As much as Isa and Gerardo had insisted it would not be a problem to take me, I sensed relief all around when I accepted Cosimo’s offer. I know Franco and Claudia really needed them with the harvest and mill, and Cosimo taking me just made sense.
I tried to sleep, but my heart ached for Paulo, longed to be there for him. Once again, I wished for someone to call out to in the middle of the night. I even whispered God’s name at one point, but he didn’t respond, and I finally fell into a fitful sleep sometime after midnight. I was up three hours later making coffee in the dimly lit kitchen when Cosimo made his way to the back door and quietly let himself in. We weren’t pressed for time, so we sat at the table and shared an intimate little breakfast together. We avoided the difficult topics altogether by some unspoken agreement, and talked instead about some of our favorite childhood memories. Many of his included Isa and I felt like I was getting a two-for-one glimpse into the family history.
I had to check in a few hours early for the international flight so we left the house long before the sun even thought about making an appearance. The one-hour drive to the airport was intense and surreal. For the first time, I felt completely at ease in Cosimo’s presence. My heart didn’t pound, my hands didn’t shake, and I didn’t ramble, and I could have laughed at the incongruity of it all. There I was, racing across the pitch-dark night, through time and space with one of the most beautiful men I’d ever met, my worry and weariness battling with the thrill of the twin turbo V-6 engine rumbling beneath us. I should have been breathless. Instead, I curled up in my heated leather seat and enjoyed the ride like there was no tomorrow.
Cosimo laughed gently at my pleased expression. It was a delicious sound. “Do you like my car?”
“I like it. I really, really like it. Can you just drive me all the way to the states in this?”
“For you, Princess Grace, I would do anything.”
“Oh, so now it’s Princess Grace, is it? What happened to fat little bird?” I poked him gently in the shoulder.
“I never said you were a fat little bird,” he declared, frowning curiously at me.
“Yes, you did. You said I was a plump little brown sparrow.”
“It is not the same thing, Ani. It is an endearment. Mia passerota is a love name. And plump? It means with very nice curves, yes?” With only one hand, he traced the outline of an hourglass figure. “Especially your back—”
“Okay, stop,” I said, laughing and plugging my ears. “Fine. It’s not the same thing.”
At the airport, he refused to drop me off at the curb and walked with me through the short line to check my suitcase. Then he carried my backpack for me while I ambled along like Igor beside him, still getting used to my cane, which I wasn’t sure they’d let me take on the plane. Fortunately, Cosimo had written a prescription for both the cane and the boot, just in case I ended up needing a wheelchair or some other kind of assistance, and he had made me keep it handy for reference. It worked like a charm.
We said our final goodbyes then, Cosimo hugging me for a long time before pulling back to look into my eyes. “I hope one day, Anica Tomlin, I will be fortunate enough to have the woman I love cross oceans to be by my side.” He released me and took my hands, turned them palm up and ran his thumbs over the still pink places that had healed over nicely. Then he murmured something low and tender in Italian.
“What did you say?” I asked, curious. Something about the phrase seemed familiar.
“It is from Puccini’s La rondine. Prunier, the poet, he says to Magda, ‘It is here in the palm of your hand. Your future is a mystery. You will be swept up by destiny. Perhaps, like the swallow, you will fly beyond the sea, toward a land of dreams. Toward the bright sun, toward true love.’ Perhaps,” he smiled sadly at me. “Perhaps I should have been calling you mia rondine all this time instead of mia passerota.”
“That’s beautiful, Cosimo.” My eyes burned with unshed tears, not of regret, but of compassion for this tender-hearted man and his generous kindness to me. And for the words that reminded me so much of what Paulo had said to me, words that now felt like a sign to me that I was doing the right thing.
“If Paulo hurts you, I will come after him.” He cupped my face and kissed me, first on one cheek, then the other. Then he kissed his fingertips and pressed them to my lips. “Fly away now, rondine. Va con Dio.”
I laughed through my tears and hugged him hard one more time, then took my backpack from him and ducked under the strap that cordoned off the line toward customs. He stayed watching me until I’d passed through the x-ray machines and headed toward my gate. I looked back one last time but didn’t see him.
“Go with God, Cosimo,” I whispered under my breath.
I’d called my parents to fill them in on my plan before leaving Lucca, and although they were deeply concerned about what seemed like an impulsive act on my part, they agreed to trust me and wait for more details when I had time. I gave them my itinerary and promised to let them know where I was at all times.
Ironically, I ended up flying into Los Angeles, but I’d scheduled a connecting flight to Portland four hours later so I assured my parents I’d be fine on my own between flights, that they were not allowed to drive all the way out to the airport only to sit and wait with me. I knew they were just concerned about me and wanted to see that I hadn’t lost my mind.
I’d hoped, once again, to sleep on the transatlantic flight, but somewhere over the middle of the ocean, I was attacked by doubt so powerful, I thought I might have a panic attack. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm, berating me for acting so foolishly, and my skin prickled from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips of my toes. I knew without looking that my chest and neck were red and blotchy, and I pressed my palms to my hot cheeks. I forced myself to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth slowly, steadily. Fortunately, the lady sitting beside me read quietly, listened to music on her headphones, and didn’t seem to notice my distress.
I pulled out my book, too, but after reading the same paragraph four times in a row, I closed it and checked out the movie options, grateful when I found one that seemed halfway interesting.
After a fifteen-hour flight that included a change of planes in Paris, I landed in Los Angeles only seven hours after taking off from Pisa, according to my watch, the mind-bending nature of time zones playing havoc with my already tenuous grasp on reality. Between the time difference and the shortage of sleep over the last two days, I was bone tired and my leg ached from being thrust into use so unceremoniously. My stomach, too, was a broiling mass of nerves, making the long line at customs almost unbearable. By the time I had rounded up my luggage, I really did not believe I’d make it all the way to my connecting flight at the huge airport, not hobbling along loaded with my suitcase and backpack. Blessing Cosimo whole-heartedly for my doctor’s note, I gratefully climbed on the ‘special assistance vehicle’ that picked me up and delivered me right to my gate.
I had over an hour before I had to board, and to my delight, I found a phone kiosk at the airport. A patient and sympathetic salesperson listened to my sad tale, and in short order, she had my new phone programmed and ready to go, everything from the old one uploaded. “And it looks like we were able to retrieve everything that’s come through since you suspended your service, too. You’ve got several new messages waiting for you, Miss Tomlin.”
“Thank you,” I said, my heart racing. I made my way to an empty seat in the corner of my waiting area and propped my foot up on the chair beside me, sighing in relief to get it elevated after so long. I crossed my fingers and keyed in my phone code, hoping against hope that at least one of the new messages lighting up the screen was from Paulo, maybe with pictures from our day together.
I also wanted to hear my mother’s voice. I felt shaky and adrift, and I longed for home, for someone I could talk to, someone who could help me sort out this whole mess.
CHAPTER FIFTY
The first thing I saw was Paulo’s dark eyes, shin
ing up at me, full of laughter, of hope.
Of love.
For me.
My heart sang out with it and I covered my mouth as I began to scan through the pictures he’d sent, almost every single one of them revealing the truth of our feelings for each other. And then the texts followed.
Anica Tomlin, you have stolen my heart and I will not take it back. Thursday, 3:28 AM. Right after he left the Lazzaro house, probably even before he left the driveway.
I fell asleep with you in my arms last night, but awakened today to find it was only a dream. I cannot wait to see you tomorrow. Thursday, 6:04 AM. While I was getting dressed to go work in the olive groves.
Ani, tomorrow afternoon cannot possibly come soon enough. All I can think about is you. Aunt Sharon just shakes her head when she walks by me. Thursday, 7:08 AM. While I was enjoying a last cup of coffee and another one of Margarite’s delicious breakfast rolls.
I know you will not get this message until you get home and I will tell you in person before you do. But I must tell you now or I will burst. Ani, I love you. Thursday, 7:23 AM. While I was being wheeled out to the groves, Margarite’s lunch basket balanced on my lap.
I wish I could talk to you, see you. I have tried calling Isa’s phone all morning but there is no answer. My grandparents called. My mother was in a car accident and I must go to her, Ani. Thursday, 12:16 PM. While I was finishing up Margarite’s yummy gelato dessert and fielding Cosimo advances.
I cannot reach you. Isa must not have her phone with her. Aunt Sharon and I are leaving Italy tomorrow morning very early. We should arrive that same afternoon because of the time change, but for you it will be the middle of the night so I will not try calling Isa again until Saturday morning, Italy time. I miss you with all my heart.” Thursday, 7:16 PM. While we were eating a delicious dinner that Margarite so lovingly prepared.
We are at the airport and will be boarding in an hour. Ani, please know this is not goodbye. I will find you.” Friday, 5:48 AM. While I was standing on the terrace with Franco, watching Cosimo walk away.
And then the times were off and I realized he’d arrived in the United States.
Ani, I have seen my mother. There is nothing I can do to help her, except to pray. I wish you were here beside me, praying with me. It is still too early in Italy to call, and I must return to my mother’s room. I can’t use my phone in there, so I don’t know when I can call, but I will keep trying to reach you. I will not let you go, Ani. I will find you, no matter what. Friday 6:28 PM. While I was tossing and turning in bed, long before dawn, awake, aching for him.
There is good news tonight, Ani. My mother’s doctor tells me she is stable, even though she is still in danger, because she is not deteriorating. It is a good sign, Ani. She is not awake yet, but I think she knows I am here and it is helping her fight. I wish you were here with me. I need to feel your arms around me. Friday, 8:03 PM. While I was shooting like a bullet across Italy to get to him.
Ani. I need you. Friday, 9:40 PM. While I was passing through airport checkpoints to get to him.
Ani. I need you. Saturday, 7:43 AM. While I was crossing the ocean to get to him.
I need you, Ani. Saturday, 5:19 PM. Only half an hour ago, while I was buying a new phone so I could get in touch with him.
My hands were shaking as I hit the reply button and typed, Paulo, tell me where you are. I am coming.
There was also an email from Madalina.
Princess Grace,
I have heard from Paulo. He left a message while I was asleep so I missed it. I have not yet spoken to him, but he wanted me to let you know he had arrived safely. His mother is alive and is fighting to hold on. His aunt Sharon went with him and she helps with his grandparents who are, of course, very worried. He is exhausted and cannot have his phone in the hospital unit where they are because of all the machines and so he does not answer his calls. Paulo said he would call Isa as well, so perhaps you have already heard from her. He told me to give you a message when I see you again, but I think I may not see you for some time, no? So here is his message. I am to tell you how sorry he was to leave without saying goodbye, and to tell you to remember that he is an all for nothing guy. Do you know what that means? I hope so. He said it was very important I tell you that.
I am praying for you, my dear friend. You are doing the right thing to find Paulo. I can hear the suffering in his voice. He needs you there beside him, Ani. You are his angel right now.
I hug you with very long arms,
Madalina
I called my mother to let her know I was stateside, and that I had a phone.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?’ she asked. “You could still come home. We could be there in a few hours to pick you up.”
“I’m sure, Mom. He needs me, and I—I need to be there. I told him I’d be there.”
“True hope is swift,” she quoted from Shakespeare’s King Richard III, and I laughed at her next words. “And flies with swallow’s wings.”
“That’s me, Mom. La rondine.”
“You’re the bravest girl I know, Anica Tomlin.” I thought I heard tears in her voice. “I love you. And I’m proud of you.”
I finally called Tish and filled her in on everything. For the first time in all the years I’ve known her, I’d left her almost speechless. All she could come up with to say was, “Giiirrl.”
“So,” I said, after a long silence. “I know. I’m crazy.”
She took a long, deep breath and I could almost hear the wheels picking up speed again. “Ani. Ani! Is this really you? I mean, this is crazy town kind of stuff, you know?”
I laughed out loud. “Yes. This is really me, and yes, it is crazy town stuff. But I am crazy about him, Tish. And he’s crazy about me.” Even saying it out loud filled me with such joy I thought I might burst.
She grew serious, her tone careful, tender. “You know, this could backfire, Ani. Are you prepared for that? I mean, if it doesn’t work out the way you’re picturing it in your head?”
She knew me well. I had thought about it. I had pictured it a thousand times and a thousand more. Every scenario, every possible outcome, I’d played out in my mind. “It’s not about me, Tish. It’s about him. He needs me there. I’ve flown halfway around the world to be by his side, because I said I would. I don’t need to know how it’s going to work out. I just need to be there with him, for him, wherever he is, right now.”
“Okay.” She said the word with such resolution I had to laugh. “Okay. Go chase your man down, girlie. But to assuage my hurt feelings for holding out on me, do you have any pictures of Dr. Scrumdidliumptious you could send? You did get pictures of Cozytime, right? And his Maserati? Did you know those things do zero to sixty in five seconds?”
Tish had found her words again. I sent her a picture of me and Paulo under his parents’ tree heart and wrote, “Dr. Who?”
She sent me back the television show’s wacky theme song by way of agreement and didn’t ask for anything else. But I’d get Isa to send me a few pictures of the property, of her and the family. Of Madalina and Pops and Crina.
Maybe one day I’d even return to Lucca. With Paulo.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
I didn’t hear back from Paulo, but I didn’t need to. My heart raced ahead of me as I loaded up my things, boarded the plane and crowbarred myself into my window seat. I felt exactly like the much-lauded swallow, my breast full to bursting with the frantic pull to migrate toward love, toward the home of my heart, toward Paulo.
Before I boarded my plane, I texted him one more time with my flight information. I still hadn’t heard from him, but I wanted him to know I was on my way, that I was close. I left my phone on until the flight attendant asked me to power it off, but he did not text back. I didn’t care. My doubt had vanished. I knew in my heart what we had was the real deal, and I was going after it.
As the plane leveled off above the world, I settled into my cramped quarters, and thought about Paulo’s texts. I
wish you were here praying with me. Well, I didn’t know anything about praying, but if that’s what he wanted from me, then I would give it my best shot. I turned in my seat and gazed out the window at the cotton-candy clouds tinted pink by the sunset and thought about the kind of God who would inspire such devotion from men like Paulo, like Franco, or a woman as contradictory as Madalina the Magnificent. If he could handle the things that came out of her mouth, I figured he could handle any mistakes I might make in the prayer department.
“Hey, um, God,” I whispered, so low I knew no one could hear me. “My name is Ani. Anica Tomlin.” He probably knew that already, but my parents had raised me right. “I know I don’t really have the right to ask for favors, but this isn’t about me, okay? If you’re out there, could you let Paulo know you care about him, about his mom?” I waited, half expecting some kind of a response. “Okay,” I continued, after a moment. “That’s all. Thanks.”
The sky was losing its luster as night settled in and I watched the metropolitan lights below grow distant. “One more thing,” I whispered, not wanting to bug him. “Thanks for putting Paulo in my path. Or me in his.” I leaned my head back and sighed contentedly, then added, “Please help me find him.”
I wasn’t looking forward to even one more minute on a plane, except that it was taking me to Paulo, but within moments of offering up my timid request, my eyelids fell shut and I slipped away into oblivion. I awoke an hour and fifty minutes later as the seatbelt warning blinked on and the captain’s voice rasped out over the loudspeaker that we were preparing to land.
This time, there was no customs, no wading through red tape behind people with too many carry-ons. I disembarked and headed straight for baggage claim. The shuttle to the hotel I’d booked made a pick up at nine, and although I had plenty of time, I wanted to be on the curb, waiting for it. There were no messages from Paulo, so I planned to get some sleep and then head straight to the hospital first thing in the morning. I’d start knocking on patient room doors if I needed to.
All the Way to Heaven Page 30
