Chapter Nine
Nine
I tried to work for several hours the next morning, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate. I tried to write a chapter on channeling emotion into productivity. After I read it back, I realized the words sounded flat and lifeless. How could I lecture readers on something I was still failing at?
I decided to freewrite while I was here. I’d heard capturing random thoughts on the page helped flush out the junk in the mind. Spending twenty minutes, I filled up three pages of notebook paper with ridiculous fragments that made no sense. At least I felt accomplished. I was intent on finishing the book by the end of the summer and dazzling my editor with my proficiency. I needed to stay relevant in the industry, and the book was key. Already, I noticed my followers dropping, especially since the podcast disaster and delaying the next few episodes. My coaching appointments had also diminished, so I’d reached out to my clients and rescheduled our meetings to when I returned. I’d have better focus and not half-ass our sessions.
I managed to do a few videos and post motivational quotes, but nothing felt authentic. Maybe I’d use my trip to Sicily to spark some new interest by journaling my travels. I bet Catena would love to be part of my posts. I didn’t have to say anything personal, just that I was enjoying a getaway and wanted to share my experiences.
The idea lifted my spirits, and I began a bit of research on the area to see which hot spots would be the best to film. I’d told Catena I’d meet her in the Piazza Scandaliato this afternoon, which would give me some time to poke around on my own.
Jason called as I was getting ready to leave. I considered not answering since I was a bit miffed he’d waited so long to contact me.
But that would be immature and our relationship was already strained. I clicked on FaceTime to accept.
“Hi, babe. How was the trip?”
I took in his relaxed pose and easy smile. He’d obviously just worked out. He had that glow from endorphins and a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. Meaty biceps strained against his T-shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest. I focused on his handsome face and wondered why I wasn’t as happy to see him as I’d expected.
I choked back the guilt from my disturbing thought and forced a smile. “Good. Long. I ended up taking a nap and going to bed early last night. So far, Sciacca is beautiful. My rental is on the marina. Wanna see?”
“Sure.”
I tilted the phone and walked around so he could see the space and the view from my balcony.
Jason whistled. “Wow, pretty fancy. Looks like it’ll be a great place to write and work. You’ll be inspired.”
I tried not to wince. I hadn’t told Jason about the book’s being delayed. I swore I would when I got home. “Hope so.”
“Have you met your cousins yet?”
“Yeah, Catena picked me up and took me to their bar. She owns it with her brother, Theo, and a friend, Quint. They were so nice.” I filled him in on the details of our meet-up, enjoying sharing my story with someone. The pang hit me once again that I’d normally tell my mom or dad, but now no one knew me like that anymore. I was suddenly grateful that Jason was in my life and vowed to be more patient with him. After all, he hadn’t changed. I was the one who’d begun to challenge our dynamics.
“I’m so glad it’s working out. I was worried about you. When are you seeing your grandparents?”
“Tomorrow. I guess it’s a big family dinner where everyone is invited, so it may be overwhelming.” I nibbled on my lower lip. “Catena is taking me sightseeing this afternoon and I’ll meet more of my cousins.”
“Damn, how many cousins do you have?”
I laughed. “Apparently, a ton. They even mentioned inviting me to a wedding, but I’d need to extend my stay.”
“You’ll have your answers by next week,” Jason said firmly. “Then you can come home and things will be better.”
He made it sound so black and white, like I could return to my normal life without a hitch. But I already sensed a change within me. How could I be the same person ever again when I’d lost my parents? Was it possible that time would stitch and heal the wound, and I’d forget this whole crisis of identity ever happened? Would discovering my relatives fill the empty hole inside me?
I didn’t respond. There were too many questions that Jason seemed confident I could answer in ten days. He took my silence as an invitation to launch into work mode, detailing the flood of new clients at his third gym. He spoke about all the wonderful things in his life, and though I was happy for him—I really was—there was an odd type of disconnect, like I was conversing with an old friend rather than my current lover.
“Hey, want me to tag you in one of my posts? I noticed you lost some followers. Also, I referred you to one of my clients. He lost thirty pounds, but now he wants to transform some other things in his life, and I thought you’d be perfect. I’ll text you his name and number. Can you get a hold of him quickly, though? Follow-through is a big thing to him and he’s an important contact. Gets me tons of business.”
Uh-oh. The irritation was back. Had Jason always treated me like a work assistant and this was the first time I’d noticed? Half of me wanted to tell him I couldn’t take on more clients, but I also didn’t feel like getting into a go-around about dropping my responsibilities when my entire name was built on action. Because he was right. We’d both told each other numerous times we didn’t understand people who just couldn’t seem to get things done.
Now I was one of them.
I smiled through gritted teeth. “Sure. Send it over.”
“Great, he’s going to adore you. I better head out. I know the time difference is messed up, so no worries if you’re unable to get a hold of me.”
Seemed like he wasn’t worried about texting me back. I was getting ready to click off when he said my name. “Yeah?”
“I love you, babe. Get this sorted out and come home to me.”
The genuine warmth in his voice almost negated my doubts about our conversation, but I wondered if I was just starved for affection. I opened my mouth to say the words back but, once again, found I couldn’t.
“I will. Bye.”
I ended the call before he noticed. Hopefully, this trip would solve some issues and I would stop getting pissed off by everything Jason did. Maybe it was a rite of passage with relationships reaching a certain amount of time. My past boyfriends averaged only a few months, and I’d never experienced a big, passionate love. Honestly, I didn’t think they existed. I thought there were many layers and levels of affection, and love was quieter and more dependable. Trustworthy. I’d known how much my parents loved each other, but it was as if I hadn’t been a part of their relationship. They’d always been private with their affection, and the occasional times Mom would lose her temper, my father’s English demeanor always remained calm. They seemed like a perfect balance for each other.
I’d believed I was the same with Jason. When I imagined waking up to someone years from now, it made sense that we shared the same goals and values and wanted the same future. I saw us running an empire together and being happy.
Lately, though, I wasn’t sure. I hoped Sicily would help me figure stuff out.
I grabbed a bottle of water and my Coach cross-body purse and headed out. I studied Google Maps and knew which way I was heading. I had a solid sense of direction, so I was comfortable venturing out alone before it was time to meet Catena.
Today, I wore casual white shorts, Skechers sneakers, and a hot pink T-shirt that said I Am the Storm .
I began my walk by the marina, taking the sloping pathways downward, my skin already heating under the fierce sun. I remembered being mesmerized the first time I visited New York City and witnessed the splendor of towering buildings thrusting toward the sky in fierce competition. The chaotic vibrancy of crushing crowds, neon billboards, street vendors and food trucks lining every inch of space gave me a sense of aliveness. Here, I was struck by the serene, gorgeous landscape as endless homes squeezed together in perfect, messy symmetry spilled over the cliffs, a wall of color and angled roofs framing the glassy blue water of the sea.
Surrounded by faded, dusty buildings in earth tones, with arched windows and wrought-iron balconies bursting with colorful blooms, I felt like I was stepping back in time, to a simpler way of life. There was a sprawling emptiness in the street that edged out to stone pillars lining the marina waters. Stately trees swayed in the breeze and played witness to the rolling clouds and turquoise skies, to the stone and stucco and brick of the ancient structures’ surroundings.
Fishing boats bobbed in the waves, cutting back and forth as a few fishermen greeted one another in loud Italian. I made a note to go with Catena when she bought seafood at the market so I could take part in such a classic tradition.
I snapped pictures, each more stunning than the previous, doing a few selfies to caption later. Climbing a set of steep stairs, I began to make my way upward, peeking into several shops that displayed brightly colored pottery painted with blood oranges, lemons, and the fishing village scenery. Most of them were closed, which was odd at the height of the day. The scent of espresso hit me as I passed a café, nodding at a lone couple sipping the hot brew at an outside table under a red umbrella, munching on a pastry filled with cream.
The slap of my sneakers on the cobblestones and the fluttering of the Italian flags in the hot breeze were the only sounds as I meandered deeper into the center of the city. Sweat began to drip between my breasts. I sipped my water and made a mental note to bring a fan or sun hat next time. I had no idea it could be this hot here.
With each step, I relaxed into the sights and sounds around me. The roar of the occasional scooter seemed far away, and it looked like the road I was on was too narrow for cars. I calculated that I was circling around the Piazza Scandaliato, so I headed in the general direction of the former Church of Santa Margherita, which was on my list of sights. I’d save the museum for later.
The square was empty, so I took my time taking some pictures and studying the outside of the distressed mustard building. It was simple and understated, with three wooden doors and a few carved-out archways displaying statues of saints. There was one stained-glass window in the center, topped with a plain cross at the top. Some fancy scrolled architecture winged the sides of the structure.
When I entered, there were only three people inside. My breath caught as I stepped farther into the shadowy, cool interior.
The pews had been removed, and I took in the empty space with black-and-white checkered tiled floors in comparison to the gorgeous white and rose gold marbled details. Rich gold edged the marble and appeared throughout the walls and the beautifully sculpted holy figures and vivid frescoes. It was heavily decorated in the Baroque style with an ornateness I appreciated, contradictory to the church’s teachings on simplicity.
Quietly, I approached the nave, where the wooden statue of Santa Margherita welcomed visitors. I stared at the altar, imagining parishioners praying on the benches, listening to the priest as he said Mass in this glorious historic monument. An old pipe organ was displayed on the balcony, and I could close my eyes and imagine the soaring notes of orchestral music filling the air.
Mom had dragged me to religious classes until my confirmation, raising me as a strict Catholic even as my dad rolled his eyes and pronounced his Protestant ways much easier to satisfy. I hated going to Sunday church and engaged in epic battles when I tried to refuse. I’d stopped going these past few years, though it devastated her, but she’d staunchly attended weekly Mass on her own, a staple in her faith that I had never seemed to inherit or grasp.
I’d tried praying after I lost Dad, but I felt as if I were uttering words to an unknown entity and empty space. I tried again after Mom passed but abandoned the practice shortly after and hoped she would forgive me from the other side.
But here, in the quiet and beauty of the peaceful church, I felt something shift. An energy bubbled up within me, not the kind I channeled into concrete action, but a peacefulness in knowing all was okay. My parents’ faces floated in my memory and I squeezed my eyes tight, holding on to the image. I waited for the breakdown that had been happening over the past few months, but this time, I only felt a spark of gratitude for this fleeting moment. Standing in a beautiful place with holy figures guarding me, my parents’ memory hugged tight to my heart.
All is well, my love.
The voice whispered in my brain and I could swear I caught the scent of my mother’s perfume, a light floral that always reminded me of sunshine and daffodils.
My eyes flew open and I looked around, but there was nothing here.
Weird.
I hugged myself, trying to shake off the clichéd feeling of someone walking over my grave, and finished my tour. I blinked in the bright light, sliding my sunglasses back on, and began walking. It was almost time to meet Catena.
I headed to the piazza and she ran to greet me immediately, dressed in an orange sundress that floated above her knees in a gauzy fabric. “ Ciao, mia cugina! ” She enveloped me in an enthusiastic hug, which I returned. I could get used to such nurturing. It was as if my needy soul craved comfort, and my cousins thought nothing of physical affection. My mom had been like that, but Jason was more distant, so I’d trained myself to hold back.
“How was your day? Tell me what you did. Do you like Sciacca?” Catena asked in a rush, linking her arm with mine as she led me across the piazza.
I glowed under her attention. “Yes. I explored the marina and some of the town and saw the former Church of Santa Margherita. It was so beautiful.”
“I am glad. There are many churches here to discover. My uncle owns an olive oil farm in Lucca, so we will take you there. And the local vineyard, and you must see Castello Incantato, which is our enchanted castle. Oh, and we must go to the beach. But I am afraid Mamma may snatch you from me—she cannot wait to meet you tomorrow.”
I imagined meeting my mother’s sister and swallowed back my nervousness. Would she look like Mom? Talk like her with big gestures and a passionate voice? Would she smell like her floral perfume and give big, tight hugs that lasted forever? “I can’t wait, either. I brought some pictures with me to show them.”
Catena gave an excited squeal. “I want to see and hear everything. But first, let me give you a tour of all the things I love about Sciacca. Then we will meet Emilio and Teresa at Eros Bar for a cocktail. Yes?”
“Yes. But why are we going to a competitor’s place?” I asked curiously.
She laughed and waved her hand in the air. “Oh, we are all friends here. We go to each other’s places for drinks and food. We compete for the tourists, but it is not in a mean way.”
I nodded. With such a small, close-knit community, probably every business overlapped with another. I matched my pace to hers while she pointed out landmarks in the piazza, leading me upward to show me the most spectacular views. “We’re heading toward the historical center, to one of our four main gates that leads into our city,” she explained. “This is the Porta San Salvatore. The architecture is from the Renaissance period and there are many details to see.”
I stared at the giant gate with two columns and a graceful arch. It was as if a benevolent old king welcomed me into sanctuary, and a shiver shot down my spine. I’d never stepped on ground with such history before, a place with ancient stories to tell that were wrapped in silence, witnessed by the town’s architecture.
Catena pointed out the elephant carvings on either side of the arch, and the three coats of arms that screamed of dignity and honor and protection. I snapped a few pictures. “Take a selfie with me?” I asked.
“Of course!”
We stood in front of the gates, looking small against the massive stone entryway. “Perfect. I’ll post later and I’d love to tag your bar, too. Get the word out about Sciacca for you.”
Her face lit up. “ Grazie! I will tag you and then all of my friends will become your followers. Maybe you can do life coaching in Sicilia.”
I laughed. We spent the next hour in tour mode as she walked me through the historic city center, sharing stories about the town along with some town gossip. “Oh, here is my favorite pasticceria —let’s grab a gelato. My treat.” I walked beside her into the small bakery, where a big selection of pastries, baked goods, and ice cream spread out before us. The scents of sugar and bread filled the air, and I wanted to take giant gulps of it and get a contact high.
Catena chatted in Italian with the old man behind the counter while my eyes bugged out at the pastries. I loved a good bakery, but this was on another level. I didn’t know what they were named, but many resembled cannoli dipped in icing and pistachios, mini pastry puffs with powdered sugar and cream oozing out, and cookies of all shapes and flavors. Some people imagined dying in a bookstore or a florist shop or on a beach at sunset.
I’d happily die in this very bakery.
“What flavor?” my cousin asked. I glanced over the colorful array in the display, my usual excuse that I wasn’t hungry dying on my lips. “Mango, please. Small.”
I figured it’d be like sorbet and the lightest in calories. After all, I couldn’t come to Italy and not taste the food and treats. It would be criminal. I just needed to be careful of what I picked and pace myself.
Catena ordered pistachio. My first taste was like the first ray of sunshine after a long winter. The tangy, juicy fruit flavor hit my tongue while the rich cream immediately melted in the perfect combination, eliciting a low moan from my lips. My cousin laughed and bumped my shoulder. “Good, right? You must eat gelato every day here. You are on vacation.”
“I think I agree with this rule.”
She dragged me into a few shops displaying gorgeous artwork and ceramics. I lingered over the handmade bowls painted with bright lemons and blood oranges, admiring the detail on different pieces. “All the shops were closed a few hours ago,” I mentioned, fingering a crisp linen towel with flowers spilling over a balcony. “Are they only open in the evenings?”
“They close for lunchtime,” Catena said. “Besides the high heat, it is when we eat our lunch, which is our big meal. Feast is from noon to around five p.m. Then they reopen till late in the evening.”
I stopped and stared at her. “Wait—you eat for five hours every day?”
“No! Only for about three. We nap for the other two. Come, it is time to meet our cousins.”
She ignored my open jaw at the Italian schedule, and I followed her out. When did anyone work? How could you run a business by closing all day? I trotted after her. “You close the pub during the day?”
“No, we stay open most days unless we have something we’d rather do, and then we close. I don’t mind serving lunch and cocktails. Many cafés stay open, but it all depends on the mood. It would not be a problem to close if we’d like.”
The idea of a mood dominating work fascinated me. “But what if your job is on a farm or vineyard or you’re a fisherman? Are they different from shops and eateries?”
“ Sì. Fishermen work their hours around the fish. Farmers work their schedule around the crops. And the grapes tell us when to pick and when to harvest. Here, we listen to other things besides time. It is different with you?”
I laughed. “Um, yeah, it’s different. We like to work, well, all day.”
“What about food? Sleep? Family time? Church?”
I finished my gelato and threw out the cup. “We do that, too, but work is primary. We can’t not show up because we’re having a bad day or want to go to the park to play.”
Catena paused and looked at me with serious dark eyes. “How sad,” she murmured. “It is like a prison?”
A laugh gurgled from me. “No! We like it that way. I love my work, and it’s my identity. It’s my passion.”
“So working all day and night makes you happy?”
“Yes, exactly.”
She wrinkled her nose and resumed walking. “I love my pub, but it is only a portion of what I love. But I am not famous like you, so I do not know much.”
My cousin uttered the word— famous —with no ill intention or jealousy, just a simple fact. I almost groaned aloud at how it sounded to my ears. I wasn’t explaining things correctly. I loved other things, too. Like my mom and dad. My dog Rufus, who’d died. My college friends whom I grew up with. And Jason. I loved Jason. I thought.
My feet stumbled over each other as I realized in that awful flashing moment that all those things were now gone, leaving me with…work. I had no time to analyze the troubling thought because we arrived at Eros, the name displayed on the small sign above the doorway. There was a decent crowd gathered at tables inside. A guy stood up and waved us over. Catena grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him.
“Emilio! Come stai? I have found her—our cousin Aurora.” She chattered rapidly in Italian and his gaze met mine, a slow smile curving his thin lips. He looked different from Theo, much shorter, with blondish hair and blue-gray eyes. His long face and round cheeks gave him an almost cherubic look, but his grin was full of mischief, like he was the jokester of the family.
“Aurora, I am so glad you are here. We have all been waiting to meet you. Welcome, mia cugina .” He gave me a quick, hard hug.
The woman beside Emilio elbowed him off me in a teasing manner. “Stop hogging her,” she admonished, jumping in front and pulling me in for her own hug with a squeal. “You are like a miracle! I could not believe when Catena told us you showed up on the site and that we had family out there. And an aunt I never knew. Oh, the gossip around here over this—it is bigger than when Luisa broke her engagement to marry the contractor who fixed her house!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at Theresa’s bright, gossipy chatter. She reminded me a lot of Catena and was quite beautiful, with reddish hair and light eyes like her brother’s. She wore jean shorts with a designer belt and a white silky T-shirt tucked in. Her body was all gorgeous curves I admired on her. Her curly hair was pinned up on top of her head and giant gold hoops adorned her ears. “It’s nice to meet both of you.”
Catena motioned for me to sit. “What are you drinking?” she asked.
I looked at my new cousins. “Aperol spritz,” Teresa said with confidence. “Get two more. We must catch up and need time.”
Catena nodded and disappeared inside. I stared at my cousins and suddenly felt tongue-tied. Where did I even start with my questions? I felt overwhelmed and I hadn’t even walked into the big family dinner. I tried to tap into my podcast training and asked questions. It was the fastest way to connect. “Okay, can you remind me who your parents are? I know Catena told me, but I’m still a bit jumbled.”
Emilio chuckled. “You cannot remember dozens of cousins, aunts, and uncles you just met? We are disappointed in you.”
Teresa rolled her eyes but looked at her brother with affection. “Ignore him; he thinks he is the family comedian. Our dad is Agosto, who is Philomena’s brother. Philomena is your mom’s sister.”
“Okay, got that.”
“Our mom’s name is Grazia. Me, Emilio, and Luigi are all siblings, so we are your first cousins. Luigi is working, so he couldn’t be here. Then Catena and Theo are on Philomena’s side—also first cousins.”
I nodded, getting a clearer picture of the family tree.
Emilio jumped in with what I was already thinking of as his trademark grin. “It’s the extended cousins that will mess you up. Babba and Nonna have a ton of siblings—five each—so when we have a gathering, there can be a dozen aunts and uncles and their kids, who will be your second cousins.”
I couldn’t imagine having that many people trying to eat together. Or have a conversation. It would be like hosting a banquet. “Are all of them coming this weekend?” I asked tentatively.
“Many of them,” Teresa said. “But no one will expect you to remember names or relations at this point. Please do not worry. We only want you to enjoy yourself and honor you as family.” Her eyes filled with sadness. “We are so sorry about your mother, Aurora. I cannot imagine how hard this is.”
Her sweet compassion made me blink back sudden tears. I still wasn’t comfortable with this new emotional me, who cried at random and felt like her insides were broken fragmented glass. I forced a smile. “ Grazie. It has been harder than I thought.”
Catena came back with four spritzes, easily balancing all of them in her hands. “Let us toast!” she announced, holding her glass high in the air. “To our cousin!”
We clinked glasses, sipped, and fell into conversation. Within minutes, any awkwardness was erased and I relaxed, blooming under their affection. Teresa worked at the pizzeria in Lucca with her brother Luigi, and Emilio attended a university for business. They filled in the details of who did what within the family so I had a better idea of my mother’s siblings. We ordered another round, and the fizzy bitter drink danced in my veins with celebration. I’d forgotten how enjoyable it was to sit outside with a cocktail, soaking in the sun and lively dialogue with people I cared about. When was the last time I’d allowed myself to take a break? My meetings with clients were centered on work, even if we shared a meal. And my friends? Well, after too many times of not returning their calls, or canceling our meet-ups, they’d gone quiet, disappearing into their own lives. I consoled myself by saying we’d grown apart and needed to move on, but now I realized I had just not taken the time and care to keep the relationships going.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Aurora?” Teresa asked.
I only hesitated a moment. “Yes. His name is Jason.”
Catena leaned in eagerly. “How long are you together? Is it serious?”
“We’ve been together a year.” I tried to tread carefully, wondering why it felt odd describing our relationship. “He owns a few gyms and is big into fitness. So far, we’ve been a good team.”
Emilio shook his head. “So sad. I have many friends who will fight to take you out.”
Teresa sighed. “Trust me, it is good you have an excuse to say no to my brother’s friends. They are all children who only want to drink and party.”
Emilio raised his brow. “And you do not?”
She punched his arm, then turned back to me. “Are you sure you do not want to stay with us? I do not like the idea of you being in a Vrbo.”
“Catena already offered, but I’m happy with the place. It’s right on the water, and that way I can get my work done.”
“You must come to the pizzeria,” Emilio said with a wink. “We make better food than Catena and Theo’s pub.”
“You don’t even work there, Emilio,” Teresa teased.
“I do on breaks. Plus, I only speak the truth.”
Catena gasped. “Our menu is much more extensive! We do not just create pizza, and our arancino is famous.”
“Tell that to Nonna. You stole her recipe.”
Catena glared. “You cannot steal from family.”
Emilio kept a straight face. “Good to know. I guess you only borrowed Teresa’s precious designer Dolce and Gabbana shoes, then, for the past few years?”
I watched Teresa’s face tighten. “Are you trying to start a fight, Emilio?” She launched into expressive Italian with hands flying, and then Catena jumped in.
“I will give them back! How about I bring them to dinner?”
Fascinated by the argument, Emilio seemed smug, like he enjoyed being in the center of trouble. Catena and Teresa shared a look, then glanced at him.
“I think I’ll call Luigi and tell him you kissed Mary after he broke up with her,” Teresa said with innocent wide eyes. “You weren’t trying to steal his girlfriend, right? You were only borrowing her?”
Her brother stared back in shock and a hint of panic. “Don’t be mean, T. Come on, let’s just forget about it. Aurora is going to get the wrong idea about our family. Don’t scare her.”
The girls pealed with laughter, and I joined them. I’d never had anyone to fight with, but I liked the sense of humor they brought into their zings. Had my mom quarreled with Philomena and Agosto? Had they been close? And if so, how could she possibly have left them behind?
“Why did she leave?” I suddenly asked. “My mom. Do you know?”
Silence fell. They stared at me with compassion, and when Teresa answered, her voice rang with sincerity. “We pushed for the story but know none of the details. Dad cried. I’ve never seen that before, and when we kept asking why we didn’t know about Aunt Serafina, he just said she ran away to get married when she was nineteen and never returned. He shut down after that. Like Catena, we think having you there will finally force them to tell us the whole story.”
“What about your dad?” Emilio asked. “Does he know anything?”
Heaviness pressed on my chest. “Dad died five years ago in a car crash.”
Teresa sucked in her breath. “So you lost both of them?” she whispered.
I managed a nod.
“We will get all of the details,” Catena said firmly. “There must be an explanation for all of this.”
I hoped so. God, I wanted everything to make sense again, and even if I couldn’t get Mom back, I craved some peace about what had happened in her past. “Who will be at dinner?” I asked.
They all shared a glance. “Everyone,” Emilio finally said. “They all want to meet you. But don’t worry, cugina . I will protect you. If you feel scared from so many questions, I will get you out of there.”
“So will we,” Catena added. “And Theo. You do not have to worry.”
The tight-knit support eased my tension. I was grateful for their understanding of my overwhelmed feeling going into the dinner.
“ Grazie ,” I said, smiling at them. “I am so happy I met you.”
Catena squeezed my hand. “Now, let’s take this party back to the pub and eat!”
We finished our drinks and headed to Bar Sciacca. Theo and Quint were both there, serving patrons and making cocktails, but the moment I entered, I heard a slight cheer as people from last night greeted me. Astonished at the welcome, I said my hellos and spent the next few hours nibbling on amazing food, avoiding carbs, and talking to a ton of new people.
Before long, they were closing up, and I waited for Catena outside, where I could grab some fresh air. My head was spinning from so many interactions, and my feet ached from my long walk today. Probably water retention, too, I reminded myself, thinking of the cocktails and gelato. I’d have to be more careful, like I was back home. Though I knew I could stand to gain a few pounds.
“It is a lot, no?”
I turned and found Quint beside me. Immediately, I remembered his simple compliment, which still thrilled me and allowed me to push aside any lingering thoughts about my diet. I hadn’t talked to him much tonight, since he was busy and I was inundated with family. I tilted my head and regarded him. “What is a lot?”
His lips quirked in a smile. I tried not to stare, but I was having a hard time not admiring the rough carving of his features, his dark beard, which clung sexily to frame his mouth and cover his jaw. I wondered if it was smooth or course to the touch. “Meeting so many strangers at once. Being in a new country. Getting used to suddenly having a family. I think it must not be easy.”
His voice was naturally deep, with the lilting musical accent softening the edges. Something about it made me want to close my eyes and just listen to him speak. I smiled back. “Yes, I guess it is,” I admitted. “I was an only child and had no other family. Emilio and Teresa had a little argument at lunch and I enjoyed listening to it.”
His laugh pumped the air with life, rattling fully from his chest. Jason rarely laughed with his whole body. He preferred a small chuckle before rushing on to the next comment, as if he had no time to waste on silly humor. “Did no one warn you about our Sicilian ways?” His eyes gleamed with amusement, a beautiful mix of brown and green I couldn’t look away from.
“Maybe you should tell me so I’m prepared?”
He took a step toward me and I caught the scent of musk, leather, and whiskey, rich and heady. “Ah, that is a good idea. There are three things you need to know before you enter the lion’s den.”
I winced. “I hope I’m not the sacrifice.”
“Not if you follow my advice.”
“I’m listening.”
“Number one. Sicilians yell very loudly. This does not mean we are angry. It is just our way and we are passionate no matter what the subject is. Capisci? ”
“Got it. No crying if my aunt screams in my face.”
Another laugh. It was a bit addicting, having a playful conversation that did not hold any goals or action items. “Very good. Secondo. You must eat.”
I blinked. “I can eat.”
He shook his head sadly. “No, I mean you must eat a lot. It will worry the family if you don’t. It will cause great distress.”
I tucked the information away but figured I had that covered. I was extremely polite and always had a bite of everything offered—I just never finished it. Leaving food on the plate was key in managing diet. “Got it. And the third?”
He stroked his beard and my fingers tingled to duplicate the movement. His serious expression was just as sensual as his laughter. God, this man must have a different date every night. He said something, but I almost missed it, distracted by his hotness. I asked him to repeat it and tried to hold back my blush.
“There are many, many duplicate names in our community, so we term people by their nicknames or jobs.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There are dozens of Tonys, so one will ask, Tony the baker? Or Tony the butcher? Or Tony the one who got engaged to cousin Sara and broke it off? It is the way we keep track of our people.”
“Is there another Aurora?” I asked curiously.
He lifted his hands and shrugged. “Perhaps? I do not know your family’s past, but if there is, you may find a story linked to your name. Many times, the name is followed by the mother’s name.”
“Do women change their name after marriage here?”
Quint nodded. “ Sì. But the woman’s family name stays with her and continues also, so she is known with two last names.”
I couldn’t help my sigh of pleasure. “I like that. We do the hyphenation thing, but I still feel like we’re wiped out from our history the moment we marry. I’m not sure why no one challenges such a patriarchal notion in this modern time.”
“Family history is important. It gives us identity.” I watched as a sudden shadow flickered in his eyes; a hint of pain skittered across his face but then was gone. I figured it was the moonlight, because he was suddenly smiling again. “I am glad you will be discovering yours, Aurora.”
My name sounded rich from his tongue and a shiver raced down my spine. Our gazes met and lingered, while an odd energy squeezed the air around us. I’d never experienced such a strange sensation with a man before and found myself falling mute, unable to break the tension with a lighthearted remark.
What was happening to me?
“I am ready, cugina !” Catena’s voice rang out and I jumped. The moment shattered and Quint nodded to me, turning away. “Thanks for keeping her company, Quint.”
“Of course.” He began walking away, then paused. “Enjoy your time with your family, Aurora.”
“I’ll remember the rules.”
His lingering laugh echoed in my ears as he disappeared.
Catena drove me back to my rental as we discussed the evening and how much fun we’d had. “I will pick you up at noon tomorrow, sì ?”
“ Sì. ” I gave her a hug goodbye and watched her peel away. Then I got ready for bed, trying not to be nervous about what was ahead. I picked up my phone and considered texting Jason, then put it back down. We’d catch up once I met my family. There would be a lot to tell him.
I closed my eyes and thought about Mom and what she’d think if she knew I was here in Sicily. Would she be happy? Or angry I was stirring up the past?
I’d never know. But somehow, it felt right to be here. Like I was meant to discover her story.
I hugged the feeling to my heart and slept soundly.