All the Ways to Suffer I Have Known them All!

I know Giovanni tried to see me at least a dozen times. I know because Mama told me. But it wouldn't matter if he tried 150 times, I wasn't going to see him. Never again. Ever ever ever.

How could he have deceived me so completely? How could he have thought that I wasn't going to find out? What possessed him to lie?

Oh but he was so good at lying. When I can't fall asleep at night, I keep seeing him, that smile. That should have tipped me off. That charming smile.

I spent a lot of time at Nunzi's. I slept there off and on for weeks. I slept there because I didn't want to take the chance that Giovanni would find me at the house.

And then of course, I was throwing up.

Yes, there is little question. I have missed my monthly flow twice now.

How could I possibly be so unlucky, to lose my husband, and to gain his baby, all in the same day? the same week? the same month?

Now and then, I would sneak back to see Mama. She was a rock. I was so mortified by what had happened but Mama refused to see it that way. She kept telling me that I was honorable, no matter what anybody said. She told me the same thing over and over again.

"You opened your heart to a man who seemed honest. He does love you Fi. He just wasn't honest."

And of course those words, "He does love you Fi." I recoiled at those words, because when I heard them, they simply scratched open the wound. They found my weak spot, the spot that still feels tender toward him.

I say that and just as soon as I have said it, I shake my head and force myself to feel dead toward him again. It's the only way I can possibly go forward.

So far, Mama doesn't know that I am pregnant. I haven't thrown up in her presence because I go there mostly in the late afternoon. I stay for dinner sometimes. No matter how I feel, I force myself to eat!

I just haven't had the strength to tell her. Because when I do, I am afraid that all hell will break loose.

I will be an unmarried pregnant lady. The worst thing a woman can be. I can just see myself now, walking the streets of Paola with a huge stomach.

Thank the Good Lord, and the Virgin Mary, for my dear Nunzi. She rubs my back when I am vomiting. She sits listening to me while she washes clothes, while she tends to the children, while she makes minestra and spaghetti sauce.

She never tells me to "shut up, I've heard more than I can take!" -- "Stai zitto, ho sentito più di quanto potessi sopportare!"

Quite the contrary. She tells me "there is hope Filomena. You must continue to have hope!"

Nunzi is the sister I never had. The saint I've prayed for.

Through all of this, I haven't written a word in my diary. Somehow when I think about opening it, I freeze. Writing is all tied up with the old life, the very easy life I lived for so many months with Giovanni.

Can I ever begin to write again?

When I do, I will be brutally honest. And more than ever, I will be writing for myself!

******** It is March 15th. We are in the middle of Lent. Easter is in four weeks. Palm Sunday in three.

I haven't had the courage to go to Mass. I haven't stepped foot in the church. Part of me would like to. Part of me needs the solace of the sanctuary.

But the rest of me is so angry at the priest, at the Pope, at all the whole church leaders who can be bought off, that I want to renounce my religion!

When I said that to Nunzi, she stopped chopping onions. She thought for a moment.

"No, I don't think you want to renounce your religion, Fi. I think you simply want to shoot all the lying sons of bitches who are men in and outside of the Church!"

I laughed out loud when she said that. She is absolutely right of course. I still have faith in the Virgin Mary. I know Mother Mary is on my side. I say the rosary daily and sometimes Nunzi says it with me. Sometimes I say it with Mama.

Thank God that I have such a strong mother! One who is so calm.

The day I told her that I was pregnant, she didn't even flinch.

She nodded her head. Then she folded me in her arms. "So you think I didn't guess?" she whispered this as she was holding me. "Mothers have a way of knowing."

After that, I moved back home. That was two weeks ago. The second morning I woke up there, Mama confronted me. We were sitting together at the table. I had pushed away my morning coffee without drinking it. Sometimes it just makes me more queasy.

"Fi, you know I don't often try to tell you what to do. But now I am afraid that it is my duty."

She stopped and I listened. What was she about to say?

"You have a responsibility to tell Giovanni about the baby, Fi. That baby is his child as much as it is yours."

I stood up so fast that I pushed backward onto the floor the chair where I had been sitting. "No, Mama!" I barked. I felt a rush of tears. So often lately I get really emotional, without any warning. "No no no no! It's my baby, Mama. And I'm never going to speak to him again."

Mama is a very smart lady. She didn't say another word. She just let me be. I know she prayed a lot, because she always does.

A little later that morning, when I told Nunzi what Mama had said, she too remained silent. Nunzi was sweeping up sand from the floor in her kitchen. She stopped sweeping. She looked up at me. And then she resumed her task. I wanted so much for her to support me. But I know Nunzi well enough not to ask.

So there I was. Really. Alone. Just me and the baby.

For the first time in more than two months, I took my journal and walked to the beach. I was taking a chance that I might run into Giovanni. But I needed the ocean. It was a glorious early spring morning. The waves were a light greenish turquoise swelling up and down. I walked all the way to the rocks and lowered myself to the sand.

I wanted so badly to write down what I was feeling. I turned the journal upside down and opened it. So now I was staring at the back page. I lifted the pen and when I set it down, instead of writing, I started scratching at the the paper until it ripped. I kept scratching, and then I started ripping the pages of the journal. I tore out a big chunk of pages and ripped them to shreds and they flew everywhere on the beach and then it hit me: I was destroying the only journal I have!

Sadness came over me like a shroud and I shrieked out loud "I HATE YOU GIOVANNI MASIERO YOU ARE A LYING SON OF A BITCH!!!!!" Then I lay back on the sand and let the tears leak out of my eyes and down both sides of my face. Part of me did want to destroy the journal because it was connected to this man who had gutted me with his deception.

But it was MY journal! I was full of confusion.

The journal lay there on my abdomen a few inches above my baby.

The tears kept flowing until they stopped. I sat up. I wiped my face and then I opened the journal again:

"I want to erase you from my life you lying son of a bitch. I want to throw acid in your face! I want to torture you the way I am being tortued. I AM TORTURED DID YOU HEAR ME????? TORTURED AND TORMENTED ENDLESSLY THERE IS NO END TO IT AND...

and then it hit me out of nowhere.

I was carrying a baby -- un bambino -- and I already loved him or her. But this baby was going to be taken from me. Because babies are always taken away from women who are not married.

For some reason, and I know it sounds improbable, I hadn't thought about that yet. Maybe because I was so busy lamenting the loss of my marriage and so very very angry at the man who had so utterly and completely deceived me. Because of that. Because of him, I hadn't focused. I was going on three months pregnant but somehow I hadn't focused on the fact that this baby I already loved so much was going to be ripped out of my arms BECAUSE I AM NOT MARRIED.

I got scared. So so so awfully scared. I sat there and wrote a letter to someone. I wasn't sure who I was writing to, but I knew sitting there that I just had to write it.

"Dear ...

Save me from myself. Save me from pain and sadness. Carry me into something better. Let me be free of all this torture and torment and help me find myself somewhere new.

Find me a place to be, where I can have my baby."

I stopped. Tears sprouted. It was hopeless. Sitting there I knew one thing for certain: there was nowhere that I could have my baby and keep him or her.

And as Nunzi pointed out to me the other day, the way it works, my baby will go to that dreadful foundling home in Cosenza, the ospizio. Where babies go to die. And meanwhile, I will be forced to become a wet nurse to some other poor women's babies.

Oh dear God, save me from this punishment! Save my baby from this certain death!

The ospizios are notorious -- there is so much infection in those places that almost every baby perishes before their first birthday!

I was sobbing into both hands now. Snot and tears were flooding out of my nose.

Then I sat up.

Maybe. With all his money. He could find a place. Maybe. Could he? With all his money?

I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to talk to him. But if there were any possibility that he could help the baby, then I wanted him to do it. To help me keep my...alright. Our baby. Alive.

I would write him a letter today.

So I tore another sheet of paper out of my diary. I began again:

"Of course I will never forgive you for what you have done. For the deception. No, let's call it what it is. For the boldface LYING. You lied to me for so many many months. You lied your way into our marriage. You lied and destroyed my life!

So there is no chance -- EVER EVER -- that I will have anything to do with you.

Except for one thing.

I am carrying your baby. Yes, the deception did not keep me from getting pregnant.

Please. I do NOT want your sympathy.

Until a few minutes ago, I somehow didn't think about the fact that as an officially unwed mother, I will not be able to keep this baby. It will end up in the ozpizio and very few babies survive that.

So I am writing to you with only one question: using your money, is there any way you can help me keep this baby?

I am fully expecting your answer to be no.

And if you think maybe there is any chance I will give the baby up to you AND YOUR WIFE IN TUSCANY then think again. You must be crazy. I would rather die!

Please write to me. Do not try to see me as I do NOT want to see you. Ever, again."

I folded the letter. I gathered my things and pulled myself up to standing. I had to get an envelope. The postale had envelopes.

I stopped. I needed his address. I had his address. 23 Via dell'Oceano, San Lucido.

That would get there.

I moved quickly from the beach. If I hurried, I could reach the postale before it closed for mid-day siesta.

********

I didn't tell Mama or Nunzi what I'd done. What was the point?

Exactly two mornings later, about 7 a.m., Giovanni appeared at the door. Mama answered it and called to me.

The loud knocking had woken me up. I heard Mama say something. I had turned over. I would pretend I was asleep.

Mama opened my door. "Filomena?"

I was asleep. Mama came in and sat down on the bed. She waited. Nothing from me.

"Fi," she said finally, "I know you can hear me. So please listen closely. You cannot keep this up any longer. You cannot refuse to see him. You and he share this baby. Now please. Make my life a little easier this morning. Please get up right now. Please Fi."

Her last words were pinched with nervous tension. When I thought about it, I wasn't being fair to Mama. And for that reason alone, I turned over. I was crying. She lifted her apron and dried my eyes.

"My dear daughter, I realize how hard this is for you. But you are carrying life inside of you. You must be an adult. You have no choice Filomena." She kissed my forehead. "Please get up now." I heard tears in her voice.

Mama stood up. She stood there until I was out of bed. She handed me a dress, which I exchanged for my nightgown.

And then she turned, and I prepared to be a grown up. I followed her out to the kitchen.

I stood there staring at the floor.

"Fi, please look at me."

I didn't. I kept staring at the floor.

"I got your letter. And I am...heartbroken. Fi I want to have this baby with you, I would do anything to..."

"Just shut up Giovanni. Do you hear me? Just SHUT UP DAMN YOU! Stai zitto, dannazione!!! He stopped.

"But Fi, I want to find some way to help you. I really do! It's my baby too, I want to help!"

"So what do you suggest? Do you have a way for me to keep the baby so he doesn't go to the foundling home?"

"Perhaps I could talk to Father Crudele, maybe I could convince him to make an exception, letting you keep.."

"OH PLEASE! I hardly think Father Crudele is the person to stand up for me, considering his stupidity in allowing our marriage. I'm sure he is plenty embarrassed by that decision to overrule the annulment. Why would he want to stick his neck out now and try to stand up to the Church fathers?!"

"Well I don't care about any of that, Fi, I'm still going to talk to the priest."

I realized that I should at least be grateful to Giovanni for caring enough to try something.

"I thank you for caring about the baby," I whispered.

He set one hand over his mouth. Now he stared at the floor.

I glanced up at him and I saw that he was wiping tears from his eyes. But more importantly I realized that he was so thin he looked almost skeletal. He was pale, too, his skin had a greyish yellow cast. It was jarring. I couldn't help myself.

"Are you sick or something?"

He looked up quickly. "Why, do I look sick?"

I stared at him. Part of me -- the part that would always be angry at him -- wanted to ignore his question. But I couldn't, because if there was something wrong with him, then...

"Yes, you look like death warmed over. La morte si è scaldata."

"I've got something. Something the doctor says he hasn't seen before."

I sighed. One more thing.

"Look, Giovanni. I'm only interested in the welfare of this baby I'm carrying."

"Fi, I understand that. But must I keep reminding you, it's my baby too."

I nodded. Oh God this was hard. I felt queasy and a bit dizzy. Mama had left. There was a pitcher of water on the table. I took two cups and poured water in both. Then I sat down. I did not invite him to sit down but he did anyway.

"Yes, Giovanni, I know only too well that it's your baby too. But the time is long passed that I can undo that."

"Oh Fi what are you saying, are you saying you really don't feel any love for..."

I slammed the cup down on the table. "I want you to shut up Giovanni. I told you I don't want to hear a word from you about love!"

He sat back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. "OK fine. I think what you want from me is a miracle. You want me to say that I know a way to save the baby from the likes of the church and the municipio? Well I'm sorry Fi, even though I'm going to talk to the priest, I am doubtful. All the money in the world doesn't change the situation you're in." Then he uncrossed his leg and sat forward. "But I'm saying I still love you from here to the moon and back. I love you as much as all the stars in the sky, all of them combined! And so..."

"Oh please Giovanni, I cannot tolerate all your professions of love. Please keep all of it to yourself!"

He sat back again. When I looked at him again, he looked like someone had sucked him of all his life force. Well, so be it.

We sat in silence until it started to be really uncomfortable. I tried to think of something to say, but thankfully he saved me from having to do it.

"Filomena, if there is anything I can do to help you I will! And no, I won't take the baby home to Tuscany because there is no place for him or her there either! Don't think for a minute I haven't weighed each and every possibility! Fi I am so so sorry! I never thought it possible before, but..."

I looked at him. Curious. "But what?"

"I have considered all the different ways I could...take my life."

I cringed. He was coming unhinged. And he had nothing to offer me, no way to save the baby from the ospizia. I found myself starting to feel sorry for Giovanni. He looked so pathetic. So unhealthy.

The weight of the world was pressing in on me.

"I'm sorry for you Giovanni. And I'm very sorry you cannot help me."

We sat there.

"And just by the way, nothing is gained if you take your life. That's just my opinion."

I could see him chewing this over. After a while he spoke once more.

"When I think about my life, I think, I am only 28 years old and already I've had two wives. But no more. And I have had one child die. And now, I face losing another child. It is wildly unfair I think and it's not easy for me, not..."

I bristled. "ABBASTANZA!! Enough! Don't let's get started talking about what's unfair. Please!"

Standing, I started walking quickly toward the door. "I don't have any more to say to you Giovanni."

He got the hint. As he passed me, he stopped. I really think he was going to try to kiss me but I turned away.

Again, he got the hint. "Fi, I'll try something, I will. And like I said, if you think of any way I can help you, please...please get in touch with me."

"I will."

"Do you promise?" "Oh dear let's not be childish Giovanni. Yes, I promise!"

He left and I just stood there staring at the door.

Sunshine and Squalls

We spent the first weeks of our marriage enjoying the "small" house in San Lucido, eating like a king and queen, writing for hours and hours, reading poetry out loud, and loving each other whenever we were inclined. We got a tremendous amount of pleasure from walking along the beach, early in the morning, or late at night, whenever the weather permitted. Giovanni was finally out of his cast, and could use his arm, but he needed to be cautious.

More than anything, he wanted to take me out in the sailboat. He badgered me all of December but I told him we were too busy preparing for Christmas. After the holidays were over, he started in again. I kept telling him that sailing was a foolish notion in January. "Can't it wait until April?"

But no, Giovanni was in a hurry, and he can be awfully stubborn. And so when there was a warm spell toward the end of January, with many days of sunshine and temperatures reaching above 60, I gave in and we ventured out on the sailboat. Giuseppi packed a cold lunch for us and we rode in the carriage to the pier, such as it is, and we were armed with several blankets to ensure that we would keep warm should the weather turn. Giovanni promised me that it wouldn't!

Because of his weak arm, he invited his sailing partner, Lorenzo, to come along. A big beefy fellow from Naples, Lorenzo is very good company as he always knows something to say to get you laughing!

I have been out on the water many many times with my Papa, but I must say, Giovanni's gigantic sailboat -- the Lucia -- was exhilerating. At my husband's insistence, I lay down on the deck up toward the bow, covered up with blankets. I watched how the billowing white sail swelled with wind. My ears were filled with the slap of waves against the hull, and the roar of the wind. Lying there, my face felt pleasantly warm in the sun. The morning went quickly as the boat flew up the coast.

At lunchtime, I crawled over the deck and descended into the cockpit. Giovanni and Lorenzo were laughing, and each had a beer in his hand. I opened the basket that contained our lunch. I spread a small tablecloth, and opened the container of cold pasta with bacon and parmesan. I inhaled, it smelled delicious in the salty air of the sea. Oh heavens I was hungry!

As we sat eating our pasta, I noticed that Giovanni was studying my face. Or was it my hair? Why was he frowning at me?

But soon I realized that he wasn't looking at me. He was staring over my head. When I swiveled around to face where he was looking, I gasped. Half the sky was overcast now, and in the distance was a thick ring of grey clouds sitting squarely on the horizon, and it looked to be heading our way.

"Burrasca," G whispered, setting his plate down. Lorenzo did the same. "Fi, if you would, I suggest we pack up the rest of lunch at least for now. And why don't you go below."

"Oh really Giovanni, must I?"

Giovanni gave me a narrow look. "Yes, I'm afraid so, darling. It's much safer down there."

I was annoyed, but I did what he asked. Only I did it very slowly. I watched as the men got busy tying things down. And donning these oversized jackets that made them look like small mountains.

Honestly, I have never been in a boat in a bad squall. And so I wondered if they weren't making too much of a fuss.

But within minutes, I began to understand. This burrasca was wicked!

Before I knew it, the boat began rocking wildly side to side, tipping first in one direction and then swinging in the other. I descended below and sank onto the wooden floor. Using my feet to brace myself, I managed to sit tight. But still I was thrown back and forth by the mighty waves.

I could hear the wind thundering against the old wooden frame of the sailboat, and at one point, the wind cracked so loud it sounded exactly

like a gunshot!

In the past I've never been one to be seasick, but then I had never felt myself thrown back and forth like an old rag doll. Before I knew it, my lunch was splattered all over me and the bottom of the boat. My head fell back and I started to pray that we would make it back to shore safely. I worried about the two men on deck; how could they manage to hold on?

Try as I might, I couldn't stop throwing up. Finally, I had nothing left inside of me. I began weeping, as the boat was still in the throes of the wind, and now driving rain was upon us. It must have been frozen because the rain sounded like icy nails as it hit the boat.

For a moment, I began to panic. What if Giovanni and Lorenzo had both been swept away? What if I was alone on this sailboat, at the mercy of this vicious weather?

Using the last bit of energy I could muster, I brought myself onto my knees, and forced my way back up into the cockpit. I was greeted by an explosion of wind and ice cold rain. But at least, I could see G and Lorenzo both at the helm in their bulky jackets and hats with large brims that hid most of their faces.

I yelled to G, but he didn't hear me. I yelled louder and still he didn't look my way. So I pulled myself onto the deck and when he noticed me, he motioned for me to go back down below. The boat tipped and slammmed at that moment and I went flying down the short staircase, and I think I must have hit my head on the way down.

There I lay for God knows how long. I remember that I was trying to pray. I kept saying "Hail Mary," but then I couldn't remember the rest of the words of this prayer I had known since childhood! I was tossing and turning, too, and I must have fallen asleep or gone unconscious. I remember dreaming that I was sitting with Mama beneath a tree, the sun was shining so brightly in a perfectly blue sky, and she and I were eating olives! I kept dreaming that if I just filled myself with olives my nausea would be quelled and all would be well.

The next thing I knew I opened my eyes and Lorenzo, a burly young man, was carrying me. I felt his long black beard tickling my face. Giovanni was saying something but it wouldn't come clear. I heard water sloshing and I felt sick to my stomach again.

And then he set me down in the wet sand and I looked all around me. I began sobbing because I was so terribly grateful that we had survived la burrasca!

That night, Giuseppi made us what he called "comfort soup," zuppa di conforto, which resembled Mama's straciatella. Chicken broth, spinach, and "stracci," the rags, fashioned out of eggs dropped into the soup. Giuseppi added lemon peel and lots of parmesan. I can still remember the taste of that soup, and the way it calmed me.

After dinner, Giovanni and I sat in front of the fireplace, the one right in our bedroom. We drank chamomile tea and we read poetry to one another. G chose Petrarch's sonnet 311:

"That nightingale who weeps so sweetly,

perhaps for his brood, or his dear companion,

fills the sky and country round with sweetness

with so many piteous, bright notes,

and it seems all night he stays beside me,

and reminds me of my harsh fate:

for I have no one to grieve for but myself,

who believed that Death could not take a goddess.

Oh how easy it is to cheat one who feels safe!

Who would have ever thought to see two lights,

clearer than the sun, make earth darken?

Now I know that my fierce fate

wishes me to learn, as I live and weep:

nothing that delights us here is lasting."

The poem left me completely sad. After a moment of silence, I said, "Heavens, G, that one is particularly scary for me. Why that one tonight?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure, but I think because it reminds me how fleeting life is, and how, at any moment, we might face 'una burrasca'!"

Alas, Giovanni could not have spoken truer words. Who knew all that awaited us the very next morning!

**********

The sun had returned and even though it was chilly, I dressed warmly and tied on my head the lovely blue wool bonnet that G had brought me from Tuscany. I headed for the beach right after breakfast. Giovanni was busy with Lorenzo, addressing a fix that he said was needed on the sailboat after it endured the squall.

I walked on the wet sand and stopped now and then to gaze out at the lively whitecaps dancing on the blue green ocean; I had a new appreciation for what a force the sea could be. In an odd way, I was glad to have had the experience of the squall, because it had humbled me, and more importantly, I think it had humbled Giovanni. He has always lived a life where there seemed to be no limits but now the sea had imposed her limits on him! Thank God we made it through.

Thinking I would write in my journal, I had brought it and a pen along with me. I sat down on a large rock and opened to a fresh page. But nothing at all came to me this morning. I suppose I was still digesting the horrifying experience of the day before.

Also, I was feeling a bit queasy again. I figured it was a leftover, a bodily reminder of what had happened on the sailboat. I sat for awhile and then decided to head back to the villa.

Will I ever forget the first thing that met my eyes when I approached the front door? I've had months and months now to think about what happened, and I've wrestled with the events of that fateful morning over and over and over again. And still I'm no closer to grasping the chasm that opened up in my life on that bright cold January day. It was January 25th to be exact.

There was a fine carriage sitting next to the cedars. The exterior of the carriage was a highly polished wood, with the most beautiful grains. I stood before it wondering who would own such a carriage? The horse or horses had been taken away. Whoever the owner was, he (or she?) would have to have a bounty of money...

Perhaps, I thought, it was someone in Giovanni's family?

I entered the front door and I can only say that my heart started clamouring. There before me was Giovanni with that man, the one who stands not quite as tall as G but is altogether similar but older, an imposing image in his regal stance.

Uncharacteristically, Giovanni's father was not yelling at his son this morning.

They were standing in silence.

I winced when I came closer, though. Giovanni had one arm bent and lifted to his eyes. He was trying to cover his eyes, because he was crying, I could see that plainly now. He had a white sheet of folded paper in the other hand.

I rushed up to him, because I pride myself on knowing exactly how to soothe him when he is the least bit distraught. And so I did try.

"Darling, I'm here, I'm here."

He dropped his arm from his eyes. He reached for me, and his father shook his head sharply and made a noise, and turned away as if in disgust.

"Yes, Fi, you are here. You are always here for me my darling wife."

"But what is it G? Please just let me help you the way I always do!" I whispered this to him, and then laid my head on his chest. He set one hand on my back and started to make circles. But still he was crying.

I took a step back. He sniffled. "What is it Giovanni? Please talk to me. Can we go upstairs?"

He just stood there blinking. And then he closed his eyes. But still he didn't speak.

Panic started to take hold of me. And oddly, the nausea was getting worse. My stomach growled deeply. Now was not the time to think about eating, but I knew that I must put something in my stomach. But first I had to know what was going on.

"Giovanni, can you please tell me why you are so upset? I'm starting to get...scared." There. I had said it. Now he could tell me what minor catastrophe his father had unloaded on him. And then we could be done with it and continue on with our lives as before!

My husband cleared his throat. "Let's go upstairs, as you suggested, sweetheart." I looked at him. He had never called me sweetheart before, had he? Why was he starting now?

And so we went upstairs, leaving his father in the marble foyer. I was so thoroughly convinced that this was just an inconvenience, this visit from his wretched father. The old man would be gone soon enough and I would be glad to see him go.

Those were the thoughts in my head as G and I made our way upstairs, hand in hand. We entered the bedroom. Sat down before the fireplace on the settee we had occupied the night before. The last coals from the evening's fire were still glowing red.

He wasted no time to begin.

"Fi, there is something I need to explain to you. And I..." But he stopped there and would not go forward.

"Yes?"

"Fi, would you kiss me please?"

I chuckled. I raised my face and we embraced and he left his lips on mine for a long time.

Finally I pulled away. "Please say what it is G, and let's get it over with."

At that, he started crying again. Now I began to worry. What could be so earthshaking?

"Fi, I am...afraid that you...I know that you will always live in my heart. Forever."

A kind of dread took hold of me. It was a ring of darkness that began to creep over the two of us and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it!

"Filomena, I am afraid that we...have made a terrible mistake." I could barely hear the last two words. But I did hear them.

A terrible mistake. Un terribile errore.

"What mistake?" I shook my head slowly. I was certain that we had done absolutely nothing wrong. We had married and we had promised to love each other as long as both shall live.

And now it came.

"Fi, I'm afraid that my father has brought to me this letter from the Papal offices in Rome." He cleared his throat. "The letter is an official missive, meaning, it transcends any other decision by any other diocese in Italy." I was getting irritated. Who cared about some Papal missive? Why had his father brought it here? What about it could give Giovanni reason to cry and carry on like this?

"G, please tell me what you mean about we made a mistake. What mistake? We've never made a mistake!"

"We did Fi," he said, is face crumpling. "We got married when..." he squeezed his eyes shut. "When my previous marriage was not officially...annulled."

My eyes swelled. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse. My ears were burning because... G had just said the words, "previous marriage." Matrimonio precedente. "You...were...married before?" My voice sounded dull and deadly to me, as if a squall had swept through my throat.

He shook his head up and down. "Yes, but I think when I explain it to you, Fi, I know you will understand, you will agree that..."

I covered my ears and I screamed as loud as I could. "YOU NEVER TOLD ME THAT YOU WERE MARRIED BEFORE YOU NEVER TOLD ME!" I stood, I covered my mouth with one hand and I started pacing. Each direction I faced was unsuitable, unacceptable, every which way I turned I was caged. Caged by my own rage.

He stood and tried to take me in his arms.

"Oh no! Just go away!" I held both arms out to shield myself from him. And when he got close I shoved him away with both hands as hard as I could. If I had held a club at that moment, I would have bludgeoned him, I swear I would have!

"Fi, you've got to let me explain."

I was crying now, I wasn't sure how I was going to continue. I stood there, my life force pouring out of me. I looked up at him with dead eyes.

"Fi I married when I was 18, so so young. And my wife got pregnant right away, she was only 17. And she had something awful happen during the pregancy, she had what the doctor says amounts to a stroke, and the baby died, and she became..."

We stood there. I stared at him. He stared at his feet.

"She is in a coma that the doctors say could last forever. For the rest of her life, however long that is..." Here he raised his eyes, his pathetic eyes, to me. "And it could be a very very long time!"

I stood there. I could see the ocean and the peaks of whitecaps. I felt like I was growing distant from Giovanni already. I felt like he was receding from me. Meanwhile I needed food, or water, desperately.

"Father Crudele sought an annulment in the province of Reggio Calabria and the priests there were unanimous that I deserved the annulment, they agreed that no one my age should be saddled in marriage with a woman who is barely alive."

Here he held out the letter that he still carried in his hand. "But my goddamn father refused to accept the idea that I would remarry. He insisted I had an obligation to Loretta. That I shouldn't get an annulment, so he went all the way to Rome and...he prevailed."

I was a statue. I was gazing at Giovanni and I was trying to listen to all of his words. I heard exactly what he was saying. It all made perfect sense.

But somehow it didn't penetrate my skull.

A minute ago, my life was full and happy and completely rational. And now, somehow, it was ravaged. My marriage was a falsehood. Giovanni could never be my husband. He should never have asked me to marry him. He had absolutely no right. He had a wife, a living breathing human being lying in some fancy bed up in Tuscany. A woman being cared for by someone not unlike me or my mother.

I sank onto the settee. "I will pack my things," I said in a tiny voice. "Some things at least. I will leave this afternoon. As soon as...I have... something to eat."

Turning, I gazed at Giovanni. Our eyes met. But quickly I looked away, as I realized we would not be meeting again.

Never again would we share a bed. Or a meal. Or poetry.

Nothing.

Never. Would I see him. Again.

I picked myself up off the settee. I felt like I was crumbling in on myself. I crossed my arms over my middle and headed quickly out of the bedroom.

I would go see Giuseppi, and he would give me something to eat.

Ours is a Wedding Like No Other!!!

Who knew that Tullio could play the cello?

Who knew that he would play the Ave Maria at the wedding, several times over, and, and that when he finished, almost everyone was in tears!

That was just one of many surprises on my wedding day, which was so special and so beautiful that it's hard to know where to begin.

I suppose I should start by saying that Mama made me a dress that had no equal. On the morning of the wedding, when the sun was shining in a milky blue sky, she helped me into the dress and the white silk felt like skin against my skin. Nunzi, who miraculously wasn't throwing up, combed and pinned up my hair.

How I wish that we had a big mirror in our house, so that I could have seen my whole reflection in the morning. Mama has a small hand mirror and she held it up to me, moving it up and down, and from what I could see, I looked awfully pretty. But it wasn't until later in the day, when we were all in San Lucido at the reception, that I saw the way I must have appeared to others.

"You are the most beautiful bride I've ever seen," Nunzi whispered as she helped me place the crocheted veil. Mama agreed -- she stood there holding a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes.

Mama thought of everything. I would have had to wear my old leather boots had it not been for the slippers she crocheted. I wore white stockings, and the crocheted slippers tied at the top. Thankfully, because Giovanni was sending a carriage for me, I wouldn't be walking in the street!

It would have been lovely if Mama had had time to sew a dress for herself! And for Nunzi! When I said that, the morning of the wedding, they both wrapped their arms around me and Mama whispered, "Filomena, this is your day, and your dress is the only one that matters!

The carriage pulled up about ten a.m. It was a cool morning. Our street is so narrow that the horse and carriage took up most of the space. The driver, someone I didn't know, had thought to bring a stool, so I could climb in, holding onto Nunzi's hand for support.

I felt like a queen riding through Paola; people I had known my whole life were gathered in the streets to wave to me. I was glad to be sitting next to my mother, and Nunzi, because they both mean so much to me. A sort of procession formed in the wake of the carriage. There wasn't a soul who wasn't coming to the church, as this was a wedding like no other!

There was a crowd waiting at the church, and they clapped as the driver helped me down from the carriage. A young woman I didn't recognize greeted me at the top of the stairs, with my wedding bouquet -- the most fragrant white lilies with red centers. I thanked her, and she nodded, and bowed, and disappeared.

All of a sudden I felt an intense fear -- I looked around, and found Mama two steps away. I wasn't expecting tears now, as here I hadn't gotten married. I reached for her hand and squeezed it. Why was I suddenly so afraid?

For one thing, I was missing my Papa intensely. He would have walked me down the aisle, and for a while as we planned the wedding, we weren't sure who would have that honor. Finally, my mother decided to ask her first cousin Arturo if he would give me away, and he agreed.

And so now, Arturo appeared. He has a kind face, and a large mustached. He hugged Mama and then he hugged me. We stood in the back of the church, and I looked around, nervously, for Giovanni, but I didn't see him.

There were still a few minutes before mass was to begin. Mama led me into a tiny alcove off to one side of the church foyer. People were streaming into the church, but they couldn't see me as I was tucked away behind a thick stone archway.

"Sit down, Fi," Mama whispered.

"No, Mama, I'm too nervous, I would rather stand."

She smiled at me.

That's when I heard a swell of the sweetest music, low and bellowing, and, I just had to step back into the sanctuary! Up front I saw Tullio playing the cello. Giovanni had said that there would be a big surprise for me at the church the morning of the wedding, and Mama and Nunzi knew what it was, but no one had breathed a word of it to me.

He was playing the Ave Maria. Instantly, I felt a calm like no other. The music set fire to goosebumps up and down my arms and legs. It sank into my chest, and began filling me with joy. I inhaled and smiled; tears started down my face. Mama set a handkerchief into my hands and I wiped my eyes.

I realized then that there was nothing to fear! Everyone was so happy for me. Soon Giovanni would appear and an hour after that, we would be husband and wife!

Closing my eyes, I let the cello music fill me from head to toe. I was so focused on that beautiful musical tribute to the Virgin Mary that I was surprised when Mama whispered, "OK, Fi, it's time!"

She took my elbow and guided me back into the church aisle where Arturo stood, looking very sober. Mama took hold of my face and whispered, "Ti amo!" and then she kissed my cheek and stepped away. I slipped my arm around Arturo's and he took hold of my hand. Everyone stood up and Tullio began playing another piece of music for the procession, a piece I didn't know, but oh was it beautiful.

I was smiling at my neighbors, on the left and the right. It wasn't until I was almost half-way up the aisle when I looked forward and there was Giovanni! He wore a simple white shirt with a stand up collar, and his wild hair had been clipped, so that his curls were thick and full, much like they had been that day I met him on the beach almost exactly ten months ago. He had a wide smile, and a small red flower was pinned to his shirt. Eduoardo stood beside him.

Arturo gave me a gentle kiss and handed me over to Giovanni. Nunzi waited to take my bouquet.

G and I stood there squarely facing Father, who was only a foot away. He proceeded to say Mass, all in Latin. I found myself drifting away over and over again, daydreaming, thinking about Giovanni and me, walking on the beach.

Before I knew it, Father was ready to give the two of us Communion. After he lay the white wafer on my and Giovanni's tongue, he turned to face the rest of the parishioners, who lined up to take the sacrament.

When I look back on the wedding service, it's all a blur. All I really recall after Communion is Father blessing us one last time. Then we were standing, and embracing; Giovanni looked at me with the sweetest expression on his face.

We walked slowly back down the aisle, with G holding my hand and my elbow. After kneeling for most of the hour, I wanted to jump up and run out to the beach! I wanted to yell and wave but I knew I had to restrain myself. There was time for all that at the reception!

********

There are two words to describe the wedding reception at San Lucido: heavenly and delicious! About two hundred people from Paola crowded into the foyer of Giovanni's house --- or should I say, Giovanni's and my house! Neighbors rode on carts, and many people walked! It was the largest party I've ever attended.

The weather couldn't have been better. Thin morning clouds disappeared, as did the mist over the ocean. As G and I rode back to San Lucido, snuggled against one another (the carriage made at least ten trips back and forth, carrying my mother among many others!) I let my eyes rise to the blue of the sky and then dip into the azure water glossed by the sun. The blue of the water chased that of the sky, back and forth, all day long.

"Are you happy Filomena?" Giovanni spoke this into my hair, leaving his face nestled there.

"More than I ever thought possible," I replied. "I think I need to invent some new words for happy!"

G tossed his head back and laughed. "Ah, Fi, you are always the writer!" He kissed me hard on the mouth. "And did you enjoy the cello?"

I lifted my hands up. "Oh Giovanni, it was like angels up in heaven were playing the Ave! I wanted to tell Tullio how much I loved it but there was no time."

He nodded. "Well you can tell him this afternoon! We will have a violin and more of Tullio's cello and a harp as well."

"This all feels like a dream to me, Giovanni!"

"Yes, but the nice thing is, Fi, when you wake up tomorrow morning, you will see, you will still be dreaming!"

The trip to San Lucido took no time at all. Soon G was helping me down from the carriage. Two servants, a man and a woman, awaited, holding flute glasses filled with champaigne. I was pleased to see that Pietro was back!

"Hello Pietro!"

He bowed. "My deepest congratulations, Signora Masiero!"

My eyes popped open. This was the first time I was hearing myself addressed as Giovanni's wife.

"Thank you Pietro." He handed me a glass, so now I had my bouquet in one hand and the champagne in the other.

"Signora, may I take your bouquet?" I had not met this pleasant young woman with long wavy black hair.

"Oh that's OK, I would like to hold onto it," I said.

Giovanni took a glass and the two of us proceeded into the foyer, which had been transformed. Everywhere I turned there were long tables at the outside edges of the room, each draped in pristine white cloths. Large vases filled with lilies sat on each table. In the center of the foyer were perhaps two dozen round tables, covered in tablecloths and surrounded by white chairs. On the tables were pots of red geraniums.

Silver trays sat on the long tables. I could see piles of shrimp, and large platters filled with cheese and crackers, slices of bread and prosciutto with melon.

The party had not yet begun. Once the guests started to arrive, and they came in droves, waiters carried out platter after platter of brushchetta, fried calamari, tiny slices of eggplant each dabbed with sauce and mozzarella. Not to mention the big bowls of salads: arugula and parmesan, dressed with olive oil and lemon, a mixed fruit salad, made up of melon with oranges and grapes, and a cold pesto and macaroni salad.

At one point, Arturo came up to me with his wife, Sarafina. "Filomena, who has ever heard of a wedding like this, one fit for a king and queen?"

I smiled shyly. "I hope you enjoy yourself, Arturo," I said.

At that moment, I noticed Tullio over in the corner, taking his cello out of an enormous black case.

"Oh Giovanni, Tullio's here," I cried. G and I rushed up to him. Tullio set the cello into its case and embraced me. "I have never heard music like you played today," I told him. "It folded into my heart and it set me completely at ease!"

"Oh I'm so happy," he said, kissing me gently on the cheek. He and Giovanni hugged, and then a servant placed a glass in Tullio's hands.

"A toast to the happy couple," he said, raising his glass to each of ours, clinking.

I'm not sure I know what real crystal is, but I think these and all the rest of the glasses were just that!

Tullio's was just one of dozens of toasts throughout the afternoon. All I had to do was smile and wave and receive the love and warmth of the people crowded into the room. Of course the priest had to toast us, but uncharacteristically, he didn't say what I'd expected him to say: that he was the one who brought us together, and made our wedding possible.

"I will not tire you with another one of my sermons," he said. "I will say simply, that this man, Giovanni Masiero, adores this young woman we all know and love so much, our dear Filomena. May they have many many years together!" I glanced at Mama, and she was staring at him with a dark look on her face, but that was erased as soon as the priest finished speaking. I know I must have eaten, because Mama brought me at least two plates, but I can't recall exactly what it is I swallowed.

What mattered was that Giovanni was by my side the entire day, except when I had to visit the very ornate bathroom.

Mama and I were together in the bathroom at one point. "Fi, I never would have believed all this was possible for you, honey. I'm so very happy for you and Giovanni."

"Thank you Mama. And can you believe the priest was so short on words? What happened? Quello che e successo?"

"I don't know, Fi, but honestly, I just thank the good Lord! I've heard enough of his words to last at least one lifetime!" And then we giggled together!

Sometime toward sunset, two of the waiters carried in a towering white cake, decorated with flowers. I've never seen such a thing before! Giovanni and I made the ceremonial slice, and then two waitresses came out to begin slicing cake for the large crowd waiting impatiently for something sweet.

Meanwhile, Giuseppi emerged from the kitchen. He had removed his apron, but his uniform was covered with splattered food. And just like always, he was sweating profusely.

I reached up and squeezed his shoulders as best I could.

"Oh, Giuseppi, there are no words to describe the food you cooked for us today! What a feast! Thank you ever so much!"

"Nah, there is no need for thanks, Filomena, it was my pleasure to do it for you and Giovanni, you are both so dear to me! And be assured, I maybe had plenty of help!"

"Of course you did!"

At that moment, Giovanni swept me away and we did something else I've never done before! We danced together! His arms supporting me, we moved slowly around the floor, with everyone watching. I was feeling a bit embarrassed until more people joined us.

The music that played all day was all new to me, and all beyond description. I wanted to know what pieces the violinist played along with Tullio's cello, and what supremely beautiful selections the woman played on the harp. Giovanni promised to tell me later that night what each piece of music was, but of course, in the midst of our lovemaking, we totally forgot.

I'm not going to say another word about what happened in our bedroom on our wedding night. But I will end by saying that the heavens delivered me a perfectly sweet and gentle husband, one with a heart of gold. I wasn't frightened for a single moment that night.

What thrills me is the fact that this was just the first of an endless number of nights for us sleeping together. God willing, I will be with my darling Giovanni until the two of us grow very old, or as they say, "until death do us part!"

Moving Toward Marriage!!!!

The next night we had a delightful party! Nothing fancy of course, but so many people came to the house that we spilled out into the street! Word about my engagement traveled like the wind through the entire village: "Did you hear? Filomena Scrivano is marrying 'un multimillionario Toscano!" Everyone wanted to know more, because no one had ever heard of such a thing. How did it happen? Who is the man? Where exactly is he from? Where did she meet him? Where did he get all his money? Did he give her a ring? Will they be staying in Paola? Will they bring money to the village?"

Just as he promised, Giovanni showed up with several bottles of Prosecco. Thankfully, people in Paola know enough to bring their own cups to a party! Everybody brought food, too, along with plates and silverware. We started drinking and eating about five p.m. and we were still going strong at one in the morning. I was hoarse by the end of the evening.

Giovanni and I stood together the whole night, holding hands, and greeting one wellwisher after another. Nunzi, of course, brought her whole family. I am pleased to say that she was thrilled for me, hugging me over and over again.

But when she whispered this into my ear: "Oh mia ragazza, sapevo che lo avresti convinto, lo sapevo e basta," ("Oh my best girlfriend, I knew you would convince him, I just knew it!") -- I wanted to punch her hard in the face! It's not going to be easy to erase from my mind the awful things she said about my darling Giovanni. I suppose with time, however, I will forgive her!

Every single woman I've ever worked for in Paola came by to wish me well. Signora Bichietti even brought me a beautiful powder blue handkerchief, embroidered and edged in lace. "I am bringing you this because I am so very happy for you, my dear Filomena, may you have many years of bliss with your handsome husband-to-be!"

Mama never stopped smiling. Well, once she did. She told me the next morning that she overheard Father Crudele bragging about the fact that he was responsible "for bringing the couple together, and for clearing the way, so they could marry" -- "per aver riunito la coppia e per aver spianato la strada in modo che potessero sposarsi."

"He is such a braggart, always puffing himself up and forever butting himself into situations where he doesn't belong!!" Mama was furious.

"Well, Mama, as much as I hate to praise him, in this case, he is right." I hadn't had time to tell her what Giovanni told me just as the party started.

"So Giovanni was the first to greet Father," I told Mama. "Giovanni hugged the priest and then he slipped a large roll of lire into the priest's hands. I looked surprised and Giovanni turned to me with a big grin and said, 'That's the least I can do, Fi. You see, we wouldn't be getting married if it weren't for Father's exraordinary help!"

Mama looked like someone had slapped her. "Oh my dear Fi, that worries me," she said, moving one hand nervously over her mouth. "You know how I feel about this priest. He will do anything, ANYTHING, for money! He is just not a man to be trusted."

"Yes, Mama, I know that all too well, but in this case, I trust Giovanni to know what he's doing. He's a very educated man!"

There was a long moment when Mama still looked like she was shrouded in a dark cloud. I decided I would ask her if she had any ideas about what I could wear for a wedding dress.

"Oh yes I do have ideas," she said, happy once again. "I have a drawer full of crocheted lace,

some of it that I made, some of it that your wonderful Nonna Michelina crocheted. I have an idea that I can assemble it into a dress. We can use a white sheet underneath the lace as lining, it will be lovely!"

I liked that idea very much, as the dress would be unique. I shared the idea with Giovanni later in the day and then he had another surprise for me.

"Well, I agree that lace would be splendid. But if you would allow me, Fi, I brought back a bolt of white silk. It was easy for me, because in the factory that my father owns, he uses silk to line woolen coats."

"Giovanni, I am astonished. You actually knew to bring it back with you?"

"Filomena, haven't I explained to you again and again, my darling, that all the while when I was away, I was certain I wanted to marry you! And of course I know that silk is not something you find readily here in the south." He shrugged. "So I decided that one way or another, the silk would make you a gorgeous wedding dress!"

I hadn't processed this surprise when Giovanni presented me with still another spectacular surprise: a ring, "una vera," one that had belonged to his beloved mother. It carries a magnificent emerald, with a small diamond on either side.

"I know you are not the sort of girl who wears jewelry," he said, "but I hope you will decide to wear this ring." Giovanni kissed my forehead. "I have to laugh," I replied. "The only reason I don't wear jewelry is that we have never had enough money to buy anything!" He squeezed my shoulders. "Of course, how silly of me," he said.

Much later, I would remember this conversation. I will ythink about the fact that as much as Giovanni loves me, he still doesn't really understand me completely, because he can't possibly know what it's like to grow up dirt poor!

**********

Meanwhile, we had to schedule the wedding. Father Crudele said we could marry as soon as we had posted the marriage banns for three consecutive weeks. "We will announce the banns starting this Sunday," which was November 7th. That meant we could marry as soon as November 28th. Could Mama finish the wedding gown by that date?

Mama asked for an additional week, just to make sure! So we set the wedding date for Saturday, December 4th. I could hardly contain my excitement. Giovanni asked me to come to the house in San Lucido to see what we needed to do before we moved in on our wedding night. I asked Mama if she would enjoy visiting the house that I would occupy in San Lucido. "Oh I would love that," she replied, and I promised to talk to Giovanni to decide when the three of us would go.

Mama spent much of her days crocheting. All of her friends brought spools of cotton thread, and donated them towards my dress! These same friends were making me a couple set of sheets, edged in cotton lace, as well as linen towels.

For some reason, I woke up one morning feeling profoundly frightened. I lay in bed looking up at the wooden beams in the ceiling. What was this feeling? I was really so excited about getting married! But now it hit me: I was actually going to leave the only house I had ever known, the only place I had ever slept for my entire life, and I was going to live with Giovanni. I felt something close to panic, wondering what it would feel like to leave Mama behind, and to sleep with Giovanni. What would it feel like when we consummated our marriage? What exactly should I know? Nunzi had explained things to me, but I decided I needed to ask her more specifically what I should expect.

It was a Friday morning when I went to see her.

She was still feeling ill with nausea. When I walked in, she was sitting at the table in a kitchen chair with her head resting on her folded arms. The children were running through the house like mad, shouting and playing with each other.

"Oh Fi, it's so nice to see you," Nunzi said, but her voice sounded dead. She had been throwing up for weeks, and she was thoroughly exhausted. She had a pile of bread, cut into small cubes, and she was eating them very slowly. She told me she was eating all day long in order to keep the nausea down. I asked her if I could make her some tea, but she didn't even want that!

"I feel awful that you are so ill," I said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She took hold of my hand and squeezed it.

"It's ok," she said. "It usually passes by mid-day. Sit down, ragazza, and keep me company."

I sat down. It suddenly felt rather ridiculous to ask her the probing question that had brought me here. So I didn't ask right away.

"Tell me, have you set the wedding day?"

"Yes, Saturday, December 4th, at the 11 o'clock high mass."

"I hope I will stop throwing up by that time of the morning!"

"Oh Nunzi, I am so sorry! But you have to be there, you are my 'damigella d'onore!'" -- maid of honor!

She lifted her head off her arms. "Oh, I will be there alright," she grinned, "even if I have to carry a bowl to catch...you know!'"

The thought of Nunzi throwing up as she stood at my elbow at the front of the church was horrifying, but I didn't say a word. I didn't want to add to her worries. I decided I'd better hurry up and ask my question, so I could get back home. Giovanni was coming at noon with a carriage, so he could take Mama and me to San Lucido.

"Nunzi, you have to help me," I said, sheepishly.

"Che cosa?"

"I feel bad asking you this today when you are in such a bad way with the nausea."

"Ah, m'amica, out with it!"

I smiled. "OK. So...I'm a little worried that I won't know what to do on... my wedding night."

She sat up. She set a hand on my arm. "I understand Fi. But I've told you this before, more than once. It all happens very naturally. Giovanni has kissed you, right?"

"Of course. Many times."

"Well, so, let him lead you through the rest of it. Just concentrate on relaxing."

I laced my fingers together. "It will hurt, is that certain?"

"Yes, it will hurt a little. But Fi, it's not so bad. And that's not what you will remember. You will remember feeling closer to him than to anyone you've ever known."

I sat there staring at her.

"You know what else I've told you, Fi. How much it hurts to give birth. Terrible pain!!!! But again, that's not what you focus on. What you remember is how they lay the baby, all wet and purple and squalling, into your arms and you are happier than you've ever been before. You will know no greater happiness!"

I nodded. And I smiled. "I guess you should know, being you are on baby number four!"

We talked a little more, about this and that. The wedding dress, especially.

"I must say, Fi, the fact Giovanni carried that bolt of white silk all the way from Tuscany to Calabria says wonderful things about him!"

I shook my head. "I know it does. He is such a special man. I don't know how I got so very lucky, Nunzi!"

And with that, I said my goodbyes, and left, feeling a little guilty I couldn't stay to help watch the wild little ones that she calls her beloved children.

*******

Giovanni arrived in the carriage shortly after noontime. Mama and I were waiting outside the door. It was a glorious fall day, with a sky that matched the ocean.

"Good day ladies!" He stepped down and helped Mama climb into the carriage. And then he helped me.

As we drove through Paola, the horse clipclopping in front of the carriage, I thought about the fact that I had only been engaged nine days! But my life already had changed in amazing ways. For one thing, Mama let me come and go as I pleased. She didn't say a word about me visiting San Lucido with Giovanni. Also, she expected him to come to dinner every night, or for me to dine with him alone at his house. Of course when he dined with us, he always brought lots of food, delicious dishes that had been prepared by Giuseppi.

The house Giovanni purchased in San Lucido was somewhat more modest than the villa, but still, it was a magnificent estate in its own right. As we approached, you could see a large orange tiled roof that extended in every direction. Up close, the house had three floors. The walls of the house are a magnificent ivory stonework. Beautiful cypress trees standing tall and elegant and other plantings lined the driveway, and two huge bronze pots are at either side of the oversized front door. In the pots that day were dozens of red geraniums.

I watched Mama's eyes grow larger and larger. She kept nodding her head back and forth, incredulous at what she saw. Giovanni led the way through the gated front door. In the entrance foyer, the floor was the same pink marble I first saw in the large villa. And there were three or four marble statues, and large potted plants. I can't describe how beautiful the room is! Off in the corner was a grand staircase -- the first time I walked up that carpeted staircase, my feet sank in the thick red rug, emblazoned with Giovanni's family crest. Only later did I see the great irony in his having the family crest displayed so prominently on the stairs! There were still things about Giovanni I didn't quite understand, and I was determined to talk to him about them all...in time!

"Do you like it Mama?" I whispered when Giovanni had gone to the kitchen.

"Oh Fi, I know you said it was magnificent, but this is so much more grand than I ever imagined!"

I chuckled. "And this is smaller than the villa," I said.

Giovanni returned with Giuseppi who gave me a tight hug. Then he shook hands with Mama. "It is such a pleasure to meet you, Signora," he said.

Giuseppi told us what we were having for lunch: pastina en brodo, pesto made from fresh basil and fennel on top of potato gnocchi, fresh pan-fried cod, arugula and parmesan salad and tiramisu for dessert. "Oh, my, that sounds just right," Mama said and I squeezed her shoulders. While Giuseppi returned to the kitchen, Giovanni gave us the grand tour: six large bedrooms on the second floor, three servants quarters on the third. A total of seven luxurious bathrooms (where Mama was completely dumbstruck examinging the toilets, the huge clawfoot bathtubs with gold feet, and the marble sinks. Also, there is a library, an enormous dining room and an "event" room (i.e. a small ballroom,) along with a parlor on the second floor "just for family gatherings," Giovanni said. Mama looked at me at that moment and I know what she was thinking: G had divorced himself from his family!

By the time we circled back down to the dining room, a maid named Lucia had served the soup. We sat down, taking up just a tiny section of the long table. I was able to smell the lilies, with red centers, that sat in a vase.

"Oh my, those are such lovely flowers," I said. At the same moment, he spoke the very same thought I had:

"Fi you should carry those lilies at the wedding!"

The pasta arrived, and then Giovanni brought up another matter. "Signora, now that you have visited our house" -- and here he reached out and covered my hand with his -- "how do you feel about having the wedding dinner here in our ballroom?"

Mama blinked. "I wasn't thinking about a wedding dinner," she murmured. Of course not, as most couples in Paola married and then had a small reception, perhaps serving a few desserts.

I leaned toward my mother. "Would it be acceptable to you to have a dinner here, Mama?" I did not want to embarrass or insult her.

She looked around the elegant dining room, with pots of giant ferns placed in each corner and between the arched windows. Then a smile slowly formed on her face.

"This would be a delightful place to have the reception," she said. "I approve!"

How Happy I am to Be Alive!

At first, Mama didn't believe me!

As Giovanni and I walked to my house from the church, we stopped at the fountain. It was getting dark out, and there was no one around, so I let Giovanni kiss me. I kissed him back, pressing my soft lips into his.

"So when we get to my house, I want you to knock on the door and when Mama answers, I want you to ask her for permission to marry me!"

He kissed me again. Using his one arm, he clutches me very tightly, but it feels a bit awkward. And the way he holds me, I can barely breathe!

"Whatever you wish, my precious one."

Then it hit me: Mama doesn't even know G has returned! She might need a few minutes to adjust to the idea that Giovanni is back!

So I walked into the kitchen alone, leaving Giovanni outside the closed door. Mama was sitting in her rocking chair, crocheting some intricate lace, as she often does in the evenings. She didn't look up right away. "You are home from Nunzi's early tonight," she said. "You must be dead tired from working for Signora Tallarico all day!" She chuckled, concentrating on working the thin cotton thread into fantastic shapes. "Three babies, Madonna!"

I didn't say anything. She looked up. I was smiling, but of course, I was also bloody and bruised.

"Mama mia, what happened to you Filomena?" She threw her lace aside and pulled herself out of the rocking chair. By now, I was smiling and laughing. "How come you are laughing? What's going on? Are you hurt badly?"

"No no no, Mama," I said, setting my hand on her arm. "I fell while running in the street."

"Ma che cosa? What do you think you are, running, Filomena? Maybe you are one of those horses we see passing through town?"

"Mama, I have some very very good news." I squeezed her arm.

She looked at me, squinting with one eye. "What news is this?"

I whispered. "Mama, Giovanni asked me to marry." I held my breath.

"Filomena, I am not in the mood for one of your stories," she said. "You know by now he is not going to return."

Now I was laughing even louder. "Mama, he is back, and I saw him in the church this evening and he wants to marry right away."

She blinked. I could tell she really was having trouble absorbing what I'd said. I know that she had long since given up on Giovanni.

"Where is he...now?" she asked, bringing her hands together.

"He is right outside, Mama, waiting for me to let him in."

"Jesu Cristo!" Mama made the Sign of the Cross. Then she ran one hand over her hair and her face, and then her apron, which was soiled. "I...I am not properly dressed," she said.

"You're fine, Mama, just take off your apron." Which she did, and threw it aside.

"OK?"

"Yes, yes, you look fine!"

Inhaling, Mama nodded. "OK, OK, I guess I'm ready." She made another Sign of the Cross. "I ask the Blessed Mother to watch over us!"

In seconds, I led Giovanni inside. He stood before Mama. He bowed low, holding his injured arm close to his chest. "Good evening, Signora Scrivano, I guess you know by now why I am here." He was smiling that very charming smile that I adore so much!

"Yes, I do," Mama said. "Please why don't you sit down."

Giovanni took one kitchen chair, which happened to be Papa's, and Mama and I sat down too. Without wasting a moment, Giovanni spoke: "As you know I have wanted to propose to Filomena for many months. Well, I am so very pleased to be able to tell you that the legal matter that kept me from proposing has now been settled. And so I am free to marry Filomena. With your permission, Signora, I would like to make her my wife."

Mama had her hands clutched together. Her face was fearful. For a long moment, she didn't speak.

Was my mother going to refuse Giovanni's offer? She turned to me. And then she turned back to Giovanni. "I want very much to say yes, Signor Masiero." She lifted her chin. "But I'm still worried about your father. Has he agreed to accept Filomena into your family?"

Giovanni closed his eyes, and then opened them again. "I understand your concern, Signora, but perhaps it would help to know that I will not be returning to Tuscany to live." He turned to me. "If it suits you, Fi, we can live in San Lucido, right near your mother."

"Yes, yes," I said, hoping that would satisfy Mama.

She remained calm, and continued. "It is not my desire to embarrass you, Signor. However, I know that when babies come, God willing, the grandparents always, always want to be part of their grandchildren's lives."

"Not in my father's case I'm afraid," Giovanni said. "We have an agreement, or more correctly, an understanding, that I will not participate in family events, nor family business matters."

"Does that mean your father will not attend the wedding?"

"That's right. Nor will my brothers."

Mama looked nervous. I could see agita dancing in her eyes.

"I am...very sad that you found it necessary to break off relations with your family."

"It had to be, Signora. If you knew my father, you would understand." Giovanni sat back in his chair. His hair was as wild as the last time I saw him.

Mama inhaled slowly. "I will pray that there will be a miraculous making up!" she said. "Meanwhile, I give you my blessings. I will pray for you and all your family."

I looked at Giovanni, and then back at Mama. "Does that mean you will let me marry him?"

She nodded yes. "I just wish your Papa was here, Fi," she whispered, and I thought for a moment she might start crying.

I stood up. I must have made quite a sight with blood covering my face and hands.

"Mama this is such a very happy day for me," I said, "and I really think Papa is right here. I think Papa helped clear the way for the wedding! I really do believe that. So I hope you are happy because I am thrilled. Will you please please be happy for me and Giovanni, Mama? And please not be sad at all?"

"Oh my darling daughter, of course I am happy for you both! She reached one hand to me and the other to Giovanni. The three of us sat there holding hands.

"I can't thank you enough," Giovanni said. "The last few months, sailing back here, were very challenging. It's been such a tough time for me, but now that I am returned, and engaged to marry Filomena, I think life is going to start unfolding in an exciting way. Signora Scrivano, I hope you know how much I love your very beautiful and very talented daughter!"

Mama let go our hands. She got up, took my hand and pressed it into Giovanni's. Then she used both her hands to squeeze ours. "I wish you all the happiness in the world," she said.

G and I remained hand in hand while Mama brewed some espresso. "I just wish I had some Prosecco," Mama said.

"Tomorrow, I will bring a bottle," Giovanni replied. "No I will bring several. We must celebrate our engagement!"

"Oh yes, of course!" I cried. "Mama can we please invite our neighbors and friends?"

"Of course we can!"

And to myself, I thought "I can't wait to tell Nunzi! I can't wait to see the look on her face!"

Mama smiled as she served the coffee, along with a plate of biscotti. I spoke up.

"There is no reason that you should know this Mama, but neither Giovanni or I have had any dinner tonight."

Her jaw dropped. "How thoughtless of me not to ask." Then she started chuckling. "I guess I am a little bit distracted by this...this wonderful news!" She turned to me. "I am also very distracted by the blood on your face and your hands and knees. Please let me help you get cleaned up and bandaged. You look like you were attacked by a pack of wild dogs!"

Mama proceeded to get what she needed to wash my face and hands with soap. She gently rubbed a clove of garlic into the scrapes. Then she cleaned and bandaged my knees.

Quickly she pulled together a light dinner: tuna, sliced tomatoes, sliced provolone, my favorite olives (from the groves where Nunzi's husband works), and of course, her bread.

Sometime just before ten pm, as I was drying dishes, exhaustion caught up to me. I walked Giovanni to the door. "Goodnight darling," I said, feeling completely dreamy inside.

"Goodnight my love. I will see you tomorrow!"

"Yes, I can't wait to celebrate! I will be done working between three and four."

"I will return."

He kissed my forehead, and I reached up and kissed his cheek. I watched as he disappeared into the night.