Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  Dare he believe such a miracle? Michael closed his eyes for a moment—a fleeting one lest he open them and she be gone.

  Thank you, Lord.

  He strode across the cobbled paving toward the beautiful redhead sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the road. The brunette seated beside her leaned closer and whispered in her ear before looking back at him and smiling. Must be a friend.

  Slapping on his most charming grin, he stopped just in front of her, doing everything in his power not to let his gaze roam across her shoulders and down her crossed legs, both far browner than he remembered. He held the mask behind his back and gave a slight bow. “Alessa, it’s great to see you again.”

  Alessa shoved to her feet, and the air expelled from his lungs at her closeness. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same thing.”

  Unable to step backward, she moved sideways.

  Her friend shot up. “Wait. You know each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  The friend shook her head at their simultaneous answers and laughed. “What is it? Yes or no? You either know each other, or you don’t.”

  “We’ve met before—two weeks ago.” Michael inched back a little to give more space between himself and her friend.

  “That doesn’t mean we know each other,” Alessa retorted, folding her arms—arms he had faith would one day hold him close. “So my answer stands—no, we don’t know each other.”

  “Ooh, this sounds interesting. Alessa, why didn’t you tell me about this talented, young man you met? Two weeks working side by side in the fields at the villa, playing in the pool, sleeping in the same room…and not one word? Shame on you.”

  Alessa’s brow furrowed as she eyed her friend. “Because there was nothing to tell,” she shot back.

  “I think you’re lying to me, sorellina.”

  Sorellina? Wait, wasn’t that Italian for sister? Or little sister? But could it be? This young woman’s voice held a slight Australian twang. And they didn’t really look that much alike.

  The woman turned to Michael and held out her hand. “Hi there. I’m Sienna, Alessa’s older sister.”

  “Only by a year!”

  Michael chuckled at Alessa’s sass. Man, he was going to love life with this woman.

  He took Sienna’s hand in his and shook it. “Michael Young.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Michael. That flash mob thing you all just did was awesome!” Sienna’s expression and voice oozed admiration. “And that song…simply amazing. I’ve never heard it before. Who’s the singer? I’d really like to look for the CD.”

  Michael rubbed the back of his head and kicked at a cobbled paver in front of him with the toe of his Nikes. “Um, you won’t find that song in any store.”

  Tiny lines formed on Sienna’s forehead. “I won’t? Why?”

  A nervous laugh slipped from his mouth. “Um, because it’s my music.” He glanced at Alessa out the corner of his eye. No reaction. She still stood with her arms crossed, her beautiful face stolid. It sure was going to take a lot to impress this girl and get her to take any notice of him. Doubt took that brief moment to sneak in. How was he to get her to marry him if she didn’t even want to acknowledge him?

  “Yours?” Sienna’s dark eyes widened in wonder. “As in you singing? Or as in you wrote the lyrics? Or as in you composed the music?”

  Humble as he’d like to remain, there was no getting out of this conversation. He’d keep his answers to the bare minimum.

  “All three.”

  “Seriously?” Sienna touched his arm lightly, but it was the glare Alessa shot her sister that caught his attention. At last, some reaction from her. Hopefully that was a twinge of jealousy he’d just seen.

  Michael nodded.

  “Wow, you are one talented man. So where did all the dancers come from? More importantly, where do you come from?”

  This was his chance for Alessa to get to know a little more about him.

  “The dancers are from two local churches and the missions organization I’m with. As for me, I was born and bred in Loveland, Colorado—although we did spend some years in neighboring Fort Collins.”

  “Did you hear that, Alessa. Michael is from Loveland.” She waggled her brows.

  “I’m not deaf.”

  “That’s in the USA,” Michael hurried to add, more to sidetrack the women from the town he hailed from than for clarification.

  Sienna laughed. “I figured. The accent.”

  “Yeah, can’t hide that.” He shifted the mask from one hand to the other. “I was raised in an evangelical Christian home, and I’m in Italy for the next two years—unless God calls me to stay longer—working with Coram Deo. That’s Latin for—”

  “In the presence of God,” Alessa interjected.

  “Thank you, Alessa.” Sienna turned back to Michael. “She knows Latin. I don’t. She’s been translating for me all afternoon.”

  “Well, I guess it would be required in her line of work.” He turned to stare at the woman who’d made his heart flutter from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. “Not so, Alessa?”

  “Umm, yes.” Alessa unfolded her arms then hooked her thumbs under the backpack straps, looking slightly more relaxed.

  “What a beautiful name. Is Coram Deo a missions organization or a church?” Sienna seemed genuinely interested.

  “It’s one of the local churches that Go International—the organization I’m working for—is partnering with. And yes, it is a beautiful name because we believe to live coram Deo is to live your life in the presence of Almighty God, under His authority, and to His glory. In living coram Deo, we understand that wherever we are, whatever we are doing, God is watching—He’s omnipresent, and He is sovereign. There’s no higher goal than to live a life that honors God. Coram Deo is to live every moment of every day with integrity.”

  Michael shook his head. “Sorry, there I go preaching again.”

  “It’s totally okay. I love how you explained that.” Sienna’s eyes sparkled. “Coram Deo certainly does capture the essence of the Christian life.”

  “You’re a believer too?” Michael asked.

  Sienna nodded. “I am.”

  Alessa turned to look over her shoulder. Avoiding the question?

  Sienna clasped her hands together and brought them to her chin. “Oh, this is such an answer to a prayer. I— We were looking for a good church to worship at on Sunday morning.”

  “Really? You’re welcome to come with me. I’d be honored. Our service starts at eight-thirty.” Michael couldn’t deny that part of the allure of them joining him at church was having the chance to spend time with Alessa, to see her again.

  “We’d love to,” Sienna answered quickly, probably giving Alessa no time to object.

  Michael grinned. “Great! I must warn you though—I’m preaching this week.”

  “You preach too?” Sienna turned to her sister. “Did you hear that? He also preaches.”

  “I heard. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m standing right beside you. And I already told you I’m not deaf.” Alessa’s answer remained dry and emotionless. He really hadn’t made a good first impression on her, had he? Or second, from the look of things.

  “How much more perfect can you get?” Sienna laughed, bouncing up and down on her heels. She waved a hand at him. “Don’t answer that—just thinking out loud.”

  Perfect? For what? Her?

  He couldn’t let that happen. He and Alessa were destined for each other. God had told him so.

  Chapter Three

  ALESSA TUGGED ON SIENNA’S SLEEVE. “We should get going.”

  Sienna pulled away from Alessa’s grasp. She turned back to Michael. “I’m sorry. Will you excuse us for a moment, please?” She marched Alessa away toward the fountain.

  “What is wrong with you?” Her voice had lowered to a seething whisper.

  Alessa stopped and clutched her chest. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re faw
ning all over that guy like he’s the last man in Roma.”

  Sienna snorted. “Michael? I was merely being friendly. You on the other hand were just plain rude. Goodness alone knows why you refuse to notice, but he’s a really nice guy.”

  Alessa rolled her eyes. “I was rude because he’s nothing but a forward American.”

  Sienna’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be joking. In the time we spoke to Michael, I found him to be a rather humble man. And I think I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

  “Humble?” Alessa shoved her hands on her hips. “Then please tell me what you’d call a man telling a girl he’d only just met that one day she’d be his wife? No, there’s no humility in that. Only brash presumption. Kind of cavemanly. Best I be on the lookout in case he bonks me over the head with a club and drags me home to his tribe like some prize.”

  Sienna chuckled. “My word, you have some imagination. But back to what he first said to you—he told you he was going to marry you one day?”

  “His exact words after I’d finished a tour of the Colosseum—a tour he’d wangled his way into by the way—I’m going to marry you one day.” Hearing herself say the words out loud, Alessa couldn’t deny that in the right setting, with the right two people, those few words did hold a kind of romantic magic.

  But romance and love were for dreamers who set themselves up to get hurt somewhere down the line.

  Sienna rubbed her hands together and grinned. “Ooh, this keeps on getting better. It would appear my job is done.”

  “Your job?” Alessa’s heart began to beat faster, throbbing against her rib cage.

  “Of helping you find your soul mate. Although I think he might just have found you first, because Michael seems like the kind of guy to have enough faith to pull off having you walk down the aisle. And that, dear sister, would be some feat.”

  Alessa slapped her sister’s shoulder with her palm. “Stop it, Sienna. That is not even remotely funny.”

  “It’s beyond funny, Alessa—it’s hilarious. And I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you.” She glanced over her shoulder toward where Michael still stood patiently. “Look at him. He’s cute, talented, well-built, and he has a heart for God. I should be so lucky as to land someone like that.”

  “Y–you just think he’s wonderful because he’s a Christian. That’s all.”

  “No, but it definitely is a big plus.” Sienna pivoted then paused. Turning back, she motioned toward Alessa. “Come along, sorellina.”

  “Wh–where are you going?”

  “To give cupid, and fate, a helping hand.” Sienna chuckled then pointed a finger at Alessa. “And don’t you dare try to stop me, Alessandra Rossi.”

  Michael watched the two sisters intently. If only he could be a fly buzzing above their heads—he would love to know what they were talking about. Unfortunately, they were just out of earshot, their words fading into mumbled phrases over the distance separating them.

  He craned his neck to look behind him and spotted Keith standing on the opposite side of the road. His friend and coworker scanned the crowds, no doubt in search of him. If Keith found him now, goodness alone knew what opportunity he might miss with Alessa. Besides, he still needed to make arrangements with her sister for church on Sunday.

  Michael quickly turned away before his friend spotted him. As he glanced up, he saw Sienna walking toward him, Alessa a step or two behind looking most unhappy. Had her big sister given her a talking to?

  “Do you have plans?” Sienna asked as she neared.

  Alessa’s eyes widened, and she worried her lip.

  “For when?” Michael answered.

  Sienna laughed. “Right now. We were about to take a stroll around the piazza, check out a few of the artists, and then stop in somewhere for pizza. Would you like to join us?”

  Would he ever? Mercy, Lord, help me contain my excitement and joy.

  Trying hard not to grin too widely, Michael nodded. “I don’t have anything on tonight, so I’d love to hang out with my favorite tour guide and her sister.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to rephrase that to your betrothed and your future sister-in-law?” Alessa’s words dripped with rancor.

  What a thought. How he’d love to rephrase, but now wasn’t the time.

  He rubbed the back of his neck as a nervous chuckle tumbled from his mouth, almost inaudible. “Alessa, I’m truly sorry my directness to you the other day offended you. I did mean every word though. Time will tell; you’ll see.”

  “I hope you have a lot of time to spare, Mr. Young, because hell will freeze over before I marry you. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Alessandra…manners.” Sienna’s voice held a stern, schoolteacher’s tone.

  Alessandra… So beautiful, but why didn’t she use the longer version of Alessa?

  “I’ll only come on one condition,” Michael said.

  “So long as it’s not to marry my sister right now.” Sienna tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “I do need to get to know you and approve of you first.”

  “No, that’s not the condition. I’d like to pay for our dinner. But on the subject of Alessa, I would like the opportunity, and the permission, to woo your sister.”

  “Alessa is a grown woman…she doesn’t need my permission, or anyone else’s to date someone. She wouldn’t listen to the family anyway.” Sienna leaned closer. Placing her hand vertically at the side of her mouth, she directed her voice toward his ear. “So, good luck with that. I’ll say a prayer for you.”

  Folding her arms, Alessa tapped one foot against the pavers and scowled. “Hellooo, I am right here, remember. I can hear you.”

  Michael smiled. “I don’t need luck. All I need is faith. As for your prayers…well, they wouldn’t hurt either.”

  And all she needed was a stiff drink. That was, if she drank.

  Alessa closed her eyes and counted to ten. She’d settle for a giant pizza instead. Anything to stuff her face so she didn’t need to talk to Mister Perfect. The way Sienna was carrying on, one would think he was the archangel himself descended from heaven.

  As beautiful as the statue of St. Michael the Archangel statue atop Castel Sant’Angelo.

  Alessa sneaked a peek at Michael—broad shoulders that appeared even wider beneath the blue-and-white-striped fabric of his T-shirt; muscular legs filling the gap between his running shoes and the hem of his navy blue cargo shorts; and his skin, a different bronze from the statue, the earthy tone so appealing.

  Her gaze drifted upward, into his. For a brief moment, Alessa lost herself in his azure stare. Would the angel himself have such striking blue eyes too?

  Stop, don’t look!

  Alessa broke their eye-lock and inhaled deeply. With her exhale, she blurted out, “Well, if you’re going to follow us around, best you put that mask back on. Perhaps that way I might be able to forget for a while that you’re the guy who creeped me out with his proposal.”

  Michael bowed low. “For you, Alessa, anything.” As he straightened, he slid the mask back over his face. The gold baroque-style porcelain, with sections of blue-and-white-diamond-checked patterns, hugged his cheekbones as if the mask in all its grandeur and richness were made just for him. Pity it wasn’t a fullface one. All the Zorro-style mask had managed to do was draw her attention to the only parts of his face still visible—those full, kissable lips; his strong jawline; and that piercing gaze that never seemed to tire of looking at her. Maybe making him wear the mask wasn’t such a great idea after all.

  “Well, let’s get looking at the art over with so we can eat.” And go home. Alessa swirled around and strode off into the piazza.

  Sienna hurried to catch up with her. Michael seemed to deliberately place himself on Alessa’s other side. “You can’t seriously be hungry already, Alessa. We barely had lunch. I was thinking more of a late and lengthy dinner. Mangiare la pizza prima delle nove mi fa tristezza.”

  Alessa stopped dead in her tracks. “You didn’t even
want to have dinner tonight, and suddenly you’re pulling out the eating-pizza-before-nine-makes-me-sad card, wanting to drag this night on longer than it needs to?”

  She leaned forward to whisper in Sienna’s ear. “I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

  A smile curved her sister’s mouth into a crescent. “We’ll see.”

  Sienna pointed at a street artist’s stand. “Wow, that guy’s charcoal sketches are good. You wanted to have a sketch done, Alessa, let’s have him draw our faces. It’ll take up some of the time until we can go for pizza.”

  Michael’s head oscillated between Sienna and Alessa. If only she could tell what he was thinking, but that stupid stoic mask gave nothing away.

  “This might be a dumb question, but is there some ruling about when to eat pizza? Back home, heck, we eat it for breakfast.”

  Breakfast? What sacrilege!

  Alessa blew out a huff and turned to Michael. “You ignore the Italian food rule? No pizza for lunch. That includes breakfast.”

  Michael held up his hands. “All right, I get it. When in Rome, do as the Romans. But when you said something about not eating pizza before nine, I was kinda hoping you meant a.m. and not p.m.”

  Sienna laughed. “Oh, Michael, I like you. You’re too funny. Let me give you some tips for the perfect pizza. Woodburning pizza ovens are the best for cooking pizzas, but because they take a long time to get to the right temperature, you won’t get a perfect pizza before around nine in the evening, hence the nine p.m. rule. That’s why you’ll find pizzerias stay open sometimes until way after midnight.” A smile tugged her lips. “Pizza is also a social food, a meal to be enjoyed with friends, or sweethearts.”

  “I can do sweethearts,” Michael announced proudly.

  Alessa shot him a look. Seriously, when would he give up?

  “And friends,” he hurried to add.