by Nana Malone
“Niccolo,” Aniyah said, but her voice was too soft among the staff’s chatter. The woman he’d called Mary took her arm and pulled her along. She glanced back at him once more, and he nodded as if to encourage her. She decided to trust him and herself. Hell, she had just planned a wedding all by herself. Even though it hadn’t happened, her aunt and cousin had been amazed at what she could do with a limited budget.
Aniyah went to the garden and looked around. Mary and Carla were hanging colorful lanterns and hearts. But the box full of lights and ribbons was untouched. She walked over to them and checked what other decorations they had. She found things that could be useful, like ropes and fishing nets.
“I have an idea,” she told the women, who were setting up lanterns for each table.
The women exchanged a look and then went back to hanging the lanterns. It was evident they weren’t interested in her feedback. But Aniyah was not going to be dismissed. Besides, she felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Niccolo because of the way he trusted her.
“Ahem. I said I have an idea.”
“What is your idea?” Mary asked in a dry tone.
“This!” She shook out the fishing net. “You have lights and ornaments in all shapes. I assume you were going to hang them with ribbons on posts and off the ends of tables. Right?”
The women stared at her for a moment. Carla eventually nodded that she was correct.
Aniyah smiled. “How about we use the nets? We can connect them from post to post with these ropes. There and there. And then run the lights through them. And hang the ornaments you have here. We get the men to tie them up for us and...”
The women didn’t smile or nod. They stared. Aniyah tried harder. “We want to create love. But we also want to make this place different from all others. We can use the lights to make the nets sparkle. Trust me, this will be pretty. Can we get help?”
“Maybe Anthony and David will help?” Mary asked.
Carla crossed her arms. She looked up at the sky and then back to Aniyah. She slowly smiled. “It might work. Go send for them.”
Aniyah nodded. “Fantastic! I think we should move the tables there. We need a dance area. Closer to where the band will be. There is so little room for dancing. Maybe we can have a kissing booth area. For the couples to come and pose. Last night I saw a photographer. He will be back right?”
“Si, signora, he will be back.”
“Perfect. Oh!” She clasped her hands together. “I have an idea. We need to do a grand gesture. Something oozing with romance. I know! I know!” She walked over to the bar, where a helium tank stood next to six large boxes of uninflated balloons.
“I got it! It’s perfect. Niccolo will love it. But we will surprise him. It will be the conclusion to the night. You with me?”
The women smiled and nodded.
Aniyah laughed. She was made for this job, for this place. She couldn’t be happier.
* * *
Niccolo lifted his shirt off the ironing board. Its silk threads were still warm from the pressing. He eased it on and turned to look for his watch. He had been so busy all day showering was the last task left to do. The guests had to be arriving. In search of his watch he opened his drawers. When he reached the bottom drawer, he found a picture of Mya inside in her wedding dress. It was the only memento he kept with him always. He picked up the silver frame and a jolt of tenderness speared his heart. For the first time since her death, he didn’t feel pain when he looked at her sweet smile. Yes, often a sharp stab of bitter regret would hit him when he passed the locked room they’d once shared. But since Aniyah had occupied that floor he felt the pain lessen. He and Mya had had a wonderful life together three three years. Special, from the first day she showed up at his door in search of a job to their wedding day.
He sat on the edge of the bed. He’d spent a year away to clear his head and let go of his pain. He found it ironic that his return home was the closest he’d come to being healed.
Niccolo stood. He set the picture down flat on the dresser, finished dressing and splashed on aftershave. When he arrived in the garden, it was the first time he paused long enough to take it all in. The girls had changed the entire layout. The tables were pushed back and the floor before the band was open for dancing. There was fishnet hanging over the dance floor with paper hearts dangling above. And true to their culture, tokens of their village decorated the tables. There were little fisherman boats made of paper, and heart shaped mementos. The lanterns and lighting gave the place much more luminance. Of course he’d seen them working. They’d all worked so hard. But to see it on display this way really took him by surprise.
“What do you think?” his aunt Gabriella asked from behind him.
“Did she do this?”
“Yes. With the help of Mary and Carla. They pulled in the boys, too.” His aunt crossed her arms. “She’s quite the decorator. Like Mya?”
He tensed but held back from showing his aunt her effect on him. “So I take it you don’t approve.”
“Of this?” she scoffed. “Even Elaina hasn’t been this creative. No. I approve of this. What I don’t approve of is you. And if your mother and father were alive to see you now. Ask yourself, would they approve?”
To this accusation he turned and looked at his aunt. He was surprised at the level of hostility he saw in her eyes. But he deserved it. What had he done to prove himself? His aunt was such a sweet, caring woman. His return had been a rough fresh start. But he’d been fully engaged in order to make this place a success. After all, he tended to the guests, took a couple on an excursion yesterday morning, and enrolled in the most important competition in the village. Could she not see the change in him?
“What is it that I have done that is so horrible?” he demanded.
“You didn’t send her home. Not because you are generous, Niccolo. And not because you are forgiving. You didn’t send her home because of who she reminds you of. You even have her walking around here giving orders and arranging things like Mya. It’s disrespectful to your wife, to her memory.”
“Mya is dead,” he said softly. “And no one feels that greater than me. I am not clinging to her memory. I’m moving forward. I didn’t invite that woman here. She came, and she needed help. I...”
His aunt shook her head. “You are moving too fast. I see you smiling at her, I see you looking at her. You’re smitten.”
“You see what you want to see!” he said.
Gabriella lowered her gaze. “I am not to trying to challenge you, Niccolo, or question you. I only want to protect you. You aren’t ready. You just returned home.”
“Basta! I’ve heard enough. We are done with this conversation. Instead of arguing I am going to prove to you I have changed. And change starts with her. If you say a word to her about your feelings...”
“I’ve said all I plan to say,” his aunt said sadly. “I am leaving for Genoa. Tonight.”
“Zia? You can’t go. I need you,” Niccolo said. “Tonight is critical to our success. We need you. Give me a chance. One chance to make this right.”
“I’ve made sure the food is prepared. I’ve made sure the staff has everything. Elaina has left the ospedale and is headed home. I’m going to Genoa and I will see to Elaina and her family. They need me more than you.” His aunt looked up to his eyes and touched his cheek. “And what if I am wrong, Niccolo? What if this woman coming here is what you need to move on? I can’t stay and see it happen. I am not over grieving Mya. I may never be. I won’t be the cause of you not moving past your pain. Call me when you need me.”
He leaned in and kissed her left cheek and then the right. She hugged him. Then she was gone.
Niccolo rubbed the tension from his brow. He groaned from a place deep in his throat. He wiped his hand down his face. This was no time to argue. He needed everyone to pull together.
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And then came a tap on his back. Niccolo’s head turned. He glanced behind him.
She was there.
He found her grinning. And the woman she bloomed into for the night was even more beautiful than the one he’d initially met. In celebration of the evening she wore a red mini dress with thin straps that draped her shoulders. His gaze went south past her tempting cleavage all the way to her strawberry-pink toes in strappy red sandals.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Huh?” he said and closed his mouth quick to keep back the drool.
“Of what we’ve done. Do you like it?” she asked.
He glanced to the arriving guests and those dining. The place was magic. He didn’t just like it—he was swept up in the feeling. “You did well. It reminds me...it reminds me of better times here.”
“When your wife was alive?” she asked. “People keep saying I remind them of her. It’s strange.”
“You two are different, but what you do here, what you’d done, well, it’s how Mya would have wanted it.” His voice was hoarse with emotion that he didn’t want her to hear. The decorations weren’t the biggest change. They made every effort to be festive and welcoming. It was the flair. Only Mya knew how to add the right amount of flair to turn the gardens into an evening paradise. Was it something keen to American women?
“I have a surprise for you.” She pointed over to the left, where what looked to be at least four hundred balloons were anchored to a large heart-shaped weight. They were farther back from the party and swaying in the night breeze.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“You’ll see!” She grinned.
“Niccolo, they are ready for you,” Carla said.
Niccolo walked away from Aniyah toward the band that played for the guests. He glanced back and saw her smiling brightly for him. He smiled in return. A microphone was placed in his hand and he turned to the guests who had found their seats or were making their way over to the open bars.
“Felice, San Valentino... Innamorati a Camgoli... Welcome!” he said to everyone, and the guests are all cheered. “Tonight we have so much planned for you. Games, prizes and of course all the things that make Camogli the true beginning of love. So consider yourselves family, my special guests, and enjoy this night for lovers only!”
The guests used their confetti poppers to release a spray of red, pink and white confetti all over the tables.
* * *
Aniyah clapped. She looked around at all the smiling faces and clapped harder. She had spent the day learning of the importance of the night to the people in this village and Mi Amore. The music started. Niccolo grabbed her hand and they were the first to the dance floor. The upbeat tempo had them grinding up against each other. And no one cared. The others joined them. Soon not a person was seated. And the drinks flowed. Niccolo held several drawings and gave out prizes that ranged from a free weekend stay to a private tour along the Golfo Paradiso.
She had done her part.
“Signora,” Carla said. “It’s time.”
Aniyah nodded and accepted the mic. She walked over to the band and gave them the signal. They began to play a sweet ballad. “Everyone, can I have your attention?”
The laughing couples turned their attention to her. Niccolo, who was back behind the bar, looked up curiously.
“Hi! I’m Aniyah. We want to thank you again for sharing this special night with us.” She glanced to the judges, who she knew would soon be leaving. “We have a wonderful surprise for you. As you see, each couple will receive their own special bouquet of balloons. And on your tables are heart envelopes and pens. Now, what we will do is write our promise to the person we love and then use the clip to attach it to the balloon. We will release it on the beach tonight. Let’s get started!”
Niccolo came from around the bar toward her, but she stopped him with her finger. Carla walked over and gave him a pen and envelope. She winked at him and began to sing the most romantic song in the world, “At Last” by Etta James.
The band played and her melody was pitch-perfect. She never took her eyes off him.
* * *
To hear her sing in that beautiful voice stunned him. He was rooted to the spot. Her words created a soul-to-soul connection. He felt the lyrics burning into his heart. It was too much. It was too fast. His head began to swim. His heart felt like it ruptured in his chest. He took a step back, and then another, and he kept stepping back until he turned and walked away.
* * *
Aniyah saw him leave and swiftly ended the song. She gave the mic to the closest member of the band and went after Niccolo. He wasn’t in the lobby or his office. She even checked his room behind the kitchen. And then it dawned on her where he’d go.
She climbed the stairs and went down the hall to the second flight of stairs. There were two rooms on her floor. One of which had belonged to him and his wife. That door, which had been locked since her arrival, was partially open. Aniyah approached it with caution. She pushed it open. The room was larger than hers and preserved in beauty.
She walked inside and saw Niccolo seated on the bed. The drapes of the canopy were pushed back to the bedposts. His head rested in his hands. She glanced around the room. A woman’s clothing hung in the closet. A delicate pair of shoes lay near the dresser where she must have left them. Makeup and perfumes covered the vanity. This was their room.
Niccolo didn’t look up. But he had to know she was there. The moon cast enough light for her to see his sorrow and grief. She walked over to the dresser near the bed and picked up the wedding photo. Aniyah was stunned.
It wasn’t often that she saw a person who looked like her, but this woman could have been a relative. Aniyah hadn’t known his wife was black. “Niccolo? This is your wife?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“She looks like...she looks like me,” Aniyah said. “Niccolo?”
He said nothing.
“Is this why your aunt was upset? Why she didn’t want me here? Why people stare at me and tell me I remind them of her? Is this why you...and I? Was I her for you?”
He lifted his head from his hands. “No.”
“Don’t lie to me!” Aniyah said. “Did you use me? To replace her!”
He stood. He looked at her with tears in his eyes. “At first. Yes. When I first saw you, I couldn’t believe how much you looked and sounded like her. I thought God was punishing me again. And then... I realized that you’re not her. I saw who you are and realized you could never be her.”
“So what? That’s why you ran up here—to lick your wounds? Because I couldn’t live up to her memory! You made me feel like I was special. That what we felt for each other was special. And all the while you were using me!”
“No! That’s not why I walked away.”
“Then why?” Aniyah asked. To her surprise, this revelation hurt more than Denton. She had spent three years with Denton and hadn’t been as honest with him in any of that time as she had been with Niccolo. Her aunt said she was foolhardy. For a long time she hadn’t understood why. But now she did. She’d thrown her heart at a stranger. Let him in when she felt most vulnerable. And for what? To be an actress in his little game? To be a stand-in for his wife? To once again be second best.
Brokenhearted, she started for the door. Niccolo caught her hand and stopped her. He drew her toward him and she let him. He embraced her.
“I made love to you, not my wife’s memory. When you sang for me, when you shared your soul with me, Aniyah, I felt so guilty. Because in that moment I realized I could move on. I could leave her memory behind and make new ones. With another woman. It’s your spirit, your fire. It’s all you. Don’t punish me for being a coward and not telling you about her being a black American woman who may have favored you. The only real thing you have in common
with my dead wife is your ability to touch my heart as she did.”
He lifted Aniyah’s chin. “I’m not perfect. I’m broken. Nothing I’ve done in close to two years has healed me. Tonight, these past few days with you, they have changed me. Am I lying? Tell me.”
She lowered her gaze. “I’m not her. And you can’t promise me when you look at me you won’t see her. I can’t do this, Niccolo. Not again. My aunt says I’m foolish. I rush into everything. I’m an actress because I’m a dreamer and in acting I can live out my dreams. This is my life. Nothing I ever felt this deeply has paid off for me in the past. Why would it now?”
She shoved him away and escaped to her room. She closed the door and slumped down against it to the floor. She locked her arms around her knees. Niccolo knocked several times. She ignored him. She heard him walk away. Aniyah cried. She felt like a fool.
Chapter 8
Aniyah heard a tapping sound. She opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep in her dress and shoes. Her makeup was smeared over the pillow. Not since the breakup with Denton had she cried herself to sleep. She was tired of the waste of emotion. She sat up and glanced over to the window. The soft tapping came again. Aniyah glanced at the digital clock. It was after four in the morning. Confused, she scooted off the bed and went to the window. She opened the shutters. When she looked down, she saw Niccolo. He stood underneath her window with a guitar strapped around him.
It took a few tugs, but Aniyah opened the window and leaned out. “What do you want from me?”
“Forgiveness,” he said. He strummed the guitar.
“No. It’s over, Niccolo...”
“‘At last...’” he began. Aniyah couldn’t believe how beautiful his voice was. She was frozen. She stood there staring down at him with amazement. He strummed the guitar again and again as he delivered every melodic word of the song with such feeling and sincerity, tears of relief dropped from her eyes. Never in her life had anyone showed her that much love. Something that was all her own.
