Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  Placing the card on the table, she unrolled the canvas a second time and examined the painting. Was this a gift from Michael? It certainly looked like it could be. A man stood beside a motorbike gazing down an alley toward the Trevi Fountain. No doubts as to the setting. On the motorbike’s seat lay a bunch of small blue flowers. Could be gentians. In his fingers, the man seemed to hold something small. Alessa took a closer look. Was that a diamond ring? Could this be Michael’s way of telling her he was thinking about her? An elaborate way, quite frankly—the painting must’ve cost quite a bit—when he could’ve just picked up the phone and called. Or driven that new little scooter of his over to her apartment.

  Then again, the painting, the card, the mode of delivery…they all held similarities to other such gifts that had been sent to various members of her family. Already Nonna had received a painting. Then Ric, Piero, and Rafaele. A few days ago, she’d seen that Nick had added a photo of a painting he’d received to the family chat group. Had she just become the next person in their family to fall prey to the stalker artist, as they all called him?

  So hard to know, the similarities to her brothers’, cousins, and Nonna’s paintings were undeniable. But the painting itself…it was so her and Michael and what had happened between them recently. Who could’ve known all those personal details, except Michael himself?

  Only one way to find out. It was Friday…Michael would be playing his weekly basketball game with the students, and then having his usual Bible study with them.

  She grabbed her helmet. She’d go down to the sports center to ask Michael in person…and to thank him. And maybe, just maybe he’d also give her an explanation of why he’d allowed so many days to pass without calling, as he’d promised.

  Gaze fixed on Lorenzo’s tall frame, the ball bouncing between his friend’s hands and the maple floor, Michael moved with the players toward the baskets, waiting for the ball to head his way. It had taken all his effort to keep his attention on this game. Hence the tied score so close to the end. He’d fumbled the ball far too many times. Now it all came down to this shot—if he missed it…

  But would it be all that bad to share the victory with the other team? Not at all—except without one winner, even by a single point, there was no victory to celebrate.

  Is that how he felt deep down inside with Alessa? Did he have to be the victor and have that ring on her finger to prove what God had said was true? Couldn’t he just court her for however long it took, knowing that God would remain faithful to his word? Somedays his faith was strong and unwavering and the answer to that question was a resounding yes; then other days—like today—it was weak, doubts gnawing in the recesses of his mind.

  He’d promised Alessa he would call. He hadn’t. Today, he had to rectify that. Soon as he’d showered, he’d go by her apartment and wait there until she returned from work.

  “Michael!”

  At Lorenzo’s voice, Michael’s attention snapped back to the ball hurtling through the air toward him. He jumped and clamped his hands around the orb. He dribbled the ball into the free-throw lane. As he took the shot, Matteo sprang into the ball’s trajectory. It hit the tips of Matteo’s fingers. Thrown off course, the ball struck the rim of the basket and bounced back toward Michael. The game was lost…to both sides.

  “We could play another overtime period,” Matteo said.

  Michael shook his head. “We’ve already played three. We’ve run out of time. Our Bible study starts soon and we still need to shower.” He dragged himself off the court and grabbed his towel from the bench where he’d discarded it earlier. He bear-hugged his team. “Sorry, guys, the loss of that game is totally on me.”

  Lorenzo smiled and patted Michael’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We win some, we lose some. Just like souls.”

  Right. Just like souls. Michael liked losing there even less.

  Matteo stuck out his hand and shook Michael’s. “Next time, we win.”

  Michael smiled. “You’ve been saying that the past few games.” But today, his words almost came true. “Are you joining us for Bible study?”

  Matteo shook his head. “Maybe next time.”

  “You’ve been saying that for a while too.” Michael pointed a finger at Matteo. “I am going to hold you to that.” And maybe, just maybe, next time God would win in the battle over Matteo’s soul.

  After they’d all showered and changed, those staying for the Bible study slowly gathered beside the court. Their group had already grown to eight new converts. Once everyone was there, they’d head on over to their regular coffee shop and spend the next hour or two discussing God’s word.

  Michael glanced around. What was taking Stefano and Keith so long?

  He turned back as the guys started chatting about the new study he and Keith had planned as part of their discipling training of new converts.

  “Hey, Michael,” Stefano called from behind him. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Michael pivoted, his gaze honing in on the beautiful blonde running toward him. Leaving the group, he ran to greet his cousin from Kansas. Wrapping her in his arms, he swung her around. “Charity! What are you doing here?”

  Alessa’s heart beat faster the closer she got to Centro Sportivo Santa Maria. Should she have brought the painting with her so that Michael could see she hadn’t just made up an excuse to see him? Truth be told though, that’s exactly what she was doing. Deep down, logic told her it wasn’t Michael who’d sent the painting. It had likely been painted long before he had proposed with the ring. And the card, the style, the distinctive blue color…all too similar to the other family paintings. Still, she believed God had given her this opportunity, and she wasn’t about to waste it.

  Jesus, please help me to know what to say to him. How could she get him to understand that she did love him, she did want him, but she didn’t want marriage? Not just yet, at least. She needed him to give them a chance to just be boyfriend and girlfriend for a while. They had plenty of time for their love and romance to develop into something far more committed that would merit the engagement he seemed to so desperately want.

  She pulled her Vespa to a stop outside the sports center and hurried inside toward the basketball courts.

  The air expelled from her lungs at the sight of a blonde in Michael’s arms. She fought back her tears. How foolish she’d been. No wonder he hadn’t called. He’d already moved on to another woman. Had he also fed her the same lines of one day being his wife?

  She whirled around and rushed back toward the door she’d just entered. Blinded by the tears that refused to remain safely hidden behind her eyelids, she slammed into a wall—a tall, dark, very good-looking wall.

  “Ciao, bella” the stranger said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “What’s the matter, cara?”

  She gazed up at him. “I—” was all she managed as her heart broke. She’d lost Michael, and it hurt so badly.

  The stranger wrapped an arm around her and led her outside. “Come, I take you for a coffee and we can chat. Sometimes it helps just to talk to someone.” He smiled at her. “My name is Matteo.”

  “A–Alessandra.” She didn’t want to go for coffee. Crying in a public place wasn’t her thing. Tears were reserved for a private place. She’d learned that a long, long time ago. All she wanted now was her bed, that box of tissues, and a talk with her sister. “Please, can you take me home?” If she wasn’t afraid she’d cause an accident because she couldn’t see the road for her tears, she’d drive herself.

  “Of course. Come, my bike is right over there.”

  “So, what are you doing here?” Michael asked again, still not believing that his favorite cousin, his only cousin, was standing right there in front of him.

  “I followed the yellow brick road, and this is where it led me.” Charity threw her head back and laughed. “Dorothy, Kansas, and The Wizard of Oz jokes aside, I’ve joined Go International and have come to serve in Rome for two years.”

  Michael’s eye
s widened. “You have! That’s fantastic news! Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “I wanted to keep it a surprise. Your passion for these people really challenged me and made me think. What was I doing to make a difference in the world?” Charity ruffled Michael’s hair, something she’d loved doing since they were children to tease him. “Besides, it’s my great-grandfather’s blood that was spilled here too, in order to save the people of Rome—even if that saving was in a different way.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Maybe his cousin could give him some advice from a woman’s perspective on his situation with Alessa. “But how did you know I was down here at the sports center?”

  “They told me at Hope Center when I asked for you.”

  “You should have told me. I would’ve met you at the airport.”

  “And miss out on this important ministry time?” Charity shook her head, her soft blond curls swaying over her shoulders. “I don’t think so.”

  A hand gripped Michael’s arm. He turned to Keith standing right behind him.

  “Michael, I’m sorry to interrupt, but…I just saw Alessa—”

  “She’s here?” She’d come to him, instead of the other way around? Hope surged.

  Keith shook his head. “She was. She just left with Matteo, on his bike. She looked upset. Do they know each other?”

  Did they? He hoped not. On the other hand, he hoped she did. Somehow he doubted it, because if she knew Matteo like they all knew Matteo, she would never have agreed to leave with him. She had just put herself in an extremely precarious position.

  “I–I have to find her. Please, take care of my cousin. I’ll meet you both back at Hope Center later.” Michael stopped a few feet away and turned back to the confused group. “Oh, and Keith, will you lead the Bible study, please? I owe you one, buddy.”

  “Of course. Just go… Go get your girl.”

  Alessa recognized the bike Matteo led her toward. This guy had loaned his bike to Michael for that first date of theirs to the beach—surely she could trust him?

  She gave Matteo her address before sliding onto the seat behind him. She held on tightly to his waist as he wove the bike through the lunchtime traffic. Despite Michael having just broken her heart, she still wished it were his six-pack her arms were wrapped around.

  Soon, Matteo parked his bike outside her apartment. He climbed off and removed his helmet, smoothing his longish hair behind his ears. “How about I make you a cup of coffee, and you can tell me what’s troubling you, bella?”

  Alessa nodded. Why not? Perhaps over an espresso, Matteo could give her some insight into how long ago Michael had moved on. She needed some answers to her questions, and there was no way she would ever pose them to Michael. Not now.

  Upstairs, Matteo shoved a cup into the espresso machine. He seemed so calm and confident—almost at home—like he’d done this routine a thousand times before. Perhaps he worked as a barista to pay for his studies?

  He set the cup down on the table where Alessa had taken a seat before brewing a second. He grabbed the jar of biscotti and set it down on the table as well, helping himself to one.

  Matteo leaned back against the kitchen counter and studied her. “So who broke your heart, bella?” He tipped his chin toward her.

  “M— Mi—” Tears welled again just thinking of his name, let alone mentioning it.

  “You saw your man with another girl, didn’t you?” Matteo shoved away from the counter and neared. Standing behind her, he brushed his hands lightly down Alessa’s arms. “Alessandra, you are far too beautiful to have a man do that to you. Whoever he is, he must be crazy to let you go.”

  Exactly her sentiments.

  He leaned closer, his minty breath mingled with coffee warm in her neck. “If you were mine, I’d never let you out of my sight. I would show you love, day and night.” Hand to her chin, he tipped her face to his then moved in to kiss her.

  No! Even though she was hurting, and at the same time avere un diavolo per capello—having a demon for each hair as the popular Italian saying went, or simply put as mad as hell with Michael—making out with another man was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Please, don’t…” she protested.

  Her plea did nothing to deter Matteo. “Come on, bella, you know you want this as much as I do. Why else would you invite a total stranger up into your apartment?” He pressed his lips to hers, his arms clamping around her, imprisoning her in the chair.

  Jesus, help me.

  She pushed her feet against the table leg, just enough to unbalance her chair and send her, and Matteo, toppling over onto the floor. She landed on top of him, praying she’d winded him enough to get away.

  He chuckled low. “I love a woman with a little spunk.” He lunged for her and she screamed, making a dash for her front door, one thought on her mind: She had to get away.

  Where did he even start looking for Alessa in a city this big? They could’ve gone anywhere. Well aware of Matteo’s reputation, he’d start with the womanizer’s apartment. It wasn’t that far from the sports center.

  As he drove, he prayed that God would lead him to Alessa in time. Why hadn’t he been more vehement with Matteo about changing his ways? Why hadn’t he been more concerned about all those other women’s virtues? Every time, he knew where the handsome Italian had been headed when he’d hightailed it out of the sports center after a game.

  Please keep her safe, Lord. Help me find her.

  A quick search of the perimeter of Matteo’s apartment building showed no signs of the red and black Ducati. Was it at all possible they could’ve gone to Alessa’s place? Would she even be that foolish?

  He had nowhere else to look, so he might as well try there next.

  His heart slammed against his chest like a basketball against the backboard when he saw the superbike parked in the courtyard outside Alessa’s apartment.

  He rushed up the steps, fully prepared to bust down the door if necessary. Hearing Alessa scream, he lunged for the door. The handle lowered at his touch and the door swung open.

  “Michael!” Alessa fell into his arms.

  Matteo emerged from the kitchen, hands in surrender. “It’s all good, Michael. Just having a little fun, like you know I do.”

  Michael’s jaw clenched. If he wasn’t holding Alessa’s trembling body, he’d have clenched his fists too. If he struck Matteo, however, he might forever lose any opportunity to lead him to Christ.

  But how could he fail to defend his woman’s honor?

  He shoved Matteo out the front door before he acted on the urge to rearrange his face. “Get your act together, Matteo. God will not always be patient with you.” And neither would he. His voice trembled with anger, and he prayed for wisdom and calm. “Stop acting like slime with women. I’ve news for you—despite what you might believe, you aren’t God’s gift to them. But you could be, if you would only give God a chance to change your heart.”

  Matteo stared at Michael. He pursed his lips and slowly lowered his gaze to the ground. His chest heaved as he drew in deep breaths. Glancing at Michael, he gave a slow nod, then turned and headed toward his bike. Soon the roar of the Ducati faded into the distance.

  Michael kissed Alessa on the forehead. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  Her head moved against his chest, side to side. “He didn’t hurt me. But if you hadn’t come—”

  “Shh, don’t think about that now. You’re safe. I’m here, and I’ll never leave you. I will always be there for you.” He tipped her face toward him and gently brushed his lips over hers. “Ti amo, cara mia. Ti amo.”

  Chapter Twelve

  BY THE TIME MICHAEL AND Alessa sat down at their table outside the tiny pizzeria later that evening, the sun had already set and the piazza turned dark. Inside, beside a woodburning pizza oven, stood the pizzaiolo, his jovial presence adding to the overall atmosphere. With the pizazz of a showman, and the skills of an expert pizza maker, he twirled the dough in the air one mome
nt, and the next he was sliding the peel under a pizza ready to be baked and shoving it into the fiery furnace.

  “He’s good,” Michael remarked as he watched, fascinated. “I think that’s our order he’s busy with.”

  Alessa turned to look at the pizzaiolo, his toque standing tall on his head. The red scarf around his neck stood in stark contrast to his white double-breasted jacket. She giggled. “I wonder how long he’ll keep that outfit looking so white tonight.”

  Michael reached for Alessa’s hand. He brought it to her mouth and kissed her fingers. “About as long as I can keep my eyes from you.”

  “So short a time?” She offered him a coy smile.

  “Sì, so short a time.” Michael’s gaze held hers, and he swallowed hard. She looked so beautiful tonight, but there was something different about her, something he hadn’t seen before. It was as if she radiated with an ethereal glow, and it made her even more attractive. Dare he question her about whether something had changed over the past ten days?

  He filled his lungs, about to ask, when she opened her mouth.

  “Michael—”

  Their waiter approached bearing a pizza in each hand.

  “I guess that’s what you’d call a balanced meal,” Michael said with a chuckle.

  The waiter set their chosen pizzas down in front of them. Michael had decided on a quattro formaggi—four cheese pizza. Mozzarella, parmesan, gorgonzola, and the chef’s choice oozed like creamy lava on top of the crispy thin crust. Alessa’s choice had been more complex, as only food could be with this gorgeous woman—pizza con fiori di zucca e alici according to the menu, or pizza loaded with zucchini flowers and anchovies.

  After Michael had given thanks for the meal, he lifted a wedge from his plate. But before he could take a bite, Alessa had stretched across the table, and a piece of her pizza touched his lips. He wasn’t partial to anchovies on pizza, or flowers, but for the woman he loved, he’d give it a try.