Invitation to Italian

by Tracy Kelleher

  “Thank you,” he said, taking it. Then stopped. “And I mean it, thank you.”

  BEN UNCORKED A bottle of wine at the dinner table, a valiant attempt to lighten the atmosphere. The fifteen minutes or so spent over appetizers of cheese and crackers and hummus and pita bread in the living room had been a less-than-successful icebreaker. The main topic of conversation had been the flowers that Paul had brought as a hostess gift for Katarina.

  “They’re beautiful,” Katarina had exclaimed over the bouquet of mums.

  “They’re just from the supermarket. I’m afraid that with the storm, all the florists were closed,” Paul had replied apologetically.

  “No, they’re fantastic. You’d never know,” Katarina had said, ignoring the plastic bag with the supermarket’s logo. “And come to think of it, it’s the first present I got from my father. Ben, why don’t you take the baby, and I’ll go put them in water.”

  “Why don’t you hold Rad and I’ll do it?” Ben had suggested.

  “You won’t know which vase,” Katarina had protested.

  “I think I can figure it out,” Ben had answered and reassuringly patted her on the shoulder as he took the flowers to the kitchen.

  And that exchange might have been the longest between Katarina and Paul, seeing as she had to keep jumping up to check on the food. Then all her movement had made the baby jittery, and the only way to calm him was a quick feed in the kitchen. Even then he refused to quiet down unless she held him.

  Katarina really wasn’t avoiding Paul, she really wasn’t, she told herself, because after all, she had invited him, and she really did want to get to know him. But…but…she couldn’t help it. She was nervous and maybe still in shock about the sudden revelation that he was her father. Not that Paul seemed any more comfortable with the idea.

  But now that they were seated, things were bound to look up, or so Katarina told herself.

  Ben walked around the table and stopped next to Katarina. “Wine?” he offered, holding up the bottle.

  “No, I shouldn’t, not with nursing the baby and all.”

  Paul placed his hand over the top of his wineglass. “Water’s fine for me, thanks.” He reached for the pitcher and poured himself a glass.

  The wooden harvest table was set with rust-colored placemats and matching cloth napkins. Winter squash from their garden and a basket of apples from the neighbor’s orchard served as a centerpiece and set an autumnal mood. The light from a pair of candlesticks flickered against the rich ambers and golds. Maybe the décor would set a relaxed, homey atmosphere even without the aid of spirits? Katarina hoped.

  “Well, I’m not afraid to drink alone,” Ben said proudly and took his place at the head of the table. “After all, I’m not driving.”

  As he poured himself a glass of burgundy, there was a knock at the door.

  Katarina looked at Paul.

  He shook his head and shrugged.

  She turned to Matt.

  “No idea,” he said, putting his hands up. “Maybe someone ran into trouble with the storm?” On cue, the wind lashed at the trees and branches brushed up against the windowpanes.

  Katarina shifted Rad against her shoulder and rocked him gently. “Then why don’t you go see who it is instead of hypothesizing?” she said to Matt. She saw Ben shoot her a glance, and she shook her head. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge.” Who wouldn’t be, meeting her father for the first time?

  “Thanks, son,” Ben said, as Matt rose to get the door. “It’s probably Julie. I had suggested to her to come over when she rang earlier, but she said no. She probably changed her mind.”

  There was the muffled sound of voices at the door.

  Katarina raised her eyebrows at her husband.

  “The storm’s knocked out the power at her parents’ place, and Julie was looking for a generator to get the electricity up and going,” Ben explained.

  “Then of course she should come over. I’ll just put another place setting on the table.” She started to rise.

  “I’m happy to help,” Paul said as he put his napkin on the table.

  “Both of you stay and get acquainted. I can do it.” Ben took a fortifying sip, pushed his chair back and headed for the kitchen.

  Footsteps came from the front hallway and stopped at the doorway to the dining room.

  Paul’s hand stopped in midair as he went to put his napkin back on his lap. His expression remained transfixed as he stared across the table.

  Katarina looked around. It was the last person she wanted to see. Zora. All the years of tamped down hostility finally came surging to the surface. “I don’t remember sending you an invitation,” she sneered.

  Matt danced nervously next to Zora, his tall lanky frame dwarfing the small woman. “I think this might be my cue to ask if I can eat my dinner in my room while I do homework?” he ventured.

  “I think it’s more Zora’s cue to say she’s just leaving,” Paul commented. His voice matched the temperature of the ice water that he drank with grim deliberation.

  Katarina supposed she should have felt sympathy—felt something—for her mother standing there in a sorry sweatshirt and jeans. The bottoms of her pants were wet as was the top of her hair. But she didn’t—she was fresh out of sympathy where Zora was concerned.

  Katarina shifted her attention to Matt. “That’s probably a wise move. Tell you what, I’ll call you down when it’s dessert.” She slanted her mother a critical glare. “So the coast will be clear.”

  Zora visibly clenched her jaw. But she stood her ground.

  Matt collected his plate and hustled upstairs.

  Katarina waited for him to leave before she launched into her mother. “What gives you the right to show up where you’re not wanted?”

  “A wise person told me not to take no for an answer,” Zora said.

  Katarina breathed out through her mouth. “I have half a mind to call up Babika now and lay into her for meddling.”

  “Hey, don’t go jumping to conclusions. It wasn’t Babika,” Zora said. “It was Sebastiano Fonterra. He came to see me.”

  “Sebastiano Fonterra? The head of the hospital Sebastiano Fonterra?” It was Ben who spoke as he came walking back into the room. He stopped momentarily when he saw Zora standing there. He cleared his voice. “I guess I won’t need to grab another chair. Here, why don’t you take Matt’s seat? It seems to be empty.” He looked at Katarina.

  She nodded. “I sent him upstairs. I didn’t want him here if things got ugly. In any case, I wouldn’t worry about the chair, let alone a place setting. Zora won’t be staying.” She gripped the baby possessively.

  “Katarina, have a heart. You can’t just send her back out into this weather. I’m not sure how passable the roads are anyway.” The steady drumbeat of the heavy rain reinforced her husband’s words.

  Katarina rested her cheek against Rad, his little body swaddled tightly in a receiving blanket. He felt warm and comforting, and was snuffling quietly—a sure sign that he had fallen asleep. She should really put him to bed in his crib, but she didn’t want to let go. She swallowed.

  “All right. I suppose she can stay. But if the weather’s as bad as all that, I think I’ll go and call Julie,” Katarina said. “She shouldn’t be all alone.”

  “She’s not,” Zora said.

  Her announcement brought silence to the room. The rain sounded even louder.

  “Sebastiano Fonterra is there helping her. So you’ll just have to face me without your faithful friend.” Zora’s voice didn’t exactly lack an edge, either.

  “Something you probably never had,” Katarina retorted.

  “That’s probably true. But then single mothers with full-time jobs rarely have time for friends.”

  “That was your choice, as we all know,” Paul interjected.

  Katarina immediately felt she had an ally. She shot her mother a withering glance. “I heard enough of your sob story the other day at Babika’s.” Katarina narrowed her eyes. “What d
o you mean he’s helping her?”

  “He rustled up a gas-powered pump to get rid of the water in the basement.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned Zora toward the empty chair. “Can I pour you some wine?”

  Zora stepped gingerly to the table and sat down. She lifted the empty wine glass. “I could do with a little Dutch courage,” she admitted.

  “This Sebastiano Fonterra works quickly. First you, now Julie,” Katarina observed snidely.

  “Don’t knock Sebastiano. He’s a good guy,” Paul said. “And you shouldn’t question his motives. If he went to see Zora, it’s because of me.”

  Katarina swiveled in her chair. “You?” First he seemed to be on her side, but now? Her emotions zigzagged all over the map.

  Paul nodded. “He’s helped me a lot since I came back to Grantham. Been there for me when I needed him. And as for Julie? The guy’s crazy about your friend. He’d do anything for her—if she’d let him.”

  Ben slanted his head to the side so that the candles wouldn’t block his view of Katarina. “I don’t know anything about his feelings for Julie, but the guy has his heart—and his thinking—in the right place when it comes to the community.”

  “He’s been to see you, too? You never told me.” Katarina was hurt. They never kept secrets from each other.

  “No, we talked on the phone about my foundation, and a number of other things. I was on my way into New York to talk to those investors when he got me on my cell to chat about his ideas for the hospital and the community at large. That was when you were meeting your mother and since then…well…you’ve kind of had your mind on other things.”

  Katarina gave him a tight smile. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve gotten so wrapped up in myself, I never asked you how that all went.”

  “Not to worry. There’s plenty of time for that. Meanwhile, Zora, pass me your plate, and I’ll serve you some food. You must be hungry.”

  Katarina’s patience evaporated all over again. “Must you be so civilized? Feeding the woman who lied to me?”

  “I didn’t lie,” Zora defended herself. She took the plate after Ben heaped it with food, but made no move to eat.

  No one else was chowing down for that matter.

  “When I found out I was pregnant with you, I decided Paul was of no use, and that if I was going to go through with it, I’d have to do it on my own,” Zora explained.

  “Great! Now I’m an ‘it.’”

  Paul cleared his throat. “To be fair to Zora—on this matter at least—I wasn’t exactly a prime candidate for fatherhood. I might have been a good student in college and full of heady ambitions, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t already self-destructing on the side. How can I put this?” He screwed up his face. “You see, for me at that time breakfast was a six-pack of Bud, and my customary appetizer before dinner was to smoke a lot of weed.”

  Katarina’s mouth dropped open. “Did your parents know?”

  “Not then. Like I said, I could still fake it. But Zora knew. I couldn’t keep it from her. I never even tried to since I still thought I was in command of my life.”

  Katarina digested his words, then zeroed in on her mother. “Okay, let me get this straight. In the beginning you decided that Paul wasn’t fit. I can understand that. But what about afterward? You didn’t think to get in touch with him over the years?”

  Zora wet her lips. Then she lifted her chin and focused her gaze on Katarina. “It’s true, I am older, chronologically, and heaven knows, my body shows it. But emotionally, I think it’s fair to say that I never really grew up. The truth—I never even considered contacting Paul because I blamed him for what had happened. I decided then and there that the world hadn’t been fair to me. I wasn’t going to shirk my responsibilities, but I resented him. I resented you.” She said the last words barely above a whisper.

  “Did you even love me?” Katarina asked. Now she was getting to the real heart of the problem—her problem.

  “It wasn’t so much that I didn’t love you as I didn’t love myself. I watched while other people loved you— Babika, Julie and her family, and it made me jealous, but there was nothing I could do. I had shut down.”

  Katarina stared back, unblinking, awash in emotions.

  After a moment, Paul tentatively held up a hand, and the two were forced to look in his direction. “Heaven knows, I’d like to blame this whole thing on Zora. I really would. But sometimes—this time—I have to man up and accept responsibility, too. I’d sunk pretty low in my Hollywood years.” Paul fingered the stem of his water glass. He seemed transfixed by the crystal. “And I like to think that if Zora had come to me then, that I would have risen to the occasion. But the truth of the matter…?” He raised his eyes to Katarina. “I can’t say with any certainty that I would have done the right thing. I’m not proud to admit that, but it’s something I can’t change. Now, of course, I’d like to think it’s another story—that I am worthy of being your father. I’ve got my book I’m working on—finally something I’m proud of.” He paused and looked directly at Katarina. “And I’m in A.A. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol or used drugs in almost a year.”

  “Great! How lucky am I? I have a mother who’s an emotional zombie and a father who’s a junkie. It makes we wonder what kind of genes I am passing on to my son.” Protectively, Katarina rocked her baby against her chest. Somehow Rad had managed to snore peacefully through all the upheaval.

  “Katarina, nobody promised you a storybook family. But, no matter what, you now know who your parents are,” Ben reminded her. “That is something positive at the end of the day.”

  “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” Ben, who was an orphan, would never have that luxury, Katarina realized shamefully. “I may not have model parents, but I have you and the kids. How much more lucky can I get?”

  “Me, too. I feel just as lucky,” Ben responded.

  “And you can look at it this way,” Zora suggested. “You might have inherited a few unfortunate characteristics from Paul and me, but, Katarina, you and Ben have lots of other, terrific qualities that more than balance out our lousy ones. Not that all our qualities are bad. I think it’s fair to say that Paul and I are both intelligent and talented in our own ways. But whatever. The bottom line is that you and Ben are sensible and sensitive adults. You set fine examples for Rad—and Matt. And both of you will be there for your children through thick and thin. Unlike me,” Zora said frankly.

  “And me,” Paul added.

  Zora reached out. “Katarina, I can’t change what’s done. But can I—can we—start afresh?” She squeezed Katarina’s arm before placing her hand back in her lap.

  “You expect me to just forget what you did and didn’t do? Forget my childhood anxieties about being unloved? My reluctance to trust anyone emotionally?” Katarina asked. Still, even she recognized that some of the steam had gone out of her anger.

  “Of course not. I’m not asking you to. But with Ben you’ve found a unique and wonderful support, a support based on love—real, deep love. I can’t change the mistakes I’ve made or undo my bad decisions, but I can tell you that who you are now—your strengths and your weaknesses, the sum total—is shaped by your past experiences. So what I’m asking is this—that we try to work on having a future together. To get reacquainted. Can we work with what we’ve got? Lay the foundation for a better, more open future?” Zora ventured.

  Katarina sighed, and then nodded quietly. “I suppose so. I won’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

  Zora beamed. She sat up straight and thrust her shoulders back. She looked across the table. “Paul? What about you?”

  “As the prayer says, ‘grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the courage to change the things I can.’ Listen, I’ll always be an addict, but I’m clean and I intend to stay that way. I know it sounds pretty lame, but I think finding out about you, Katarina—that you’re my daughter—has provided a piece of the puzzle
that’s always been missing in my life…the necessity of having to think of and do something for someone other than myself for a change. I’d like to be a part of your life, Katarina. And if you trust me, for starters, I am more than willing to offer free babysitting services. After all, isn’t that what’s expected of grandparents? Just start me off slowly. No diapering the first time out.”

  Zora seemed to study him for a minute. “You’re not the same person I used to know, Paul. You’ve changed. The thing of it is, I came back to Grantham looking for some peace of mind that I seemed to have lost. Maybe what I really needed to look for was something I never had. And maybe, with a little luck, I’ll move on from the person I’ve been for the past fifty years or so and become the kind of person I ought to be.”

  “It takes more than luck. It takes hard work,” Paul responded.

  Zora nodded. “You’re right. But, as my mother likes to say, Zemanova women are not delicate flowers. We don’t shrink from hard work.” She held out her hand to Paul. “Allow me to introduce myself, my new, evolving self. I’m Zora Zemanova.”

  Paul snaked his arm around the centerpiece and clasped hers. “I’m pleased to meet you. I really am,” he said.

  Zora hesitated, and then finally pulled her hand back. She swiftly looked down at the food on her plate. “And speaking of my mother, I can tell that you’re her granddaughter—Wiener schnitzel, mashed potatoes and red cabbage.”

  “I’m not just Babika’s granddaughter, I’m your daughter,” Katarina clarified.

  “You’re right. And you know what? Why don’t you pass me the baby so you can eat your dinner first? I may not know much about motherhood, but I do remember that by the time a mother gets to eat, the food is always cold.” Zora held out her hands and Katarina passed her the baby.

  Zora cuddled him in her arms and, gazing into his tiny face, smiled shyly. “Here, Radko, let me introduce myself. I’m Grandma Zora.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  SEBASTIANO ENDED UP DRAGGING the pump across the rain-slicked lawn. He then attached a large ribbed hose, snaking the other end through a small basement window to reach the water.