Two From Isaac's House by Normandie Fischer

Author:Normandie Fischer [Fischer, Normandie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780986141638
Publisher: Sleepy Creek Press
Published: 2015-11-23T07:00:00+00:00

Nicco arrived at a quarter to four, but Acie’s curling iron wouldn’t work, she couldn’t find the right top to wear, she lost the only shoe that would go with her outfit, and, really, couldn’t they maybe go the next day, please, Nicco? He laughed at her, told her not to worry, she was beautiful, and then asked, “You’re not afraid of my little grandmother, are you?”

“No, of course not. Well, yes, I guess I am. I’m afraid she’ll think me a fool. Or worse.”

“That is not possible. This will be good, you will see. She is a wise woman, my nonna, and she will love you.”

Rina sat in the back seat while her friend nibbled on her fingernails in the front. She had no idea how to soothe Acie and so stared out the window, trying to damp down her own anxiety that seemed to blossom right along with the other woman’s.

Nicco parked in back next to an old shed that looked like it had once been a chicken house. While the lovers spoke quietly to each other, Rina climbed from the back seat and stared over the tops of the olive trees, across the rolling slopes of grapevines, toward neighboring fields, until she caught sight of the afternoon sun dancing on a small lake. Its far border ended in shadowed hills—hills all around and, here, this oasis. It looked different today. More peaceful than it had the day of the family meal.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Acie approached with Nicco at her side. “You can see why Italy has all those artists. Me, I’d probably become a poet if I could live here every day.”

Nicco’s fingers traced over her friend’s cheek in a gesture so intimate that Rina’s breath caught. She leaned back against the car, watching the caress, feeling the air around them close her out.

A call from the house turned their attention. “Domenico! Figliolo mio! Venite!”

“Veniamo, Nonna. Here we are.” He bent down to kiss both wrinkled cheeks.

His grandmother held onto his hand as her gaze traveled over him, smiling when she met his eyes.

“Nonna,” continued Nicco in Italian, “you remember Acie’s friend.”

Signora Bertelli was so little that Rina had to bend low to receive the kiss of welcome. “Certo, of course. Come,” the signora said, speaking mostly in Italian. “Let us go into the house. I will prepare some nice caffè or tea, if you would prefer, and we can visit.”

Nicco cradled her elbow as she climbed the steps. “You sit. I will fix whatever you would like.”

“That is a good boy, not too proud to help in the kitchen, yes? The water, it is almost boiling for tea. Signorine, you would like?”

“Sì, grazie,” Acie answered for them.

“Bene, tea then, Nicco, and we shall go to the parlor.” She apologized for her limited English, but they’d each learned enough for rudimentary conversation.

“So many people at the picnic that we were not able to speak together, but now we may be comfortable,” the grandmother said.

“Grazie, signora.” Rina searched her memory for the correct words to express sorrow about the signore’s accident.

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