Bonus Story!
While Angelo Waits is a companion story to Til You Come Back to Me Again. It is to be read
(or listened to) after Til You Come Back to Me Again.
In the final week of his life, Angelo De Luca, confined to his sickbed, loses himself in memories of another time and relieves precious days and moments of long ago–moments shared with the woman he had loved with all his heart and soul, and whose memory has comforted him through the many passing years. Her memory comforts him still, while he anxiously waits to be reunited with her.
The companion story is below.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The day Katia died is still fresh in my memory – the moment she took her final breath is a still photo that is forever before me, arresting my senses by day and haunting my nights when sleep will not come.
I was holding her in my arms by the lake as the cancer that had resided in her body undetected for so long finally won. She would have been twenty years old in another few months, and now her earthly life was over. I held her to me for what seemed like hours before I could pull myself together enough to take her back to the house and call the paramedics. But I felt her spirit lingering throughout that day and the next. After that, she would come and go, but she always came. How grateful I am to God for that tender mercy.
Years later, when the missionaries brought me the gospel of Jesus Christ, they told me that it had been Katia who sent them to me, that she led them to my door and told them I was a good and righteous man, and that I needed the life-saving doctrine they were sharing.
Even in death, my sweet Katia had been looking out for me. She was so concerned for my welfare and the welfare of our posterity, that the Lord had allowed her to help, assuring that we would be together forever. That promise is a most precious and priceless gift–a gift I have clung to all these years.
The sun is going down now, it’s final rays a parting gift of the day, and the sky will soon be darkening. I am ninety-two years old and the years have been good to me, but my breathing is shallower now than it once was. However, I still breathe. In and out. In and out–taking in purifying air and releasing the contaminated breath of old age. In this process of holding to an ever-growing fragile life, my mind drifts back over the happy days and moments with my tesora–bittersweet moments.
And I remember.
~ ~ ~
It was a week before our wedding. Everything was planned, all the details taken care of down to the smallest. Katia and I had Sylvia and Kate to thank for that. Without them, we would have been lost, especially with the emotional strain we were under. And it was important to me that everything be perfect for Katia. We had made all decisions together–well, basically. Anything Katia wanted, I agreed with because she had such amazing taste when it came to everything.
Since all was under control, the invitations delivered and guests attendance confirmed, I took Katia’s hand one morning and led her to my room.
Standing beside her just inside the doorway, I let my eyes scan the spacious room. After Suzanne died, I had the room re-carpeted, had gotten rid of all the old bedding she’d purchased because it depressed me, and had replaced it with something a little more masculine. Though there wasn’t much of Suzanne left in the room, there was still something about it–even after all this time–that brought her to mind. I did not care about it before, but I did now.
Drawing Katia close, I slipped my arms around her, pressing my cheek against her hair, warmed by the feel of her arms wrapped around my waist. She was still so petite and small, feeling so fragile in my embrace.
“This will be our room now,” I said, “and I want it to feel like our room. I want you to get whatever you would like to make it feel that way. We can go shopping and do some redecorating. What do you think?”
Katia looked up at me, her eyes soft, her expression bittersweet, as if she could see into my heart. And indeed, she could. She cupped a hand to my cheek.
“Angelo, Suzanne will always be a part of our lives. If you had never met her, had never married her, we would never be as we are now.”
“How can you know that?” My question was laced with pain, asked in anguish, but not anguish for the loss of Suzanne. I had to believe that God would have brought Katia into my life another way, because she was always meant to be mine, despite the years spanning between us.
She caressed my face. “Amore, this is the way it was meant to be.” She drew my head down and I rested my brow against hers, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears pressing. “God is in control,” she murmured.
“I know,” I sighed softly, tightening my embrace and burying my face in the curve of her neck to hide my tears. I needed to help her understand about the room, but I didn’t know how. I wanted nothing about it to bear Suzanne’s presence, only Katia’s, because it would stay that way, until my dying breath, no matter how many years stretched out before me.
I finally looked at her again, and I knew this time she saw through the pain in my eyes, and understood. “Please,” I said softly.
Tears filling her eyes, she wordlessly nodded, then wrapped her arms around my waist again and kissed me. Her love and longing reached deep inside me, and like a healing balm of comfort, drove all other thoughts from my mind.
~ ~ ~
We went shopping at the Florida Mall, where we purchased several bedding sets and some coordinating décor. Like me, Katia’s tastes were an eclectic mix of Italian and Victorian, and with her artistic eye and flair, the things we picked out worked well together. The look would say us, which is what I wanted–what I would need.
After taking our purchases out to the car, we walked hand-in-hand back inside to another store and picked out a few new outfits for our honeymoon. Then I treated Katia to lunch in the food court.
“So,” Katia said, swallowing a bite of her chicken salad sandwich, “are you ever going to tell me where we are going for our honeymoon?”
I grinned, shaking my head. “Not until the night before the wedding.”
“Oh, come on, Angelo,” she whined softly. “You’re making me crazy. How am I supposed to know what to pack?”
I took her hand across the table, squeezing it gently. “What you bought today is perfect. Just pack more of it.”
“But what if the place calls for something really special? I want to make sure I have the perfect outfit.” She gave me one of her heart-melting smiles and I felt myself weakening. “Please, Angelo.”
Rubbing a hand over my face, I heaved a sigh of submission, secretly excited to tell her. “Fine, Katoosha, you win.” I chuckled at the look of anticipation in her eager expression. “Well, because of a cancellation, I was able to get us a suite at the Grand Hotel.”
Her eyes widened and she whispered, “The Grand Hotel?” As in the Somewhere in Time-Mackinac Island-Grand Hotel?”
“That’s the one. But if you would rather go somewhere else, I could–”
In an instant, Katia was out of her chair and sitting on my lap with her arms around my neck.
“I can’t believe it!” she squealed. She drew back slightly and looked into my eyes. “We’re really going to Mackinac for our honeymoon?”
“We really are.”
Keeping her gaze locked on mine, tears filled her beautiful gray eyes. “Thank you.”
Brushing away a tear rolling down her cheek, I caressed her face. “I would do anything for you, tesora. Anything.”
~ ~ ~
Drawing my thoughts to the present, my gaze slowly travels around the dimming bedroom. We did redecorate that day. From the bedding, to the artwork on the walls (Katia chose to use some of the original art that was there before Suzanne) to the décor on the re-finished bistro table and fireplace mantle. The room now spoke of Katia and I and our love, and in all this time, I have never changed it. Instead, I had purchased several sets of duplicate bedding and simply added to the room, for framed pictures of us are everywhere, and I am literally wrapped in a cocoon of the love we shared. It is that love that has helped me to survive for as long as I have.
Closing my eyes, again, my mind drifts back.
~ ~ ~
It was the evening before our wedding day and we sat on a blanket by the lake. The skies were clear and we quietly watched the stars slowly appear. The distant glow of the lamppost on the path leading to the back yard glowed as night descended. Katia was on my lap, her back against my chest, snuggled deeply in my embrace.
These were my favorite times, just sitting and holding her close. I found myself counting and cataloging these times more with each day that passed.
At that moment, my heart was so full, and there was so much that I was feeling, a menagerie of emotions drove my every thought. The day before Katia came home from Nags Head, I had been pondering my marriage to Suzanne and what a mistake it had been. But that mistake had led me to Katia. For that reason alone, the heartache had been worth it. It was those thoughts that had now moved to the forefront of my mind and heart.
Finally, I said, “I need to tell you something, Katia.”
“Okay,” she said, drawing back, looking into my eyes. We could just make out each other’s features in the distant lamplight.
“When I married Suzanne, I did love her, and I was sure we were meant to be together. But soon after we were married, the real Suzanne showed her true colors and I knew I’d made a mistake. I was determined to keep trying and had hoped she would change. I thought that when we got you, it would prompt her to change.” I paused, swallowing hard, and gazed out over the lake a moment. “I finally realized that she had to want to change, and she didn't want it enough. But going through all of it led me to you.”
When my eyes met hers again, she caressed my face and I kissed her palm, holding it against my cheek. She let her thumb brush the evening stubble that had grown there.
“I may have loved Suzanne, but when I compare it to what I feel for you, there is no comparison, because loving you makes me feel alive, tesora. You make me truly feel alive in so many ways. I ache to have you as my wife and share that love in every way.”
When I had finished, there were tears in her eyes. Saying nothing. she pressed her warm mouth to mine and let her kiss speak for her.
~ ~ ~
How I loved kissing you, my angel, my heart cries as I clutch the blanket to my chest with frail hands devoid of any real strength, tears trailing back against my pillow. Even now, over fifty years later, I miss Katia’s kisses, her hugs, and the feel of her in my arms. But for now, memories are all I have.
~ ~ ~
On our wedding night after we’d made love again, Katia asked me, “Do you think it’s possible that we knew each other in another time, maybe another life?”
I hesitated before answering, becoming thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know, angel. I don’t know if we even experienced any kind of life before this one. I would like to think we did, that there is more to our existence than now and what will be.” Kissing her brow, I tightened my arms around her, pulling her further into myself in another moment of silent contemplation. “If we did live before this life, I have to believe that we were connected, and that the connection had been strong and deep. I have to believe you were meant to be mine, and that I needed the time and years spanning between us to try to make myself worthy of you–of having you as my wife.”
Katia sighed, pressing a hand against my chest over my heart, feeling the steady beat. She’d told me earlier how comforting it felt. “I believe the Lord God put us on this earth to love Him above all things–to love each other, to learn, and to be happy.” She touched my face in the dark, her voice growing softer as sleepiness slowly descended upon her. “And He knew we could only be happy with each other . . . that together, we would be complete . . . and our marriage . . . would glorify Him.”
“And it will,” I whispered against her brow as she drifted off. “It will.”
I held her to me, silently thanking God for her life, and thanking Him for bringing her into my life. Somewhere inside me, I knew I would not have her much longer, and our time together would be much shorter than either of us knew.
~ ~ ~
My thoughts then drifted to a conversation Katia and I shared as we sat beneath the gazebo where Richard Collier and Elise McKenna sat during the first day the two spent together in the movie Somewhere in Time. The movie would forever be Katia’s favorite, which was why I had been so set on bring her to Mackinac for our honeymoon.
Katia was wearing a lavender sundress that day with a white sweater. Her hair was down, the spiraled curls shimmering in the sun, and her smooth, olive skin was dewy and glowing with youthful beauty. She was stunning, her rare and natural beauty indescribable.
We knew we couldn’t linger because other tourists would soon come and want to enjoy the gazebo as well, so we made the most of these moments.
“I want to tell you something, Angelo,” Katia said, taking my hand between hers. “It is something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I guess I was just waiting for the perfect moment.” Her gaze moved over the gazebo and its surroundings. “This is the perfect moment.”
“All right,” I said, intrigued as a slight smile curved her lips.
“The morning of my eighteenth birthday, I had a dream of this very moment.”
“What do you mean?”
Her smile widened and she squeezed my hand. “I dreamed that you and I were sitting under this very gazebo. You held my hand in yours, then you looked into my eyes and told me you loved me.”
My mouth dropped open in astonishment. Her sudden dreamy sigh quickly melted my insides as she continued.
“Then you kissed me in the dream and I knew nothing would be the same. I woke up in tears because I wanted so much for it to be real. It was agony being with you that day when we spent it together celebrating my birthday, yet there was nowhere else I wanted to be, and no one else I wanted to be with. My love for you may have begun long before that, but on that day, everything I was and am belonged to you completely. And no matter how many dates I went on–which wasn’t many – my heart was yours. No one else would ever claim it. It just wasn’t possible.”
“Oh, my Katia,” I whispered emotionally, drawing her into my arms and burying my face in her hair, hiding my tears. “Oh, tesora mia, how I love you!”
Drawing back, she looked into my eyes, her gaze imploring. “I love you too . . . and I need you, Angelo.”
“But I . . . I worry. You weren’t feeling well this morning and–”
“It’s okay. I’m all right at the moment.” Her voice deepened. “I need you.”
Kissing her lips, I whispered, “And I am in need of you, dolcezza.”
~ ~ ~
I had savored every moment of our honeymoon, and every moment afterward. Any and everything Katia asked of me, I willingly gave, because nothing she ever asked was in selfishness. She was always thinking of me, and of others. She had been that way all her life.
Like the trip we took back to Italy the day after her eighteenth birthday. This time we rented a car and toured the Tuscan region. We stayed in the little spa town of Montecatini. We spent our days avoiding the toll roads and opting to take the longer drives through the countryside as we made our way to see the sights in Florence, Lucca, and Pisa. In the evenings we would walk down to the shopping areas of town where we would buy souvenirs, have a leisurely dinner, top it off with a cup of gelato–Katia’s favorite–then stroll back to the hotel, taking in some live music along the way. A couple of days were spent at Tettuccio Terme, the most famous of the spas in town, where we took advantage of the healing pool and sipped a mug of the ‘miracle water’ afterward. The spring water is hailed as a helpful cure for stomach and kidney problems, as well as other ailments. Katia figured that when in Montecatini . . .
We also took the funicular railway train up the mountain to Montecatini Alto, the upper, even older section of the town, which was ancient Italy at it’s best. We toured the churches and other sites and had lunch at courtyard restaurants where we enjoyed perfect views in every direction.
This Italy trip was much different than our first one. It wasn’t the fact that it was a different part of Italy or even that Katia was older. It was the wisdom she had gained in her young years, wisdom that only enhanced and increased her already-ingrained goodness, illuminating her beautiful soul to the point that all anyone had to do was just look at her, just be a recipient of her smile, and they were changed.
Just as I was changing, and my heart. But my mind and senses would never accept or admit it. It could never be.
That had been my thinking then. Oh, the blind arrogance!
The trip had been about celebrating Katia, about bringing her happiness. Instead, her thoughts were always focused outward: “What would you like to do today, Angelo? -Where would you like to eat? - We drove so far today. You sure you don’t need to rest a little before going back out? - You don’t need to buy me anything, Angelo. - This purse is too much, let’s find a less-expensive one. - But you haven’t bought anything for yourself. - I saw this tie and wanted to get it for you. - I knew this silk shirt would look amazing on you, so I had to buy it. - I’ll take some pain medication and my headache will be gone in a bit. I don’t want us to miss the show, I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it. - Thank you for today. - Thank you for today. - Thank you for today. - Thank you for this amazing birthday trip.”
With Katia, nothing was ever about her.
~ ~ ~
Even her dying breath had been filled with concern and love for me. She had not wanted me to be alone, and I believe with all my heart that it was Katia who had guided me to our Nick.
Abandoned and left on the side of the road, I found the two-year-old little boy while driving through a part of Orlando that I hadn’t ventured to in years, and it was only because I missed a turn to get on the freeway that I wound up there.
The toddler was curled up on his side at the edge of a field. He was dirty and rain-soaked, his face and body bruised, shivering and scared. I had immediately dialed 911 and told the operator what I found. While I waited for help, I quickly grabbed a blanket from the trunk of the car and gently scooped him up, wrapping him snugly and held him until the paramedics arrived, accompanied by the police. After answering some preliminary questions, I followed the ambulance in my car to the hospital where the staff promptly took care of little Nicholas (This is what I would soon call him,) while I answered more questions.
As soon as they told me what would happen to the little boy should no family of any kind be found, I knew I wanted him. For some unexplainable reason, I knew he was meant to be my son, mine and Katia’s.
Two nights later, I dreamed of Katia. In the dream, she told me Nick would be ours to love, and she urged me to have patience. So, I did.
When the adoption finally went through, I cried. Nick immediately felt safe with me. I think he did from the moment I picked him up. Years later, he told me that an angel was there with him in that ditch. He said that as young as he was, he clearly remembered her telling him everything would be okay, that a man would be coming to save him. Nick also told me that when I had first shown him Katia’s picture, he already knew her, and that she had been the angel, but he had been unable to talk to tell me. Sadly, the trauma and abuse he’d suffered silenced his developing speech. He didn’t even begin to speak until six months after I became his father. And because I’d told him repeatedly that Katia was his mother who lived in heaven, his first word was, “Mama,” his second, “Papa.”
~ ~ ~
The door opens and light from the hallway spills into the room. Nick enters carrying a small glass with a straw. He sets it on the bedside table and turns on the lamp. On my table, as well as every other flat surface in the room, sit photos of Katia and I. Some are of us together, but many are of her alone. I loved taking pictures of Katia, and on our honeymoon, I took dozens. Now they surrounded me, bringing me comfort. And tucked among the pictures of us are pictures of our posterity. Nick and his wife, Jen, are the parents of five handsome sons and the grandparents of nine–four boys and five girls, all of whom are beautiful.
“Hi, Papa,” Nick says softly, sitting on the bed and touching my face. “How are you doing? You think you can drink a little?”
As he raises me slightly with extra pillows and guides the straw to my mouth, I take in his lightly-graying, wavy hair, his hazel eyes, and the deep dimples that grace his handsome face. He is my rock, our Nicholas, and his family has been my joy. My grandchildren and great-grandchildren have rounded out my life with so much love and laughter. Each and every family member loves the Lord, and I can’t ask for more than that.
After taking a few sips of the nutritional shake (it is now all I am able to eat,) Nick helps to take care of my personal needs before getting me settled back in bed for the night.
He gives me one more dose of the prescribed cough and congestion medicine for the night and ask, “Can I get you anything, Papa?”
I shake my head slightly, so grateful for him. “I love you, Son,” I say, my voice hoarse and raw.
Nick smiles, his tear-filled eyes creasing at the corners. Leaning over, he kisses my cheek and whispers, “I love you too, Papa.”
As Nick gets up to leave, he turns back and looks down at me once more, hesitating a moment before moving to the door and slowly closing it. As if he knows . . .
“I’ll miss you, Son,” I whisper into the darkness. “But I’m tired. And I miss my tesora.” I release a shallow breath. “Lord, I’m tired.”
“It won’t be long now, my love,” comes my sweet Katia’s voice.
Then I feel the warmth of her spirit near, and inwardly, my younger self–the me that is trapped inside this old body–sings praises to my Lord for hearing this old man’s plea. The desire of my heart is just beyond the veil that is growing thinner by the hour.
Suddenly, a collage of memories begins to sweep through my mind, and every prominent memory comes forth in order. Scenes of my life stretch before me, playing on the movie screen that is my mind. Everything that has shaped my life and brought me to this moment–I see it all:
I see the villa I grew up in, the family outings with Mama and Papa in Rome.
The blinding light from the truck that crashed into our car.
Waking up in the hospital and being told by Papa that Mama was gone.
Standing by Mama’s casket at the cemetery, watching Papa take a carnation from the casket spray and tuck it into the lapel of his gray jacket.
Papa and I packing up our personal things and leaving Italy.
Papa’s decision to settle in Orlando, and his opening La Villa De Luca.
Working for Papa and receiving training from him through my high school years.
Papa raising and teaching me in love, and with God’s guidance, helping me overcome my mistakes.
The good friends I gained because of striving to keep the standards Papa taught me.
Papa turning his business and fortune over to me as he revealed his sickness.
Losing Papa to cancer and the pain that came with his loss, as well as the healing.
Meeting Suzanne in the elevator.
Falling blindly in love and marrying her.
Lila’s death, then becoming parental guardians to six-year-old Katia.
Suzanne’s addiction, betrayal, and death.
Raising Katia alone, and loving her as if she were my own flesh and blood.
Watching her grow into a beautiful young woman–and getting a full view of the pain she carried inside as a result of her changing and growing feelings for me.
My changing feelings for her as she became an adult.
The final realization of how much I loved her.
The pain and discovery of her cancer, and the agony of accepting that our earthy life together would be short.
Our wedding day.
Our wedding night.
Our honeymoon.
Katia’s last good day.
Katia dying in my arms by the lake.
Her funeral and struggling to adjust to life without her.
Finding and adopting Nick, teaching him of Katia, and watching with joy the growth of our posterity.
Turning the hotel over to the family, and spending time each day by the lake, talking to God, Papa, and my sweet tesora.
And finally, being blessed with the true gospel of Christ and slowly becoming one with Him, which has brought about holy and sacred experiences that I have never uttered to another soul.
Mine has been a blessed life. The best.
~ ~ ~
Two days later, surrounded by his family, Angelo slipped away peacefully. The bout of pneumonia had been short but draining. As healthy as he had always been, the fatality of the sickness had taken the family by surprise.
But Nick had known the truth. His father had been tired, and anxious to be with his sweet wife again after being separated from her for so many years. And though Nick mourned his father’s loss with a painful intensity, he was also happy for him. Nick knew his father was home, and finally complete again.
~ ~ ~
Now, Angelo’s younger self was standing before his sweet Katia, and boundless happiness overwhelmed him. She was wearing a white Victorian gown and her hands were stretched out to him, her mouth curved in the adorable smile he loved so much, her eyes shining with love. He cried tears of joy as her arms went around his waist and he clutched her to him, burying his face in her thick, curly tresses, breathing in her fragrance. Then he kissed her, whispering against her lips, “Ti amo, tesora. Now I can breathe again.”
“Ti amo, mi amor,” she whispered back. “Welcome home. I have been waiting for you.”
The End
While Angelo Waits is a companion story to Til You Come Back to Me Again. It is to be read
(or listened to) after Til You Come Back to Me Again.
In the final week of his life, Angelo De Luca, confined to his sickbed, loses himself in memories of another time and relieves precious days and moments of long ago–moments shared with the woman he had loved with all his heart and soul, and whose memory has comforted him through the many passing years. Her memory comforts him still, while he anxiously waits to be reunited with her.
The companion story is below.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The day Katia died is still fresh in my memory – the moment she took her final breath is a still photo that is forever before me, arresting my senses by day and haunting my nights when sleep will not come.
I was holding her in my arms by the lake as the cancer that had resided in her body undetected for so long finally won. She would have been twenty years old in another few months, and now her earthly life was over. I held her to me for what seemed like hours before I could pull myself together enough to take her back to the house and call the paramedics. But I felt her spirit lingering throughout that day and the next. After that, she would come and go, but she always came. How grateful I am to God for that tender mercy.
Years later, when the missionaries brought me the gospel of Jesus Christ, they told me that it had been Katia who sent them to me, that she led them to my door and told them I was a good and righteous man, and that I needed the life-saving doctrine they were sharing.
Even in death, my sweet Katia had been looking out for me. She was so concerned for my welfare and the welfare of our posterity, that the Lord had allowed her to help, assuring that we would be together forever. That promise is a most precious and priceless gift–a gift I have clung to all these years.
The sun is going down now, it’s final rays a parting gift of the day, and the sky will soon be darkening. I am ninety-two years old and the years have been good to me, but my breathing is shallower now than it once was. However, I still breathe. In and out. In and out–taking in purifying air and releasing the contaminated breath of old age. In this process of holding to an ever-growing fragile life, my mind drifts back over the happy days and moments with my tesora–bittersweet moments.
And I remember.
~ ~ ~
It was a week before our wedding. Everything was planned, all the details taken care of down to the smallest. Katia and I had Sylvia and Kate to thank for that. Without them, we would have been lost, especially with the emotional strain we were under. And it was important to me that everything be perfect for Katia. We had made all decisions together–well, basically. Anything Katia wanted, I agreed with because she had such amazing taste when it came to everything.
Since all was under control, the invitations delivered and guests attendance confirmed, I took Katia’s hand one morning and led her to my room.
Standing beside her just inside the doorway, I let my eyes scan the spacious room. After Suzanne died, I had the room re-carpeted, had gotten rid of all the old bedding she’d purchased because it depressed me, and had replaced it with something a little more masculine. Though there wasn’t much of Suzanne left in the room, there was still something about it–even after all this time–that brought her to mind. I did not care about it before, but I did now.
Drawing Katia close, I slipped my arms around her, pressing my cheek against her hair, warmed by the feel of her arms wrapped around my waist. She was still so petite and small, feeling so fragile in my embrace.
“This will be our room now,” I said, “and I want it to feel like our room. I want you to get whatever you would like to make it feel that way. We can go shopping and do some redecorating. What do you think?”
Katia looked up at me, her eyes soft, her expression bittersweet, as if she could see into my heart. And indeed, she could. She cupped a hand to my cheek.
“Angelo, Suzanne will always be a part of our lives. If you had never met her, had never married her, we would never be as we are now.”
“How can you know that?” My question was laced with pain, asked in anguish, but not anguish for the loss of Suzanne. I had to believe that God would have brought Katia into my life another way, because she was always meant to be mine, despite the years spanning between us.
She caressed my face. “Amore, this is the way it was meant to be.” She drew my head down and I rested my brow against hers, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears pressing. “God is in control,” she murmured.
“I know,” I sighed softly, tightening my embrace and burying my face in the curve of her neck to hide my tears. I needed to help her understand about the room, but I didn’t know how. I wanted nothing about it to bear Suzanne’s presence, only Katia’s, because it would stay that way, until my dying breath, no matter how many years stretched out before me.
I finally looked at her again, and I knew this time she saw through the pain in my eyes, and understood. “Please,” I said softly.
Tears filling her eyes, she wordlessly nodded, then wrapped her arms around my waist again and kissed me. Her love and longing reached deep inside me, and like a healing balm of comfort, drove all other thoughts from my mind.
~ ~ ~
We went shopping at the Florida Mall, where we purchased several bedding sets and some coordinating décor. Like me, Katia’s tastes were an eclectic mix of Italian and Victorian, and with her artistic eye and flair, the things we picked out worked well together. The look would say us, which is what I wanted–what I would need.
After taking our purchases out to the car, we walked hand-in-hand back inside to another store and picked out a few new outfits for our honeymoon. Then I treated Katia to lunch in the food court.
“So,” Katia said, swallowing a bite of her chicken salad sandwich, “are you ever going to tell me where we are going for our honeymoon?”
I grinned, shaking my head. “Not until the night before the wedding.”
“Oh, come on, Angelo,” she whined softly. “You’re making me crazy. How am I supposed to know what to pack?”
I took her hand across the table, squeezing it gently. “What you bought today is perfect. Just pack more of it.”
“But what if the place calls for something really special? I want to make sure I have the perfect outfit.” She gave me one of her heart-melting smiles and I felt myself weakening. “Please, Angelo.”
Rubbing a hand over my face, I heaved a sigh of submission, secretly excited to tell her. “Fine, Katoosha, you win.” I chuckled at the look of anticipation in her eager expression. “Well, because of a cancellation, I was able to get us a suite at the Grand Hotel.”
Her eyes widened and she whispered, “The Grand Hotel?” As in the Somewhere in Time-Mackinac Island-Grand Hotel?”
“That’s the one. But if you would rather go somewhere else, I could–”
In an instant, Katia was out of her chair and sitting on my lap with her arms around my neck.
“I can’t believe it!” she squealed. She drew back slightly and looked into my eyes. “We’re really going to Mackinac for our honeymoon?”
“We really are.”
Keeping her gaze locked on mine, tears filled her beautiful gray eyes. “Thank you.”
Brushing away a tear rolling down her cheek, I caressed her face. “I would do anything for you, tesora. Anything.”
~ ~ ~
Drawing my thoughts to the present, my gaze slowly travels around the dimming bedroom. We did redecorate that day. From the bedding, to the artwork on the walls (Katia chose to use some of the original art that was there before Suzanne) to the décor on the re-finished bistro table and fireplace mantle. The room now spoke of Katia and I and our love, and in all this time, I have never changed it. Instead, I had purchased several sets of duplicate bedding and simply added to the room, for framed pictures of us are everywhere, and I am literally wrapped in a cocoon of the love we shared. It is that love that has helped me to survive for as long as I have.
Closing my eyes, again, my mind drifts back.
~ ~ ~
It was the evening before our wedding day and we sat on a blanket by the lake. The skies were clear and we quietly watched the stars slowly appear. The distant glow of the lamppost on the path leading to the back yard glowed as night descended. Katia was on my lap, her back against my chest, snuggled deeply in my embrace.
These were my favorite times, just sitting and holding her close. I found myself counting and cataloging these times more with each day that passed.
At that moment, my heart was so full, and there was so much that I was feeling, a menagerie of emotions drove my every thought. The day before Katia came home from Nags Head, I had been pondering my marriage to Suzanne and what a mistake it had been. But that mistake had led me to Katia. For that reason alone, the heartache had been worth it. It was those thoughts that had now moved to the forefront of my mind and heart.
Finally, I said, “I need to tell you something, Katia.”
“Okay,” she said, drawing back, looking into my eyes. We could just make out each other’s features in the distant lamplight.
“When I married Suzanne, I did love her, and I was sure we were meant to be together. But soon after we were married, the real Suzanne showed her true colors and I knew I’d made a mistake. I was determined to keep trying and had hoped she would change. I thought that when we got you, it would prompt her to change.” I paused, swallowing hard, and gazed out over the lake a moment. “I finally realized that she had to want to change, and she didn't want it enough. But going through all of it led me to you.”
When my eyes met hers again, she caressed my face and I kissed her palm, holding it against my cheek. She let her thumb brush the evening stubble that had grown there.
“I may have loved Suzanne, but when I compare it to what I feel for you, there is no comparison, because loving you makes me feel alive, tesora. You make me truly feel alive in so many ways. I ache to have you as my wife and share that love in every way.”
When I had finished, there were tears in her eyes. Saying nothing. she pressed her warm mouth to mine and let her kiss speak for her.
~ ~ ~
How I loved kissing you, my angel, my heart cries as I clutch the blanket to my chest with frail hands devoid of any real strength, tears trailing back against my pillow. Even now, over fifty years later, I miss Katia’s kisses, her hugs, and the feel of her in my arms. But for now, memories are all I have.
~ ~ ~
On our wedding night after we’d made love again, Katia asked me, “Do you think it’s possible that we knew each other in another time, maybe another life?”
I hesitated before answering, becoming thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know, angel. I don’t know if we even experienced any kind of life before this one. I would like to think we did, that there is more to our existence than now and what will be.” Kissing her brow, I tightened my arms around her, pulling her further into myself in another moment of silent contemplation. “If we did live before this life, I have to believe that we were connected, and that the connection had been strong and deep. I have to believe you were meant to be mine, and that I needed the time and years spanning between us to try to make myself worthy of you–of having you as my wife.”
Katia sighed, pressing a hand against my chest over my heart, feeling the steady beat. She’d told me earlier how comforting it felt. “I believe the Lord God put us on this earth to love Him above all things–to love each other, to learn, and to be happy.” She touched my face in the dark, her voice growing softer as sleepiness slowly descended upon her. “And He knew we could only be happy with each other . . . that together, we would be complete . . . and our marriage . . . would glorify Him.”
“And it will,” I whispered against her brow as she drifted off. “It will.”
I held her to me, silently thanking God for her life, and thanking Him for bringing her into my life. Somewhere inside me, I knew I would not have her much longer, and our time together would be much shorter than either of us knew.
~ ~ ~
My thoughts then drifted to a conversation Katia and I shared as we sat beneath the gazebo where Richard Collier and Elise McKenna sat during the first day the two spent together in the movie Somewhere in Time. The movie would forever be Katia’s favorite, which was why I had been so set on bring her to Mackinac for our honeymoon.
Katia was wearing a lavender sundress that day with a white sweater. Her hair was down, the spiraled curls shimmering in the sun, and her smooth, olive skin was dewy and glowing with youthful beauty. She was stunning, her rare and natural beauty indescribable.
We knew we couldn’t linger because other tourists would soon come and want to enjoy the gazebo as well, so we made the most of these moments.
“I want to tell you something, Angelo,” Katia said, taking my hand between hers. “It is something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I guess I was just waiting for the perfect moment.” Her gaze moved over the gazebo and its surroundings. “This is the perfect moment.”
“All right,” I said, intrigued as a slight smile curved her lips.
“The morning of my eighteenth birthday, I had a dream of this very moment.”
“What do you mean?”
Her smile widened and she squeezed my hand. “I dreamed that you and I were sitting under this very gazebo. You held my hand in yours, then you looked into my eyes and told me you loved me.”
My mouth dropped open in astonishment. Her sudden dreamy sigh quickly melted my insides as she continued.
“Then you kissed me in the dream and I knew nothing would be the same. I woke up in tears because I wanted so much for it to be real. It was agony being with you that day when we spent it together celebrating my birthday, yet there was nowhere else I wanted to be, and no one else I wanted to be with. My love for you may have begun long before that, but on that day, everything I was and am belonged to you completely. And no matter how many dates I went on–which wasn’t many – my heart was yours. No one else would ever claim it. It just wasn’t possible.”
“Oh, my Katia,” I whispered emotionally, drawing her into my arms and burying my face in her hair, hiding my tears. “Oh, tesora mia, how I love you!”
Drawing back, she looked into my eyes, her gaze imploring. “I love you too . . . and I need you, Angelo.”
“But I . . . I worry. You weren’t feeling well this morning and–”
“It’s okay. I’m all right at the moment.” Her voice deepened. “I need you.”
Kissing her lips, I whispered, “And I am in need of you, dolcezza.”
~ ~ ~
I had savored every moment of our honeymoon, and every moment afterward. Any and everything Katia asked of me, I willingly gave, because nothing she ever asked was in selfishness. She was always thinking of me, and of others. She had been that way all her life.
Like the trip we took back to Italy the day after her eighteenth birthday. This time we rented a car and toured the Tuscan region. We stayed in the little spa town of Montecatini. We spent our days avoiding the toll roads and opting to take the longer drives through the countryside as we made our way to see the sights in Florence, Lucca, and Pisa. In the evenings we would walk down to the shopping areas of town where we would buy souvenirs, have a leisurely dinner, top it off with a cup of gelato–Katia’s favorite–then stroll back to the hotel, taking in some live music along the way. A couple of days were spent at Tettuccio Terme, the most famous of the spas in town, where we took advantage of the healing pool and sipped a mug of the ‘miracle water’ afterward. The spring water is hailed as a helpful cure for stomach and kidney problems, as well as other ailments. Katia figured that when in Montecatini . . .
We also took the funicular railway train up the mountain to Montecatini Alto, the upper, even older section of the town, which was ancient Italy at it’s best. We toured the churches and other sites and had lunch at courtyard restaurants where we enjoyed perfect views in every direction.
This Italy trip was much different than our first one. It wasn’t the fact that it was a different part of Italy or even that Katia was older. It was the wisdom she had gained in her young years, wisdom that only enhanced and increased her already-ingrained goodness, illuminating her beautiful soul to the point that all anyone had to do was just look at her, just be a recipient of her smile, and they were changed.
Just as I was changing, and my heart. But my mind and senses would never accept or admit it. It could never be.
That had been my thinking then. Oh, the blind arrogance!
The trip had been about celebrating Katia, about bringing her happiness. Instead, her thoughts were always focused outward: “What would you like to do today, Angelo? -Where would you like to eat? - We drove so far today. You sure you don’t need to rest a little before going back out? - You don’t need to buy me anything, Angelo. - This purse is too much, let’s find a less-expensive one. - But you haven’t bought anything for yourself. - I saw this tie and wanted to get it for you. - I knew this silk shirt would look amazing on you, so I had to buy it. - I’ll take some pain medication and my headache will be gone in a bit. I don’t want us to miss the show, I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it. - Thank you for today. - Thank you for today. - Thank you for today. - Thank you for this amazing birthday trip.”
With Katia, nothing was ever about her.
~ ~ ~
Even her dying breath had been filled with concern and love for me. She had not wanted me to be alone, and I believe with all my heart that it was Katia who had guided me to our Nick.
Abandoned and left on the side of the road, I found the two-year-old little boy while driving through a part of Orlando that I hadn’t ventured to in years, and it was only because I missed a turn to get on the freeway that I wound up there.
The toddler was curled up on his side at the edge of a field. He was dirty and rain-soaked, his face and body bruised, shivering and scared. I had immediately dialed 911 and told the operator what I found. While I waited for help, I quickly grabbed a blanket from the trunk of the car and gently scooped him up, wrapping him snugly and held him until the paramedics arrived, accompanied by the police. After answering some preliminary questions, I followed the ambulance in my car to the hospital where the staff promptly took care of little Nicholas (This is what I would soon call him,) while I answered more questions.
As soon as they told me what would happen to the little boy should no family of any kind be found, I knew I wanted him. For some unexplainable reason, I knew he was meant to be my son, mine and Katia’s.
Two nights later, I dreamed of Katia. In the dream, she told me Nick would be ours to love, and she urged me to have patience. So, I did.
When the adoption finally went through, I cried. Nick immediately felt safe with me. I think he did from the moment I picked him up. Years later, he told me that an angel was there with him in that ditch. He said that as young as he was, he clearly remembered her telling him everything would be okay, that a man would be coming to save him. Nick also told me that when I had first shown him Katia’s picture, he already knew her, and that she had been the angel, but he had been unable to talk to tell me. Sadly, the trauma and abuse he’d suffered silenced his developing speech. He didn’t even begin to speak until six months after I became his father. And because I’d told him repeatedly that Katia was his mother who lived in heaven, his first word was, “Mama,” his second, “Papa.”
~ ~ ~
The door opens and light from the hallway spills into the room. Nick enters carrying a small glass with a straw. He sets it on the bedside table and turns on the lamp. On my table, as well as every other flat surface in the room, sit photos of Katia and I. Some are of us together, but many are of her alone. I loved taking pictures of Katia, and on our honeymoon, I took dozens. Now they surrounded me, bringing me comfort. And tucked among the pictures of us are pictures of our posterity. Nick and his wife, Jen, are the parents of five handsome sons and the grandparents of nine–four boys and five girls, all of whom are beautiful.
“Hi, Papa,” Nick says softly, sitting on the bed and touching my face. “How are you doing? You think you can drink a little?”
As he raises me slightly with extra pillows and guides the straw to my mouth, I take in his lightly-graying, wavy hair, his hazel eyes, and the deep dimples that grace his handsome face. He is my rock, our Nicholas, and his family has been my joy. My grandchildren and great-grandchildren have rounded out my life with so much love and laughter. Each and every family member loves the Lord, and I can’t ask for more than that.
After taking a few sips of the nutritional shake (it is now all I am able to eat,) Nick helps to take care of my personal needs before getting me settled back in bed for the night.
He gives me one more dose of the prescribed cough and congestion medicine for the night and ask, “Can I get you anything, Papa?”
I shake my head slightly, so grateful for him. “I love you, Son,” I say, my voice hoarse and raw.
Nick smiles, his tear-filled eyes creasing at the corners. Leaning over, he kisses my cheek and whispers, “I love you too, Papa.”
As Nick gets up to leave, he turns back and looks down at me once more, hesitating a moment before moving to the door and slowly closing it. As if he knows . . .
“I’ll miss you, Son,” I whisper into the darkness. “But I’m tired. And I miss my tesora.” I release a shallow breath. “Lord, I’m tired.”
“It won’t be long now, my love,” comes my sweet Katia’s voice.
Then I feel the warmth of her spirit near, and inwardly, my younger self–the me that is trapped inside this old body–sings praises to my Lord for hearing this old man’s plea. The desire of my heart is just beyond the veil that is growing thinner by the hour.
Suddenly, a collage of memories begins to sweep through my mind, and every prominent memory comes forth in order. Scenes of my life stretch before me, playing on the movie screen that is my mind. Everything that has shaped my life and brought me to this moment–I see it all:
I see the villa I grew up in, the family outings with Mama and Papa in Rome.
The blinding light from the truck that crashed into our car.
Waking up in the hospital and being told by Papa that Mama was gone.
Standing by Mama’s casket at the cemetery, watching Papa take a carnation from the casket spray and tuck it into the lapel of his gray jacket.
Papa and I packing up our personal things and leaving Italy.
Papa’s decision to settle in Orlando, and his opening La Villa De Luca.
Working for Papa and receiving training from him through my high school years.
Papa raising and teaching me in love, and with God’s guidance, helping me overcome my mistakes.
The good friends I gained because of striving to keep the standards Papa taught me.
Papa turning his business and fortune over to me as he revealed his sickness.
Losing Papa to cancer and the pain that came with his loss, as well as the healing.
Meeting Suzanne in the elevator.
Falling blindly in love and marrying her.
Lila’s death, then becoming parental guardians to six-year-old Katia.
Suzanne’s addiction, betrayal, and death.
Raising Katia alone, and loving her as if she were my own flesh and blood.
Watching her grow into a beautiful young woman–and getting a full view of the pain she carried inside as a result of her changing and growing feelings for me.
My changing feelings for her as she became an adult.
The final realization of how much I loved her.
The pain and discovery of her cancer, and the agony of accepting that our earthy life together would be short.
Our wedding day.
Our wedding night.
Our honeymoon.
Katia’s last good day.
Katia dying in my arms by the lake.
Her funeral and struggling to adjust to life without her.
Finding and adopting Nick, teaching him of Katia, and watching with joy the growth of our posterity.
Turning the hotel over to the family, and spending time each day by the lake, talking to God, Papa, and my sweet tesora.
And finally, being blessed with the true gospel of Christ and slowly becoming one with Him, which has brought about holy and sacred experiences that I have never uttered to another soul.
Mine has been a blessed life. The best.
~ ~ ~
Two days later, surrounded by his family, Angelo slipped away peacefully. The bout of pneumonia had been short but draining. As healthy as he had always been, the fatality of the sickness had taken the family by surprise.
But Nick had known the truth. His father had been tired, and anxious to be with his sweet wife again after being separated from her for so many years. And though Nick mourned his father’s loss with a painful intensity, he was also happy for him. Nick knew his father was home, and finally complete again.
~ ~ ~
Now, Angelo’s younger self was standing before his sweet Katia, and boundless happiness overwhelmed him. She was wearing a white Victorian gown and her hands were stretched out to him, her mouth curved in the adorable smile he loved so much, her eyes shining with love. He cried tears of joy as her arms went around his waist and he clutched her to him, burying his face in her thick, curly tresses, breathing in her fragrance. Then he kissed her, whispering against her lips, “Ti amo, tesora. Now I can breathe again.”
“Ti amo, mi amor,” she whispered back. “Welcome home. I have been waiting for you.”
The End
With every breath I breathe I love her, with longing arms and hands I cling,
too soon arms and hands are empty, leaving no more breath to breathe.
One day the aroma of her kiss will fill these lungs,
and I will breathe again.
For Katia, My Treasure
too soon arms and hands are empty, leaving no more breath to breathe.
One day the aroma of her kiss will fill these lungs,
and I will breathe again.
For Katia, My Treasure
