by Mary Campisi
All he wanted was a chance to spend ordinary nights with Ramona and he wanted the same for his daughter. That was family. That was real love, and he would not see Lucy throw it away because she’d seen the mess her parents had made of their life. “We were wrong and I’m sorry you’re carrying that baggage. Pop says you and Jeremy are good together.” He moved closer to his daughter, placed both hands on her small shoulders. “He’s given the boy his blessing.” His voice cracked as he pushed out the next words. “Please don’t let your mother’s and my past mistakes become yours. People hurt and disappoint each other; it’s a part of life. But it’s working through those hurts and disappointments that make the difference, and doing it because the other option—being without them—isn’t really an option.”
She didn’t try to hide the tears that spilled down her pale cheeks. “But I’ve made such a mess of things. Part of me is ready to commit, but then there’s that other part that remembers sitting at the dining room table all alone and wondering why I couldn’t belong to another family.” Her shoulders shook, her lips trembled. “I don’t want that for Teresina. It would kill me.”
Anthony pulled his daughter into his arms, held her tight. “It would kill me, too,” he whispered against her hair. “But you can prevent it because you know it can happen. Your mother and I refused to admit a problem existed.” Ramona never let him get away with moods or silence, not when they first met and not now. That’s why their relationship worked, and that’s why their marriage would work. The same could be true for Lucy. If she trusted her heart enough and let go of the past.
“Jeremy said he needs time, that he doesn’t know if he can keep seeing me if there’s no future.” She pulled away, looked up at Anthony. “Maybe he doesn’t love me enough to wait until I figure things out.”
“Or maybe he loves you too much to sit by and let you destroy what the two of you could share.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her left ear, said in a gentle voice, “Maybe he doesn’t just want to be a boyfriend; did you ever think about that? Maybe he wants to marry you, help raise Teresina, and have a child or two with you.” His daughter crumbled in front of him, her small body smothered in tears and shaking as she gulped for air. “I wish it were easier, sweetheart, but what gives us the greatest joy can also destroy us. You’re the only one who can decide if you’re willing to take that chance.”
Ramona stared at the engagement ring Tony had placed on her finger yesterday. Its magnificence sparkled under the dim lighting in the bedroom as though to announce its presence and demand that onlookers acknowledge its exquisiteness. She traced the diamond with her index finger. Such beauty belonged with those who could appreciate it, those who would wear it as an adornment to enhance their beauty, beauty that would be noticed and applauded. It did not belong on someone who possessed work-roughened hands, chipped nails, and the inability to appreciate the design or the designer. This ring did not belong on her finger.
She sighed, shifted her weight on the bed, moving closer to the nightstand. An envelope rested against the lamp, the bold type on the label addressed to Anthony and Ramona Benito. Inside were two plane tickets to Italy. Three weeks of adventure, food, and memory making. My wedding gift to you, Tony had said last night. This is only the beginning. You’ll have the life of a queen. He’d smiled then, his dark eyes shining. My queen.
But she wasn’t a queen—his or anyone else’s. Not now and not ever. She was a tired, middle-aged woman with arthritis and a bum knee who did not believe in fairy tales or being rescued by kings or knights. It hadn’t worked in her first marriage and she had no desire to make it work now. Self-sufficiency and a clear dose of reality were what had carried her through many a year, and they would continue to do so. Why couldn’t Tony stop trying to pamper her? Why couldn’t he see she was not the pampering sort, that she didn’t want or need a fancy ring or a big trip? Why could he not stop trying to change her?
Ramona eased the diamond from her finger, placed it in the velvet box, and snapped it shut. A trip did not make happiness, nor did a ring make a marriage, and if Tony thought they did, then maybe they needed to reconsider what they were about to do. By the time he arrived at her house that afternoon, she knew what she had to do. The shock on Tony’s face said he’d never seen it coming.
“This has all been so sudden.” She fixed her gaze on the arm of the couch so she didn’t have to see the disappointment and disbelief that would smother his face any second—as soon as he understood the meaning behind her words. “It’s one thing to talk about spending the rest of our lives together when you’re two thousand miles and months away.” She cleared her throat, fought past the pain swirling through her. “You know, it almost didn’t seem real; the honeymoon trip to Italy, a ride in a gondola, a visit to the Vatican. And the tiny restaurant we’d start right here in Magdalena: homegrown, hearty, and heartfelt. Who wouldn’t get excited about all of those possibilities?” Her voice cracked. “But they were dreams, Tony, big ones and I’m not sure they shouldn’t stay there.”
“Stay there?” He moved toward her, placed a hand on her arm. “What are you talking about? Look at me, Ramona.”
She inched her gaze to his, wished she hadn’t. Those beautiful eyes were filled with such sadness, and pain…so much pain. “I’m sorry, Tony,” she whispered. “So sorry.”
He stared at her. “Are you calling off the wedding?”
Ramona opened her mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Why couldn’t he understand that maybe they were too different, maybe she would never make him happy, not unless she changed everything that made her who she was? Oh, he’d say he didn’t want her to be someone else, but if that were true, he would have known better than to buy her a ring the size of a plum tomato.
“Ramona, answer me. Are you calling off the wedding?”
“Oh, Tony, don’t you see how different we are? I wanted to believe we could make it, and I grew so comfortable with our talks that I let my mind wander and think all sorts of thoughts. Rome? What would I do in Rome? I haven’t been more than two hours from here in years. I couldn’t just go flitting across an ocean.” She forced a smile. “Imagine that?”
“Yeah, imagine that.” His eyes turned to soot, sparked. “You know I spent months getting rid of old behaviors and adapting new ones that fit into the life I wanted.” He paused, said in a low voice, “The one I wanted with you. It was a helluva lot of work, but I did it, because for once in my life, I could see past the immediate goals, could see what next year and the next ten years would look like—if I did the work. The last piece to finding true happiness and contentment was you. I asked you to marry me and you said yes, and now you’ve changed your mind. Did you ever intend to marry me? The trip to city hall for the marriage license, the travel brochures, the house we planned to renovate…did you do that to torment me?”
“No!” How could he think that? “I would never do that to you.” She clasped her hands against her belly, swallowed. “There are things you don’t know about me, things that have made me the way I am.”
“And you’re not even going to give me an opportunity to understand those things, are you?”
The hurt in his voice squeezed her chest. “Tony, it would make no difference. I can’t help—”
“Was it a man?”
Ramona stared at him, tried to push back memories of the man who’d destroyed her belief in the goodness of others. Miriam Desantro was the only person who knew about Carlo, the husband who beat her. The secret had spilled out last year when they’d shared their private pains in Harry Blacksworth’s kitchen. When Tony asked her to marry him, she’d forced herself to check up on Carlo and learned he’d died of a heart attack, two years earlier. That information brought her true freedom, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk that freedom with another marriage. “I wanted to marry you,” she paused, let her uncertainty slip out. “I think I need more time.”
“Time?” He released his hold on her arm, stepped back. “I don’t think
this is about time. I don’t think it’s ever been about time or timing.”
“Anthony—”
“You’re never going to trust a man enough to commit to him, I see that now. Or maybe you’re just never going to trust this man enough.”
The statement hung between them, dark and heavy, begging to be denied. She wanted to tell him not to give up on her, to wait while she sorted through her uncertainty and confusion. But what she wanted to tell him more than anything was that no matter what happened between them, she’d never loved a man as much as she loved him. Of course, she said none of this as she pursed her lips, blinked hard, and held his gaze.
“Good-bye, Ramona,” he said, seconds before he turned toward the door. “I hope you find your happiness.”
6
“She changed her mind? You mean she’s not going to marry him? How could she do that?” Lucy frowned, her small nose scrunching up like she’d smelled a bushel of rotten cabbage. “Dad loves her and she loves him. They have to get married.”
Pop sighed and laid a hand on his granddaughter’s shoulder. “Love isn’t always enough to get over the rough patches. A couple’s got to be willing to fight for that love and vow not to give up, even when that’s exactly what they want to do.”
“Can’t you talk to her, Grandpa? You always know what to say.”
Not always and not in this case. There’d been too much that confused and concerned Pop about this potential marriage, like his son’s talk about fixing up a fancy house near Harry Blacksworth. And planning a trip to Rome. And that dang ring. What was next? China patterns and matching towels? It didn’t sound like Ramona Casherdon, not one bit. The woman was considered a recluse, though she’d won a few people over since she stood up for Tess when Stephanie Richmond came to town. Ramona was a good egg, but she was a strange one and he couldn’t picture her joining in wedding festivities like most women. He’d tried to tell his son that Ramona might prefer a softer approach, less fanfare, but Anthony hadn’t listened. The boy had been so eager to show her how much he loved her that he’d probably ignored the signs that said slow down and scared. No doubt, he hadn’t taken Pop’s advice to iron out a few details before saying the I do’s, or maybe he had, and this was the result. Whatever the reason, the wedding was off and that’s why Pop and Lucy were sitting at Harry’s Folly, sipping hot chocolate and munching on biscotti while Anthony stayed home with a sleeping Teresina.
“So, I hear Ramona kicked your boy in the behind and called off the wedding.” Harry slid in the booth beside Pop, set his coffee mug on the table. “I could have told him how this was going to play out.” He shook his head, his blue eyes crinkled at the edges. “A woman like that doesn’t give up years of living alone without careful negotiations. I’ll bet he steamrolled in there and threw the moon at her.”
Pop nodded. “And a dang ring big enough to bruise your finger.”
Harry laughed. “Bet that went over well. He’d have been better off letting her take the lead on that one.” He shook his head, sighed. “Women are complex creatures and the second he thought he understood her, he was done.”
“Dad just wanted to let her know how much he loves her,” Lucy piped in. “He wanted to let everybody know. I think that says something about how he’s changed and opened up.” She frowned, dipped a biscotti in her hot chocolate. “But now what? He said he’ll stay here with us for a few weeks and then head back to San Diego.” When she looked at them, her eyes were wet. “He didn’t even call it home, just said, ‘San Diego.’”
“It sure is a tough predicament,” Pop said. “A body finally gets the courage to speak his heart and he gets slammed. I wasn’t so sure about this whole wedding idea and tried to tell him marriage was about expectations and compromise. I said he and Ramona should have that conversation before they shared the ‘I do’s.’ But your father wouldn’t hear anything but how he was going to surprise his future wife with a big ring and a trip to Italy.”
“He surprised her all right.” Harry slid Pop a look. “You’ve got to know your woman before you start tossing surprises her way. Greta would have clobbered me if I’d dressed her in diamonds and a designer wardrobe. She let me get the diamonds, but they were a third of the size I wanted to buy. You think I was going to go against that woman after she agreed to marry my sorry behind?” He grinned. “Hell, no. Excuse me, Lucy. I mean, heck, no.”
Lucy smiled at him. “You and Greta are so perfect together. That’s what I want for my dad and Ramona, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.”
Pop rubbed his jaw and considered his son’s current predicament. Tony had never been a patient one and it looked like he’d jumped the gun on this proposal business, too. Look, listen, and absorb, the boy’s mother used to tell him. Didn’t work. Had he learned nothing in fifty plus years? Or had Ramona let him believe because she’d wanted to marry him and turned scared? He could see either one of those being the truth, or maybe pieces-parts of the truth. Maybe they were both true. “Guess you won’t be hosting the wedding or the reception.” Dang shame about that because Anthony had been so excited about it, said he couldn’t wait to tell Ramona, but not until he had it all figured out. Harry and Greta had come up with the idea to host the wedding and the reception, said they’d invite friends and family to witness the union. What better time to do it than a few days before Christmas at what had become the Blacksworths’ annual holiday party? And what better way to celebrate the gift of love and friendship than with a surprise wedding? Only problem was the lack of a bride.
“I was damn excited about this wedding.” Harry cleared his throat, mumbled, “Darn. I was darn excited about this wedding.”
Lucy giggled and shot him a glance. “You don’t have to watch your language on my account, Mr. Blacksworth.”
Harry blew out a sigh and said, “Yes, I do. My wife gave me the talk about scrubbing my words before they leave my mouth. You know, get rid of the four-letter ones, the B ones and all the rest.” Another sigh, a shrug, and a hint of crimson on his cheeks. “I got the lecture the day she got a call from school saying AJ called somebody a sonofabitch.” More red splashing his cheeks, creeping to his forehead. “That’s one of my favorites, so there was no pretending he didn’t hear it from me. The kid’s a real copycat and I guess if he’s going to copy my golf swing, he’s going to imitate my language, too. Greta said I have to clean it up before Lizzie comes home spouting off, too.”
“Children are great imitators,” Lucy said, her voice solemn, like she was a specialist in the child-rearing area and not someone who wasn’t much more than a child herself.
“That’s what Greta says and she’s the boss.” Harry rubbed his jaw, studied her. “You and Jeremy are still coming to the party, right? And little Teresina?”
“Of course.” Her smile faded. “I got Teresina the cutest little red velvet dress; it would have been perfect for the wedding. I even bought a matching one for myself, and Jeremy’s wearing a red vest and snowman tie.”
“Hmm. Sounds like quite the little family.”
The second Harry made that comment, Pop figured out his game. Did he know something Pop didn’t? Had he talked to Jeremy Ross Dean about his intentions? And were those intentions going to be made known during the holidays, maybe even at Harry’s party? If so, why hadn’t Pop heard about them yet? He nudged Harry under the table, sending him a let’s-not-discuss-this-now look and turned to his granddaughter. She was so young, so trusting, and she looked so much like her grandmother. “Wedding or no wedding, I want to see you and Teresina in your outfits.”
“And Jeremy, too.” Harry winked at her. “After all, he’s as close to family as you’ve got that’s not a relative, right?” He sipped his coffee, grinned. “Who knows? That could all change by Christmas.” Another wink and a grin. “You just never know.”
Lucy blushed, but Pop didn’t miss the smile that snuck across her lips. That meant something and he was gonna find out what.
Ramona lifted the
tray of lasagna from the oven, placed it on the wire rack, and reached for the second tray. Miriam Desantro wasn’t here today and while she didn’t like to admit it, she enjoyed working alongside her. Maybe it was the other woman’s skill, which equaled Ramona’s, or maybe it was the side-by-side, grudging appreciation they had for one another. Or—and this would be odd—it could be the brief but powerful conversations they’d had on life, heartache, family, and loss.
She flipped through the three-ring binder that housed her favorite recipes and found the one for chicken cacciatore. Harry said this was one of Mimi Pendergrass’s favorites and since she’d be joining them this year, he wanted to make sure they served it. Why was Mimi coming to the party? Everybody knew Christmas was a difficult time of year for her, knew also that she hadn’t celebrated it in a lot of years.
Since the Christmas her daughter left.
There’d been so much heartache in that woman’s life that some days Ramona wondered how she carried on. It was easy to think about another’s misfortune so she didn’t have to think about her current situation or the ache in her soul. Two days had passed since she’d seen Tony, two days since he’d stood in her living room…
