“Of course it is, cara. I remember you were with him that night. You told me.” Marco smiled softly. “I know it won’t be easy, so soon after losing him, but we can help each other. We both lost him, and we both loved him. That’s what I’ve been thinking, and it’s helping me. It gives me strength, and hope, and a future.”
Elisabetta felt her heart fill with happiness. “But would it bother you to raise Sandro’s baby?”
Marco squeezed her hand, meeting her gaze directly. “I want to raise Sandro’s baby. There’s nobody better than you and me to raise this baby.”
Elisabetta felt speechless. Marco had always been that way, surprising her, and now he seemed more mature, even insightful.
“Elisabetta, isn’t this what Sandro would have wanted? For you and me to get married, to love each other, and to raise his baby as our own?” Marco’s eyes filmed, his expression soft, but urgent. “I promise you, I will love his child as I loved Sandro. I love the baby in his honor.”
The emotion on Marco’s face was raw, and Elisabetta felt as if he were opening his heart and soul to her.
“And you know what else I think, Elisabetta? In every relationship, there’s one who waits. Once I told you that I would have waited forever for you, but I wouldn’t have, back then. I was impatient. Proud. Cocky.”
Elisabetta smiled, surprised that Marco could acknowledge as much.
“Well, I’m different now, and everything’s different now. I feel different, inside. It broke me, all of it. I lost my brother, my father, my best friend—hell, Elisabetta, I lost a war. I was wrong about Mussolini, and about so many things. It humbled me.” Marco rose, walked to her, and lowered himself to one knee. “Look. I wait now. I will wait for you, as long as it takes. I believe that someday, you’ll love me the way I love you. Not yet, maybe not when the baby’s born, but someday. And I can wait.”
Elisabetta felt a wave of love for him, and Marco held her gaze, put his hand into his pocket, and produced the diamond ring he had offered her before. The gem caught the light, aglow.
“Please keep my ring this time. Please be my wife. I love you with all my heart.” Marco met her eye. “Will you marry me?”
And Elisabetta answered, her heart soaring, “Yes.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE
Maria
January 1944
Maria thought the wedding meal looked perfect, rigatoni with pomodoro sauce, then grilled lamb with roasted potatoes and fresh carrots, with fresh parsley, basil, and tomatoes from Elisabetta’s garden. Only immediate family was present, and Maria had been pleased to host in the dining room at Bar GiroSport, which had been closed for the day, this time for a happy occasion.
Rosa wore a nice blue dress, sitting next to Emedio, who had performed the ceremony at the church, which had been beautiful. Emedio had blessed the meal and poured sparkling wine into the glasses, but no one was quite sure who was giving the toast, as Elisabetta had no parents and Beppe was gone.
“Excuse me.” Maria rose, smoothing down her fancy dress. “I thought I should say something. Someone should, on this day. I’m not one for toasts and speeches. I never made one in my life. But I think someone should speak, from my generation.” She paused, composing herself. “Beppe didn’t like speeches, either. I know what he would have said today, but I won’t say that. He would have kept it short. I can’t keep it short, but I can keep it simple. I’ll say what I think, and that’s all I can say.”
Everyone looked up at Maria, and their smiles were encouraging. She probably should have discussed this with them before, but she hadn’t known if she would have the courage when the day of the wedding came. As it turned out, she didn’t, but she stood up anyway.
“I look around the table on this happy occasion, the wedding of two wonderful young people, Marco and Elisabetta. They love each other. We’re so happy for them. We love Marco and we welcome Elisabetta to our family.”
Marco and Elisabetta smiled, perfect together. Marco was so handsome in his dark suit and tie. Elisabetta looked radiant in the wedding dress that Maria had given her, which she had worn when she married Beppe. Elisabetta had been proud to wear it, and Maria had been happy that her new daughter-in-law had felt that way. The past had been forgiven.
“The Mass was beautiful, Emedio. We are grateful for God’s blessing on this marriage. We are happy today.” Maria paused, mustering her confidence for what came next. “Yet, I look around the table and I see eyes with tears. Smiles that shake. Our hearts are broken, deep inside. We suffer. So many of the people we love are missing. Beppe. Aldo. Massimo. Gemma. Sandro. Nonna. Ludovico. Serafina. Friends and neighbors. People we loved very much. People we have lost. We are missing them. They are not here, but we are. We don’t have to pretend this occasion isn’t bittersweet.”