All the Way to Heaven Page 8

  “You wait here with Gerardo.” She turned and spoke to her husband, the balding little man I’d seen in the window last night. He nodded, beaming agreeably up at his wife. It wouldn’t surprise me if he always smiled like that when he looked at her. He was obviously smitten.

  Before heading upstairs, Isa poked her head into l’Aurora to let Madalina know what was going on, and to order a box of pastries to take with us.

  Madalina bustled out only moments later, pulled open the front passenger door, and slid in next to Gerardo. She said something cheeky to the man; I could tell by the tone of her voice and his guffaw, but then she turned to me.

  “So maybe you are not Princess Grace so much.” She winked and reached over the seat to pat my cheek. “Ani, I am sorry to see you go. You come back to see me when your foot is better, okay?”

  “Or you could come see me,” I suggested, not really considering that it wasn’t exactly my place to extend invitations while I was a guest in the Lazzaro home. Even though I’d just met Madalina, though, she was the closest thing to a friend I had at the moment.

  “I will like that very much,” she replied, her smile wide and genuine. “I will speak to Isa.”

  “I’d like it, too,” I acknowledged. Then I sighed, the weight of the situation suddenly heavy on my shoulders. “Oh Madalina, why did this happen to me? And my first day here! This was supposed to be my dream vacation, my Italian adventure. I had so many things I wanted to do, to prove to everyone that I’m okay. That I’m a grown-up. Independent. A strong tower like you.” I glanced up at the window to the room that had been mine for less than twenty-four hours. “But now it’s all ruined. Now I’m just a burden to everyone.”

  Madalina squinted up at the room, too. “You don’t think you are on an adventure? Weesht! Ani, you need to open your hands, to let go of what you are holding, and grab on to whatever comes to you. Every day is a new adventure if you will only see it.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that? Open my eyes. Open my hands. Look where that got me.” I held up my hands just like I had done to Paulo.

  “Because it is what we say in Lucca. But it is true, Ani.” She flipped the visor in front of her down and adjusted the clips in her hair, eyeing me in the mirror while she spoke. “Be awake and look carefully. Perhaps God has plans for you that you do not yet know.”

  “This is my trip, not his,” I grumbled.

  “Ah. I see.” Madalina nodded slowly, flipping the visor back up. Then she turned in the seat so she was practically sitting backwards, facing me. “In my life, God likes to keep his plans secret until just the right time. He is like a mystery and I am... what do you call it? Investigatore? It is my job to find out his secrets. I don’t mind to look.” She pressed a hand to the opening of her neckline. “But I think perhaps you are minding. You do not like secrets, Ani?”

  “I hate secrets.” It came out more vehemently than I intended. “Secrets are destructive and manipulative and demoralizing.” Honestly, I didn’t really have any issues with God and his secrets, but then, he and I had a platonic relationship at best. I gave him credit for creating the universe and all of us living things in it. I showed up for church on the right holidays and maybe even a few extra Sundays in between for good measure. I was kind to children, respectful of my elders, and did my part to help those less fortunate than I was. In return, I expected him to give me my personal space. I didn’t blame him for other people’s bad behavior—it wasn’t his fault that Jacob was a lying, cheating, two-timing, faithless, selfish rat—and I rarely questioned God’s motives and intentions, because I accepted, for the most part, that he was God and I was not.

  “Hm.” She nodded again, seemingly unaffected by my rant. “I will pray this will be an adventure beyond your wildest dreams then, okay?” She didn’t wait for me to respond, but scooted out of the car, then leaned in my open window and cupped my face in her hands. “I come see you soon, Princess Grace.”

  “Thank you.” I hoped she realized how much I appreciated her.

  “Prego.” She shrugged and cocked her head. “Maybe I will bring Paulo.”

  Of course.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  No matter how hard I tried, I could not stay distressed in the slanting afternoon sunlight that warmed my face through the car window. Sure, I had a broken leg. But it was the best kind of break possible. Who would have thought there was such a thing? I was headed to stay as a guest in a generations-old family home in the Tuscan countryside with people who were quickly becoming my friends. I had an unbelievably handsome doctor who insisted on making house calls and treating me au gratis. I had the promise of home-cooked meals on the terrace every night, and an invitation to join in on the family tradition of milling olives into olive oil. I still had my California drivers license to prove my identity and existence, thirty euros in my pocket, and some pretty good pain pills. I had yet to let my folks or Tish know of my change in plans, but I’d make some calls from the Lazzaro home later this evening, since the time difference had them still sound asleep at this hour.

  I’m sure the pain medication played a significant role in the lethargic euphoria settling around my shoulders, but the beauty of the landscape through which our little car rambled enraptured me. Glorious, Isa’s word for it, was as close as a word as I could find to describe it, too, but it still didn’t do it justice.

  We left the walled city behind, skirted several outlying communities where Lucca had spilled over into the countryside, and about fifteen minutes later, we were driving through scenes straight out of coffee table books and travel brochures. Rows of grapevines patterned the hillsides in vibrant hues of greens and sunset golds, interspersed with fields of grasses turned flaxen by the warmth of summer. Orchards and groves of various trees added texture to the patchwork appearance of an autumn-colored quilt laid out over the contoured land.

  Gerardo rolled down the windows after asking if I minded, and the crisp air woke me up a little, but made me even less inclined to converse with my hosts. They seemed okay with that; they spoke in low tones to each other in their lilting Italian.

  “Cosi says you will maybe want to sleep from the medicine.” Isa turned in her seat to smile at me. “We will arrive soon and you can rest, okay?”

  I nodded agreeably. The feeling of being swept up into an adventure not of my own making washed over me, and I considered Madalina’s words. Perhaps this was how Alice felt when she tumbled down the rabbit hole.

  I closed my eyes and embraced the sensation of falling, the wind whipping my curls away from my face, the hum of the little Fiat wheels on the partially paved road, the murmur of voices growing distant.

  I was awakened by Isa’s hand on my arm, and straightened quickly, surprised I’d drifted off. “Ani? We have arrived. Mama will come quickly and with much noise.” She smiled warmly. “She is very happy when we come,” she added.

  “Thanks for waking me up.” I nodded, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, careful not to smear whatever makeup I still had on, and ran my hands over my flyaway hair in a vain attempt to restore order. Isa’s sleek straight bob looked none the worse for wear, I noted.

  It took me a moment to shake off the haze of my drug-induced nap. It wasn’t as though I didn’t remember where I was or why I was there, but things seemed to register in slow motion. I blinked several times as I gazed out the car windows at the property spread before us.

  The house sat like a stately old dowager on a hill, her tiered skirts of olive trees spilling down the slopes around her. We were parked alongside a row of Italian Cypress trees—they seemed to be standard issue for lining driveways in this part of the country—but beyond their austere lines, I glimpsed an open field shorn for the coming winter, a hard-packed dirt road separating it from a grove of what looked like avocado trees, the shape of them familiar to me because they grew so well in my neck of the woods in California. A neighboring hillside, segmented by low stone walls, boasted row upon row of grape vines, leaves waving jauntily in t
he breeze sweeping in from the direction of the coast, bringing with it the hint of anticipation. For what, I didn’t know, but I breathed it in, deeply.

  The front door of the house burst open and a woman stepped out into the golden glow of the day, then came striding across the patio toward us. It was the only word I could think of to describe her movements. She walked with the firm tread of authority, her long legs eating up the distance, not hurrying, but purposeful. She wore a cobalt blue silk tunic over palazzo-style pants of a shade darker, and the fabric billowed around her as she moved.

  “Ciao, ciao, Isadora! Gerardo! Anica! Benvenuti! Welcome!” My sluggish brain computed that she spoke in English to include me in her verbal embrace.

  “Mama!” Gerardo responded first, meeting her in the middle of the driveway and sweeping her into a full-body hug before kissing both cheeks and accepting the same in return. The two of them stood, still arm in arm, breaking into a chorus of greetings, their words overlapping and blending into laughter.

  Opening my door, I slid forward and lowered my feet to the drive, grimacing slightly as the blood began to throb in my ankle within moments. “Wait, Ani!” Gerardo hurried to my side, his mother-in-law right behind him. As she approached, I saw the obvious family resemblance between her and Dr. Lazzaro. She, too, looked like a descendant of the gods, her jaw strong, full mouth curved in a brilliant smile, eyes ringed by sooty eyelashes. She wore her hair pulled back in a loose twist at the back of her head, but it didn’t show a strand of gray that I could see. Unlike the petite Isa, her mother was tall and stately like the cypress trees standing guard around the property.

  “Welcome to our home, Anica,” the woman said, reaching for my shoulders with both hands, then leaning in to greet me with air kisses on either side of my face. “I am Claudia.”

  “Thank you for having me, Claudia. Your family has been so kind.” Once again, I was overwhelmed by the open-heartedness around me.

  Gerardo leaned in and patted my shoulder. “I help you, Ani. You walk with me.”

  I nodded in response. There was no way I was going to hop all the way to the front door on my own. And I really hoped wherever they planned to house me was directly inside, regardless of how I managed to get there.

  I leaned out of the car to peer up at the house. Built onto a leveled section of the hill, it appeared to be two separate rectangular stone buildings, both two stories, butted together to form an L. The double French doors from which Isa’s mother had burst opened out on a half-circle patio with three steps leading down to the driveway. A low stone wall skirted the patio and was decorated with terracotta planters and urns, overflowing with an opulent display of flora, even this late in the year. Above the doors was a balcony that looked like something off the set of Romeo and Juliet, complete with an ages-old wisteria clambering up the walls to embrace it, its gnarled trunk and branches clinging to the stonework.

  With help from Gerardo and Isa, I managed to hop up the steps to the patio. I sat on the low wall and rested, trying not to let anyone see how much pain the hopping caused. Gerardo, bless his heart, headed inside with my bag and returned shortly with an office chair on casters. “A wheelchair for you!” he exclaimed. I smiled gamely, hoping the wheels wouldn’t fly off while they rolled me across the bumpy flagstones and over the threshold.

  The interior of the house looked nothing like the contrived Italian décor seen in so many model homes in Southern California. Everything had an air of authenticity about it here, timeless in style and ageless in quality. The foyer, with its red tile floor polished smooth by generations of footsteps, was adorned only with huge potted plants and a few large hanging mirrors, creating a subtle transition from the outdoors into the rest of the home. The first room beyond the foyer opened up into a spacious living area, complete with mix-and-match furnishings, color-washed walls crowded with artwork, family photos, and decorative pieces of iron and ceramics. Over a massive fireplace was a mantle that looked like it was made with one stone. In a niche above the fireplace hung a wrought iron cross, probably five feet tall. The low-beamed ceiling gave the room an almost medieval air, and it occurred to me that it was quite possible the building could be several centuries old.

  The guest room where they rolled me was indeed fairly close to the front entrance, and to my relief, directly across the hall from a bathroom. I felt clammy and thick-headed, in need of a little freshening up, and I wanted to change my clothes. My tight jeans were going to be a bear to get out of and they pulled against the bulk of the brace. I only had two skirts with me, both brand new, one long Bohemian thing, the other short, and purchased in the hopes of a night out dancing at an Italian discoteca. That clearly wasn’t going to happen on this trip, but I intended to get my money’s worth out of the long skirt over the next few weeks.

  I politely refused Isa’s offer to help, certain I could handle my simple ablutions. I really just needed a few moments alone, time to process things a little before joining everyone for the evening meal. A half an hour later, exhausted from effort and in considerable pain, I rolled my chair backwards out of the bathroom and into my room. Crossing to my bed, I mentally prepared myself for one last transfer from the chair to the inviting mattress. I moved slowly, carefully, even though the chair was sturdy and rolled smoothly, afraid I might tip over on my head and become an even greater liability to these kind people.

  Claudia must have been listening for my chair trundling over the tiles. She knocked lightly on my door and I bid her enter.

  “Anica, how are you?” Even though I’d told her she could call me Ani, she continued using my full name, just as she did Isadora’s. “What can I do to help you become comfortable?” Her dark brows lowered in concern as she studied me in the fading light. It would be dark soon, but I didn’t think I had the energy to reach for the lamp on the bedside table close by. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed in front of me. “You do not look so well, my dear. Perhaps you would like to take your dinner in your room tonight?”

  I opened my mouth to argue, thinking it would be so rude to do so, but my tongue resisted. She was right. At that moment, I didn’t think I could bear having to put on a polite smile and carry on a conversation with this houseful of strangers, no matter how gracious they were. I took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

  “I’m so sorry, but I do think I need to lie down, at least for a while.” My ankle throbbed inside its casing, and even though I’d taken another dose of pain medication, it hadn’t kicked in yet. “I need to put my foot up.”

  Claudia touched my shoulder gently and stood. “Let me help, okay?” And with that, she pulled the covers of the bed down, plumped and stacked the pillows up at the headboard, then patted the mattress. “Come. Get into bed.”

  She braced the chair for me as I swiveled on one foot and made it to the bed without mishap. She perused my tank top and long skirt, a question in her eyes, but I shook my head. “I’m going to sleep in this. I don’t think I can change again tonight. My leg really hurts.”

  She brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, and nodded. Her eyes were soft with worry and her expression made me miss my mother terribly. I eased myself up in the bed until my back was propped against the pile of pillows—not easy to do with my shredded hands—and let her help maneuver my leg around for me. From a tall cupboard, she pulled out two more pillows, both of which she propped under my leg. Satisfied I was comfortable, she pressed her hands together. “You are hungry, yes? I will bring you your meal now so you can sleep soon. We will visit tomorrow and you will meet my Franco.”

  I assumed Franco was her husband and nodded. “Of course. Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

  “No, Anica. My dear, you are no bother to us, to me. I am honored you come to our home to find healing.” She bent forward and kissed the top of my head in what could only be described as a motherly gesture. She left me then, after turning on the lamp beside me and smoothing the blankets up over my lap, promising to ret
urn shortly with food, and to send Isa in to see me with the cold pack for my foot.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Isa swept in a few minutes later on light feet, her heels clipping the stone floor quietly. “I hear you will stay in bed tonight. That is good. Today has been a long day for you and you must rest. You will want to contact your family, yes? We have wireless internet here because of Gerardo’s clients; do you have a computer?”

  She found it in the bottom of the suitcase, brought it to me after plugging it in first, and held out a sweater she’d also dug out for me to slip my arms into. “Perhaps you want to make a phone call?” She glanced at her watch. “It is 6 o’clock now. What time is it in California?”

  I knew I should call my mom, but she’d hear the misery in my voice and worry unnecessarily. “I think I’ll just email my parents after I eat, Isa. They’re nine hours behind, so they’ll get the email right away, but if I call, I know my mother will want to know everything, and I’m too tired to try to explain tonight. Tomorrow will be better.”

  “Of course. I understand.” She turned toward the door as Claudia stepped back into the room, a tray in hand.

  “I have fried polenta and soup with potato and sausage,” Claudia announced. “There is also a pleasant vino rossa if you like. It is from our house.” Isa stepped back to make room for her mother. I sat there like a princess, no longer forgotten in my tower, but being pampered and cared for like royalty.

  About an hour later, my stomach comfortably full and my foot no longer throbbing quite so painfully, I opened my laptop and pulled up my email. There was a note from Tish she’d written before going to bed the night before and I read over the short paragraphs that included no mention of Jacob whatsoever, and for the first time, I was kind of relieved.