They sat on the L-shaped sofa in front of the windows with the panoramic view of the Amalfi coast. The candles were the only lighting in the room and several had blinked out. A sharp smell of vanilla and melting wax permeated the air. She didn’t mind. It was somewhat soothing.
“Family is always abundant during the holidays at Melanzana. In fact Rocco and Zia will return to meet Eve.”
“I would love to see them again.”
Mira sipped her wine remembering the old couple and their ride on his motorcycle through Chianti. She missed her grandparents at times. The idea of Eve having Rocco and Zia, made her feel hopeful that her child would thrive in Italy with a normal life. “Giovanni? Can I ask you something, and you won’t take offense?”
“Of course, Bella.”
“It’s about your childhood. Growing up here, with your father’s business and all the stuff with your mother, was it normal? What kind of life did you have as a kid?” She tried to read his reaction. His profile was void of emotion but the shadows of the night made it hard for her to read much more.
“There were normal days, and times. We were a family. He treated Ma-ma like his wife and me like his son. He loved Catalina. He gave her anything. We had holidays and birthday parties. We took vacations.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Still I always knew I was different. I always knew my mother was… different. But I was loved, and happy as a child. None of it had any lasting effects on me.”
Mira doubted him. In fact she believed his brooding nature and hot-temper were a direct result of his father’s influence. Now they were poised to raise a family together and she questioned what it would all mean.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said his voice taking on a serious note.
“Okay.”
Mira relaxed. His arm went around her, and she snuggled his chest. Her legs curled up underneath her, the wine warming her, she felt so tired. But it was a nice sweet homey tiredness as well.
“If things hadn’t happen the way they did, you would be my wife now,” he said.
Mira coughed. She sat up, the wine sloshed in the glass. Giovanni patted her back as she caught her breath. “Wife?” she managed.
“Is that a problem?”
“Are you proposing?”
He smiled. “Not this way. But we must discuss it. I want to marry. We have a daughter. She won’t grow up as a bastard.”
“Don’t use that word.” Mira stiffened.
“Why not? It’s what she is if you aren’t my wife.” The bitterness in his voice chilled her.
“I have to be honest, Giovanni, I’ve never been big on marriage.”
He chuckled. “That’s because you didn’t have me.”
“Oh brother!” she hit him playfully.
“What I’m trying to say is that I wasn’t either. Until I found you.” He clarified.
Mira liked the sound of his explanation.
“What are your reservations about going public?”
Mira shrugged. “I’m safer this way.” She didn’t want to hurt him, but she preferred that his enemies not know about her and Eve until he settled the unrest around him.
“You fear Angelo will come after you again?”
“Don’t you?”
“The only thing I fear is my life without you. I’ll never make the mistakes of the past again.”
“Well I’m here now, baby. I don’t plan on leaving.” She sidled up even closer to him.
He kissed her brow. He sat forward, and she sat up to accommodate him. He put the wineglass down. Mira lowered hers. Giovanni stretched out on the sofa sideways, and she lay with him. His arm draped over her waist. “When was my daughter born? How was she born?”
“The old fashion way. I opened my legs and out she came.”
He tickled her side, and she squealed kicking her feet. Once her laughter subsided she captured enough breath in her lungs to speak. “She was born January the 31st. Most memorable day of the year in Switzerland!” she proclaimed.
“Why is that?”