I walked into the house, wiping my hands, only to discover my siblings had deserted me. Mama waited at the table, a coffeepot in front of her, some of her delicious cookies on a plate. She knew I could never resist those.
With a sigh, I sat down, knowing what was coming and realizing I couldn’t avoid it.
I picked up my coffee and took a sip of the dark brew.
“What’s going on?” Mama asked. “Don’t say nothing. I see trouble on your face.”
I tried not to smile. When she’d had to find work when my dad died, using English as her primary language had been difficult for her. She had learned, and we had done our best to help her, but when upset, Mama lapsed into her old way of speaking. Short, stilted sentences, often mixed with Italian.
I met her eyes. Intelligent, warm, kind. They always had been. Today, they held a trace of worry.
“A woman?” she guessed before I could speak. “No that Leah. Say no, Stefano.”
I shook my head. “No, Mama. Not Leah.”
“But a girl?”
“I met someone,” I confessed. “Someone special.”
“You bring her here. I meet her.”
“It’s too soon,” I protested.
“No. You like her. I see it.”
I rubbed my face. “I’m worried you’ll scare her.”
“Scare her? What nonsense is this?”
“I think…” I sighed as I trailed off then tried again. “It’s complicated, Mama.”
“How so?” she asked. “You like her?”
“Yes.”
“She like you?”
I thought about how much Gabby had liked me last night. Early this morning. How hard it had been to leave her.
“Yes.”
“Then how complicated?”
“She has a son. He is five.”
Her eyes grew round. “Stefano, cuore mio, you no dating married woman?”
I lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles. “No, Mama.” I paused, unsure how much to tell her. “I think maybe the man she shared her life with hurt her. I think she’s hiding.”
She frowned. “He hurt her? Stronzo,” she muttered. “Bastardo.”
“She hasn’t told me, but yes, I think so. She’s skittish.”
“Skittish?” she repeated.
“Worried. Afraid.”
“No of you.”
“No. Of her past. Telling me.”
She was quiet for a moment, and I drank my coffee. I knew she had to mull it over.
“You bring her here. I meet her. She will see nothing to be frightened of. Family protect family.” She met my eyes. “You make her your family, then she is part of this family, Stefano.”
My heart swelled with love for this woman. She had always been open and understanding. She never let the old-world customs interfere with her life here. She accepted my brothers-in-law as her own sons, despite the fact that two of them weren’t Italian, Catholic, or even particularly fond of pasta. She loved them because of the way they loved her daughters.
She taught them to love pasta because that horrified her more than the fact that they were a different nationality.
“Next Sunday, she comes here. We meet her.”
“I’ll ask.”
She nodded. Then she pushed the plate closer. “Mangia, Stefano. You get too thin, il mio bambino.”
I had to laugh. “I’m hardly your little baby anymore, Mama.”
“You will always be. Now, eat. I send home food. You share with your friend…” She trailed off, lifting an eyebrow in question.
“Gabby.”
“Gabriella? Italian?” she asked hopefully.
“No. But she loves pasta.”
She nodded. “Good. I will make feast for her next week.”
I took a cookie, remaining silent. I had to hope I could convince Gabby to accompany me next week. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be easy.
“Meet your mother?” Gabby whisper-yelled. “Why would she want to meet me?”
I stifled my smile, having expected her reaction.
“I told her about you and Theo, and she wants to meet you.”
She frowned, glancing down at her hands. She was too far away, and I beckoned her with my hand. “Come here, Tesoro. Sit beside me.” I patted the small space left on the love seat. “Here.”
I had dropped by after dinner. Theo had just gotten out of the bath, so I sat with him, listening to his day, getting him to hold still as Gabby combed out his clean hair. He talked nonstop, asking questions when I told him I had lunch with my family.
“You have brothers?” he asked.
“Two,” I confirmed. “Three sisters.”
“What are their names?”
“Vince and Michael are my brothers. Gianna, Mila, Izzy are my sisters. I’m the youngest,” I explained.
His eyes were wide. “I wanna be a big brother. Mom said not now.” He grabbed my hand. “Maybe you could talk to her? It’d be fun being a big brother.”
I looked over to Gabby, who was busy concentrating on Theo’s head. A streak of color ran across her cheekbones. Our eyes met briefly, and I threw her a subtle wink.
“I’ll see what I can do. It’s not always, ah, easy. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort.” I bit back my smile. “Lots and lots of hard work.”
The color deepened on Gabby’s cheeks.
“You told me you like hard work.” Theo pointed out.