Our Italian Summer

by Jennifer Probst

  We stared at each other for a while, and then he grinned, reaching out to tug my ponytail. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but okay. I trust you.”

  Joy burst through me. Funny, it’d only been a few days, but I knew when Ian gave his trust, he meant it. I had an instinct he was honest in everything he did, which made the trust go both ways. I didn’t want to be on the top of the mountain without Ian. It wouldn’t be the same.

  We passed by three towering rock formations off the coast and the boat stopped. Enzo motioned behind us. “This is the Faraglioni rock formations,” he said, sweeping his hand in the air. “That one is Stella, the one in the middle is Faraglione di Mezzo, and the smallest is Scopolo. There is a fourth stack down that way called Monacone. Now, our captain will be taking us around and straight through this famous archway. I advise you to find someone you love and give them a kiss as we sail under,” he said with a wink. “It is good luck. If you are not with your loved one, pick someone you like—we never want to leave an opportunity for good luck behind.”

  The boat restarted and sailed around the jagged formations, the clay-colored stone catching the light and giving the rock a glossy sheen. Lavish villas dotted the coastline along with various caves, and I caught a few people sitting on rocks and waving at us.

  The boat cut smoothly through the waters, and everyone gave a cheer as we passed under the arch. Nonni turned and gave me a big smack on the cheek, and I laughed and moved the other way and found myself a few inches away from Ian.

  I froze. His lips quirked in a half smile, and my heart pounded like crazy as he leaned over and kissed my cheek. His lips were soft and he smelled clean, like soap and lemon. A shiver raced down my spine. “For luck,” he whispered close to my ear, and then he pulled away and the moment was over.

  The boat sailed farther down the coastline and we passed sleek million-dollar yachts. I craned to see if there were any celebrities or people I recognized, hoping to snap a pic, but Ray mentioned most of them were probably rich CEO types, which was boring.

  Enzo called us to attention. “We’re about to enter one of the most famous caves of all time. The grotto was originally used as a marine temple during the reign of Tiberius, but then rumors began to spread that demon spirits inhabited it. Sailors avoided the cave until a fisherman, a German author, and a painter visited in 1826 and spread the story about its magical glowing waters, and it became a popular tourist destination.”

  “What makes the water glow?” Cherry asked.

  Enzo cocked his head. “Magic.”

  Everyone laughed. “If you want the technical answer, sunlight enters the cavern at a precise point under the cave’s mouth. As the light passes through, red reflections are filtered out and only the blue remain. Tiny bubbles cause the light to give it a silvery effect. You will fill up the rowboats four at a time and they will take you into the cave. Watch your step, please.”

  We transferred to small, narrow rowboats one at a time. I held Nonni’s hand while Mom held the other as we got her into the boat. We sat in a line, our legs outstretched and straddling the person in front. The bottom was wet and moisture seeped through my shorts.

  We circled around until the other passengers loaded and then headed toward the tiny hole in the cave.

  Holy crap, it was small. How were we going to—

  “Heads down!” the rowboat operator yelled.

  We ducked and the boat shot through the narrow opening. When I straightened up, I caught my breath.

  An eerie glow shone and rippled from the blue-green still waters in the cave, lighting up the darkness. The rock walls surrounded us in a tight embrace, and then the utter silence was filled with a rising song as the operators all began to sing together. The beautiful notes of Italian echoed and danced while the boat cut quietly through the water. I put my hand out and touched the water, which was cool and silky. My fingers underneath glowed.

  The moment was brief but powerful, and soon we ducked down again and shot back out of the cave into the bright sunlight. I blinked and tapped Nonni on the shoulder. “Are you good?”

  She twisted her head around. “Heck yes, I’m good! I almost cried when they started singing. Except my butt is soaked. I’m going to look like I had an accident all day.”

  I laughed. “It’s so hot we’ll dry in no time. Or I’ll say your Depends leaked.”

  She gave me a playful swat. “Hold your tongue—I’m not there yet.”

  I gave her a hug from behind. When we reboarded the boat, everyone was chattering with excitement about the experience. Mom came over, her eyes giving me that pleading look I knew so well. “What did you think, sweetheart? Wasn’t it beautiful?”

  I nodded. “Yep. Did you check your phone when we were in the cave? Or did it not have Wi-Fi?”

  Her face fell, and I hated the guilt that flooded me. “That’s not fair,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I lied about having a headache. I didn’t want you to be angry, and there was a crisis. I already called Kate and told her no more emergencies. It’s not going to happen again.”

  “There’s always a crisis, Mom. I wouldn’t care except you dragged me on this stupid trip and swore you weren’t going to work. It’s not just me either. This is Nonni’s trip. How much time have you spent with her, huh?”

  She flinched, but I didn’t want to get into it now. Not on the boat surrounded by people. I moved away and spent the rest of the trip talking to Hana and Kai. When we reached the marina, we transferred to a small bus that would take us to the top of the mountain in Anacapri. I tapped Nonni on the shoulder. “I’m going to sit with Ian.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” Her eyes danced. “Have fun.”

  I shot her a warning look and went toward the back, where Ian was waiting for me. His parents sat in front of us and Rosemary swiveled around to hand him a paper bag. “Use this if you’re sick. Oh, I have mints! They help with nausea. Just close your eyes and think of a happy place,” she counseled, her face worried.

  Ian groaned. “Really, Mom? I don’t have a happy place. I’m not two. And I’ll be fine.”

  Patrick shook his head. “Rose, give him a break. Nothing’s going to happen—they do this tour a hundred times a day and I’ve never heard a news report of losing a tourist. Allegra will distract him.”

  I smiled at his dad, loving his thick Irish brogue. “We got this.”

  Enzo stood at the front of the bus with a broad grin. “Okay, we are headed up Monte Solaro to the top. You will have the option of doing the chairlift when we get there, and have lunch on your own. There are many beautiful shops and cafés, and you will have plenty of time to explore. In order to get there, we will be using the Mamma Mia road. Does anyone know why it’s called that?”

  “Because we can’t use any curse words?” Ray shouted out.

  Enzo laughed. “Correct. There are no guardrails, and the road is very narrow, so most people shout out, ‘Mamma mia!’—the ultimate curse in Italian. If you are brave enough to look, it is a beautiful sight to behold, but if you are nervous, just remember I’ve never lost a tourist.”

  “Told you,” Patrick said.

  Ian groaned. “I hope you have a plan for talking me off this literal cliff,” he said.

  “Hey, that was clever.”

  “Thanks.”

  His smile was weak, but it was still there. The bus lurched forward, and then we shot off into the road and began the drive. “Tell me about Ireland,” I prompted, both from curiosity and to keep him talking. “Where do you live?”

  He looked past me through the window as if anticipating the worst. “In Kildare.”

  “That doesn’t help me at all, dude. I’ve never been to Ireland. Tell me what it’s like.”

  “Oh, sorry. Hmm, okay, it’s a beautiful city close to Dublin. Lots of green like you’d expect, but we have a nice village filled with quaint shops and restaurants
. We live close to the Curragh racetrack, so we’re big racehorse fans.”

  “That’s cool. I’ve only seen the Triple Crown on TV, so I don’t know much about it.”

  “I like to go out to the farms and watch the young horses train—see the new colts when they’re born. Watching a race always gives me goose bumps. There’s something wild and free about watching a horse run the track.”

  “Do you own a horse?”

  “No, I wish I did. We have dogs and cats, though.”

  Rosemary turned around again. “He brings home all the rescues to take care of. My goodness, the boy will pick up any homeless stray with no thought. And that includes people.”

  “Rose, leave them alone. Here, listen to your Kindle. I thought you were at the good part,” his dad said.

  “Oh, I am. Beau and Daisy are pretending to be married, but I think they’re going to shag tonight.”

  Ian turned his gaze upward. “Lord, please help me.”

  I giggled. “Rose, can I borrow that book when you’re done?”

  “Absolutely, love. Men just don’t understand.” She winked and put her earbuds in.

  The bus turned a sharp curve, and suddenly it felt like we were hanging in a free fall, the cliff drop hugging the wheels. I relished the sight of jagged rocks, blue sea, and tiny dots of houses scattered along the hillside. It was straight from a postcard. Ian’s skin tone turned slightly greenish, so I amped up my plan. “Where are your rosary beads?” I asked him.

  “Huh?”

  I pointed to his backpack. “Your talisman. Rosary beads. Do you have them?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He reached down and pulled out a simple brown set of beads with a cross hanging at the bottom. “What if another car passes? It could bump us right over.”

  The idea made my chest tight, but I needed to be the strong one. “The drivers know what they’re doing. I’m surprised you don’t have roads like this in Ireland.”

  “None that I’ve been on.” He gripped the beads and rolled his fingers around them. “You must think I’m such a nerd.”

  “I know you’re a nerd, silly. And we’re all afraid of something. Tell me about your animals at home. I always wanted a dog, but my mom refuses. Says animals are messy and too much work.”

  “They are, but worth every second. There are a lot of homeless dogs and cats in our area. When I find a stray, instead of bringing it to an overcrowded shelter, I try to give it a home. Most animals are like children—they want to love and trust but they’re dependent on good people.”

  I thought of all the abuse cases I heard about and shuddered. “How can anyone hurt an animal? Don’t you think there’s too much evil in the world?”

  “There is. I just believe the good outweighs the evil. That’s my job here—to try and even the playing field one day at a time.”

  The bus hit a pothole and shook. A quick glance at the window showed we seemed to be at the height of Mount Solaro, looking down on the entire world. “We’re almost in the clear. How do you use those things?”

  He unclenched his fingers. “Each bead is a prayer. You start with the Our Father right here, and then say ten Hail Marys.” His thumb pressed against the break in the string. “Then you start over again until all the beads have been used.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It’s a meditative device for a lot of people. A way to calm and clear the mind. For me, I find it a powerful tool. I call it my weapon of prayer.”

  I fingered the beads, fascinated by the explanation. “Give me an example.”

  “Well, last year there was a little girl in our town who had an accident. She was in a coma and doctors said she was almost guaranteed not to wake up. If she did, there’d be extensive brain damage. She was only six years old.”

  “How awful.”

  “Yeah, it was a hard time for the community. A group of us from church started a prayer chain and did the rosary for her every day for two weeks. She woke up on the fifteenth day. And she had no brain damage—the doctors called it a miracle.”

  “Do you think the rosary healed her?”

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  “What if she hadn’t woken up? Would you say then the rosary didn’t work?”

  He cocked his head. “Good question. If it didn’t work, I would have accepted it was God’s plan. But I do believe that prayer is powerful and the more you talk, the more God listens. The more I believe, the more amazing things I witness.”

  The passion in his words rang clean and pure. “Isn’t it hard to believe in something when there’s so much bad happening all the time?” I asked.

  “We all believe in something. I lean on my faith to navigate through life.”

  “Then how come you’re so scared of this road when you have your beliefs and your rosary?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Damn, you’re good at challenging me. You’ll set the world on fire one day, Allegra.”

  “You didn’t answer the question,” I said teasingly, my cheeks flushed with pleasure at his compliment.

  “Because I’m not perfect. I still doubt. And I don’t think I could have done this without you, so maybe you’re my good-luck charm.”

  At that moment, a car veered around the blind curve and swooshed past the bus. It seemed like barely an inch of space remained between the vehicles, causing our bus to suddenly swerve closer to the right. Where the cliff was.

  Ian made a high noise like a whimper and frantically reached out for my hand. I gripped his tight, our fingers entwining, and a slight vibration tingled up my arm on contact. I glanced at him, expecting anxiety, but his gaze slammed into mine, and suddenly I was breathless and my skin itched over my bones and everything fell away from my vision and thoughts except for Ian.

  The bus bumped along and we continued holding hands.

  He didn’t look scared anymore.

  When we safely arrived, he reluctantly broke contact. “Thank you,” he said in a low, husky voice.

  “Welcome.”

  “I’m still not going on the chairlift.”

  I grinned and so did he, and I knew something had shifted between us for good. I just wasn’t sure where it would lead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sophia

  There was something magical about Capri, and my heart broke a bit when we left. It was hard on my body with the intense amount of walking, but to sit in the shade of a lemon tree, feast on gelato, and enjoy the hum of the crowds was a memory I’d never forget.

  I was proud of completing the famous chairlift, which brought us to the summit of Mount Solaro. The stunning view as the ground fell away under my dangling feet was thrilling. I had one small moment of panic when Allegra fished out her phone to click some pictures and I worried she’d fall out, but even Frannie had laughed at me for my worry. My fingers were so tangled up with arthritis, I doubted I’d be able to hold an object up in the air for too long.

  We were heading through Tuscany on our way to Florence and stopping by a family farm in Volterra where they made mozzarella. I’d mastered pasta and bread but never tried to make my own cheese at home. I was looking forward to watching the process.

  So far, I’d been able to keep up. I only hoped my determination not to worry my girls would overcome any of my body’s deterioration. My stomach hadn’t flared up yet, but there was a low burning pain around my middle, and I was horribly bloated. Sometimes the band tightened and I lost my breath, but it hadn’t happened enough for me to worry. Not yet.

  I told you to get the tests done before you left, he scolded. What if you’re delaying treatment because of your stubbornness?

  You wrote the book on stubborn. I want to enjoy this trip without anything negative looming over us. How can we have fun if they’re worried about me the whole time?

  Fine, don’t listen to me. You never do. Something is g
oing on with Frannie. You need to get her to open up.

  I’m trying. She hasn’t been on her phone lately, though, but Allegra hasn’t budged. There’s some deep hurt between them only some time and talking can heal.

  Stubborn. Just like you. Runs in the family.

  Oh, shush.

  “What’d you say, Mom?” Frannie asked.

  Had I spoken out loud again? Oh my. I seemed to be doing that more often. Talking to my dead husband would place me straight on the crazy list. “Nothing. This is beautiful, isn’t it?” We climbed up a twisty wooded road and passed sheep, cows, and a variety of other farm animals. The sign read formaggi di maria.

  When we got out, we were greeted by a woman a bit younger than me with curly black hair, a plump face, and an exuberant smile. She wore a white apron and a frayed blue dress that reached her ankles. She was flanked by a young man and woman who welcomed us in and explained what the tour involved.

  “I am Giovanni, this is Patricia, and this is our master cheese maker, Maria.” The older woman nodded and waved at us. “Today we will be showing you our farm and where we make our wonderful cheese. We shall take you behind the scenes. Then Maria will make mozzarella for you with her age-old process she’s been doing since she was seven years old. You will make lunch yourselves.”

  “But I can’t cook!” Kai burst out.

  Everyone laughed. “Today, you shall cook your own pizza and it will be delicious!” Giovanni told him. “Let’s get started. If you will follow me, grazie.”

  The tour took us through the workings of the farm. I watched while a worker milked cows in front of us, and we toured the vegetable and herb gardens, bursting with vine-ripened tomatoes, sweet peppers, basil, and parsley. Olive trees dotted the property, their twisted branches hanging low. Fascinated, we examined the mechanics room, filled with huge metal vaults and industrial ovens pumping out high amounts of liquids for the various cheeses.

  We gathered in front of an outdoor kitchen with a large brick oven and long table. Folding chairs were set up, and I took a seat next to Allegra, excited to watch her during the demonstration.