The Turning Point (17 page)

M
y trip to Italy was coming to end. In four days I’d be home. Since Lucas’s birthday a week and a half ago, we’d visited Salerno and spent a few days touring the Amalfi Coast.

Six weeks. Who knew it was possible to fall for someone in just six weeks.

Lucas mentioned visiting me in St. Louis, and I could visit him in California when my school schedule allowed. He was pretty adamant about making things work between us, despite the distance. And that was all well and wonderful, but something huge plagued me. The one big thing he didn’t know about me. The one thing that would be a deal breaker…as it should be.

I already knew what my test results would say.

If you cared about him, you’d let him go,
the voice inside me cautioned.

Yes, Sophia Italia had had her fun, but it was time to ditch her in the Italian countryside. After my visit with my grandfather today, I’d tell Lucas the truth and set him free.

“Maybe this isn’t the right house.” I stepped away from the door, bumping into Lucas.

He put his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me back toward the door. “Yes, it is. You’ve checked the address at least a hundred times this morning.”

“Well, maybe he’s not home. We should go.” I turned to leave, but Lucas kept a strong grip on my shoulders, anchoring me to the concrete front stoop.

“Sophia,” Lucas admonished. “You talked to him last night. He’s expecting you.”

Now that I was here, I did not want to go through with this meet and greet. How was I supposed to play nice with the father of the man who abandoned me? “Maybe his plans changed unexpectedly.” I scowled at him over my shoulder, sticking my tongue out.

Lucas leaned in close, hovering above my ear. “You kill me every time you do that.” He put a kiss right below my ear. “Will you do something for me later?” he whispered in a sexy, husky voice.

I leaned back, resting against his strong chest. “What?”

“I want you to stick your tongue out, just like you always do, but when we’re alone, I’m going to suck it right into my—”

The front door pulled away from the frame with a loud creak, cutting Lucas’s sentence off just when it was getting good.

I stood up straight with a jolt. I had to give Lucas credit; he’d certainly taken my mind off of meeting my grandfather. The sick, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach had momentarily been replaced with a beautiful want.

But now that the door was open and a white-haired gentleman stood before me, I felt sick again.

“Sophia?” the man said in a heavy Italian accent. He was friendly-looking, short, not overweight. He had a kind face. My dad looked nothing like him.

I cleared my throat. Lucas massaged my shoulders, his strong fingertips infusing me with courage.
“Sí.”
I nodded.

“Come in! Come in!” the old man sang, stepping back to allow our entry.

I crossed the threshold of Martino Belmonte’s home. I glanced around the entryway of my father’s childhood home. It was strange. I thought I’d feel some sort of cosmic familial connection to this man, to this place…but I didn’t. It was as impersonal as entering my neighbors’ homes when I was a kid selling Girl Scout cookies.

Martino closed the door behind us with a soft
thunk
. I took in my surroundings. The old brick archway separating the foyer from the living room was breathtaking, and the ceiling was unlike any I’d ever seen. Several mini brick arches ran parallel to one another, creating a scalloped finish. The floors were dark wood, covered with ornate rugs, and many priceless antique tables and bureaus lined with dozens of framed photos—long-ago evidence of a woman’s touch.

“Sophia,” the old man crooned. He managed to make my name sound like an old-timey Italian love song. “Thank you for coming, my dear.” Despite his thick accent, his English was impeccable.

“Thank you for the invitation,” I said quietly, not at all comfortable with meeting him. If Lucas hadn’t agreed to come with me, I wasn’t sure I’d have had the courage to meet him. His son was a stranger to me, so what did that make him?

“And who is this?” Martino asked, gesturing to Lucas.

Before I could open my mouth to speak, Lucas jumped in, holding a hand out in greeting. “Lucas Walsh, Sophia’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

Boyfriend? Did he really think that? Or did he have no better way to describe us? “A distraction from reality” didn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Julia had really messed him up. There was no way he was ready for anything so formal and declarative. And then there was my health issue. Lucas had no idea what he was signing on for when it came to me. Yeah, this whole trip…us…we were exactly the distraction the other one needed.

But uncertainty weighed heavy on my heart. Each day I spent with Lucas, the more I wanted to know what I had to look forward to. Did I really have a reason to worry? The names and numbers of my dad’s genetic counselor and doctor were in my phone. I needed to set up an appointment and find out my fate once and for all.

Martino clapped his hands together, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Oh, how wonderful!” Joy overflowed from his grinning face. “Come in, let’s sit.” He motioned for us to follow as he led us into the small, museum-like living room.

I fell in line behind my grandfather with Lucas at my back, keeping a reassuring hand at my waist.

The room held a matching plastic-covered floral sofa and love seat, an ancient television (complete with a rabbit-ear antenna), and a large bookshelf lined with a few books, but mostly pictures.

Lucas and I sat down on the larger couch, the plastic crinkling in protest beneath us. My grandfather sat on the small love seat across from us.

“You have a lovely home,” I commented, at a loss for what to say.

“Thank you.” Martino nodded. “Can I get you two anything? A drink maybe, a snack?”

I shook my head, as did Lucas. “Oh, no thank you. I’m good.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Lucas added politely.

The awkward level in the room was redlining, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to even it out.

Martino beamed. “I was delighted to hear that you were in the country. I’ve been very excited to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” I smiled with a nod.
Ugh. Where’s a sinkhole when you need one?

“Tell me, what have you been up to? How did you two meet? Tell me about yourself,” my grandfather asked.

I glanced at Lucas. Where did I begin? “Well…,” I muttered. “Lucas and I met while we were both in Naples, about five weeks ago.” Wow, had it really been that long ago? Where had the summer gone? It was odd, though, five weeks wasn’t all that long, but there had never been a moment when I didn’t feel like I didn’t know Lucas. He fit right into my life like he’d been there all along and I hadn’t realized.

“Pompeii, actually,” Lucas chimed in. “I can honestly say I didn’t see her coming.”

“We never do,” Martino sighed, a dreamy smile on his face.

Lucas nudged me with his shoulder. “She knocked into me, and I fell…hard.”

Yes, I had knocked him down, but why did I get the feeling Lucas wasn’t talking about falling on the ground?

I narrowed my gaze at him. “I didn’t bump into you
that
hard.” Lucas put his hand on my thigh and squeezed, flashing a teasing grin.

I looked at my grandfather again, feeling the temperature of the room spiking. The last thing I needed was a full-on blush to turn my face the color of the red stripe on the Italian flag.

Martino regarded us with a happy smile and a definite twinkle in his eye. “You two remind me of when I first met Graziana.” He nodded in my direction. “Your grandmother, Sophia.”

I didn’t want to feel anything for this man. I didn’t want a relationship with him or to know any personal stories. Personal stories made people care, and I didn’t want to care. I was scared. If I cared about him, and his stories, did that mean I cared about his son, too?

But gosh darn it, my fondness of all things romantic had me opening my big mouth. “How did you meet?” I asked.

“Our families were cordial. Graziana was the eldest daughter of a local olive farmer. I worked in the groves. Our parents thought we were a good match.”

“You had an arranged marriage?” I was shocked; it was nothing like Nonna and Pappous’s story. Nonna was a bit of a wild child who ran off with the Greek bad boy, then fled to America nearly penniless but very much in love.

The idea of Martino’s arranged marriage didn’t strike me as romantic at all, only very archaic.

“Yes, but Grazi and I had been eyeing each other for a while.” He chuckled. “I worked her daddy’s fields, tending to the harvests, and she’d always go for a stroll past my trees. That coy smile of hers got me every time. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on, so when my father told me she and I had been promised to one another, I counted myself as the luckiest man in the world.”

Okay. That was a pretty romantic story. I stand corrected.

“There isn’t a day I don’t miss her.” The sadness in his voice stabbed at my heart.

“May I see a picture of her?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” He stood with a groan. “Ugh…these old bones don’t get around like they used to,” he sighed, walking over to the bookcase. He withdrew two small picture frames and returned to the couch. Admiring the photos behind the frames, he passed one to me. “That one was taken when your grandmother and I were probably close to your age. Grazi was pregnant with your father.”

I held the heavy, ornately carved wooden frame with both hands while Martino passed the other frame to Lucas.

“And that one was taken on the last birthday Grazi celebrated. She’d just turned sixty-seven.”

I was on sensory overload. I couldn’t digest Martino’s story of young love with the picture Lucas held in his hands. My stomach roiled. The pregnant woman in the black and white photo literally glowed with happiness; there was no way the bedridden woman in the other photo was the same person.

“You look just like her, Soph,” Lucas said, tapping his index finger on the picture I held.

“You really do,” Martino agreed with a nod. “I thought that the second I opened the door.”

I’d always thought I looked like Mom, and I was still holding on to the fact that I did, but there was no denying my resemblance to my dad’s side of the family as well. Graziana and I shared the same long, dark brown hair. I was about her height, and despite her pregnant belly, I could imagine we had similar figures.

What else had I inherited from her?

I snatched the frame out of Lucas’s hand, stacked it beneath the one I held, and passed them back to Martino. “Here.” I couldn’t get rid of the pictures fast enough. They were like holding a fistful of stinging bees.

Once Martino took them back, I wrung my hands together.

“You okay, Soph?” Lucas asked, rubbing his hand down my back.

I looked at him, my eyes wide. The room spun like I was on some crazy theme park ride. I couldn’t draw in a breath, and I needed air in the worst way.

“Let me get you some water,” Martino said, standing again. He walked to the shelf, put the frames back in their place, and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Sophia?” Lucas shifted his body so he could face me. “You’re as white as a ghost,” he said, brushing his fingers over my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

This was turning out to be just like the day I went to visit my dad. “She was only sixty-seven,” I managed to choke out.

Lucas nodded, combing his hand through my hair. “Yeah, she was young,” he agreed. He didn’t understand the significance of her age and what it had to do with me.

I locked my eyes on his, feeling his fingers pull gently at a few tangles.
Oh, Lucas, what am I doing with you?

Martino cleared his throat, coming back into the room. “You should drink this.” He handed me a cold glass of iced water.

Wrapping my hands around the glass, the phantom stings disappeared against the wet coolness. I took a generous sip, hoping it would help open my throat, too.

“Have you spoken to your father lately?” Martino asked. “How is he doing? He doesn’t call often.”

I shook my head and swallowed. “We don’t speak.”

“Sophia.” Martino leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking me directly in the eye. “Do me a favor.” He cast his eyes to Lucas for a split second, then back to me. “Get tested.”

If I had just taken a drink, he would have been wearing it. “Excuse me?” I played dumb.

“Your grandmother didn’t know when she had your father. Before you start a family, Sophia, please get tested.”

My throat pinched shut again, and I knew water wasn’t going to help this time. Tears welled in eyes. I handed the glass back to him and stood. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said, my voice thick. I hated crying. I needed to get out of there before he said anything else that would push me past the point of losing control.

Lucas and Martino stood, too. “Are you sure, Sophia?” Lucas asked, hooking an arm around my waist.

I sniffled, pulling in a large breath of air through my nose. “Yes. I need to go.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped my boundaries, Sophia. I only want what’s best for you, sweetheart,” Martino said apologetically. “I watched my wife die, and now my son is going through the same thing. I know we never had the opportunity to get to know one another, but I’ve always loved you. My beautiful granddaughter.” He set my glass down on the small table beside the love seat and reached for my hands, taking them into his crooked, wrinkled ones. “When Gio told Grazi and me, we cried for days. I don’t wish that kind of pain on anyone, especially you, sweetheart.”

I had the Hoover Dam of tears ready to break free at any moment. “It was great to meet you, Martino. Thank you.” I squeezed his hands and let them go, turning for the door.

“Mr. Belmonte, thank you,” Lucas said, offering his hand.

“Take care of her, Lucas.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucas replied. “You have my word.”

The dam broke. Tears streamed down my face. While they finished their good-bye, I walked to the door, trying to get myself under control.