Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  He smoothed his hands up and down her back. “You miss him. I know. Your grief is still fresh. Don’t be afraid to grieve his loss.” Sienna had told him when they were visiting the bone chapel that they’d recently lost their father. This was the first time Alessa had mentioned him.

  Is she finally opening up to me, Lord?

  Never mind him—this wasn’t about him. The appropriate question was, had she ever opened up to Jesus?

  Alessa shook her head slowly. “You don’t understand…”

  He tipped her chin and gazed deep into her teary blue eyes. “Then help me to.”

  A moment’s hesitation ensued before she said, “I–I used to pick these flowers for my papà.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Trust him to say and do the wrong thing on such an important night. The last thing he wanted was to open the wound of grief, especially one so raw.

  “How could you have?” She stared at the small blooms, losing herself in her gaze. Finally, she spoke. “I lost my father a long, long time ago. Like the day I was born. My father never loved me. He blamed me for my mother’s death.”

  What? “Why?”

  “My mammà died bringing me into the world. He never forgave me for being the one to live.”

  That explained so much. Poor baby.

  Michael tightened his hug. “Shh, it’s not your fault, cucciola mia. You did nothing wrong.”

  Alessa continued to speak. “My whole life I tried to please him, tried to get him to love me. I was only eight when I plucked a handful of these gentians. I saw him coming in from the fields and ran to him, holding out the blossoms.” She paused, the memory clearly painful to revisit. “H–he hit my hand away, sending the flowers sprawling onto the dirt road, and told me to stop trying to buy his love with wildflowers. He shouted that he would never love me.”

  She crushed the flower Michael had given her into her palm. “That was the day I made a promise to myself to never ever let a man hurt me. Or even come close. Ever.”

  Michael kissed her head as he rocked her in his arms. How could a man be so cruel to his children? And how did he convince Alessa that he was nothing at all like her father?

  Nervousness broiled in Michael’s gut as the night wore on. When they’d finally finished their dessert—tiramisu with blueberries and raspberries—followed by an espresso, Michael asked for the bill. He couldn’t prevent his eyes from widening and a sick feeling washing over him as he stared at the till slip.

  Alessa’s hand brushed over his. “Is everything okay?”

  He swallowed hard. No... Ninety-nine euro! How had his budgeted dinner managed to double in price? Thankfully he had some excess from the sale of his bike—after he’d purchased the scooter and the treasure in his pocket. And this was a special occasion.

  His eyes scanned the small piece of paper as he pulled out his credit card and handed it to Catarina. Should he say something?

  He looked at the waitress. “Scusami, is this correct?” He pointed at the offending item on the slip. “Isn’t this supposed to be thirteen euro fifty?”

  Alessa slid the slip toward her and glanced at it, before spouting off in Italian to their waitress.

  Catarina responded in like manner, then turned her attention to Michael. “Ah, no... The gnocchi was thirty-five euro.”

  “Per plate?” Michael couldn’t help the two words spilling from his mouth a little louder and higher pitched than they should’ve.

  “Sì. It had truffles,” she replied, singing that last word.

  It did? He wished he could’ve seen them…or tasted them.

  He shrugged and forced a smile to his face and a chuckle to his voice. “My bad.”

  Darkness had descended on the city by the time they stepped outside. They walked up the narrow street, his and Alessa’s laughter echoing between the buildings as they chuckled about his faux pas. One thing was for certain, he would never order something again without seeing the price in writing first.

  Alessa sighed as her giggles waned. She linked her arm into Michael’s and leaned against his shoulder. “Thank you for such a special evening.”

  He kissed her temple tenderly. He had fallen so in love with this woman, and every now and then he got glimpses that perhaps Alessa felt the same for him. His insides trembled as he pondered what he was about to do. But it just felt right that he ask again tonight. Even if she refused him, it wouldn’t deter him from continuing to pursue her, continuing to ask for her hand until she one day agreed. He would love her to the ends of the earth.

  “The night is far from over, amore mio,” he said.

  “No? So where to now?”

  He smiled. “To the place of promises and dreams.”

  “Oh. How far to this place of promises and dreams?” Alessa’s gaze searched his.

  Eager to get to their destination, Michael resisted the urge to stop right there and kiss her. If he did, they might not make it to the Trevi Fountain, and he wouldn’t be able to propose again in the special spot where their fates had been sealed by the tossing of their coins. Not that he believed in all that stuff, but it did make his proposal a lot more romantic going back to the day they’d spent there with Sienna. And not that he’d actually ever proposed before—the first two times were more statements than proposals.

  “Not far. Just around the next corner.” He hoped. It was far easier navigating these streets in the daylight.

  The lights around the Trevi Fountain lit up the surrounding buildings. This place was so much more magical at night, its waters sparkling brighter and bluer in the dark.

  God’s love was like that, shining brighter in the darkness. Lord, let Alessa see that. Let her come to know Your love, and experience Your healing in the dark places of her life. Thank You that she opened up to me tonight. This has given me so much more insight into her psyche. Please, lead her to Your Father’s heart.

  Michael took in the few people scattered around the fountain. How different from the throng that had crowded these waters the last time they’d been this way. It must be later than he’d thought.

  Hand in hand, they walked to the edge of the fountain. They paused and Michael dropped to one knee in front of Alessa. One hand still holding hers, he fumbled in his jacket pocket with the other. He pulled out the ring box and flipped it open with his thumb.

  “Alessa Rossi, ti amo. Così tanto.” So very, very much. “I am not your father, and I would never intentionally hurt you. I promise to love you every day of my life, so long as God gives me breath. Please make my three coins—and all my dreams and prayers—come true. Will you marry me?”

  Chapter Ten

  CHEERS AND WHISTLES SURROUNDED THEM as people nearby realized Michael was proposing. Stunned, Alessa didn’t protest while he slid the shiny diamond ring onto her finger. The stone was bigger than she would have thought Michael could afford.

  Then it dawned on her. His bike. This was part of the reason he’d sold it.

  She should put a stop to all this, but she didn’t want to humiliate Michael publicly. Strange, the Alessa who had met him merely two months ago wouldn’t have cared a hoot about his feelings.

  Michael rose and drew her into his embrace and his deep, deep kiss.

  “I love you so much,” he whispered as their lips parted. He rested his forehead against hers and everything in her wanted to say the same back to him, but how could she betray her childhood vows? “I knew God would change your heart toward me. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you, that God wanted me to marry you.”

  Barely able to contain his joy, his grin wide, he continued, “You have made me the happiest man alive, and I am going to make you the happiest woman. Marriage is the most wonderful institution created by God. Oh, Alessa, we are going to have an amazing life together.”

  “H–how do you have so much faith? In God and in marriage? Marriages all around us are failing, the institution of marriage crumbling. And God… Well, He just doesn’t seem to be in control of anything today.
The world’s a mess.”

  Michael trailed his fingers through her hair, then tucked her locks behind her ear. “God is sovereign, Alessa, and everything happens for a purpose. I believe in Him and marriage because I’ve experienced His goodness in so many ways throughout my life.”

  Alessa rubbed her arms. “It’s a little chilly beside the water. We should probably go home—it’s getting late.”

  All the way back to her apartment, Alessa remained quiet. How she could get out of the engagement she seemed to have landed herself in? As strong feelings as she’d developed for Michael, she couldn’t say with clarity that marrying him was something she wanted.

  No other way but to rip off the Band-Aid. Maybe one day, Michael would see the glory in that too. It was best for both of them if they didn’t marry.

  Michael kissed Alessa goodnight at her front door. She didn’t want to say goodbye—she wanted to savor his kisses forever and a day, because the man certainly knew how to kiss—non ci piove—no doubt about it. But…

  She slid the ring from her finger and tucked it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. “I–I’m sorry, Michael. I can’t.” Not now. Maybe not ever. She couldn’t bring herself to say those words. Instead, she said, “It’s just too soon,” leaving the door open for her to change her mind.

  Keeping a brave face, he nodded, but the hurt in his eyes was palpable, and it pained her. If only she could have said yes.

  “I’ll call you,” Michael tossed over his shoulder as he hurried down the steps, away from her.

  An overwhelming flood of emotions—fear, sorrow, loss—washed over Alessa. What had she done?

  She let herself into her apartment before she took off after him. As she shut the door behind her, she allowed her tears to overflow.

  When the crumpled tissues had piled high in the center of her bed and her eyes had swelled, her nose reddened, Alessa pushed the framed sketch that she’d retrieved from the spare bedroom to the edge of her bed and wrapped her fingers around her phone. She hated her sister being so far away. She hated so many time zones complicating their lives. Doing a quick calculation in her head, she deemed the hour acceptable to text Sienna. Hopefully she’d catch her just before her school day began.

  hey there. so i have news—michael proposed tonight, ring and all.

  She left it at that and waited for her sister’s response. It came as fast as she’d hoped.

  eek!! i’m so excited. why didn’t you tell me you’d been seeing him?

  Indeed, why hadn’t she said anything? She’d had ample opportunity over the past month.

  non lo so. maybe i just wanted to wait and see where the relationship went.

  A few seconds later her phone chimed with another text from Sienna.

  well, it certainly does seem to have gone places. so what did you say?

  nothing at first. but when we got back to my place, i gave him the ring back. it’s too soon, sienna. and i don’t know if i’ll ever be ready for this.

  Sienna’s response took a little longer.

  i’ll be praying for you. sorry, gotta go. class about to start. talk later?

  Alessa’s hand hovered over the phone for a few seconds as she pondered a final text. Should she? Couldn’t hurt.

  She pressed her fingers to the glass surface of the touchscreen. thanks, i need that. by the way, i told michael about papa.

  Michael glanced back toward Alessa’s apartment as he slid the helmet onto his head. The door was closed. She hadn’t waited to see him go. What had gone wrong tonight? Everything had been perfect, except of course for the mishap with the exorbitant bill. She’d even opened up to him about her father—that one he hadn’t seen coming.

  He drew in a deep breath and began to sing worship songs and quote scripture. He refused to allow one engagement rejection to send him scampering for the nearest corner to curl up in and cry defeat. He knew what God had told him—one day Alessa would be his wife—and he believed Him. One day, he didn’t know when, they would walk up the aisle together and out of the church as newlyweds.

  So no, he would not allow his soul to be downcast; he would not permit himself to be disturbed by the way tonight had panned out. He had put his hope in God, and he believed that he would yet praise Him. He would not…could not…lose faith and hope.

  What he would do though, was give Alessa time to ponder her choice—a few days, maybe weeks, perhaps even months if that’s the way God guided him in this matter. But please, Lord, don’t let it be that long. I love her. Already I miss her. And during that time, he wouldn’t stop praying that the healing work God had begun in her heart tonight, He would bring to completion. Of course, it would be remiss of him if he didn’t throw in a prayer or two that she would miss him too.

  After all, she had merely said it was “too soon” rather than “no.” He would wait for her forever.

  Pushing away her sleep, Alessa groaned at the incessant ringing of her phone. Who was calling this early?

  She shot up in bed.

  Michael.

  She grabbed for her phone on the bedside table. Instantly, her heart sank when she saw it wasn’t Michael. Then her pulse quickened as she answered. “Sienna, what’s wrong? Why are you calling so early?” And why was she calling? She never called, except on birthdays and Christmas. They always stayed in touch by texting because international calls cost too much, especially from a cell phone.

  “I’m sorry, Alessa. I’ve been waiting impatiently all day for you to go to sleep and wake up. So, you told Michael about Papà? For you, that’s huge! You must care deeply for him to be able to take that step.”

  “I–I do.”

  “And… How did it make you feel to do that?”

  Alessa blew out a breath. “Like a stone had been rolled away from the entrance to my heart.” And then Michael had proposed, and she feared she might permit that stone to roll on all the way back.

  “I’m so happy, sorellina.” Sienna’s sigh drifted through the phone. “But I wish you’d take that step with God too.”

  Yes, that had weighed heavily on her as well last night. Probably the bigger reason for her tossing and turning, not that the thought she might’ve lost Michael didn’t swirl in her brain half the night too.

  “I–I want to, Sienna. I really do. But I’m not sure what to do. Why would God want to listen to anything I have to say when I’ve ignored Him for twenty-two years?”

  “Because, little sister, you might have ignored Him but He has loved you with an everlasting love. And because love, especially God’s love, keeps no record of wrongs.”

  Alessa remained silent, pondering Sienna’s words. An everlasting love? A love that never dies? She thought of all the paintings of Jesus on the cross that she’d admired over the years, and without warning, the cruel reality of the crucifixion slammed home. A love that would die for her deserved her utmost devotion. She wiped away the tears that had moistened her cheeks. “Sorella, would you show me the way to your Jesus? Would you help me to make Him mine?”

  Chapter Eleven

  TEN DAYS, GOING ON ELEVEN! Alessa feared she’d go mad. When would Michael call? Or better, come around?

  She shoved another batch of biscotti into the oven and set the timer. If he didn’t call soon, she was going to get so fat sitting at home eating all these biscotti by herself. But she had no desire to go out with anyone else. Plus, she was too scared to leave her apartment—except for work—in case Michael decided to swing by.

  It was Friday, and she had the day off because she’d worked both Saturday and Sunday for the past two weeks. She could’ve gone back to Tuscany. The extra day on the weekend would have made it worth her while, and Jayne and Rafaele had been begging her to come. They wanted her input on wedding stuff. She would’ve liked to see them, but she couldn’t risk missing Michael. Besides, helping to plan her brother’s wedding with his fiancée would only make her realize what a big mistake she’d made allowing Michael to leave. She should have discussed things furth
er with him, begged him to give her time. Instead, what did she do? She’d clung to her fears and her daddy issues. Until Sienna had led her to Jesus. Now she was just trying to build her fledgling faith with her Heavenly Father and trust Him to work things out with Michael.

  One good thing about having all these evenings and her off days to herself—she was getting to read a lot of the Bible. She so enjoyed getting to know her Savior…even more than she’d enjoyed getting to know Michael, and she had enjoyed that. A lot! Especially Michael’s kisses. She missed his kisses so much. She missed him.

  Focus, Alessa. Focus!

  A knock sounded at the door. Her heart thudded. Michael. She checked her reflection in the window. Good, no flour painting her nose or cheeks white. She whipped off her apron, fluffed her hair, then ran for the door. She flung it open, only to be greeted by a stranger.

  “Ciao,” the young guy, around Michael’s age, said. “Alessandra Rossi?”

  She nodded.

  “Consegna per te.” He shoved a pad and pen in her direction.

  Alessa scribbled her signature on the paper next to her name and the young guy handed over a long, brown, cardboard tube. Oh please, please, please let it be something from Michael. Anything, just to have some kind of contact with him. She’d never dreamed she would miss him this much.

  The delivery guy turned to go.

  “Wait,” Alessa called after him. “Who is this from?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Non lo so.”

  Could that have been one of Michael’s students he was discipling, delivering whatever this was on his behalf? Her heart thrummed at the prospect.

  “Scusa, what is your name?” she asked.

  “Paolo.”

  She hadn’t heard Michael mention that name. Not that she could remember, anyway. “Do you know Michael Young?”

  Paolo shook his head. He waved then turned. “Ciao.”

  Alessa said goodbye then hurried to the kitchen. She opened the tube and pulled out a canvas, setting it down on the table. As she unrolled the canvas—about the same size as the sketch of her, Sienna, and Michael—something fluttered to the floor. Alessa bent over to pick up the white card. She read Retreat to Rome.