Yesterday's Stardust (39 page)

Warm lips. A hint of caramel, a touch of cinnamon. A kiss more delectable than apple pie. Eyes still closed, she sighed as he pulled away. “Mmm.”

A soft laugh tickled her cheek. “I suppose, while we’re wallowing in unfulfilled dreams, it wouldn’t hurt to pray.”

Her eyes shot open.

“I do know how, you know.”

“I…”

“Shh.” His finger returned to her lips. “Close your eyes.”

She obeyed.

“Lord God, You know the cry of Dani’s heart is to make a difference for You, and You know the dreams I’ve tried to ignore. Right now, we bring our dreams and lay them at Your feet, trusting You will put in us the desires of Your heart.”

He fell silent. Dani opened her eyes and whispered “Amen” through her tears.

N
icky turned the page with one hand. His other arm was occupied with holding Dani close to his chest. The waitress set a second pot of coffee on the table. He’d switched to decaf three cups ago. He rested his cheek against Dani’s hair and skimmed through several weeks of happy thoughts and dress designs. He stopped when a familiar name jumped off the page. “Here we go.”

Dani looked down at the spot he pointed to and sat up straight. “Finally.”

“‘I’m moving. I say the words, but it feels like someone else is talking. I will live in an upstairs apartment across the street from Bracciano, the restaurant where I will work.’” He looked up. “So she lived—”

“In m—where China and Miguel lived.” Dani rubbed her arms. “China must have found her diary somewhere in the house.”

Shaking his head, he bent over the book. “‘T took me up to meet the people who own the restaurant. I like Renata, the wife. She is just a little older than me and has the sweetest little boy, but her husband scares me. He is nice and funny, but he looks at me like I’m wearing a
FOR SALE
sign.’”

Nicky smacked his lips. “Way to welcome the new girl, Great Grampa Santo. I’m so proud of my heritage.”

“You inherited all the good parts. The flirt without the sleaze.”

He laughed—something that was beginning to feel natural. “I try. I’ve made it a life goal to never look at a girl like she’s wearing a
FOR SALE
sign.”

Dani answered with a soft laugh.

“‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be there. I don’t know if this is a cover or if T is hiding me there to keep me safe. I want to take Suze and Franky. I didn’t bother to ask. T would never allow it. His threats to Franky form my prison walls. No one needs to watch me. I might as well be chained in a medieval stone tower.’”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Quite the little drama queen, isn’t she?”

“She has every right to be. Read.” She nudged the book closer to Nicky.

“‘I gave my notice to Mr. W. It was all I could do to look him in the eye. I said I was moving back to Wisconsin to be near my parents. When I close my eyes I still see the pain in his. I have decided I cannot let this horrible thing happen. I have to find a way to stop it.’”

Nicky skimmed over to the entry for Sunday of the following week.

“‘The preacher spoke as if only to me. I—’”

“Preacher?” Light danced in her eyes. “Our Francie went to church?”

Nicky laughed and continued to read. “‘I fell to my knees. I couldn’t stop crying for all the horrible things I’ve done. He laid his hand on my head and helped me to pray. I will never forget his words. “God has set you free. You are safe in His arms. He is your hiding place.’”

Dani’s hand slid over her mouth. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Don’t you feel like…we’re living this kind of parallel life? She comes to Jesus just as—”

“I start finding my way back.” He looked back at the page. Here again, it seemed Francie had too many words for the six lines allotted, and her thoughts spilled over into Monday. “‘When the service ended I felt like nothing could ever take that peace away from me. But as we walked out, someone called my name. I turned and there was
Theo.
’”

Dani gasped and leaned over the book.

“‘My Theo.’” The words of the next two sentences were water-spotted and blurred. Three words were legible— “‘kissed my cheek.’”

“She was crying when she wrote this,” Dani whispered then sighed. “Finally, Theo to the rescue. This is too much to process all at one time.”

Nicky continued. “‘He had to catch the train back to Minneapolis. He asked for my address. That’s when my peace shattered. I told him I was moving, and he gave me his card. He made me promise to write. I gave him my word, but I will break it.’”

Dani pulled out of his arm and turned sideways with her leg bent. Her knee touched his thigh. “This is exhausting.”

“Let’s go back to skimming.”

“But it’s all important. What if we’d skimmed right over Theo?”

“Then you wouldn’t be exhausted.” He glanced at his watch. “We should leave in ten minutes.” He edged the diary closer to her. “Hit the highlights.”

“There’s another time gap.” She flipped pages. Eight…nine weeks.” She rested the diary on his arm. Midafternoon light shimmered on her spun-gold hair.

“‘…is why they believe you must never reenter or take anything from that place.’”

Nicky came back into the moment. Dani rubbed her arms. “Creepy.” He had no idea what he’d missed. He tried to focus on the pale blue teardrop hanging from her earlobe, but the dip on the top edge of her mouth drew his eyes, and he got lost in outlining her lips, tracing the pattern in his head.

“‘…made her a few dresses, and I’m teaching her to sew. She is encouraging me to open my own shop or at least let their customers know I design gowns. She believes in Jesus and talks to Him like He’s right here. We pray and study the Bible together. I read to her and try to explain the words she doesn’t know. Renata is the friend I have wanted all my life.’” She flipped a page.

“‘Renata has known T since he was younger than me. She says he used to be a good kid, but the business made him hard. She says “the business” with the same look on her face Mama used to. She hates what her husband does, but she says God commands wives to submit to their husbands and be a helpmate.’”

“What business?”

Dani looked up. “I’m guessing your great-granddaddy was selling booze.”

“Or maybe just fooling around with the ladies.”

“Just?”

“Sorry. Don’t mean to make light of the family curse. No
FOR SALE
signs.”

The corners of her mouth drew up, giving him a whole new shape to memorize.

“‘I miss Franky so much, but Luca is here when my arms feel empty. I have not seen T, but Renata says he calls Santo. I love the customers and the music. For the first time since I left the farm, I’m actually happy.’”

“‘Santo took us to see Hoagy Carmichael. Santo knows him personally! Rumor has it he wrote a few bars of “Star Dust” right here. It may not be true, but I choose to believe it. It was so surreal to hear him live.’”

Dani turned several pages. “‘I’m so ecstatic sometimes I think I’ll split wide open! I am starting my own business! It will be private—not a storefront—just for regular customers. Santo has ordered the room behind the shop to be totally renovated to suit my needs. He is not the fiend I once thought he was.’”

Her elbow bumped his ribs. “Resist it, girl,” she whispered. Her hair tumbled across her cheeks as she spoke to the book as if were a walkie-talkie connecting her to the past. “Don’t fall under the Fiorini spe-ell.” She sputtered the end of the sentence as he nuzzled her ear. She barred him from further nibbling with a hand against his chest.

“She
should resist.
You
shouldn’t.”

She scooted away from him. “Where’s the ‘shop’?”

“I don’t know.”

Dani smacked the table with her palm. “Your storeroom. That would explain the wallpaper and the roses on the light fixtures.”

“I can just picture her stitching away between the olive oil and the anchovies.”

With an exasperated sigh, she shoved him out of the booth.

“Bella ragazza.”

Luca Fiorini’s large hand engulfed Dani’s and pulled her toward him. A feathery kiss brushed her right cheek and then her left.

Nicky set two chairs in front of his grandfather’s wheelchair. “He says you are a beautiful girl.”

“Thank you.
Grazie.
Did I say that right?”

Thin lines fanned from dark eyes that sparkled like his grandson’s when he smiled. Could Nicky see the resemblance? Did he get the sense he was gazing into some future mirror when he looked at his grandfather? “Irish.” Thick white hair fell across Luca’s forehead as he shook his head. “My father will not approve.”

Dani glanced at Nicky, who shrugged and smiled.

“Danielle writes for the
Kenosha Times,
Nonno. She’s a reporter.”

“I don’t like reporters.” His finger ticked back and forth like a metronome.

Nicky nudged her arm and mouthed, “Ask him.”

“Mr. Fiorini.” Dani pulled the diary out of its plastic bag. “I found an old diary across the street from Bracciano. It was written back in the 1920s by a young woman named Francine Tillman. Do you remember her?”

Weak eyes stared at her. “Fran…cine. No.” Gaunt shoulders rose and fell as he sighed. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Nonno.” Nicky patted a thin hand networked by raised blue veins. “Francine knew your mother. She mentions Bracciano and says that Renata helped her hide something important. It sounds like Francie Tillman worked at the restaurant. You would have been just a little boy then.”

“Francie?” Heavy-lidded eyes opened again. “I know…” His thick white brows converged. “No.” He stared at the wall behind Dani.

Dani turned to look at the spot that drew his attention. A framed picture of Bracciano hung on the wall. She recognized the people standing in front—Santo and Renata Fiorini with little Luca between them. She got up and walked to the picture. “You would have been about this age when Francie met your mother. I bet Francie played with you. She—”

“I don’t know her!” White fingers curled under.

A CNA they’d spoken to on the way in poked her head in the door. “Everything okay, Luca?”

“I don’t know her!” His voice rose even louder. “I don’t…”

“It’s okay, Nonno.” Nicky continued to pat his hand. “We just had to ask. You didn’t know her. That’s okay.”

Luca’s chin dipped to his chest.

The CNA turned off the overhead light. A pale glow from the tube light above the head of Luca’s bed softened the room. “Mood lighting,” she whispered. She turned to Nicky. “This hasn’t been a peaceful day. Maybe next time.” She offered a sad smile. “I think I said that last time you were here, didn’t I?”

Nicky nodded. He stood and put the chairs back against the wall.

“He’ll remember you were here. He talks about you all the time. ‘My Nicky,’ he calls you. ‘My Nicky has a dream. Can’t trust my sons with it.’ I hear that all the time.”

“What’s ‘it’?”

“I never asked. The restaurant? He talks about Bracciano so much I feel like I’ve been there. He says your tortellini is better than his mother’s.”

Nicky covered a look of little-boy pride by bending to kiss his grandfather on the top of his head. “I’ll see you soon, Nonno.
Ti amo.”

The aide said good-bye, and Nicky put his hand on Dani’s back. “Sorry.”

“It was worth the drive just to see you with him.” She leaned on his shoulder. “You have a tender heart.”

He pulled her close. “That will be our little secret, okay?”

“Okay.” She kissed his cheek, stepped over to Luca, and crouched beside the wheelchair. A soft snore ruffled through his parted lips. She slid her hand over his. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fiorini. You can be very proud of your grandson. Your Nicky is a fine man.”

She waited for a sign that her words had pierced his sleep, but none came. She stood and looked around Luca’s small world. Pale blue walls, bedspread to match. A bedside table and a small dresser. A bookshelf lined with family pictures and a few books. On the wall, a crucifix hung next to a shadow box displaying medals, including a Silver Star and a picture of a tall, broad-shoulder Luca in a World War II Army uniform. “Where did he serve?”

“Italy.”

“My great-grandfather, Charles Gallagher, fought in Italy in 1918. The Battle of Vittorio Veneto. I have a picture of him with his chest full of medals.”

“Then my family is indebted to your family for sacrificing for our homeland.”

She smiled. “So your nonno went back to his roots to fight.”

“At one point he was only twenty miles from the little town of Bracciano, where his parents grew up. He went AWOL for two days so he could meet his mother’s parents for the first—and only—time.”

Dani rubbed the goose bumps popping up on her arms. She pointed to the Silver Star. “How did he get this?”

“Actually, he got that for going AWOL. My great-uncle fought with the Italian Resistance—against Mussolini. He met up with my grandfather in Bracciano and gave Nonno intel that helped the Allied forces blow up a dozen brand-new German tanks.”

Dani turned back to the man whose posture had once been military straight. Luca’s limp hands rested on a navy-blue lap blanket. “I’d love to hear that story from him.”