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Authors: Robin Jones Gunn

Until Tomorrow (6 page)

BOOK: Until Tomorrow
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“Antonio,” Christy said quickly, “I didn't mean we had to leave right away. I was just trying to say we need a plan. That's all. We need to work together as a team.”

All four of them were quiet for a moment. The sound of the pounding rain on the van's roof made Christy realize how loud her voice had been as she had tried to make her point.

“Where would you like to go next?” Todd asked Christy.

“I don't really care.”

“Oh, come on, Christy,” Katie said. “You can't give us a big pep talk like that and not have something in mind.”

“Well, okay. If it were up to me, I'd like to see other parts of Italy,” she said cautiously.

“So would I,” Todd said.

“It's settled.” Antonio clapped his hands. “As soon as the rain stops, we take down our tents, and you go see more of Italy. Mi Italia. You will love it all.”

The others seemed to agree with Antonio, which made Christy feel better.

However, the rain didn't stop when the morning came. In a miserable group effort, the four tired and hungry campers took down their soaked tents in the rain, tied them to the van's roof, and lugged the wooden box of camping gear to the back of the van, where they tied it to the bumper. Christy was certain she was soaked all the way to her skin. None of them had anything waterproof to use as a cover-up. Not even a plastic bag. They took turns changing clothes in the van and chugged their way across the muddy gravel road that led to the highway.

“Let's stop at the first place we come to that has food,”
Katie pleaded. “I don't care what kind of food it is.”

Antonio drove faster when he reached the paved highway. “At my house, my mama will be happy to feed all of us. You will love her.”

“No doubt, Tonio,” Katie said, “but how far is it to your Mama Mia's Pizzeria?”

“That is very good, Katie. Mama Mia's Pizzeria. That is funny. It is not a long drive. We will be there within the hour.”

Christy felt the hour was awfully long as they drove past green, rolling hills and huge fields of sunflowers. The rain had settled into a fine mist with a few sun breaks once they left the foothills. She stared out of a corner of a side window, watching the sun pierce through the clouds and send golden spears of light down on the grape fields. The light turned the leaves a vibrant lime green. Somehow, she found comfort in the beauty of the pastoral scene, which helped because she was still feeling twinges of guilt over being so upset and making everyone pack up and leave because of her.

She glanced at her smashed finger and noticed it had turned a deep shade of purple. Her spirit felt bruised to a deep purple, as well.

Todd slept stretched out on the backseat, and Katie slept on the floor. Christy envied their ability to sleep anywhere in any position. She couldn't sleep, no matter how hard she tried. She noticed that Todd's arm hung over the side and rested on Katie's shoulder since she had backed herself up against the bench. They, of course, didn't mean to be touching in such a cozy manner, but they were. Christy didn't like seeing Todd and her best friend casually flopped over each other that way. She kept glancing back at them.

When Antonio pulled off the main road and headed into town, Christy asked, “Is this it? Is this where you live?”

“Not far,” he answered. “This is Cremona.”

“It looks so old,” Christy said, gazing at a tall tower that rose above the rooftops.

Antonio pointed to the tower. “That is the Torrazzo. The ‘big tower.' Built in the thirteenth century.”

“It's beautiful,” Christy remarked.

“My family is related to the Amatis of Cremona.” He made the statement with great pride, as if it should mean something. When Christy didn't respond, he added, “You
Americanos
. You do not know Amati, do you?”

“No, sorry,” Christy said.

“Perhaps you know the apprentice of Amati—Stradivari. He is the one I am named after. Antonio Stradivari.”

“Is he the one who invented violins?” Christy asked. “Stradivarius violins?”


Si!
You have heard of him. But it was my relative, Andrea Amati, who created the violin. Stradivari only perfected it. This is the town where they both lived. Stradivari made violins here more than three hundred years ago. They still make violins in Cremona. Musicians from all over the world come here to buy them.”

For the first time, Christy began to feel excited about being in Italy. This was the kind of intriguing blend of history with the present that she had hoped they would discover and explore.

“You see that street there?” Antonio continued. “I work down there at a restaurant near the cathedral. I tell all the tourists that Antonio Stradivari made by hand 1,200 instruments, and I am named for him. No one believes me.”

“They don't believe you about the 1,200 instruments or that you're named for him?”

“Both. They think I am making it all up.”

“Well, I believe you, Tonio. And I think it's amazing.” She stretched to catch a final glimpse of the cathedral.

With a few more turns on the narrow road, they came to
a wide bridge and crossed a large river before Antonio headed down a poorly maintained road. It led them to a modest whitewashed farmhouse with a red tile roof. The place reminded Christy of the Wisconsin farmlands where she grew up.

Antonio honked the minivan's horn. Katie and Todd stirred from their slumber, and Christy smiled at the woman coming out the side door of the humble house, who was waving and blowing kisses to them.

With a round of warm introductions to Antonio's “mama,” the filthy, starving campers were welcomed into the small kitchen. Mouth-watering aromas met them as they entered. Tonio and his mother spoke to each other in rapid Italian as she kept motioning for Christy, Todd, and Katie to sit at the table.

Christy liked the woman at once. And she liked the kitchen. The chairs they pulled from under the table had woven straw seats, and the wood was painted a royal blue. On the wall in front of Christy was an ornate wooden plate rack painted the same blue. It held bright white, yellow, and blue pottery dishes with a matching water pitcher.

Antonio continued to speak with his mother in Italian while she scurried around the kitchen gathering ingredients and talking at the same time Tonio was.

Christy felt like laughing. So much commotion for this obviously beloved son and his three weary friends.

“She says you can take a bath if you want while she makes some pasta.” Antonio looked at Christy. “You want me to bring your bag in?”

“Sure. I'd love to take a bath. Are you sure she doesn't mind?” Christy could tell his mother didn't mind. If anything, she probably didn't appreciate these filthy people in her nice, clean kitchen.

“I'll go first, okay?” Christy said, glancing at Todd and
Katie. She knew if she looked anything like the two of them, a bath would be a vast improvement.

Tonio showed Christy to the small bathroom with a tile floor and a strange-looking tub. It was short and deep and had a hose sort of fixture attached, which Christy figured must be the shower. It took her a few minutes to figure out how to work everything, but once she did, the warm water pouring over her head felt like a dream. She scrubbed up quickly and dressed in one of her last two clean outfits.

Katie was waiting as soon as Christy exited the bathroom. “Todd and I just washed some clothes, and guess where you do it. Outside in a big tub with one of those old-fashioned washboards. Then you hang it on a line strung between two trees. Is this bizarre or what?”

Christy noticed that Katie was all wet.

“Oh, we had a water fight. Todd and me. I won. You should see him. He barely needs a bath anymore.”

Christy left cheery Katie to her bath and went out back to scrub up her clothes. Todd was in the sun, drying off. He and Antonio sat in straight-backed chairs, talking like two old men. Antonio leaned back and commented on how warm and clear it was here compared to the hills where they had camped. Todd acted as if he was completely at home, adding his own comments about the weather.

When Katie's around, he has water fights. When I come out, he barely notices me and sits there, talking about the weather. I feel like the big, bad meanie. We left the campgrounds because of me. It's probably nice and sunny there now, too, and we could be washing our clothes in the stream. Have I ruined everything?

Within an hour and a half, they were all cleaned up and seated around the kitchen table, eating a banquet of delicious food. Todd raved about the pasta. Katie kept taking more of the sausage, and Christy especially liked the ravioli. Antonio relayed messages to his mama about how much everyone
was enjoying the food. She smiled and motioned for them to eat more, more, more!

Christy was sure she didn't have room for another bite, and yet loads of food was left over. “Would you please ask your mom if we can help clean up?”

Antonio asked. His mother motioned with hand gestures that they should shoo and leave her alone in her kitchen.

“We can at least do the dishes,” Katie suggested.

That was agreed to, and the four of them set up an assembly line to wash and dry the blue-and-yellow ceramic plates as well as all the pots and pans. It didn't take much time with all of them crowding around the sink and laughing. Christy had a feeling Antonio's mom was glad to have them leave her small kitchen in peace.

They all set to work unloading and cleaning up the camping gear with the assistance of one water hose and one rough scrub brush. It took all afternoon to clean everything, dry it in the warm afternoon breeze, and repack. Christy noticed that Todd and Katie were working almost side by side. After they finished, Todd challenged Katie to a game of chess, and they sat under the shade trees, heads bent close in serious contemplation of the board.

“Can I help your mom get dinner ready?” Christy finally asked Tonio after she got tired of watching Todd and Katie.

“No. She is not so comfortable with someone else in her kitchen.”

A few minutes later Antonio's father came in from working the fields. It was nearly sunset. Christy thought Antonio's father seemed stern, or maybe he was tired. He was shorter than Antonio and more muscular. He welcomed them to his table warmly and had Antonio ask them questions while they ate. One of the questions he directed to Christy was “Where did you get your beautiful eyes? From your father or your mother?”

“I don't know. Maybe from both of them,” Christy said, feeling her cheeks warm.

“My father says they are the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen.” Antonio smiled. “And he is right.”

Christy lowered her head and concentrated on her pasta. She felt as if everyone was watching her. Tilting her head and glancing up at Antonio's father shyly, she said, “
Molte grazie, signore
.”

“Ahh!” Antonio's father exclaimed with surprise at the way she thanked him so politely in Italian. He rattled off more quick words and playfully swatted Antonio on the arm, pointing at Christy and swatting him again.

“What did he say?” Christy asked cautiously.

Tonio looked embarrassed. He answered his father in Italian, and suddenly Tonio's parents both turned to Todd with surprised expressions.

Todd gave Tonio a half grin and said, “What did you say? What am I missing here?”

Looking at his plate, Antonio used his hands along with his English as he interpreted for his American friends. “My father asked why I have not proposed to Christy already. I told him she was your girlfriend.”

Christy looked at Todd.
This is it, Todd. Go ahead. Tell them you're crazy about me. Tell them you can't live without me. Let me hear you say it
.

Todd hesitated. Christy knew Todd was open-ended about much of life, and several times he had let her know she was free to come and go from their relationship as she pleased. And she had done that. And so had Todd. But was he ready now to publicly close at least one of those open ends? All he had to do was declare that Christy was his girlfriend.

As everyone looked at Todd, Christy pressed her lips together and waited.

With a trademark chin-up gesture Todd said, “Please tell
your father I'm flattered by his question.”

What is that supposed to mean?

At first Antonio's father looked surprised at Todd's vague response. Then a smile grew, and he nodded his head. With a deep chuckle, he shook his finger at Todd and merrily rattled off a string of Italian words.

Christy wasn't sure she wanted to hear the interpretation from Antonio.

“My father says you have learned early in life the secret, which is to always keep a woman guessing.”

Oh yeah, that's Todd's specialty. Always keep a woman guessing. And where does that put our relationship? Obviously not as far along as I thought it was
.

Something inside Christy squeezed shut. The hurt in her heart pounded on that invisible shut door. It was an old, familiar hurt.

Don't do this, Christy. Don't sink into this depression. He's not rejecting you. He's just being his usual, noncommittal self. You and Todd have been through five years of a very special kind of friendship. A forever friendship. For now, that should be enough for you
.

But deep inside, Christy wanted so much more.

BOOK: Until Tomorrow
12.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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