This Is Love

by Nana Malone

  “Hurry! I need your help!” Niccolo said again.

  Aniyah hadn’t washed her hands. There was so much pushing to get into the room that she knew she couldn’t escape. Feeling a bit light-headed, she went to Niccolo as if in a trance. A woman stopped her and wiped her hands with a warm soapy rag. She was then pushed to her knees next to Niccolo.

  “Hold the pillow. We don’t want the baby to come out and slip to the floor,” he said. This meant she had to play catcher with Niccolo. The pregnant woman had been pulled down to the edge of the bed. She was now holding her knees. Her legs were parted. She was crying and screaming in pain while one woman dabbed her sweaty forehead and another woman on the bed behind her rubbed her back. Several others were in the room praying, which sounded like chanting. Each had a rosary in her hands. Every single minute that lapsed felt surreal.

  “Are you ready? Aniyah? The baby is coming,” Niccolo said with a deep chuckle.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” Aniyah answered. She looked down. She never should have looked down! The head of the baby was crowning. Niccolo was yelling something in Italian. The others were now saying the same things. She guessed they were all telling Elaina to push.

  Blood and a baby came out. The room spun and darkened. Aniyah collapsed.

  Chapter 4

  “Stai bene?” a man asked.

  His voice was so soothing she wanted to emerge from the darkness. Her eyes fluttered and opened. She saw several faces and had to blink repeatedly for her vision to clear. Then one face became her sole focus. It was Niccolo. He wiped her forehead with sincere concern denting his brow. He glanced up to the older woman who was on the other side of her and nodded.

  “She’ll be okay,” he said.

  “What happened?” Aniyah asked and tried to sit up. The minute she did, her head ached as if she had suffered trauma to the back of it. “Ow!”

  “Careful, cara,” he said softly. He sat her upright and made sure she was comfortable. “You hit your head pretty hard when you fainted.”

  “I fainted!” Aniyah said and touched the lump at the back of her head underneath her curls. “Oh, my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

  The old woman nodded. “Si, signora. You fainted.”

  A baby cried. Aniyah looked to the bed. Elaina was holding her tiny infant, soothing her. She glanced to Aniyah and smiled. “Grazie,” Elaina said.

  The others were cleaning up. Aniyah could see traces of blood on the sheets and wet towels. She closed her eyes and felt the urge to puke rise in her throat. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Come,” Niccolo said. Before she could object, he eased his arm around her waist and helped her stand. She put her arm around his shoulder. It felt natural but inappropriate, since she liked the comfort. He helped her to the door. They walked out of the room and the strength returned to Aniyah’s legs.

  “I’m okay. Thank you,” she said and pulled away from him.

  “I am sorry you were dragged into this drama. We looked for your husband to tell him where you were.”

  “Uh, he’s not here,” she said as she rubbed the soreness from the back of her head. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the concern. “Work. It was last-minute, so I, uh, came alone,” Aniyah said.

  “But you’re newly married,” Niccolo said.

  “Yeah, well, my husband has different priorities. Can I just go to my room, please?” Aniyah asked. Niccolo looked at her for a moment as if she’d cursed him. Maybe her tone had been a bit sharp. However, the embarrassment over lying to a stranger made her feel defensive.

  “Of course. I’ve had everything brought upstairs to your room. We’ve upgraded your suite.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile, dug into his pocket and drew out an old-fashioned key. On the ring was the room number. “Thank you for your help. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Wait. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

  He walked off without a second glance.

  “Damn it, Aniyah!” She stamped her foot. She looked down at the key in her hand and then back down the hall. When he’d said everything had been taken to her room, did he mean her purse and phone, too? She had nothing. Aniyah walked back to the front of the resort. The paramedics had arrived. They were being directed to the room where the young woman and her child bonded.

  “Signora, hello,” a voice said from behind her. She turned and saw her approaching fast. It was the kind older woman who had asked if she was a nurse when she’d arrived. “I’m Gabriella, but they call me Zia. I called you to confirm your reservation. Remember?”

  “Yes. Yes! Hi, I just need to get to my room. I don’t have my purse or cell phone. And I’m not sure where room 223 is.”

  Gabriella smiled. “We have everything ready for you, Mrs. Jones. Come let me show you.”

  Aniyah followed Gabriella back through the resort to a side stairwell, and then up a flight of stairs. The halls were narrow, but she passed at least six rooms on the way to another stairwell that was much more cramped and narrow. They climbed the stairs to a private wing.

  “This is our honeymoon suite. Totally private. My nephew Niccolo is on the other end of the hall. No worries. He won’t disturb you,” she said.

  “The woman who had the baby, what was her name?”

  “Elaina.”

  “Are Elaina and the baby going to be all right?” Aniyah asked.

  “Oh, yes. I know it frightened you. We are so sorry you were caught up in the confusion. It’s a very exciting time for the family. A new baby. Ah, here we are,” Gabriella said. She used the key Aniyah gave her and opened the door. “This is a very nice room. Please. Have a look.”

  Aniyah stepped inside and her gaze swept the room. It was quite spacious. The floors were yellow, orange and brown mosaic tile. Most of the furnishings, including two dressers, a vanity desk and a chaise, were modest, and she understood why—the most charming and exquisite piece of furniture was the king-size canopy bed. It had sheer draping that was far more romantic than she would like. The bed was made for lovers. Across the bed, the resort staff had sprinkled petals from the beautiful flowers she’d seen blooming all around the villa. And they’d lit several fragrant candles. The windows were open, allowing in a sweet breeze with a hint of the sea. From her room she could see the blue waters of the Golfo Paradiso.

  “This is too much,” she mumbled.

  “It’s fine. Tomorrow we celebrate Innamorati a Camogli,” Gabriella said. “All day. We have so much planned.”

  “What does that mean? Innamorati a Camogli?” Aniyah asked.

  “It means Lovers in Camogli. It takes place every year in the days leading up to St. Valentine’s Day. You had to have known about it, to come here with your husband.”

  “He selected this place for us. Prepaid for it,” Aniyah said. The pain in her heart for Denton had numbed. Even her anger had subsided. She was more curious about her future and the beautiful town than interested in dwelling on what they’d shared.

  “Va bene. Come downstairs and join us around six for dinner. You will love it. And I hope your husband will arrive soon.”

  “Thank you, Gabriella,” she said.

  “Call me Zia. Prego.”

  Aniyah watched her go. She then went to the window and stared out at the sea. She looked down to the promenade. People were hanging up papier-mâché lanterns, red hearts and ribbons from every light post and building awning. Several men were working off to the east to set up what looked to be a stage. She stepped back and again cursed her choice. You can’t heal your heart in the most romantic place in the world. What was she thinking?

  * * *

  Niccolo closed the accounting ledger. They’d wasted four days, doing little to nothing to draw in more people or turn a profit. Prime time for the hotel to profit on the season was the week prior to the festival. Parties
and excursions were key for lovers. Tourism was up. Money was being poured into the village to renovate and expand on business interests. So why had Mi Amore fallen so far behind? He almost pushed back from the desk to leave the office but paused. A flyer caught his eye. He pulled it out from under the papers and folders scattered everywhere across the desk. Camogli was having a contest for the local businesses. Many cash prizes. But the one offered for the resort that threw the most lavish and lovingly authentic bash on Valentine’s Day would be rewarded a hundred and fifty thousand euros. He couldn’t believe it. The money would be enough to renovate and pay down some of their debt. The judging was only two days away.

  Niccolo charged out of his office. He went straight to the gardens in search of his aunt. There were several family members who worked for him setting up for dinner. But there was no sign of his aunt. He checked his watch. She had to be in the kitchen. He turned to leave when his gaze lifted to the second-story window. He paused. Aniyah stood there staring out toward the sea. Her smooth brown skin glowed with copper overtones. Her thick curly dark hair was blown clear from her face. And in the afternoon rays he could see even more of her pretty face. She had a look of loving to pamper herself. She probably didn’t have a care in the world. Most beautiful women didn’t, he supposed. Her husband was a fool to send her off on a honeymoon alone. What man would?

  She never glanced his way. He was grateful. If she had caught the way he stared up at her, she would be offended. What married woman would want another man’s desire?

  “She reminds you of her, doesn’t she?”

  Niccolo glanced back at his zia. She stood there staring up at the window where Aniyah had been.

  “I know she does. She reminds me of her, too. The moment I saw her I thought of Mya,” Zia said.

  “I want to talk to you. Why haven’t you told me about this?” Niccolo put the flyer in Gabriella’s face.

  His aunt looked at the paper and then at him with disinterest. “The entire village is competing for that money. We don’t have the money or the staff to win.”

  “So you give up without even trying? This is why we will lose this place. Giving up!” he said.

  “Who gave up first, Niccolo? Answer that question,” she countered.

  “I’m going to the solicitor’s office before it closes and entering us in the competition. I’m not giving up.”

  Zia stepped in his path. “We are family. We can heal together. If you give us a chance. I know delivering Elaina’s baby was hard—it had to remind you of—”

  “Stop!” Niccolo demanded. “I don’t need nurturing, or protecting. What I need is to win the Innamorati a Camogli. Can you help me do that?”

  His aunt nodded.

  “Good. Then focus there,” he said and left her standing there with tears in her eyes. He walked out of the garden, heading for town. He’d travel on foot. He needed to clear his head. Mya never got the chance to become a mother. She never got the chance to have any of the things he had promised for them. And that was his fault. He understood now how he could finally let his sweet wife go. He’d save Mi Amore, and the family. He’d do it alone if he had to.

  * * *

  Aniyah couldn’t stand it. Ten minutes into dinner and she found an excuse to bring her plate and drink upstairs. All the giggling couples gave her a headache. And the language barrier with those on the staff who took pity on a woman alone was uncomfortable. Now she sat on her bed staring at an Italian television program. She could understand a few of the scenes playing before her, but after several minutes she became bored. Maybe it was best to take a walk. Her own little private walk into town.

  She found the Italian translation book she’d bought at the airport and put it in her purse. She eased her feet into comfortable thong sandals and slipped out of the resort without a questioning look from anyone. Lucky for her she had a thin sweater to wear. It was after seven and the temperature had dropped. But a little chill in Italy was nothing compared to the hard winters in Chicago. She could handle it. Every shopkeeper’s door was flung open. She stopped at a few and fawned over handmade jewelry, pottery, quilts, puppets, decorative plates and handbags. She was surprised at the few people who were eager to speak English to her. She tried to speak Italian with the aid of her book as best as she could.

  Time slipped away from her. Soon she found herself strolling along the seafront promenade. On her right were three story buildings. Each connected to the next with many windows in a range of colors from yellow and orange to melon and pink. To her left was the pier and boats docked and of course the beaches that led out to the sea. A sweet breeze washed over her. She reached into her straw bag and drew out her shawl. She wasn’t cold, though it was cool. It felt more like a cleansing. She could feel the small particles of water in the air. She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and stopped to see a young boy playing his banjo and singing for a small gathering.

  * * *

  The meeting with the village solicitor went well. Niccolo had oversold the resort’s ability to compete. Now he was left with twenty-four hours to plan an event that would normally take months to organize. He scratched his head as he thought about how he could pull it off. The singing voice of Pepe drew his attention. The eight-year-old was a distant cousin of his and often came down to the promenade to make money from the tourists. He started toward him to tell him to get home. It was getting late.

  When he arrived at the crowd, the first person he saw was Aniyah. She looked up at him and smiled. Niccolo smiled in return. And to his surprise she approached him.

  “Hi!”

  “Ciao,” he said.

  “He’s pretty good,” she said.

  “His name is Pepe. He can play the piano, too.”

  “You know him?” she asked.

  “He’s my cousin.”

  “Wow. Is everyone in this town related to you?” She chuckled.

  He smiled. “Not everyone.”

  Pepe finished his song and several people dropped coins in tin cup. He put down his banjo and came over and hugged Niccolo. “You’re home, Niccolo. You’re home,” said Pepe. Niccolo knelt and embraced the boy. It had been over a year since he’d seen him. He’d grown. He paid attention as Pepe tried to tell him everything that had happened to him in the past year. Niccolo was patient as he listened to his little cousin’s tales. All the while he kept glancing to Aniyah. She didn’t walk away. She stood there smiling at them both and rubbing her arms to keep warm. When Pepe stopped to catch his breath, Niccolo made the introduction.

  “This is Aniyah,” he told his cousin. “She’s a guest at the hotel.”

  Aniyah fumbled in her purse. She took out a dollar bill and gave it his cousin. Pepe grabbed her hand and kissed it. Niccolo chuckled.

  “I think you’ve done enough today. Pack up and go home. I will come visit you tomorrow.”

  “You promise, Niccolo? You will come?”

  “I promise,” he said and kissed his brow. Pepe waved goodbye to them both and took off down the promenade on his bike.

  “He’s a talented kid. Can you sing?” she asked.

  “I often try. Haven’t made as much money as Pepe at it.”

  She grinned. “Niccolo. About earlier today. I was rude.”

  “No. No need to apologize. You were probably still in shock,” he said.

  “Let me make it up to you. A gelato, maybe?” she asked.

  “Only if you let me treat,” Niccolo said.

  “No! It’s my apology,” she reasoned.

  “And I want to be gracious in accepting. Come, I know the store owner.”

  “Wait? Are you related to him, too?” she asked.

  He winked. Aniyah laughed. She walked over with him to order a chocolate scoop and he got pistachio. They started back down the promenade together. At first he didn’t speak. He didn
’t have to. There were plenty of street vendors to draw her attention. But his curiosity got the best of him.

  “Aniyah, where is your jacket?” he asked her.

  “Oh? I didn’t think about the weather. I thought Italy was sunny all year.”

  “We are pretty warm, but we enjoy winter too.” He shrugged off his jacket.

  “No. No. I couldn’t. I’m fine. I have my sweater on.”

  “You’re my guest. It would be impolite to let you freeze to death the first day of your visit.”

  She chuckled. She eased her arms in through the sleeves. “Grazie,” she said.

  He gave her a curt nod and they continued on their walk.

  “Does your husband arrive soon?”

  She licked her gelato and didn’t answer. He thought to ask her again and then decided not to. Instead he looked up at the moon. It was full. An omen. Maybe even a good sign for what he faced in the next forty-eight hours.

  “Are you married?” she asked.

  “I’m a widower,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. How did she die?”

  Niccolo decided not to answer her question. If she didn’t want to talk about her husband, he felt no need to discuss his wife. To his relief, she didn’t push.

  They finished their gelato by the time they reached the end of the promenade. They had walked quite a bit and had said so little. She didn’t feel like a stranger to him. She had a calming nature. One that made it easy to be around her without questions.

  “Would you like a ride back to the hotel?” he asked.

  “A cab?” She frowned and looked around at the people crowding the street. There wasn’t a car in sight.

  “Not quite. Come with me,” he said. She followed.

  * * *

  They walked up a narrow street. Through two very close buildings. He went to the door of one and knocked. A man in a greasy, stained white shirt and workman’s pants appeared. Aniyah didn’t like the surly look he gave her. Niccolo spoke to the man and she waited for their conversation to end. She glanced back down the street and realized she had ventured into the unknown with a stranger. It wasn’t smart. No matter how cute and charming Niccolo was.