He turned me around.

  “Is this Saint Peter’s in Rome?”

  “Si.”

  “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

  “Tank you. I painted it.”

  “Oh, Gaetano, it’s beautiful.”

  “Grazie.” A slow smile tugged at the edges of his lips. “When we come to America, we stopped off at da Basilica. My fater wanted us to pray for a safe and healthy voyage.” Gaetano’s thumb glided over the faint brushstrokes. “It is a very special place for me. After what happened to my moter, my beliefs were tested, but when I stood in dat holy place, a feeling of warmth came over me, deep inside. It was someting I can’t explain. Almost like magic, and I was restored.”

  “One day, I hope to visit Rome.”

  “One day, amore mio, I will take you,” he whispered in my ear.

  Ripples of heat flushed my body. I turned to face him. “That sounds wonderful. Dance with me,” I urged while my groin pulsed.

  He set my glass on the table. His arms around me, the lyrics carried us away to a place just for us. Cheek to cheek, our feet glided over the floor like mist in a forest, until the music stopped, and my stomach roared again.

  I laughed. “Sorry. I need to eat something.”

  “Yes. Let’s feed you, bella,” He led me into the kitchen where he pulled the food from a brown paper sack.

  “I brought a few tings from da house—bread, formaggio, and some insalata.”

  I held the fresh bread to my nose and inhaled. “Mmm . . . it smells delicious.”

  “You smell delicious.” He breathed into my hair. His tongue glided down my neck.

  “Stop,” I said and batted his frisky hands away. “I need to eat, or I’ll never be able to keep up with you tonight.”

  After a few bites of food and some soft kisses in a loving embrace, I sipped the wine. His wine.

  “Do you like da vino?”

  “Yes, it’s wonderful.” I took another sip.

  He grabbed the bottle.

  “Open your mouth,” he said and stared at my lips with his smoldering eyes.

  My heart fluttered in my chest. What was he going to put in my mouth? I nodded and then opened wide. With his left hand, he tilted my chin back and gently poured the wine down my throat. I tried to hold it all in my mouth, but a few drops fell out and onto my neck. I licked my lip. A few drips stained my nightgown. Gaetano set the bottle down on the counter and licked the drops of red wine off my chin and chest. Aroused again, his erection pressed against my leg.

  He picked me up and carried me to the bedroom, where we shared another few hours of lovemaking. And in the time between animalistic desire and soft strokes of tenderness, we furthered our understanding of one another and surrendered our souls. He made me feel safe and provided me with a million miles of distance from the enemy. After months of loneliness, betrayal, and presumed reproach, I’d finally sleep tonight, in his arms, loved and accepted unconditionally.

  To Truly See a Man

  I opened my eyes to a room filled with sunlight. Moving my tired legs around the bed, I quickly realized where I was, and a grin blanketed my face. When I turned to the other side of the bed, I found a note.

  I went to the main house for more clothes and food. I will see you soon.

  I have so much to show you today.

  Love you,

  -G

  While I waited for the bathwater to warm, I studied myself in the mirror. My hair was disheveled and full of knots. It felt coarse from all the movement on top of the pillows. My eyes finally looked rested. Although my body looked no different than before, I was no longer a virgin. I didn’t know how I felt about that, exactly.

  I lowered myself in the tub and let the warm water soften my tired muscles. Was I a sinner? Had my actions disgraced my family or myself? Would I be called a puttana? My intentions were honorable. I’d come to be with the man I loved, and we were defenseless to our desires. As I stepped out of the tub, I stepped away from my self-judgment. I wouldn’t let it ruin my time here. I threw on my robe, sat back in bed, and waited for my Guy to return.

  The smell of coffee woke me a second time. Gaetano stood in the doorway with a coffee cup in hand.

  “Buongiorno, my love,” he whispered, then came over to hand me the cup.

  I took a sip, then he pulled my chin up to meet his smiling face.

  “Good morning. I must have dozed off again. I was pretty tired after yesterday.” I wrapped my legs around his torso.

  “Sorry I had to leave, but I had to check da workers and make sure everyting was on schedule.”

  “I understand. I knew you wouldn’t leave me here all alone.” I teased him by exposing my right breast. He giggled and kissed me again. “What did your parents say? Do they know I’m here?” I asked sheepishly, afraid of his answers.

  “I try to get away, but my moter, she stopped me when she saw me grab da food. I told her not to tell my fater and dat I wanted to talk to him, man to man. So, I did.”

  “What did you say?”

  “My fater is worried dat dis might cause problems for us, but I told him dat I love you and want to make you my wife.”

  “I never wanted to cause your family any problems, but I had to see you. Maybe I should go back?”

  “No, I tell him I will take a full responsibility for you here.”

  “What about your mother? What did she say?”

  “Violetta, please understand I am a grown man and make my own decisions. But she worry about me. Just like your family worry about you. She no like da Hand.”

  “My family only worries about themselves,” I blurted.

  “Das not true. We both know what they do. Even for my fater, he have to give dem our home. A house dat was in his family for many generations. We leave with nutting,” he said with cold eyes. “Even now dey own us.”

  “Your mother will never accept me because of that. I should go.” I looked at my bags on the floor.

  “No. You are not leaving. Dey will have to accept you if dey want me in der lives. The only ting my fater say was he would not lie if your family ask. In a few days, we will speak wit dem so dey understand everyting.”

  “That’s reasonable. Do your parents know that you slept here with me?” I asked, embarrassed.

  “Dey no say anyting, and I no tell dem.”

  “What are we going to do today?”

  “I want you to see da vineyard and meet da workers. Dey hardworking, good people. Sometimes when we work late, dey make Mexican food and barbecue late at night. Dey tell stories. Dey are my friends now. I know all of der children.”

  “Their whole families come here?”

  “Oh yes. The moter and fater dey work and da nonna come to watch the kids here. Dey are all on contract. Most of da families live here to make it easier. Dey pay little for da room, and I make sure to pay dem a good wage.”

  “I want to meet them. They sound wonderful.”

  “Yes, I want every immigrant to have a chance at a good life here in America—like me. I make sure dey treat wit rispetto. I learn a lot from Mr. Antonelli last summer. He show me dat people work hard when dey work togeter.”

  There was a deep reverence in his voice for his workers. I heard the passion behind his words and the vision he had for his vineyard. I was in awe of him.

  “When da time comes, you and I will go somewhere until tings calm down or until tings can be made right between da families. And when I tink it’s safe, we will get married. It may not be a big ceremony, maybe at da courthouse. We can talk about it later. But today, amore mio, I want to show you what I have been doing here wit da wine business.” He reached for my arm and kissed the back of my hand.

  “I’ve seen my father make wine, but nothing like this.”

  “Let’s eat breakfast and then you get dressed.”

  Gaetano started his tour at the workers’ cabins. He introduced me to his right-hand man, José. He lent me a smock and a pair of work boots. Gaetano introduced me to all the workers as his special friend.

  Despite the language barriers, they laughed and joked with each other and became serious when speaking about the job at hand. Gaetano listened, then tinkered with the machinery and checked the quality of the grapes. Like a natural-born leader, he asked their opinion, then made decisions. I was pleasantly surprised to see his transition from a man who worked in the fields at ole man Antonelli’s to the future owner of this huge enterprise.

  We drove to a big building in the center of the property where they made wine.

  Men and women stood over thousands of grapes, pulling stems and leaves off the vines to get the grapes ready to be pressed. Conveyor belts moved the grapes into gigantic wooden vats. Men turned metal apparatuses to crush the grapes. Liquid poured into enormous wooden tubs. The process was in constant motion.

  “So, when can we drink the juice? How long does it have to stay in there?”

  “Da grapes will stay here for a few weeks. Così il vino fermenterà. Come si dice . . . ferment. Come here, I want to show you someting.”

  With pride in his smile, Gaetano grabbed my hand and escorted me down rocky steps into a sunken tunnel that led to a huge underground room. Streams of faint light crept through, exposing wall-to-wall oak barrels stacked on top of each other. The smell of wine filled the air, aromatic and fragrant.

  Hand in hand, Gaetano walked me to where they siphoned wine from the barrel. He grabbed a glass and released a lever. A glorious, garnet liquid poured out.

  “Let’s walk toward da light so you can see.”

  He handed me the flute and held it to a beam of sunlight.

  “Turn it like dis,” he said, moving the red liquid around in the light. “See da little bits of sedimento. We will still do more filtering, but at least you can taste da flavor. Now smell it.”

  I put my nose inside the long-stemmed glass. Fruit tones mixed with oak swirled around my nose.

  “Salute. Take a sip and hold it in your mouth like dis.” He took a big gulp and swished it around his mouth a while before swallowing. “Now you try.”

  I took a sip, swirled it around my teeth and tongue, and swallowed.

  “Do you taste da smell in your mouth and your nose?”

  A sweet bouquet of fruit and musk lingered as it coated my mouth and throat. “Yes, it’s wonderful.”

  “I am glad you like it.” He pulled me into his arms to kiss me. Our lips met again, fierce with desire. We tasted each other. When we finally pulled away to catch our breath, he clutched my hips and flashed a suggestive grin.

  “Da vino, it taste good, but you taste better.” He scanned my body from head to toe. When he met my eyes, his strong hands gripped my ass, followed by a flirtatious wink. The small gesture promised a wonderful day and night.

  After seeing the production line, we strolled the property. He took me out to the orchards where we touched grapes still ripening in the sun.

  “You know da first people who come here have many struggles. Everyting from insect infestation to prohibition and the Depression. Many of dem have to abandon der land and start over. Only recently has dis community produced again.” He rolled a grape between his fingers.

  “I had no idea it was so hard on these people. I know my family struggled during the Depression, even with Don Molanano’s help.”

  His eyes narrowed, then he looked over the land toward the horizon. “We are part of a group of new families determined to make dis work. And one day, as da business get bigger, I plan to build a hotel here and maybe a restaurant too, to attract more guests. I have so many plans for dis place.” He threw the grape across the field in front of us.

  “A hotel? That’s amazing.” The slightest twinge squeezed my stomach. If they came for me, how could I ask him to run away with me when his life and his dreams were right in front of us?

  “Si. I learn so much in da past few months, and I see da company growing.

  “I can see that even your English is improving,” I said with a smile.

  “Yes. Some words are still hard, but I have been practicing every day. I want to be a smart man for you,” he said, then smiled. “When it is time, I want us to have a life here, Violetta. I want you to live here wit me and be part of my dreams. Our children can play in da fields. Let me give you da life you deserve.” He pulled my body into his frame.

  “It’s beautiful here. I can’t deny that,” I said. “I’ve never lived anywhere but the ranch, and for once, it’s my choice to stay here with you.” I turned away as the wind ruffled through my hair.

  “It will be our choice, tesoro mio,” he said with loving eyes.

  When I turned back, Gaetano was on his knees.

  “Violetta Giordano, I will love you for da rest of my days. I promise to cherish you and take care of you until my last breath. Will you please marry me?” he asked, then reached for my hand. “I don’t have a ring yet, but I promise you, I will give you da biggest ring I can find dat will match da size of my love for you.” He kissed the back of my hand and waited for my response.

  “If my decision means anything in this world, then my answer is yes. Yes, I will marry you,” I said and reached for him as tears streamed down my face.

  With dusty knees, he stood and kissed me strong and deep.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon looking over the land. He continued to talk about our future life. With the vineyards at his back, he looked like a proud king standing over his kingdom. Gaetano was no longer an immigrant boy; he was a powerful man who would someday run an empire. He was assertive and intelligent about his craft. His words exemplified the spirit of a man who was driven and bold, all the qualities I wanted in a husband. And although he may have to conform to the Mafia in the future, clean and honest work motivated him. He was everything I wanted for the rest of my life, but what I wanted and what my father wanted were two very different things.

  The Weight of Freewill

  The days with Gaetano in the vineyard felt magical. They were everything I’d hoped for. We drank great wine and ate great food. In quiet moments, we’d sneak away to make love. After, we’d talk about the life we wanted together. Our words made our hearts converge and, without further thought, we’d be intimate again.

  As we lay naked in bed, Gaetano suckled my breasts, then said, “Tonight, we go to a party in your honor.”

  “A party. With your parents?”

  “No. José and his family want to cook for us. But we can’t avoid my family much longer. We will talk to dem, together.” He swept the hair from my eyes.

  “I’m nervous, Gaetano. I don’t want to cause any harm. I’m surprised we haven’t seen them in all these days.” My chest tightened.

  “My fater, he getting older. He trusts me to run tings and spends most of his day listening to da radio. He like da American baseball.” Gaetano laughed. “And my moter and sisters, dey no come out in da fields. With a hundred acres, we have all the privacy we need—at least for a little while.” He sucked on my nipple again.

  “Yes, there is nothing but grape trees for miles.” I twisted my fingers into his soft hair.

  “Sometimes when I stay out here, I no see my parents for days.”

  “You’re lucky. If I was gone for that long, my family would come searching for me. In fact, I know they would because they’ve done it.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, puzzled.

  “You know, it’s strange. Up until this week, I’ve always considered the ranch to be my safe place after what happened, but I feel secure here too,” I said as an old, dark memory crept up. “I was abducted when I was a kid.”

  His face looked startled. “What is abducted?”

  “It means someone took me away from my family when I was a little girl.”

  “What happened?” he asked as his eyes scanned my face.

  “I wasn’t more than seven or eight years old. Old enough to remember. I was at Antonelli’s when my mother and father picked prunes. Because I was too small to be of any use, I was in the way a lot.” The memory made the words sting as they came out. “My mother told me to go and play somewhere else. So, I wandered off . . .”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I must have walked a good mile or two when I saw small patches of strawberries growing alongside the road. So naturally, I picked them and ate them as I walked farther and farther away. An older man stood in front of another farmhouse. He approached me. With broken English, he said that he had larger, sweeter strawberries in the back. I followed him. When I got there, he asked me if I was thirsty, and because it was hot, I said yes. He handed me a glass of water. I remember that it tasted funny, but it was so hot, I drank it. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a strange room. They’d locked me in and shut the curtains.”

  Latent memories choked me up.

  Gaetano kissed the frown lines between my eyes. “Violetta, you don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want.”

  “No. I’m all right. I haven’t talked about it in a long time,” I mumbled with a clogged-up throat. “My father said I was there for two days before they found me. The room got cold and dark when the sun went down. There were no lights. I’d scream for my mother.”

  Gaetano lifted his head from my chest and peered at me with his soft, dreamy eyes.

  “A strange woman took me out only once to go to the bathroom. She spoke in a language I couldn’t understand. Then she fed me a piece of bread and more of the sour water. I begged her to get my mother, and she laughed at me. I don’t remember clearly because my father believes that whatever they’d put in that water drugged me. I remember being so cold and missing my home and family.” I shivered.

  Gaetano pulled the sheets over us and laid his head on my chest to warm me.

  “By the second day, I banged on the window and door so hard my hands hurt. I tried to scream so someone would hear me. When I got too loud, the woman came in and slapped me across the face to quiet me down. Then she gave me more water, and I fell back to sleep.”

  My palm glided over the soft white sheets that grazed the top of my thigh.

 

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