Bernie’s younger brother had never been one of Teresa’s favorite people, but to not come home for Christmas? “Well, Rob doesn’t come home anymore, either,” she said.
“Yeah, but he would,” Bernie said. “That’s your folks’ fault, because they want him to come without Karen. Denny knows he can bring horse-face.”
Teresa snorted as she slowly folded in some flour and baking powder along with some cocoa, watching as the mixer blended it all together. “What would you do, if you met someone—” She stopped abruptly. “I mean, say Tom got a divorce and you could be together, but your mom didn’t want you to bring him home for holidays and things. What would you do?”
“Like that would ever happen.” Bernie turned suddenly from where she was picking the pizzelle out of the iron and setting them to cool. “Why are you asking something like that?”
Teresa kept her back to Bernie as she poked at the batter with a spatula to be sure everything was blended. “No reason. Just thinking about Rob and Karen. If you were in their shoes, would you go home alone? To keep the peace? Or would you do what Rob did?”
She could feel Bernie’s eyes boring a hole in her back. She stayed hunched over the mixer.
“I don’t know,” Bernie said. “Like Denny now. He could split his time and come without her. But if it was me, I’d want Tom there.” There was a long silence. “I’m not sure what I’d do.”
Bernie spooned the last of the anise batter into the iron and took the bowl to the sink. She picked two vanilla pizzelle off the cooling rack and took them to the table. “Bennie, sit down.”
Teresa turned off the mixer and sat. Bernie handed one of the cookies to Teresa and began snapping hers into smaller pieces along the geometric ridges cooked into a snowflake design. She chewed on one piece thoughtfully as she studied Teresa’s face. “Something is up with you,” she said. “You’re different.”
Teresa felt her cheeks grow hot. She dunked her pizzella into her coffee and took a bite. “I’m the same as I’ve always been.”
“No. You’re not.”
Teresa refused to meet Bernie’s eyes—she can read you like a book—and she knew she could never lie convincingly.
Doggedly, Bernie went on. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why you can’t talk about it. But, Jesus, Bennie, I’m your oldest friend. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”
“No one! That’s the problem!” Teresa nearly blurted, but she knew better. Sister Marguerite’s lesson had been drummed into her long and hard. “Unnatural” and “ungodly” kept running through Teresa’s head any time she thought about Ellie. Only… it felt like the most natural and holy thing that had ever happened to her. How can it be wrong to love someone? Because she knew now that’s what this was. For the first time in her life, Teresa was in love, and the strength of the emotion was enough to make her feel almost sick at times. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate on anything for long before thoughts of Ellie crept back into her mind. She felt as if she were running a fever. Every time she remembered the light in Ellie’s eyes as she accepted Teresa’s gift, the warmth of Ellie’s hand in hers, how close she’d been as she slipped the apron over Teresa’s head—I could have kissed her—Teresa felt lightheaded. Just this afternoon, her mother had come upon her, leaning weakly against the desk in the store office, one hand clutching her shirt as she tried to calm her heart rate. “You’re working too hard,” Sylvia had declared, and so Teresa was home now, making the Christmas pizzelle—and being interrogated.
Realizing Bernie was staring at her as these thoughts ran through her mind, Teresa pushed up from the table. “These are done,” she said, taking the anise cookies out and spooning some of the chocolate batter into the iron. Bernie sat at the table, silent, watching.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Teresa insisted, but she knew Bernie didn’t believe her. She handed Bernie a stack of plastic bags and Christmas ribbon. “Help me wrap these, six to a bag. I’m going to deliver them this evening.”
The ringing of the doorbell brought the muffled sound of startled voices. A curtain at the living room window was pulled aside, and Teresa waved. A moment later, she heard bolts and chains sliding, and one of their elderly customers opened the door, shakily supported by a cane while his wife peeked around his shoulder.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Taliaferro,” said Teresa.
“Come in, come in,” Mr. Taliaferro said, shuffling back.
Teresa stepped into the foyer and pushed the door shut against the cold. “I can’t stay,” she said as Mrs. Taliaferro waved her into the living room where their Christmas tree was brightly lit. She reached into a large shopping bag and pulled out a wrapped packet. “I just wanted to bring you some homemade pizzelle. Made fresh today.”
“Oh, Teresa, grazie,” said Mrs. Taliaferro. She raised the bag to her nose and sniffed. “What a treat. Can’t you stay and have one?”
“I ate too many while I was making them,” Teresa said. The old couple chuckled. “And I have to deliver many more tonight. You call when you need a refill on your medicines, yes?”
“Yes, we will,” said Mr. Taliaferro. “Buon Natale, Teresa.”
“Buon Natale.” Teresa let herself out the door, waving as she went down the porch steps into the night.
She walked for blocks, checking off the houses on her list. The cold night air was soothing on her face, and it felt good to move. She couldn’t have sat still at home anyway. “It’s a good thing she’s working late,” she muttered to herself as she walked. “You can’t call and you can’t go over.” But she wanted to. More than anything, she wanted to hear Ellie’s voice, wanted to see her again. She stopped and leaned against a tree. There it was again, that weakness that overcame her at the mere thought of Ellie. “You have got to get hold of yourself,” she said, taking a deep breath and continuing on to the next house.
It took the better part of two hours to get all the pizzelle delivered—no matter how many times she protested that she had to get on to other houses, some of those old people were so lonely and starved for company that Teresa couldn’t bring herself to leave right away. Making her way back home, she suddenly realized no one would have left dinner for Dogman and Lucy tonight. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? If her mother had seen them settling for the night as she closed up, there would be trouble. Nearly running the last block home, Teresa bounded up the porch steps.
To her relief, both Sylvia and Lou were in the living room. She took the fact that her mother wasn’t yelling about homeless bums as a good sign. “Got almost everything delivered,” she said. “Just have a few more. I’ll be back soon.”
Without waiting for a response, she went to the kitchen and quickly filled an aluminum pie tin with lasagna. It was cold, but it would have to do for tonight. She didn’t dare take the time to warm it. Hurrying out to her car, she drove to the store. There was no sign of Dogman as she parked, but it wasn’t unusual for him to not be there when she closed up. She found Lucy’s bowl behind the trash can where Dogman had been leaving it. Opening the hood of her VW, she filled the bowl with dog food and set it on top of the trash can along with the tin of lasagna and a packet of pizzelle. She was just getting into her car when the pair of them came down the alley, Dogman limping along with Lucy beside him.
“Hi,” she said, bending to pet Lucy, who trotted over to say hello. She pointed to the trash can. “Brought some lasagna tonight. Sorry, it’s cold.”
Dogman nodded. “She likes you.”
Teresa smiled. “She’s sweet. I’m glad you have each other.” She turned to go.
“Thank you.”
Teresa spun around. “You’re welcome.”
She got in the car. Looking in her rearview mirror as she drove down the alley, she could see Dogman setting Lucy’s bowl on the ground. At the end of the alley, she stopped the car and sat there. A left-hand turn wo
uld take her home. She turned right.
Ellie’s apartment, as expected, was dark when she pulled up to the curb. Teresa let the engine idle. Why are you here? she asked herself, and she couldn’t answer. It made no sense. Ellie wasn’t here. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t stand not having some contact, some connection. She opened her glove box and found a scrap of paper and pen—from the bank, she realized with a droll smile. For long minutes, she sat with the pen poised. At last, by the yellow illumination of the street lamp, she wrote a few lines. She turned the car off and went up the stairs to Ellie’s kitchen door. There, she hesitated. This was stupid. She turned around and had descended a half dozen steps before she stopped herself. “Which will you regret more?” she whispered. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she ran back up the steps and slipped the paper underneath the door. Returning to the VW, her heart felt a bit lighter as she headed home.
Impatiently, Ellie waited for the lobby clock to chime noon. She pressed her fingers to her chest, feeling the small heart necklace through her sweater.
“I’m going out for lunch today,” she announced to no one in particular at the first chime.
Without waiting for a response, she hurried to the staff locker room and retrieved her coat and scarf. She opened her backpack and found her wrapped sandwich. Slinging the backpack over her shoulders, she ate as she walked.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully to the people she passed. “Nice day.” Tucking one hand in her coat pocket, she felt a scrap of paper. She pulled it out and read it for about the hundredth time, though she knew it by heart now. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of you. Sweet dreams, Teresa.
Ellie had come dragging up the steps a couple of nights ago and opened the door to find KC batting a slip of paper around on the kitchen floor. She picked it up, thinking the cat had gotten something out of the trash. All weariness was forgotten as she read the note and pulled KC into a tight hug.
“She was here!” she said, laughing. “She’s thinking of us.”
Newly energized, Ellie had fed KC and sat at the kitchen table to resume work on Teresa’s Christmas present. It was nearly two a.m. when she sat back to inspect her work. “I think it’s done,” she said, waking KC, who was sleeping on the other kitchen chair.
Ellie reached back to her backpack now, feeling the bulge of the wrapped parcel tucked inside. She walked quickly and got to the drug store within ten minutes. She held her breath as she pushed the door open. The bell signaled her entrance and Sylvia looked up from behind the coffee counter where she was serving a couple of customers.
“Hi, Mrs. Benedetto,” Ellie said, looking around. Her heart fell when she saw no sign of Teresa.
“Hello, Ellie,” said Sylvia. “How can I help you?”
“Ellie!”
Ellie turned to see Teresa coming out from behind the tall pharmacy counter. “Hi, Teresa.”
“Come on back to the office.” Teresa shut the door halfway, just enough to shut them off from her mother’s view. “What brings you down here?”
Ellie set her backpack down and unzipped the main compartment. “I wanted to bring you your Christmas present,” she said, holding out a wrapped parcel.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Teresa said, but she looked pleased.
“It’s nothing to get excited about,” Ellie said quickly. “It’s handmade, not bought.”
Teresa looked up. “That makes it extra special.” She turned the package over in her hands. “Should I open it now?”
“No,” said Ellie. “I’d be too embarrassed. Wait until you’re home.” She zipped up her backpack and slipped the straps over her shoulders. “I have to get back. I only get a half hour for lunch.” She paused as Teresa reached past her for the door. “Thanks for the note the other night.”
Teresa’s face broke into a shy smile. “You’re welcome.”
“See you soon?”
Teresa nodded. “Soon.”
She walked Ellie to the door.
“Bye, Mrs. Benedetto,” Ellie called. “Merry Christmas, if I don’t see you before then.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Ellie,” Sylvia said.
Ellie hurried down the sidewalk. At the corner, she turned to look back. Teresa was standing there. Ellie gave a small wave and turned the corner.
CHAPTER 14
Sylvia came through the back door of the store carrying a covered plate. “I brought chicken piccata,” she called, setting the plate on the desk back in the office.
“Thanks, Ma.” Teresa finished making a cappuccino for a customer who was waiting for his wife while she browsed the aisles of the store.
“I’ll have some of that,” the customer joked, jerking a thumb toward the office.
“You drink your coffee.” Teresa smiled as she slid the hot mug toward him.
“You have such nice things this year,” said the wife. She carried an armful of little gifts up to the register. “These will be perfect stocking stuffers.”
“Or Befana gifts,” Sylvia chimed in as Teresa began ringing the purchases up.
“I haven’t done Befana since I was a kid,” the man said. “We got our stockings in January, after Christmas. We should do that for the kids this year, hon.”
“What’s Befana?” the woman asked.
“Italian Santa Claus,” Teresa said. “An old woman who leaves gifts on the Epiphany.”
“My family’s Polish. I remember we celebrated St. Nicholas on December sixth,” the woman said wistfully. “We could start a new tradition.”
“January sixth,” Sylvia said. “You hang the stockings up the night of the fifth, and Befana, she’ll come.”
“We’ll do that,” the man said. He finished his cappuccino and accepted the shopping bag from Teresa.
“Buon Natale.”
“Buon Natale,” the couple echoed, heading out into the cold night.
“Go on home, Ma,” Teresa said as she cleaned the espresso machine. “I’ll be home late tonight.”
“Why? Where you going?”
“I want to check in on Nita and the aunts,” Teresa said. “See if they need any last minute shopping done. I’ll see you later tonight.”
“All right,” Sylvia said, slipping her purse over her elbow. “Don’t let your dinner get cold.”
Teresa smiled. “I won’t. Thanks, Ma.”
Teresa locked the back door after her mother and went to the office where Dogman’s plate was tucked in a file drawer. She scooped half her dinner onto his plate and re-used the aluminum foil to cover it. She ate quickly in between customers. Promptly at seven, she pulled down the front security grate and locked the front door. She turned off the lights and took the cash drawer back to the office to reconcile it. When she was done, she grabbed her coat, put Dogman and Lucy’s food out for them, and locked up the back of the store.
Traffic was light as she drove to the aunts’ house. She rang the doorbell and waited. Nobody moved fast in that house. She smiled as she heard voices from inside.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Teresa.”
“Are you sure? Let me see.”
“Of course I’m sure. I know my own goddaughter, don’t I?”
“But I want to see for myself.”
At last, Anita opened the door.
“Teresa. What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling her niece inside and closing and locking the door as Luisa hurried back into the living room to catch whatever was on the television.
“I wanted to talk to you.” She peeked into the living room and said hello to the other aunts. “No, I can’t stay,” she said in answer to their invitation to come in and join them.
“Come to the kitchen,” Anita said.
Teresa followed her to the back of the house. Anita pulled out a chair for Teresa and sank heavily into another
. Teresa draped her coat over the back of the chair and sat.
“Now, what is it?”
“I have a friend—the girl who helped me decorate our front window at the store. She’s all alone. Her parents are dead.” Teresa decided against trying to explain about Ellie’s brother. “She was alone at Thanksgiving and has no one to spend Christmas with.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Anita said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You bring her here with you on Christmas Day.”
Teresa broke into a relieved smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Well, what else is the poor girl going to do?” Anita huffed indignantly. “Of course, she should be here with us.”
“I might need your help with Ma,” said Teresa. “You know how she can be about family holidays.”
Anita patted Teresa’s arm. “You leave it to your godmother. I may be the youngest, but I’m the most stubborn.” She leaned close. “And I cook the best. If Sylvia gives me any trouble, I know how to get around her.”
Teresa threw her arms around her aunt. “Thank you, Nita. I knew I could count on you.”
Anita laughed. She laid a loving hand on Teresa’s cheek. “You can always count on me, Teresa.”
Teresa stood and put her coat back on. “I’ll let you get back to your television. Thanks again.”
When she got home, she found both of her parents in the living room where they were watching the news on the television.
“I miss Andy Williams,” Lou was saying from his armchair, his legs stretched out on the ottoman. “They don’t make Christmas specials like that anymore.”
“And Bing Crosby,” said Sylvia. “Remember his specials? Maybe President Reagan can bring them back,” she added hopefully. “I bet they knew each other in Hollywood.”
“Ma, Reagan isn’t even president yet,” Teresa said. “He doesn’t get sworn in for another month.”
Cast Me Gently Page 14
