Symphony in Blue (3 page)

“The Redding curse.” Cary couldn’t help but laugh. “She’ll blame me for that hair someday.” For a split second, Cary imagined a fifteen-year-old Graziella glaring at him, hands on her hips.

“If that’s the only thing she blames you for,” Francesca chimed in, “you’ll be doing well.”

“Hey, Baby Stinker,” Cary told Graziella. “You’re going to be a heartbreaker. I can see it already.” The mere thought of boys chasing after her made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.

Graziella made a strange squeaking sound, scaring Cary half to death. “Is she okay?” he asked quickly.

“She’s fine.” Antonio squeezed his shoulder. “She may want to nurse.”

“Oh. Right.” He quickly handed Graziella back to Antonio. Hot potato. If he hadn’t been so nervous, he might have laughed.

By the time Antonio’s mother, Oriana, came to the hospital with Massi three hours later, Cary was overwhelmed. He’d barely slept the night before and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. So when one of the nurses told them there were too many visitors in Francesca’s room, Cary was more than ready to head to the cafeteria.

“Can I come too?” Massi asked as Antonio and Cary stood up to leave.

“Don’t you want to spend some time with your little sister?” Francesca asked.

Massi appeared to consider the question as he looked longingly at Cary. “I want Cary to stay.”

Antonio, perhaps sensing Cary’s frazzled nerves, said, “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Massi eyed Cary warily, then said, “All right. But you’ll be back, right?”

“Of course, Stinker.” Cary pulled Massi against him and kissed his head. “Promise.”

“Swear?” Massi held out his pinky and Cary wrapped his own around it. The adoring look in his bright-blue eyes made Cary’s heart ache. What had Cary done to deserve that?

“Swear.”

Milan

Four days later

C
ARY
STARED
down at the fidgeting bundle in his arms. Maybe not quite fidgeting. Smiling.

“Babies that young don’t smile,” Marissa said when he told her that Graziella smiled at him. “It’s just gas.”

Gas. Just what I need.

When Antonio had asked him to watch Graziella so he could take Massi to his grandmother’s, Cary had told Antonio he wasn’t ready to be on his own with the baby. Antonio had only smiled and kissed him on the lips. “Francesca’s in the bedroom sleeping. If something happens you can’t handle, caro mio, just simply wake her up.”

Cary wondered vaguely if Antonio shouldn’t have phrased it differently. He wasn’t sure he could handle this. Fatherhood.

You’re already a father to Massi.

He knew it wasn’t the same. He’d become Massi’s father when Massi was already walking and talking. No diapers. No bottles. No God-she’s-so-small-I’ll-break-her-if-I’m-not-careful. No wondering what he would do with a girl. He didn’t know anything about girls. Hadn’t even dated one. It had just been him and his brother, Justin.

Your mother was a girl.

As if that helped!

Graziella peered up at Cary with her big blue eyes and burped. Or was that a smile? Dirty diaper? He leaned in and sniffed. The soft smell of baby filled his nostrils. It was a nice smell.

“Hey.”
What do you say to a baby?

Graziella yawned this time, then made a fussing sound.

“You’re ready for a nap, aren’t you?”

Graziella began to cry. Cary glanced over toward the bedroom. He wondered if he was more worried about waking Francesca up or if he was hoping she
would
wake up so she could take the baby.

Shit
. Why was he so nervous? He’d wanted this. He and Tonino had talked about this for years. They’d decided Cary would be the father. He’d gone to all the appointments with Francesca; it was his name on the birth certificate. But seeing the tiny hand reach for him from the blankets? Knowing she was
his
?

Graziella cried a bit louder. “Shhh. You don’t want to wake your mamma, do you?”

Get a grip. All you need to do is put her down for her nap.
Nap. The extra bedroom. They’d set a bassinet in there, the same one Antonio’s mother said they’d used when he had been a baby.

“Shhh, Baby Stinker.” He rocked her in his arms as he walked into the other room. He couldn’t remember anyone showing him how to do that. Maybe he’d seen Antonio do it. Holding her like that felt natural and Graziella seemed to like it, since her crying abated a bit.

He set her down on her back in the bassinet, then arranged the blankets to cover her hands. She began to cry again. What had Marissa told him? Sing to her? He hummed a melody—a Mozart sonata he’d been working on—but she kept crying.
Where’s Aiden when you need him?
Not that Cary had a terrible singing voice, but it couldn’t hold a candle to Aiden’s. He tried something a little different next.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are….”

More crying.

“
Shhh, piccola. Per favore
.” Graziella hiccupped a few times, then began to cry again.

Cary glanced toward the door, expecting Francesca to come. It was then that the cello case in the corner of the room caught his eye. He’d brought it with him, knowing he’d probably be spending most of the day at Francesca and Marissa’s. He hadn’t really expected to find time to practice.

It took him only a minute to open the case, pull out his instrument, and tighten his bow. He sat in a chair a few feet away from Graziella, who had begun to wail loudly enough now that he was sure she’d wake Francesca, not to mention the neighbors. He didn’t even bother to tune.

Cary began to play. He figured he’d start with something simple—the same melody he’d attempted to sing a few minutes before. Graziella let out one long yowl, then two short yelps, sniffed a few times, squawked again, then became quiet. Silent? Cary stood up enough to see Graziella rub a tiny fist to her mouth; then he continued to play. This time he didn’t just play the simple melody, he played a modified version of the Mozart variations on “Twinkle, Twinkle” he’d played years ago on the piano.

Between the arpeggio passages and the scales Cary wove into the melody, Graziella made soft cooing sounds. Cary couldn’t remember the last time he’d improvised something other than “Happy Birthday,” but he decided he wasn’t half-bad at it. Not that he could compete with someone like Jules, who could improvise all day and never get tired of it, but it was passably good. Even better, he realized he was enjoying it. And most importantly, it was working.

Cary checked on Graziella again a few minutes later. She was sleeping soundly now. He played a bit longer, just to be sure she would stay asleep, then gently set down his cello and went to fix the blanket she’d dislodged with her feet.

“Bellissimo.” Antonio stood in the doorway, smiling at him.

Cary shook his head. “I’m not great at improvisation.”

“I wasn’t talking about the music,” Antonio said as he walked over to Cary and took his hand.

“Was Massi okay with going back to Oriana’s for the weekend?” Cary asked a few minutes later, when they were settled on the couch in the living room. “He didn’t sound happy about it when you left.” Cary knew that without their housekeeper, Roberta, around to help, Massi would be happier with Antonio’s mother. Still, he felt a little guilty at shipping Massi off to his grandmother, and he knew Antonio did as well.

“He was pretty angry.” Antonio sighed. “It’s difficult for him. He understands that we’ll be spending a lot of time at Francesca and Marissa’s, and he loves staying with his Nona, but he wants to be part of things with his sister too.”

“As soon as things calm down a little, we should take him out by himself. The circus is here through the beginning of December.” Cary smiled at the memory.

“Clowns.” Antonio laughed. “He still reminds me that I was wrong when I said that clowns speak Italian.”

“Since they don’t speak at all.” Cary remembered it well—the first time he’d really connected with Massi, not long after he and Antonio met.

“Right.” Antonio opened his arms and Cary settled comfortably in his embrace. “I remember a little of what it was like when my oldest sister was born. I was old enough that I was looking forward to it. But when she came….”

“Not as fun?”

“No. All I could think about was how I’d always been able to get my parents’ attention, and suddenly I had to fight for it.” Antonio sighed wistfully. “I was younger than Massi is now, but I’m pretty sure he’s feeling some of the same things I did.”

“I’ll ask him about the circus when he gets back tomorrow night,” Cary said. “Hopefully that’ll help a little.”

“Which reminds me.” Antonio pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. “I told David I’d pick up the turkey from the butcher.”

“Shit. I forgot about Thanksgiving.” Was that next week? His stomach rumbled loudly.

“When’s the last time you ate anything?” Antonio asked with a look of fatherly concern.

“No idea.” He wasn’t too keen on Antonio feeling as though
Cary
was the one who needed looking after.

“Let me see what I can whip up,” Antonio said. When Cary gave him a skeptical look, Antonio added, “Or maybe I’ll listen for the little one and
you
can make us both something to eat. I know my limitations.”

“You put a lot of heart and soul into your food, Tonino.” Cary did his best not to smirk. Even Antonio admitted his cooking skills were limited, although he’d pointed out to Cary that statistically speaking, there must be
some
Italians who couldn’t cook. “But I’ll make us some lunch. I’m sure Francesca will be hungry when she wakes up.”

He kissed Antonio, then went to see what Francesca and Marissa had in their kitchen. Cooking was something he could do. In fact, with Roberta’s help, it was something he’d gotten pretty good at over the past few years. He was far more confident about his performance in the kitchen than changing a diaper.

“H
OW
WOULD
you like to bring Graziella with us to Thanksgiving dinner?” Antonio asked as they sat in Francesca and Marissa’s living room three days later.

“Are you sure?” Cary stared at Antonio in shock. “She’s so little.” He’d spent the morning helping clean the apartment and change diapers while Antonio was at work. He’d been getting the hang of helping Francesca with the baby, but the thought of taking Graziella somewhere without Francesca around took him by surprise.

“Yes. I’m sure.” Antonio leaned in and kissed Cary. “The doctor said it’s fine to take her in the car. We’ve been through this already. She’s nursing really well. The bottle worked fine last night, and Francesca has plenty of milk to send with us. We’ll bring her back on our way home from the villa.” This time Antonio pulled Cary against him and Cary leaned his head against Antonio’s shoulder.

“She’s asleep,” Francesca said as she walked into the living room. Cary wondered if he looked as exhausted as she did. Probably not. He wasn’t the one who’d given birth a week before.

Antonio got up from the couch and offered his hand to Cary. “Massi!” he called.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Cary said as he squeezed Antonio’s hand.

Francesca smiled and kissed his cheek, then Antonio’s. “Marissa’s making dinner. Don’t worry about us.”

“Massi!” Antonio headed down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Time to go.”

“But Papà—”

“You’ll have time to see Graziella again tomorrow,” Antonio said as he followed a very unhappy-looking Massimo into the living room.

He planted his hands firmly on his hips and frowned. “Can’t I just stay here tonight?”

“Not tonight.” Antonio kissed the top of his head. “In a few days. Graziella needs a little time to settle in.”

Massi still wore a frown. “I want to say good-bye to my sister.”

“Be sure not to wake her,” Francesca said as Antonio grabbed their coats out of the closet a moment later.

Massimo returned from the bedrooms. “She’s still sleeping.” He looked disappointed.

“You can see her again tomorrow,” Francesca said. “Time to go.” She bent down and kissed him on the head.

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here tonight.” Massimo’s voice rose in a high-pitched whine.

Antonio sighed and handed Massi his coat. “It’s just for a few more nights. And you can come back first thing in the morning if you want.”

“It’s not the same.” Massi all but stomped his foot. “She’s
my
sister. I’m the one who asked for her.”

“Massi,” Francesca warned. “We spoke about this, remember?”

“You can help me cook if you’d like,” Cary said. He tried to kiss Massi’s head, but Massi pulled away.

Francesca handed Massi his coat, then tried to help him put it on. He took the coat from her hands and put it on without complaining, although he glared at Cary.

C
ARY
AND
Antonio had put Massi to bed with more than a little difficulty, and Massi had refused to let either of them hug or kiss him good night.

“I’m not very good at this,” Cary said on a voiced sigh as he collapsed onto the couch a few minutes later.

“You’re doing fine.” Antonio pulled Cary against him and kissed his cheek. “You just worry too much. It’s not supposed to be easy.”

“Justin always made it look easy.” His brother had always seemed so confident and in control when it came to his three boys. Here Cary was with two children, and he felt like a complete mess.

Antonio laughed and kissed Cary again. “You should call him. He’s good at reassuring you,” Antonio told him. When Cary had protested that Antonio was good at that as well, Antonio added, “It never hurts to have extra reassurance.”

“How’s it
going, Cary?” Justin asked when Cary called him.

“It’s going fine,” he told Justin.

“You sound tired.”

Cary sighed. “Just a little.” He hadn’t slept much since Graziella was born. It wasn’t that he’d been up with her like Francesca had, he’d just had too much on his mind to relax enough to sleep.