Chapter 40 Melanie #2
“I’m going to get ready. Church starts at twelve so we’ll leave in an hour.”
“Sounds good.”
I gently squeezed her hand, letting her know how I was so proud of her for coming with us. I got up and started to walk back inside, but right before I slid inside, my mom said.
“And Mel.”
I turned to face her with one foot planted in the house and one on the outside.
“I love you.”
And for the first time, I didn’t mind hearing those three words. Before Nick, those three words are what broke me.
The scent of incense hung thick in the air as the congregation rose in unison, the soft rustling of clothes and shuffling of feet echoing through the grand, vaulted ceiling of the church.
Stained-glass windows cast colored light onto the marble floor, creating a kaleidoscope of blues, reds, and golds that danced with every flicker of the candle flames.
Seated side by side, Sophia and Nick knelt on the cushioned kneelers, their hands folded in reverence.
Their mother sat to Sophia’s left, rosary beads wrapped around her fingers, murmuring a quiet prayer.
I sat beside Nick, and my mom was beside me, and I watched as she fidgeted, her restless hands smoothing down the hem of her dress.
The priest stood at the front, lifting the golden chalice, his voice steady and solemn.
“Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”
The priest, dressed in white vestments embroidered with gold, lifted the Eucharist high above his head. The congregation murmured, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.”
My mom swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of the quiet weight of the moment.
I was unsure what she believed anymore, but she followed me and the rest of their family to the front of the church.
The line moved slowly, the shuffle of feet the only sound in the sacred hush.
The preacher held up the thin, round wafer when he reached me.
“The Body of Christ.” He laid it in my hand.
And I placed it on my tongue; The wafer rested on my tongue.
It was light as paper yet heavy with meaning.
“And this is the blood of Christ, drink and be cleansed.”
I tried not to laugh because the thought of drinking wine to be cleansed was almost comical in my world.
He tipped the cup to meet my lips, and I drank.
As I turned back toward the pew, my eyes met Nick’s.
There was something knowing in his gaze, something unspoken.
A shared understanding neither of us had the words for.
Returning to my seat, I watched my mom repeat the same process as I listened to the soft echo of the organ.
My mom returned, sitting next to me, and for a brief moment, we were just a family in the quiet sanctity of the church.
Bound not only by blood but by tradition, faith, and all the things left unspoken between us.
When church let out, the sunlight outside felt too bright, too clean, after everything that had been roiling under the surface all morning.
We lingered out front, the crowd slowly dispersing as Bianca and Sophia made their way over.
They hadn’t really had time to talk to my mom before the service, and I could tell both were eager—Bianca with her always-warm eyes, Sophia with her polished smile that hid everything sharp underneath.
“How long are you in town for?” Bianca asked, her voice light, almost casual—but I felt the weight of it settle on my shoulders like a stone.
“Oh, I’m playing it by ear right now,” my mom replied.
A perfectly vague answer. But it hit me square in the chest. Because the truth was, I didn’t know either.
I didn’t know what she planned to do, where she planned to stay, or if she was going to keep pretending like she hadn’t just detonated her life.
If the divorce was real—if she was actually leaving Richard—she’d have to go back eventually.
Pack up. Lawyer up. Face the ruins of her choices.
“I would love to make you some of my famous pasta. You should come over for dinner tonight, and Christmas is next week, so if you are in town, you’ll have to come to our Christmas Eve service.”
“It’s stunning how they decorate in here,” Sophia added, her words wrapped in sugar but her smile too perfect.
“Uh—well.”
My mom faltered. Just a beat. But I caught it. I knew that look in her eyes—the flicker of panic behind the practiced grace. She was trying. Trying to stand upright, to slide back into normalcy. But she wasn’t ready. Not really. Not yet.
“Actually, we have plans this evening,” I said quickly, threading my fingers through hers, anchoring her to me. “But we would love to come to Thursday night’s service.”
She squeezed my hand—once, tight—and I could feel the silent gratitude in it. The smallest thank you for the lifeline.
“Ya, Mel hasn’t seen her mom for months, so I was going to let them have some mother-daughter time tonight while I go to the restaurant and handle some administrative stuff I’ve been putting off.”
Sophia’s eyes darted to her mother. I didn’t know much about Italians, but I knew one thing from being around Olga—turning down food? Borderline sacrilegious. Still, if Bianca knew even half of what my mom was carrying, she’d understand. I hoped.
“Of course, well, you’ll have to come to Villa Ravenna and check out my son’s restaurant. Melanie and him have really turned that place around. I’m so proud of him.” Bianca rose up on her toes, stretching like she always did when she got affectionate, and cupped Nick’s face in her hands.
“Really, Mom?” Nick grumbled as she squished his cheeks like he was still ten years old.
“I’m your mother, which means you’ll always be my baby.”
“Ya and the biggest pain in her a—” Sophia started, before Bianca’s hand flew up and clamped over her daughter’s mouth.
“Non osare.” Don’t you dare. “Siamo nella casa del Signore.” We’re in the house of the Lord.
Sophia wriggled free, her voice thick with protest. “Mom,” she whined. “You’ll mess up my lipstick, and this is expensive.”
Bianca rolled her eyes, long-suffering and dramatic, like she lived for this chaos.
“And unlike your big baby, I don’t like being treated like one. I’m an adult and cut the umbilical cord years ago, unlike some of us.”
Nick didn’t miss a beat. He slung his arm around her neck and locked her into a headlock before she could squirm away. “Ya, well your big bro can still do this. How do you like that?”
Sophia shrieked, half-laughing, half-furious, as he ruffled her hair like a gremlin. The sound of them spinning in circles filled the churchyard, echoing off stone and stained glass like kids who never quite grew up.
“I’m going to kill you for this!”
Nick finally released her, breathless with laughter. Sophia whipped around, her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, jaw clenched as she glared. Her hair was a wild mess of curls now, and Nick just grinned, puckering his lips and blowing her a taunting kiss.
“Love ya, sis.”
“You’re a dead man,” she growled, lunging—but Nick, fast as ever, ducked and darted off, her heels clicking furiously behind him.
“You two are a pain in my ass,” Bianca muttered, hot on their heels, waving her hand in the air. “Stop embarrassing me. I’m too old for this.” Her accent was thickening with every syllable.
I looked over at my mom, and we both finally let the laughter spill out, full-bodied and unguarded, like we’d been holding it in too long.
“Well, what did you think? Wasn’t so bad, eh, eh?” I nudged her gently with my shoulder.
“No, it wasn’t. But the priest didn’t have to be so stingy with the wine.”
And just like that, we were laughing again—loud, honest, the kind of laughter that didn’t fix anything but reminded me, for a second, that maybe we weren’t completely broken.