alessa’s saucer. “It could just be Jayne that’s made him so happy, and not Villa Rossi.”

  “I hope for his sake it’s both. Although if he gives up law, it could make obtaining my master’s a little more difficult to achieve.”

  Sienna shook her head. “I think Villa Rossi is doing all right. Might even do better under Rafaele’s management. You might still be able to get him to help you.”

  “Maybe. And maybe I just need to put off the idea for a while, save some money and pay for it myself…” Alessa chuckled softly. “Seeing as I’m loving this independence. It isn’t that I’m not grateful for all Rafaele has done. Thanks to him, I was able to get away from home. And Papà.”

  “Papà wasn’t all bad,” Sienna said.

  Alessa rolled her eyes, irritation simmering. Why did she always defend the man?

  “With you, maybe. Not with me, Rafaele, and Ric.” Alessa swallowed the rest of her coffee. Picking up Sienna’s half biscotti, she shoved it into her mouth.

  Sienna patted the top of Alessa’s hand. “Let’s not allow talk of Papà spoil our day.”

  “Great idea.” Alessa pushed to her feet. “I’m famished, and you?”

  Sienna nodded. “Not famished, but a little hungry.”

  “How about we grab a bite at the sandwich bar just outside the entrance to this building? They make the best melanzana panini I’ve tasted in the city.”

  Sienna’s tongue edged her lips. “Ooh, yes. I love roasted eggplant sandwiches. With mortadella?”

  “And mozzarella, salami, capicola, and prosciutto, topped with lettuce, tomato and their secret homemade Italian dressing. The whole works.”

  “Sounds like a lot of food. We might need to share one.”

  Alessa blew out a huff. “Speak for yourself.” She could easily finish one of those grilled sandwiches by herself.

  “You can always take home what you can’t finish. Oh, and bonus, the one waiter is super cute. A little eye candy never hurt, did it?” Alessa waggled her brows and smiled as she rose. “Hey, maybe you could have a brief holiday romance. After lunch, we’ll hop on my Vespa and scoot into the city.”

  She carried their used cups to the sink.

  Sienna stood and leaned against the kitchen counter, shoulder-bumping Alessa. “Maybe you could have a long-term romance if the sandwich guy downstairs is that cute.”

  “Me? Never. I’d have to break his heart one day, and then where would I get my panino imbottito from?”

  “You’re weird, Alessa,” Sienna teased. “Why on earth would you think of dumping a guy before you’ve even started dating?”

  Why indeed? Because I’m petrified of love, that’s why.

  Staring at her sister, Alessa ran some water into the sink then dumped the two cups into the suds. “I told you why back in Tuscany.”

  Sienna frowned. “You did?”

  “Yes. I told everyone at the pizza pool party the day after Nonna’s birthday. Don’t you remember me announcing that I would never get married?”

  “I remember. I didn’t think you meant it, though.”

  “I meant every word.” Alessa’s voice trembled slightly. She set the cups down on the floorless, over-the-sink drying rack, then shut the cupboard. A brilliant invention by the Finns. Italian kitchen designers were probably kicking themselves for not having come up with the idea for the dish-drying cabinet first.

  “But why would you never want to get married? That’s what most women dream of, isn’t it?”

  Alessa’s right shoulder slowly rose then fell. “I guess I have Papà to thank for that. I don’t think I could ever take a chance on shackling myself to someone like him.”

  Dashing across the basketball court, Michael changed the ball from one hand to the other in a crossover dribble, thereby preventing Matteo, his defense, from stealing the ball. As he moved, Michael’s gaze flitted from one team member to the next, seeking someone to pass the ball to.

  Matteo stuck to Michael like gum on the sole of a shoe—annoying, hard to get rid of, and simply a nuisance. But Michael refused to get irritated. Not on this court. Not ever. Not if he wanted to continue winning the souls of these young Italian students. That didn’t mean he couldn’t play a tough game.

  “Michael!”

  Michael’s eyes shot to where Lorenzo had shouted. Instantly, the ball left Michael’s hands and players leapt into the air. Tall, lanky, Lorenzo, dark curls dripping with sweat, jumped higher than them all. Once the ball was safely in his hands, he broke through the wall of muscle in a sneaky zigzag movement, right into the free throw lane where he slam dunked the ball through the net, bringing their team the two points needed to win.

  Palm up, Matteo high-fived Michael. “Next time, we win,” he said, perspiration trickling down his chiseled, tanned face.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Hands on his knees, Michael bent over for a moment to catch his breath. He raised his head and eyed Matteo. “We’ll still give you a run for your money, no matter what.” Only, Michael wasn’t sure anymore whether to count their sweat in dollars or euros.

  Matteo grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less, Michael Jordan.”

  Michael Jordan… He wished. />
  Chuckling once again at the reference to the Italian’s favorite All-Star, Michael grabbed his towel from the bench at the side of the court. He wiped his face then draped the soft fabric around his neck. “Who’s staying for the Bible study today?”

  Half the group couldn’t wait to join Michael in the coffee shop after a shower to delve into the Word. The other half offered muttered excuses ranging from having a class in fifteen minutes, to needing to go shopping for their nonna.

  Matteo was one of them. His excuse the same as always—he had a woman waiting for him, and he wasn’t ashamed to announce it. No doubt, a different one from the previous week, as was the case every Friday they played ball. Hard to keep up with all the names Matteo invited into his arms, and his bed. Every time he boasted, Michael tried to dissuade him. The graphic details had definitely become watered down from when Michael first met the handsome Italian. He’d be a hard nut to crack for Jesus, but Michael would never give up sharing the gospel with Matteo and just being a friend to him. He had faith that one day there’d be a spiritual breakthrough with this Casanova.

  Once again clean and fresh, Michael opened their time in the Word with a prayer before flipping the pages of his Bible to the book of John, chapter three. Beside his Bible, he opened their study guide, “No Greater Love.” If only Matteo would stick around to find out about God’s agape love. But Michael would keep asking, hoping, praying.

  Opposite Michael sat Keith. Six weeks had already passed since he and Keith started discipling the group of four men that remained behind. Lorenzo had finally become their newest convert. Before him, Antonio and Federico had come to faith. Stefano was the first soul they’d led to the Lord since coming to Italy three months ago. While he and Keith expounded on the Word to these young men, they, in turn, taught them to speak Italian.