73
Julia and Gianluca headed east toward Philadelphia, but he suggested they take a scenic route.
She felt herself begin to relax as they left Buckley behind, and Leni sang tunelessly in her car seat.
Julia felt blessed to be back with her family, after everything that had happened.
She banished any flashbacks, and they put away their phones to stop checking the news.
The afternoon turned sunny, and her mood lightened. She found herself leaving thoughts of visions behind and enjoying the ride. In time she began to recognize the terrain, eyeing it through the window as they rolled past. “You know, I grew up not far from here.”
“I know.” Gianluca looked over with a grin. “Where do you think we’re going?”
“Wait, what? I thought you said Philly.”
“That’s tomorrow. I got us a room for the night in New Gilbert.”
“My hometown?” Julia asked, surprised. “Why?”
“Why not?” Gianluca shrugged happily. “This is the Julia Tour. I thought you could show me where you grew up, lived, and went to school. You ended up in Philadelphia, but you didn’t start there.”
Julia smiled, touched. “For real?”
“Yes. I’m here to learn about your American side.”
“Don’t get too excited. New Gilbert is not Florence.”
“That goes without saying, cara.” Gianluca winked, and Julia gave him a playful shove.
“Okay, then, yes, if you want to learn about me, then let’s do this. My high school is just around the corner.”
“Tell me which way to turn. I want to see it.”
Julia warmed to the idea. “It’s where I met Courtney.”
“I know, in drama club.”
Julia smiled. “In Italy, every club is drama club.”
Gianluca rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”
Later, they toured her high school and elementary school, ate lunch in town, then ended up in Julia’s old neighborhood, driving to her house.
She surprised herself by enjoying every minute, feeling New Gilbert’s warm familiarity, even though it looked like any other Philly suburb, with all types of houses, strip malls, corporate parks, and chain stores.
Julia’s chest got tighter as they got closer to her old house. She didn’t have the happiest memories of her upbringing, but it was still good to be here and she wanted to see her childhood home.
“Turn right?”
“Yes,” Julia answered, straightening in her seat.
McIntosh Road looked the way it always had, a wide street lined with well-kept three-story houses, most with clipped hedges lining the front of the property.
She could remember the family names; the Cohens, the DeValerias, the Owing-Kates, and the Marcos, who inexplicably still had wagon wheels for a fence.
“It’s number 410, right?”
“That’s it.” Julia’s heartbeat quickened when she spotted her old house, which looked exactly the way it used to, with a brown-and-tan stone facade and a front porch painted white with gray floorboards.
It was three stories tall, and its roof was steeply peaked with real slate shingles that her father never would have sprung for.
The trim and shutters were a sunny yellow she remembered her mother choosing.
“What a pretty house!” Gianluca slowed as they reached the house. “You say your room was on the third floor?”
“Yes, it was small, but I had it to myself.”
“Do you want to stop in? We can knock.”
“No, thanks,” Julia answered, already getting another idea. She didn’t have good associations with the house and didn’t want to intrude. She realized there was only one thing she really wanted to see in her hometown.
“Where to, then? Philly?”
“Not yet. Go up and take a left.”
New Gilbert Memorial Park was quiet, beautiful, and almost deserted except for an older woman off in the distance.
There were no headstones, since all of the memorial plaques were recessed into the grass, which was just coming in a youngish light green.
Here and there were spray-colored bouquets wrapped in Wegman’s paper, homegrown flowers wilting in tinfoil, and mementos like a red poker chip and a blue Penn State jersey.
Heartbreakingly, in another row, lay a child’s pink teddy bear.
Trees grew in groves, making a lovely backdrop.
MELANIE MORRISON PRITZKER
Beloved Wife and Mother
Julia, Gianluca, and Leni stood before the plaque, and Julia felt surprised that she didn’t feel like crying.
She adored her mother, who died suddenly of an aneurysm on Julia’s tenth birthday, a coincidence that wrenched her gut for years.
Julia hadn’t visited her mother’s grave since her father passed, not because she didn’t care but because she cared too much.
She didn’t know if that made sense to anyone, or even to herself, but she always assumed that if she visited her mother’s final resting place alone, when she could be truly herself, she’d be too bereft to leave.
But that wasn’t happening, at all. In fact, it was just the opposite.
Amazingly, Julia felt suffused with a wonderful feeling, one uniquely familiar to her—it was exactly the feeling she’d always had around her mother.
Julia sensed it was her mother’s spirit, visiting her this very minute, filling her with love and telling her that they were together again, now that Julia knew finally how to receive her.
Julia realized she may have felt this feeling before, but hadn’t been able to identify it, and she wondered how many times her mother’s spirit had visited her without her knowing, trying to communicate with her.
If Julia was right, then every moment of joy before this one had included her beloved mother, all along.
Tears of happiness sprang to Julia’s eyes at the revelation.
She let herself feel the feeling, soaking it in like the rays of the sun, warming every cell in her body.
There was no outward manifestation of her mother’s spirit, no vision of any kind.
Julia was channeling her mother’s spirit, from her own heart out to her very skin, and it felt like a salve.
She felt healed by the simple, secure love that only the best of mothers can give a child.
Leni bent over and picked a dandelion. “Mommy, look.”
“That’s great, honey.” Julia smiled, still feeling the wonderful feeling, knowing that her mother was meeting her daughter and her husband, this very moment.
“What’s this?” Leni pointed at the plaque.
Gianluca took Leni’s hand. “Julia, I can take her to the car to give you some private time.”
“No, please, stay.” Julia caressed Leni’s head. “Remember, Leni, I told you about my mother?”
“Fiamma?” Leni looked up, screwing up her face in confusion.
“No, not Fiamma. I came out of Fiamma’s belly, just like you came out of my belly.
You remember we talked about that?” Julia realized that her life had been messier than most, especially from a toddler’s point of view, but she’d learned that real life could be messy.
“Well, I had another mother, and she took care of me because Fiamma couldn’t.
Her name was Melanie, and I loved her very much.
That’s why we named you after her. Your real name is Melanie, but we call you Leni. ”
“Oh.”
Julia kept her head on Leni’s soft hair, thinking of her mother. “I love you, Mom.”
Leni looked up. “I love you, JJ.”
“What did you say?” Julia must have misheard her.
“I love you, JJ,” Leni repeated matter-of-factly.
Julia blinked, taken aback.
Gianluca frowned, puzzled. “What’s going on, Julia? Did she call you JJ?”
Julia was almost afraid to give it voice. “JJ was my mother’s nickname for me, but I never told Leni that. I hadn’t thought about it in ages, not until this very minute.”
Gianluca’s lips parted in surprise. “You never told me, either. I didn’t know it, so how did she?”
“There’s only one way.” Julia felt amazed, putting it together. They were standing at her mother’s graveside, an undeniably thin place, and she’d been feeling her mother’s spirit. The only way Leni would know her JJ nickname was if Julia’s mother had communicated it to her.
“So we have our answer?” Gianluca asked, an astonished smile spreading across his face.
“We sure do.” Julia looked down at Leni, and her daughter looked up at her with the guileless gaze of a toddler—a psychic toddler.
“Mommy, Papa, can we go now?”