Chapter 19

I get homefrom a morning run the following week and see a note on my kitchen table in Nonna Rossi's shaky handwriting:

Summer, please meet me in the garden up at the house, subito—Nonna

Worried she might be in trouble, I quickly grab a bottle of water and my bike. I turn the bend in the road, and spy Nonna Rossi bent over in the lavender. I lean my bike against the stone wall and shout, "I'm here, Nonna Rossi! Are you okay?"

She's pulling weeds and putting them into a basket. She looks up and waves. "Tutto bene. Sto parlando con le api e le farfalle…uh…talking to the bees and the butterflies."

"Oh, you said to meet you immediately. I thought something was wrong."

"No, mi godo il sole. Enjoy the sunshine, Summer. Vieni qui." She waves me over. I step over the stone wall, relaxing a fraction now that I know she's okay. She's tucked in between rows of lavender and geranium, wearing a wide straw hat and a linen button-down with linen pants.

"Sorry, I'm a little sweaty. I went for a run."

"No matter." She hands me a basket. "Weed over there." She points to some rosemary next to a section of wall where Razzo is lounging. Nonna Rossi smiles and pats my cheek. "Brava ragazza, good girl."

"Uh, okay…sure."

Razzo eyes me like he'd like to scratch his claws down my face. I guess our time of friendship has ended. I approach with hesitant steps, giving him the signal I'm watching him. He yawns in response and flicks his tail. A light breeze sings through the trees, cooling the sweat on my skin.

"Nonna Rossi, do you take care of these gardens all by yourself?" I set my basket down and Razzo immediately jumps in it. "Beat it, gatto." I reach in to remove him, but he tries to bite me.

She chuckles, bending back down. "No, too much for me, but I love to get out here every day that I can. Brings joy to me and keeps my strength up. Sí?"

"Sí." I smile and squat down, breathing in the clean air and the smell of lavender, rosemary, and basil. I toss a weed on Razzo and he flattens his ears. We work in companionable silence for a few moments before Nonna speaks up.

"The house okay for you, Summer, sí?"

"Sí, è bellissima e grazie."

"Ah, perfetto. And how are you and Renzo?" She looks at me shrewdly.

"Lorenzo?" I pull out a weed, considering what to say. "Um, good, va bene. We're fine. Just fine."

"That Americano word—fine. You say it a lot. What does fine even mean? In Italy, you say it is wonderful or è terribile. Not this in-between word of fine."

I chew my lip, wondering how much I should share with Nonna Rossi. "He wants to be friends, so that's…va bene."

Nonna throws down her trowel. "Non va bene! Lorenzo ha bisogno di svegliarsi e annusare le olive! Lo amo, quell'asino."

"Uh…Nonna Rossi, I don't understand what you're saying."

She picks up her trowel and digs vigorously. "Lorenzo needs to stop burying his head in the olives. I love him, but he's a horse's ass. La mia opinione is that a woman who knows what she wants will make an effort to get it."

"With all due respect, Nonna, I'm not sure he wants…" My voice trails off when she stabs a plant with her trowel. Between Razzo and Nonna, I'm feeling like a trapped rabbit.

"If you want to be more than fine with Lorenzo, then you need to learn Italian. Become a part of his world."

"But, I'm leaving—"

"Sí, sí, stai partendo. You're always leaving. You've been leaving since the day you arrived. Mamma mia! How do you expect to have any kind of relationship if you're not truly present?"

I'm stunned into silence, mulling over her words.

"Sometimes in life, piccolina, you have to tell yourself, is okay to stay, sí? You spread your roots in the soil and grow into un bellissimo albero…a beautiful unbending tree. You stay put. The adventure you seek is in your heart, not in the distance of where you go to next."

Raw pain from my past tries to bulldoze rational thought. Nonna doesn't know that all I've ever wanted is to stay rooted.

"My entire childhood was centered around my mom leaving. She moved out and left me to live with my grandmother when I was three. She said she was going on an adventure, and that she'd be back, but she didn't come back for a long time."

Nonna stays silent while we busily pull weeds. It's nice to have something to do with my hands.

She probably can't understand half of what I'm saying anyway, so I ramble on because it's therapeutic talking to her. The memories of those tumultuous times crash into me, wave after wave, taking me under.

"My mom would get bored with whatever guy she was dating and eventually come back. My grandmother would be furious with her, calling her irresponsible and immature, encouraging her to give up her parental rights. They were constantly screaming at each other. It was a confusing time for me because I wanted my mom to be a part of my life, but I was also relieved when she'd up and leave, restoring peace to the house. Grams gave me love and stability, something my mother could never do. As an adult, I clung to that stability and predictability because I never wanted to be like Barbara.

"I'm thirty-six years old, Nonna, and I've never done something as spontaneous as this trip. Italy was calling to me. In some ways, I feel guilty, acting like my mother who only thinks about herself. In other ways, I feel like I'm standing on the ledge needing to jump, or I'll never learn to fly."

"And when you land, then what? Better to be a tree with roots than a bird with wings."

"Maybe so, Nonna, but I need to be a bird first to find a safe place to land."

I thought I needed to find love and be adventurous, but perhaps Nonna Rossi is right. What I'm looking for has been in my heart the whole time. Grams was constantly reminding me happiness comes from within, not from who you surround yourself with.

"You're right, Nonna. I haven't given Italy or the wonderful people here a chance. I've been afraid of what might happen if I allow myself to feel like I belong."

Nonna looks at me with something akin to sympathy. "You belong, picolla stella."

"Would you teach me some Italian?"

"Sí, pensavo che tu non chiedessi mai…I thought you'd never ask." She grins and motions to me. "Ripeti: Sono innamorata di tuo figlio."

"Sono innamorata di tuo figlio."

"Voglio sposarlo," she prompts.

"Sono innamorata di tuo figlio. Voglio sposarlo. What does that mean?"

"It means Nonna is being meddlesome. Don't repeat anything she says," Lorenzo's deep baritone grumbles, sending chills racing down my spine. He steps over the stone wall into the garden.

"Ah, Lorenzo, Summer is learning Italian. Isn't that wonderful?"

He glances at Nonna with a raised eyebrow. "Sí. I see you've also roped her into helping you weed the garden." He leans down and scratches Razzo's head. The little traitor immediately purrs.

"Oh, I don't mind." I smile up at him and yank out another weed. "What are you up to on this beautiful Sunday?"

"I stopped by your house to see if you wanted to have lunch with us."

"Sí, Renzo, why do you think she's here?" Nonna says impatiently. "Your parents just got home from Mass."

"Why didn't you go this morning?" he asks.

"è maleducato fare a tua nonna questa domanda."

Lorenzo snorts and looks at me. "She said it's rude of me to ask her that."

I smile and stand up, brushing off my hands. "I'd love to have lunch, but as you can see, I need a shower and a change of clothes, so I'll take a raincheck."

"No, you come." Nonna stands and stretches her back before heading toward the house. "Be a tree, Summer! Vieni, ora!"

"Vieni, ora?" I ask.

"It means come now. I'm not sure what be a tree means."

"Oh, crazy Nonna." I chuckle nervously and turn to face him. The light breeze ruffles his tousled hair, making me want to glide my fingers through the silky strands. Friends can do that, can't they? No, Summer, they cannot.

Lorenzo throws an arm around my shoulders and guides me out of the garden. I shrink away from him, worried I smell disgusting. Damn Nonna Rossi for making me rush up here after a run for a Sunday lunch she failed to mention.

"I really should go shower first."

"No time, tesoro. If my parents are home from Mass, then Fiore already has food on the table. Don't worry, it's just us today. We'll seat you on the end away from everyone." He smirks and I jab him with my elbow. He grabs my bike, and we walk up the drive to the main house behind Nonna. "I've been so busy at work this week, in meetings, and I had to go to Rome. How have you been?"

"I was wondering why I hadn't seen you much. I looked for you by your tree." I clear my throat, heat splashing my cheeks. "Anyway, we had a couple of groups come in each day, so it was busy. I worked on some ad campaign stuff for you to see."

"Ah, fantastico! That was quick."

"Well, they're just some ideas I've come up with." I wring my hands together. "If you approve, I can mock them up. But if you don't like them, that's okay. It won't hurt my feelings. I mean, I want you to be honest with me. Don't like them just because we're friends."

"Summer, I'm sure they're wonderful. I look forward to seeing them. Send them to me tonight." He smiles down at me and leans my bike against the stone wall by his car before we walk into the house.

Stella welcomes me with a hug, and Signor Rossi shakes my hand before sitting down at the head of the table with the Sunday paper. He and Lorenzo talk about La Nazionale di calcio dell'Italia and the latest competizione, so I quietly excuse myself to go freshen up in the bathroom.

Has it only been a week since I kissed Lorenzo? Seven days since he formally friend-zoned me? My heart sinks while I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I'd friend-zone me too if I looked like this. My limp ponytail hangs off-kilter, and a halo of frizz frames my face. I pull my ponytail out and wet my fingers with some water, smoothing out my hair. I pull it up again and grimace. Now I look like I'm sweating again. I open a drawer to find a clean towel and burst out laughing. The drawer must have at least a hundred safety pins in it. Dammit, Lorenzo, how can I not fall in love with you?

Running a washcloth under the faucet, I quickly wash my face and armpits, giving myself a mini bath. Well, it's somewhat better than before. Everyone is waiting for me at the table when I return.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for making you wait."

Fiore beams at me. "Summer, I'm so glad you're here!"

I smile back and fold my napkin in my lap. Signor Rossi says a quick prayer over the food. Stella pours wine into everyone's glass before sitting back down.

"Summer, Nonna says she's teaching you Italian," Stella says.

"Sí, I'm very excited."

"That's wonderful. What have you learned?"

"Oh, well, we just started today." I take a small drink of my wine, trying to remember the phrase from twenty minutes ago.

"Summer…," Lorenzo rumbles, slightly shaking his head in warning.

I glance at him curiously, brushing him off because Nonna beams and nods, encouraging me to repeat it. "Sono innamorata di tuo figlio! Uh…Voglio sposarlo!"

Fiore bursts out laughing as Signor Rossi raises his eyebrows at Stella. Lorenzo runs a hand over his face and glares at Nonna.

Panic washes over me. "Oh God, what did I say?"

"You said I'm in love with your son and I want to marry him." Fiore laughs.

Heat flashes up my neck. Reaching for my wineglass, I gulp it, wishing I had ignored Nonna's invitation to lunch. Stella claps her hands and giggles. "Wonderful first-day lesson, Summer."

Yep, fucking wonderful, Stella.Nonna looks like the cat who ate the canary while she helps herself to a dish. Lorenzo glances over at me and raises an eyebrow, his expression saying, I tried to tell you, dumbass. He turns to his dad, thankfully spinning the conversation in a different direction, bringing up something about the upcoming harvest.

Fiore leans over to me. "Stop by the café kitchen tomorrow after work. Nonna and I are making sauce. You said you wanted to learn, sí? We can also practice your Italian." She winks.

I nod my head as I dig into her pasta. "Sì, per favore."

"Benissimo," Fiore says.