Thankfully the students were faster learners of God’s word than he and Keith were of their native language. One of these days, hopefully, they’d get the hang of the mia’s and mio’s and when to use which. At least they could already boast a handful of words and phrases: buongiorno, buonasera, arrivederci, ciao, and the like. Oh yes, and Dov’è la toilette? Never knew when you’d need to look for one, and he had asked the question several times. The answers, however, were sometimes challenging.
There were two phrases Michael had been practicing for the past two weeks—Bella signora, ti sposerò un giorno, and ti amo. He hadn’t sought the new converts’ advice on the translations. Instead, he’d used Google. He just hoped the words were correct. He’d been practicing them for the beautiful tour guide who had taken his breath away that fateful Friday two weeks ago outside the Colosseum.
Alessa.
What had he been thinking? Of course, after the fact he could see the humor in informing a woman you’d only just met that one day you’d marry her. Still, he hoped and prayed that if he told her in Italian, she might take him more seriously.
The second phrase, those two little words, he was saving for just the right moment.
Sadly, he hadn’t seen the beautiful redhead since, despite visiting many of the various attractions covered by Ancient Steps Tours, just in case she’d been sent to work at a different location. He’d used up every ounce of his spare time the past fortnight—even called the tour company and tried to get her full name and which attraction she’d be working at that day. As he’d suspected even before dialing their number, they weren’t forthcoming with the information he sought.
He did manage to spy her scooter’s registration though. Had that memorized too—DY68567. Not that it helped much without knowing someone at the licensing department or in the police force. But he’d kept his eyes peeled for that sequence every time he spotted a white Vespa. So far, no luck.
It was probably foolish to hope he’d see her again. What were the chances he’d bump into her a second time in a city this big, especially one now crawling with summer tourists?
All he could do was to keep on praying for that to happen.
A jab in his side brought Michael back to the present.
Stefano gave a low chuckle. “She must be something to draw your thoughts so from God. Not that it’s the first time. You haven’t quite been yourself the past week or two.”
Michael lifted his Bible study book and shook his head, more to clear his thoughts than denying Stefano’s allegation. “I’m sorry. Where were we?”
“We all answered your question. It’s a good thing your backup here was listening.” Lorenzo thumbed toward Keith.
“So you all understand the height and breadth and depth of the love of God through Jesus?”
With wide grins, the four Italians nodded.
“Sì, we understand how much God must love us to allow His Son to die for us.” Lorenzo blew out a breath. “But it is hard to wrap my head around how God could do something like that for a sinner like me; how He can forgive me for all the things I’ve done wrong. You know, I wasn’t much better than Matteo before you showed me the way of salvation, Michael. Grazie mille.”
Michael smiled. “That’s grace, my friend. That’s God’s amazing grace.”
He glanced down at his watch. Shoot, they needed to go. He, Keith, and Stefano were part of the flash mob which two of the local evangelical churches were staging in conjunction with the missions organization he worked for.
And despite having irked Chiara a fortnight ago, he was still the lead dancer.
“Sorry to bring this to a sudden close, friends, but we all need to run. Lorenzo, Antonio, Federico, are you still joining us? It’s flash mob time at the Piazza Navona.”
Chapter Two
“CIAO.” Alessa waved as she exited Ciacco & Bacco, her sister close behind her. She glanced up at the clusters of pink bougainvillea that stretched over the entire front façade of the sandwich shop—from the door to the window on the other side of a buttercup-colored wall. She glanced over her shoulder to see Sienna wave too.
“Buonasera, Angelo!” Sienna linked her arm with Alessa’s as the door shut behind her. She giggled. “He certainly has the right name. He’s like a beautiful angel.”
“Who?”
“Angelo, the sandwich guy.”
Alessa released Sienna’s hold on her. “Oh. Never mind him, what did you think of the sandwiches? Delicious, huh?”
“The best I’ve tasted in a long time. I doubt I’ll be able to eat again tonight.”
Gripping Alessa’s arm, Sienna stopped. She swirled her sister to face her. “But back to Angelo—I’m not letting you off that easily.” She poked Alessa in the ribs. “You should make a play for him. He fancies you.”
“He does not.” Alessa dragged out the last word.
Sienna’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you don’t see it. Come on, Alessa, what have you got to lose?”
“My favorite place to eat?” Alessa groaned inwardly. Why wasn’t her sister listening to her? “Are you going to make it your life’s mission to find a suitable man for me while you’re here in Roma?”
Sienna grinned. “Absolutely!”
Skewing her mouth down on one side, Alessa gave a slight shrug. It did beat her sister trying to save her mortal soul. Alessa was about as interested in religion as she was in marriage. Where had God been when it mattered, when she’d hurt so as a little girl?
This was going to be an interesting three days.
She took Sienna’s hand in hers. “I know you mean well, sorella, but you’re wasting your time looking for someone for me. Rather, concentrate on all the sights I’m going to take you to instead of the men hanging around them.”
“Oh, I intend to do that. As well.” Sienna pouted. “Please don’t take away the fun of me seeking a suitable man for you. I can’t bear the thought of my baby sister all alone in this big city.”
“Ha, says she who is all alone herself, halfway across the world in her own big city. And barely a year older than I.” Alessa continued walking. “Or is Sydney actually your secret innamorato.”
Sienna burst out laughing. “Oh, you make me laugh, little sis. That is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
“Then you need to get out more.” A smile teased Alessa’s lips.
“In my defense, nobody has ever likened the city I live in to some heartthrob I’m not telling anyone about. What a clever pun,” Sienna said. “Anyway, my search for your true love has been rather enjoyable so far, so please don’t spoil my tomfoolery, sorellina.”
“Sydney…Tom…you are just full of surprises now, aren’t you, Sienna?” Alessa raised one brow. Growing serious, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine, have your fun at my expense, but I warn you, any efforts will be futile. I could have my pick of a hundred good-looking men—”
“Pfft, I’ve no doubt about that, Alessa. Look at you—you’re perfect.”
Alessa ignored her sister’s compliment. “I’m simply not interested in settling down. I’d rather love them all and marry none. That way I won’t be the one with a broken heart. And I won’t be putting any children at risk one day by having a father who may not love them. I couldn’t bear to put anyone through the same loveless childhood I had, craving a father’s love but never receiving it.”
Sienna drew Alessa into a side hug as they stopped beside Alessa’s scooter. “I’m so sorry you feel this way, sorellina. But I do understand.”
Alessa’s gaze searched hers. “Do you? Really? You were always Papà’s favorite—if he ever really had something like that. He did seem easier on you, though, than any of us.”
Sienna didn’t respond, and silence descended between them.
It didn’t take long for Alessa to break it. “Wait here while I run inside my apartment to fetch our helmets.”
“You have two?”
“Don’t look so surprised. I do ha
ve friends who need a ride from time to time.”
Alessa soon returned toting two backpacks with the helmets inside. They made it easier to carry the head protectors around the city. She really did need to invest in a bauletto—the top box on the back carrier would make life simpler. But she always found she’d rather spend the money on shoes or designer jeans. One of these days perhaps.
Sienna’s mouth fell open as Alessa neared. “You’re not going out in that, are you?”
Alessa glanced at the white cotton off-shoulder top she’d changed into, the loose-fitting design far cooler than the T-shirt she’d worn earlier. Her gaze extended to the denim shorts she now sported. Hmm, she hadn’t even realized how tanned her legs had become in the time at the villa.
“What’s wrong with this?” Alessa gestured toward her body.
“Those shorts…they’re really short.”
“Exactly why they’re call shorts. Besides, I couldn’t go traipsing around Roma in my jeans and heels, could I? You want to go and change too?”
Sienna shook her head. “I’m fine in this blouse and slacks. So, where are you taking me first?”
“To the Pantheon.”
Alessa tugged her helmet from the backpack, and then pressed it onto her head, tucking her hair out of the way. She fastened the strap beneath her chin before securing both empty backpacks to the chrome luggage rack at the rear.
Sienna examined the helmet in her hands. “Pink, huh?”
“Sì.”
Her sister laughed. “What do you do when you have a male passenger?”
Alessa stared at Sienna then slid onto the scooter’s seat. “They wear pink. Men do wear pink, you know.”
“I know. It’s just—” Sienna cut off mid-sentence as she cinched her strap. She hopped on behind Alessa. Soon the two sisters were buzzing through the busy streets of Rome, the Vespa zigzagging between cars.
Finding street parking right outside the Pantheon, Alessa brought her scooter to a stop in the empty spot.
Sienna hopped off and pulled the helmet from her head. She shook out her long, dark hair. “I can see why you drive one of these—so much fun.”
“Not to mention the fact that we’d still be stuck in the traffic close to home were we in a car.” Alessa loosened the backpacks from the rack. She shoved her helmet in her backpack then secured the bag over her shoulders once again.
Sienna’s jaw dropped as she gazed up at the impressive former Roman temple. “I’d forgotten how imposing this building is. Haven’t been here in years.”
“It’s one of my favorite places to host tours. I love the architecture and the natural light that streams into the windowless rotunda from the oculus. Michelangelo said of this wonder the first time he saw it, ‘Looks more like the work of angels, not humans.’”
Sienna bumped Alessa with her elbow. “Think the sandwich man had anything to do with its construction?” She laughed.
“Enough with poor Angelo,” Alessa chided. “Let it rest. Me and him—so not going to happen.” Best to cut her off at the pass. If she gave her sister an inch, she’d only continue her pursuit of pairing her off with Angelo.
Together they strolled under the portico held up by twelve large granite Corinthian columns. Like regular tourists, they tried to hold hands around one of the enormous pillars. Their fingers didn’t even come close to touching.
Inside they gazed up at the magnificent dome with its hole in the center. “Did you know this building is almost two thousand years old, and that it’s still the world’s largest unreinforced concrete dome?” Alessa asked.
Sienna’s eyes widened. “Really? Wow, certainly says something for the building standards of that time.”
“And this is still the original marble floor.” Extending her foot, Alessa brushed the bottom of her pump over the smooth black-and-white surface in a half-circular motion.
Sienna grinned. “I rest my case.”
Crossing her arms, Sienna turned her attention to the niche beneath the statue known as the Madonna del Sasso—Madonna of the Rock—and the sarcophagus holding the bones and ashes of the great Renaissance artist Raphael. Leaning in closer, she read the inscription on the stone coffin. “Ille hic est Raphael timuit quo sospite vinci / rerum magna parens et moriente mori.”
She turned to glance over her shoulder at Alessa. “My Latin isn’t so good. How’s yours?” The look in her eyes spoke of a hope that Alessa could translate.
Alessa obliged. “Here lies that famous Raphael by whom nature feared to be conquered while he lived, and while he was dying, feared herself to die.” She pointed to the plaque on the right. “His fiancée, Maria Bibbiena’s final resting place. She died before they could marry.”
“How sad to come so close to marriage and never experience it.”
Alessa merely shrugged. She had no intention of ever coming close to marriage, so how could she feel any empathy for Maria Bibbiena’s fate?
The sisters spent almost two hours exploring the inside and outside of the Pantheon. Far too often the tour guide in Alessa emerged as she painstakingly explained the history behind the building, the artists, and the sculptors.
“Where to now?” Sienna asked as they strolled away from the Pantheon.
“How about a gelato? Then maybe a sundowner somewhere?”
“Sounds great. One question—would it still be a sundowner if the drinks are nonalcoholic?”
“Of course, silly. Later, we can share a pizza for dinner. There are some great options at Piazza Navona.”
“Food? Again?” Sienna pressed a hand against her stomach, the action not going unnoticed by Alessa. “I couldn’t entertain the thought of eating again today. I seriously don’t know how you keep so trim with all you consume.”
“I walk a lot in my job, remember? And speaking of, let’s leave the scooter parked here. It’s only about a five minute amble to the piazza.”
The first stop as they reached the large piazza with its three eye-catching fountains was the gelato shop.
“Are you having one?” Alessa unzipped the front pocket of her backpack to reach for her purse.
Sienna stepped up to the counter beside her. “Just one scoop—melon—in a small sugar cone.”
Alessa placed her sister’s order then ordered a triple scoop in a large sugar cone for herself. “Vaniglia, panna cotta e fragola.”
The guy serving Alessa placed a plump, red strawberry on top of the final dark-pink scoop. She was certain that wasn’t common practice. She smiled. “Grazie mille.”
Sienna’s brows knit together as she eyed the crowning glory to Alessa’s gelato tower. She leaned closer. “Hmm, why didn’t I get a garnish for my gelato?”
Alessa burst out laughing, imagining a slice of cantaloupe balancing on top of that single orange orb—like a full and half-moon colliding.
“I don’t think that was quite doable, Sienna. Maybe if you’d had strawberry gelato instead, like me.” Although it was entirely possible that might not have earned her sister the special topping either.
She hurried Sienna across the paved piazza before her sister decided to give the gelato man Alessa’s number. Hopefully Sienna would merely think she was rushing for the two empty places on the bench facing the Fountain of Neptune.
“Apologies for the view,” Alessa said with a grin as they sat.
Sienna spun to her, a puzzled look on her face. “Huh?”
Alessa chuckled. “Having to stare at Neptune’s bare rear end.”
Sienna laughed, too, and gave a tiny shrug. “It’s art. Can’t live in Italy and be offended by half-naked statues.”
“True. What do you say when we’ve finished these cones, we take a walk through the piazza? There are a lot of incredible street artists. Maybe we can have a portrait done together?”
“I’d like that.”
The sudden blast of music behind them had Alessa and Sienna craning to see over their shoulders. Sitting at the end of the bench, Alessa swung around. Sienna climbed over
the bench to face the right way so she could see what was going on. A man wearing a Venetian-type mask, began to dance to the beat in the open space between them and the gelato shop. The dancer had an incredible way of moving to the music, as if they were one.
And then the words came, as did more masked dancers. One by one they emerged out of the gathered crowd to join the first dancer until there were at least thirty gyrating figures entertaining them.
“Oh my word, it’s a flash mob,” Sienna squealed. She turned to Alessa. “I’ve always wanted to see one.”
“Shh.” The words of the song became inaudible thanks to Sienna’s prattling. “I’m listening.”
Hurting inside, you try to hide
from the world around you.
You’re feeling blue—who knew?
’cause you don’t show your feelings.
The masks you wear, day after day,
tell a different story from the one you live.
Oh, why don’t you give your life to your Savior.
Jesus longs to set you free
to walk in the light for all to see
the real you behind the masks you wear—
you don’t have to bear it all alone.
So come to Jesus, He gave His life for you.
Leave the things you hide behind
at the foot of that cruel tree.
The music, the dancing, and the words all held Alessa spellbound. Sienna too.
With their backs toward Alessa and Sienna, the dancers went down low on their knees before rising. As the music slowed, they turned with fluid grace—their heads still bowed—and removed their masks.
Won’t you lay your mask down
and walk with Him?
Face the world…
set free from sin.
With funereal movements, they raised their heads, and Alessa gasped audibly. It couldn’t be. But as a smile curled across the lead dancer’s face and recognition lit his eyes, Alessa knew beyond a doubt it was the same man who had claimed two weeks ago that she’d be his bride. The exact same one she’d tried not to think about while at Villa Rossi. The one she’d worn a mask for so that nobody back home would suspect the self-proclaimed forever-bachelorette had found someone who had piqued her interest—even if that interest came clouded by irritation.
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