But instead of taking Jack’s hand, Lucia said, “You need to promise me you will always be a good husband to my little one. That you will never hurt her. And that you will love her even when she makes mistakes.”
Mary flushed as she translated her mother’s demands. All the while, Jack never took his eyes from Lucia, and his gaze remained as serious as hers.
“I love your daughter.” He spoke in English this time and paused so that Mary could translate. “I will always put her and our family first.” Again, he paused while she translated his sweet vow in a voice that grew thicker and thicker with emotion. “And I promise you, I will never, ever hurt her.”
Finally, Lucia smiled. But instead of taking his hand, she opened her arms and hugged him as if he were already her son-in-law.
That was when her mother began to cough, a deep rattling sound that jarred Mary’s heart just as badly. “Mama, you need to rest.”
“No, I need you here with me. I need you to stay.”
It was what her mother had said thirteen years ago, but instead of feeling trapped by the words this time, Mary felt only the sweet warmth of knowing she was loved.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Brushing the hair back from her mother’s forehead, just as her mother used to do when she was sick, Mary said, “Rest now, and when you wake up I’ll have made you pastina in brodo. We’ll eat together.”
“I don’t want soup. I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.” Her mother coughed again, this attack longer as she was obviously too exhausted to fight it. “I need to tell you everything I was too proud to say before.”
Both men had left the bedroom by then. “I love you, Mama," Mary said again. “I never stopped loving you, not for one single second. How could I?”
Mary pressed a kiss to her mother’s soft cheek. She could see the pill bottles by the side of the bed for antibiotics and cough suppressants, but while she prayed they would do the job of healing the infection inside her mother’s lungs, there was one thing she knew would likely be more powerful than any drug in inspiring her mother’s recovery.
“I need you to be healthy and happy at my wedding.”
“Your wedding!” Her mother smiled then and finally sank back into the pillow to let Mary tuck her in. Lucia’s voice was heavy with drowsiness as she said, “Yes, we’ll give you and your Jack a perfect wedding, on the day before Christmas Eve.” Mary could see the pride sparkle in her mother’s eyes as she declared, “You will be the most beautiful bride in the world.”
* * *
When Jack had seen that Mary and her mother were going to be just fine, he followed Mary’s father, Marco, out into the walled garden. Although it was barely noon, when her father handed him a glass of prosecco, Jack took it with a smile.
Her father lifted his glass. “A amore!”
Jack could easily translate—“To love”—and repeated the sentiment as he raised his glass.
It was amazing how much could be said with so few words. Jack could see, could feel, how much Mary’s father loved his daughter, and Marco could clearly see the same thing in Jack.
Mary found them sitting in a patch of winter sun, sharing a companionable drink. “Of course I should have known you’d fit right in,” she said to Jack as she walked outside and pressed a kiss first to his forehead and then to her father’s. “I’m going to walk into town to pick up a few things to make soup for Mama. I can see how much my father is enjoying having a man around the house. Stay with him, I’ll be back soon.”
Jack knew that she needed a little time alone to process everything. Not just making up with her mother and seeing her father again, but coming back to her childhood home. She’d made it over the first hurdle, but Jack knew she wasn’t done yet. Forgiveness had been freely given, thank God, but both Mary and her mother still needed to explain and understand each other’s behavior over the past thirteen years so that old wounds wouldn’t ever accidentally open up.
Taking a moment to think of everyone back in California, Jack realized that the Pocket Planner was now officially on sale. Finally, people would be using the invention that he and his partners had created. And he hoped it would be a gift found under many Christmas trees this year.
From a sunny walled winter garden in Italy, Jack Sullivan silently toasted the hope that sales were going well and that customers were pleased with the value of their new purchase. Then he turned back to Mary’s father to continue their extremely enjoyable conversation—one comprised of simple gestures and laughter.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mary wrapped her winter coat tightly around her as she set out on foot through town. Tomorrow, she’d show Jack all of her favorite childhood haunts, but right now she appreciated the fact that he’d understood she needed to see them again for herself first.
Young children playing by the fountain stopped their game to point at her. The girls chattered excitedly about her boots, her outfit and hairstyle. The boys wondered what the big deal was. When she smiled at the girls and waved at the boys, their cheeks colored and they quickly turned back to their game.
Already she longed for little boys with Jack’s smile and focus, and little girls with her passion and determination. Love had come quickly for her and Jack. She hoped a family would, too.
Mary put a hand over her flat stomach. She and Jack hadn’t yet said their “I do’s,” but Mary had never been one to wait when there was something she wanted.