The Secret One

by Cardello, Ruth

  I loved the version of me I saw reflected in his eyes—the connection he’d drawn between me and his grandmother. Could I have held it together through everything Nona had? “Today you reminded me of my father.”

  “I did? When?”

  “When you were talking to Dominic, I could tell you had left all the second-guessing and nerves at the door. It reminded me of the zone my father would go into as soon as he got behind the wheel of a stock car. He’d practiced, strategized, done everything ahead of time. When he hit the racetrack, he trusted his instincts and just floored it.”

  Christof smiled. “That’s kind of how it felt. Once I was in there, I kept my focus on what I wanted him to hear, and thankfully it was what he needed as well.”

  “McKenna!” Nona called from the kitchen. “Christof. The food does not have legs.”

  “She knows my name,” I said with a huge grin.

  “We’d better get in there.” Christof looked as if there was more he wanted to say, but Nona’s appearance at the kitchen door brought an end to our conversation.

  We made our way hastily toward the amazing smells.

  On the way to the table, I stopped in front of Christof’s grandmother and said, “Thank you, Nona, for everything.”

  She waved off my gratitude, but a huge smile spread across her face. “You can thank me with babies. Name one of them after me.”

  “We will,” I promised before I caught myself. It was too easy to forget none of this was real.

  Christof made a face while he held out a chair for me. “Her name is Edna.”

  I sat and took a whiff of the beef braciola. “A beautiful name.”

  “Eddie.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop.”

  Christof sat across from me. “Eddie Romano. Eh. I guess it’s not so bad.”

  “Nona,” I said in the sweetest tone I could muster, “where’s your wooden spoon?”

  Christof barked out a laugh.

  Nona came to sit with us, laughing along and rambling away to herself in Italian.

  I took a huge bite of spinach, which was cooked so perfectly that I’d never tasted anything better.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  MCKENNA

  Christof and I had just finished washing the dishes when he received a text announcing that Gian, Mauricio, and Wren had just pulled into the drive. Nona had excused herself a few minutes earlier, saying she wanted to lie down.

  Christof wiped his hands one last time on a towel. “Here we go. Say a quick prayer with me.” He took both of my hands in his.

  “I don’t—” I stopped there. His eyes were closed, and I, too, wanted Gian’s visit to go well. Okay, sure. I’ll try. If anyone is up there, it’s me, which I’m sure you know if you’re all-knowing. Sorry about the whole not believing in you and stuff. Let’s not focus on the negative. If you’re there and can hear me, this is a really nice family. I’m sure there are a lot of really nice people going through worse, so I hate to bother you like this, but anyway, anything you could do for them would be welcome. End transmission now? I don’t know how to hang up.

  Christof opened his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ll go get Nona. Could you let everyone in?”

  “Sure.”

  I opened the door to a tired but friendly-looking trio. “Hi, I’m McKenna. Christof is getting Nona. Come on in.”

  They entered, each carrying a bag of luggage that they placed off to the side of the door. Wren greeted me with a hug. Mauricio and Gian shook my hand. I wondered if that was the same way they would have greeted a real fiancée, then gave myself a mental shake. That question served no purpose beyond tormenting myself.

  Nona came into the room on Christof’s arm. She smiled. “Mauricio. Wren.”

  They were both enveloped in long hugs from her and a long string of fast Italian. Even as he hugged her, Mauricio said, “Half the time I have no idea what she’s saying. I’ve forgotten a lot.”

  In a quiet tone, Gian said, “She said you are as handsome as she remembered and warned Wren to keep you on a short leash because you’ve always been trouble.”

  “She told me I’ve gotten fat,” Christof said with humor, slipping an arm around my waist.

  “You’re not,” I said softly enough for him alone to hear.

  When she released Mauricio, the smile left her face. She stepped closer to Gian and stood before him for a long moment. When she started speaking, I cursed myself for not knowing Italian. As if he could read my thoughts, Christof lowered his head and translated softly into my ear. “She says he looks like her brother Vincenzo did when he was his age. She says his face makes her sad for so many reasons.”

  Gian’s expression tightened. He stood there, immobile. My heart went out to him. I wanted to stop Nona right there and tell her to hug him.

  In my ear, Christof continued as Nona began to speak again. “She said there are pictures of his mother in the closet in the hall. He can have them, but she doesn’t want to see them. She said they bring her too much pain to look at.”

  Gian nodded and blinked a few times, then began to also speak in Italian.

  Christof said, “He said he understands, and he is grateful she agreed to see him.” Christof sniffed.

  I looked up at him. “Are you—?”

  He shook his head.

  Nona touched a hand to Gian’s cheek. “You traveled a long way. You must be hungry. I’ll make you a big bowl of tortellini. Come.”

  When Gian didn’t immediately move, Nona looked at me and winked. “Just don’t eat too much, Gian, or you’ll end up fat like Christof.”

  Nona understood a lot more than people gave her credit for. I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and leaned into Christof’s hug.

  His chest rumbled with protest. “Best shape of my life.”

  I smiled up at him. “She knows. You’re right—she and I do have a lot in common. We both like to bust on you.”

  He sighed, but he was smiling as he watched Gian follow Nona into the kitchen. “Relationships take time.”

  For a second I thought he was referring to ours, but then I realized his focus was still on Gian. Rightfully so. “They seem off to a good start.”

  Mauricio said, “I imagined worse, so I’m relieved.”

  Christof released me to give his brother and his wife a hug. “Should we go in or give them a few minutes alone?”

  “I’d say we let them talk for a bit; then Wren and I are heading in.” He shrugged when his wife gave him a quizzical look. “I’m starving. My wife barely feeds me.”

  Christof laughed. “Wren, how do you deal with him?”

  She hugged Mauricio. “He has his moments.”

  “Moments?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You mean hours.”

  Christof groaned. “I’ve heard seconds.”

  I burst out laughing.

  Mauricio waved a fist at Christof, but they were both smiling.

  So different, yet obviously close. Mauricio was a magazine-cover kind of good looking, but I couldn’t see myself with a man who spent more time grooming than I did. Christof was more grounded. More humble. Definitely more my type.

  We headed into the kitchen to find Nona sitting across from Gian, having a conversation in Italian. They already seemed more comfortable with each other.

  When Nona noticed us, she went to stand, but Christof told her he knew where everything was and would feed Mauricio and Wren. In that moment it was easy to picture raising a family with Christof. I had a flash of him coming down to the garage with one of our children on his hip, another holding his hand, and asking me if he should cook or if I wanted to order out.

  Next I saw us in my kitchen. Me in just an apron. Him standing behind me, buck naked, teaching me one of his family’s recipes. The image was so clear it felt like a memory rather than a fantasy. My cheeks warmed as I imagined how his hands would caress me as we cooked, how he’d kiss my neck between whispered instructions.


  “You okay?” Christof asked after setting full plates in front of his family.

  “Yeah. Just thinking,” I said quickly. “Should I pour some wine?”

  “Always,” he answered before sneaking a quick kiss.

  The sound of the door opening was followed by the sound of multiple voices. The kitchen quickly filled with everyone who had greeted me the day before as well as some faces I didn’t recognize. They each greeted me with a kiss, then moved around the room. English and Italian flowed as easy as the laughter did. I had a hundred wonderful conversations with more people than I’d probably ever spoken to in one evening.

  Babies cried.

  Children whined and were scolded.

  Hurt knees were kissed.

  Voices rose and fell. It was loud. Crazy and absolutely wonderful. Christof moved from my side to sit beside his brothers, and for a long time I was satisfied to watch.

  The long day hit me all at once. I decided no one would miss me if I slipped away for a moment to the quiet of my room.

  I lay down with the intention of resting my eyes briefly and then returning to the kitchen, but I dozed off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHRISTOF

  As soon as I noticed McKenna had slipped away, I went to check on her. I found her, still dressed, lying across the top of her blankets. Snoring.

  So adorable I wanted to roll onto that bed with her. Instead, I slipped her shoes off and wrapped a blanket around her.

  Gian appeared at the door. “Everyone is heading out. Nona says you and I are on couches in the living room. Mauricio and Wren will be in your room.”

  I nodded. “Sounds about right.”

  “I can’t begin to express how much today meant to me, Christof.” He leaned against the doorjamb.

  “I know. Me too. You belong here, Gian. You always have.”

  “She only called me your name once.”

  I smiled. “That’s good for her.”

  “Luigi gave me the name of her doctor. It sounds like he’s done all the right testing, but I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget we have a radio to find.”

  “Right. From some repairman who is older than she is. Do we know his name?”

  “It’s a small town. Finding him won’t be the difficult part. Getting out of his shop without talking to him half the day might be.”

  Gian smiled, then said, “I didn’t tell Mom and Dad we were coming. I wasn’t ready to explain it.”

  “This is for you, Gian. Do it the way that makes it okay.”

  He looked down at McKenna. “Nothing seemed fake about the two of you tonight.”

  “It’s complicated.” I cleared my throat. “Speaking of complicated, I met Dominic Corisi today.”

  Gian straightened off the wall. “And?”

  “We talked. Like you, he’s never met Nona. There’s a lot of ugly history between him and the family.”

  “Luigi said the devil is in town and circling our family again. Was he referring to Dominic?”

  “That’s what they call him.”

  “Does he know about me?”

  “I told him.”

  “And?”

  “He was sad this was the first he’s heard of you. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  Some of the color left Gian’s face. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes. Before you meet him, there’s some things you need to know about him.” I gave Gian an abridged version of Dominic’s clashes with the family, but I didn’t gloss over the sins of his father.

  “Do you think his father killed mine?”

  I raised and lowered a shoulder. “I don’t know. He doesn’t know. Maybe it’s better none of us do. Dominic carries enough guilt for things he didn’t do.”

  “He really purchased half of Montalcino?”

  “And the farmland surrounding it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we weren’t here to show him there was a better way. He has a lot more money than we ever will, but we’re rich in a way he was deprived of. We’ve always had each other to depend on. I was intimidated to go see him, but once I was in the room with him, I felt mostly sympathy. I wouldn’t be who I am if Mom and Dad had not been the parents they were. I don’t want to even imagine my life without you, Sebastian, and Mauricio in it. You’re the glue that holds me together when I start to unravel. Dominic didn’t have that. He came looking for it and was turned away.”

  “So he’s coming to meet Nona.”

  “And you. He needs you, Gian. It won’t be easy when he first meets the family. Also, he may need tutoring on how to be a good brother, but you’ve always excelled in that department.”

  The hug Gian gave me nearly knocked me off my feet, but I righted myself before we both tumbled down onto the sleeping McKenna. When he stepped back, he said, “I was so angry with you, Christof. It wasn’t until I talked to Mauricio and Wren that I started to see how lucky I am. Everything I’ve learned about my biological mother points to an emotionally unstable person. I could hate her for leaving me or be thankful to her for giving me a stable family, with parents who have supported me every step of the way and brothers like you.”

  “That’s a mature way of looking at it.” I yawned at the wrong moment but couldn’t help myself. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. We should probably get some sleep, because tomorrow will be another one.”

  “Thanks, Christof.”

  “Stop thanking me. This is what brothers do.”

  Nona called down the hallway, “Gian, did you find Christof? Make sure he is not in McKenna’s room.”

  Gian called back, “He’s not, Nona.”

  We both laughed as we had when we were younger and getting in trouble. “We’d better grab some blankets and get to the living room before she comes for us.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  MCKENNA

  I woke early, showered, changed, texted a message to Ty because it was still night back home, then headed out to see if anyone else was awake. No one appeared to be. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat outside with the intention of soaking in the peace of the early morning, but I found I was too restless.

  I poked my head into the living room. In a T-shirt and lounge pants, Christof was sprawled across one couch. Gian was on the other couch, appearing to still be just as deeply asleep.

  I decided to head back to my bedroom for a bit, possibly to be productive and read some emails on my phone, but I paused in front of a closet door. Nona had said there were photos for Gian. I told myself whatever was in that closet was none of my business, but I couldn’t force myself beyond the door.

  Peeking at old photos that would soon be brought out couldn’t hurt anything, could it? I tested the door. If it was locked, that would be the sign that I should forget about the photos.

  It wasn’t.

  I looked over my shoulder. Not a single sound from anyone stirring.

  Would they care if they found me looking at photos? Would anyone be upset? I already knew the whole story.

  Piles of old albums met me as I cracked open the door, as well as loose papers and other items. I sat down, slipped an album out from beneath the mess, and opened it on my lap. The stories Christof had told me came to life as I flipped through the pages. A young Nona laughing on her wedding day with a handsome groom.

  You go, Nona. I would have overlooked the smell of cow for him too.

  There were photos of their home on a small farm. I couldn’t read the notes written off to the side, but from what I could determine, she and her husband had owned a small vineyard as well. There were photos of them purchasing machinery, then holding up bottles with pride.

  I smiled right through that album and didn’t hesitate before reaching for the next. They had dates on the front page of each. Once I noticed that, I reshuffled them.

  The history of Christof’s family unfolded before me. Nona pregnant. Rosella as a baby. Rosella’s christening. Pages and pages of photos of
Rosella awake, Rosella asleep, Rosella’s first step. Nona pregnant again. Aw, Camilla, Christof’s mother, had been a cherub. Two beautiful daughters. One happy family.

  As soon as I finished the second album, I went on to the third. Rosella and Camilla as children. Both simply beautiful. Rosella and Camilla as teenagers. Rosella blossomed. Yowza, she could have been a pinup model. Camilla looked a little rounder, a little meeker. They seemed close, though. Always smiling in the photos.

  So many celebrations for both daughters.

  Then several empty pages, as well as spots where photos appeared to have been torn out. Could this have been when the daughters had had their falling-out? When Rosella stole Camilla’s boyfriend?

  The next album started with Camilla with a handsome young man. His name was written next to a few. Basil. Wedding photos of Camilla and Basil posing with a cow. One with Christof’s grandfather laughing with his arm around the cow while Camilla made a funny face at Basil. Two pages of photos of that cow. Weird. Then photos of Camilla and Basil’s first son, Sebastian. Mauricio was not far behind. Then Christof. Oh, those three boys looked like trouble for sure. There were many shots of them running across fields or playing with their cousins. Lots of smiles, lots of happy faces. No Rosella.

  The next album was full of loose photos that were labeled in another person’s handwriting. Camilla’s? There were pictures of her and Basil in front of a small house in Connecticut, in front of a neighborhood store with a sign that read ROMANO CONVENIENCE STORE.

  Four smiling boys—three older and one toddler, Gian. All looking like a handful, but Camilla and Basil didn’t seem bothered by their antics.

  I sifted through piles of loose photos until I’d pieced together a logical order to them. After a span of time when not many photos had been taken, they started up again with younger versions of the cousins I’d met. No more farm. Simpler clothing.

  Photos of Christof’s grandfather ended abruptly. I hugged the last one I found to my chest. He’d left when his family had needed him the most. Nona must have felt so alone. I knew that feeling well. She’d survived, though. Just as I had.