A Soul Mate's Promise (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Antonio’s son Sal arrives later today. Thunderstorms rumble across the grey sky.

I promised Tony that I would make a baked ziti and a pot of sauce with meatballs and some cookies for them so they would have some meals for the week while they settled in, that meant we had to hit the store before I could begin cooking. And, since Antonio asked me to stay for dinner so at least their first meal together might be less stressful, I planned to cook and be the gracious hostess, although I wasn’t all that keen on the idea.

So, after a quick run to the grocery store, and the little wine shop we have on the beach-side I got everything I needed. Toby and I headed back home and over to Antonio’s.

When I get there, he’s happy to see me, but I can feel the tension in the air.

To lighten the mood, I grab an Andrea Bocelli CD,
A Night in Tuscany
, and play it on Tony’s CD player. Music fills the house along with the delicious smells of garlic and simmering tomato gravy coming from his kitchen.

With everything on simmer, I pour two glasses of Chianti for Tony and me and walk out on the deck where he is sitting with Toby at his side. The rain has let up for now but we can still hear thunder in the distance.

“Here ya go, have some wine, its good for you,” I say as I hand him the glass.

“Gratzi, mio caro,” he says with a smile as he takes the wine.

I sit down next to him. “Here’s to a happy reunion!” I offer and we clink our glasses.

“I gotta tell you, Tony, I think I’m a little nervous myself for you guys.”

Antonio looks up at me. “Don’t worry Gracie, we will be on our best behavior.”

“Okay.” I say, “I’ll drink to that. You promise me now because I don’t like fighting and neither does Toby.”

“I promise, Caro.” he says with a hint of a smile.

A few hours pass and so do the thunderstorms and Sal still hasn’t arrived, but Joey calls to see how it’s going.

“We still haven’t seen Sal and haven’t been able to get him on the phone,” I tell Joey. “I made enough sauce and meat for your brother and father to eat for a week.”

Joey thanks me and explains I should just let the two men work out their differences and not worry about it.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that my dad has you to watch out for him. You’re the best thing to happen to him in many years.”

“And he’s the best thing to happen to me, too,” I tell Joey. Then I give the phone to Tony and they talk for a few more minutes while I go into the kitchen to shut off the stove.

“How about we just have that dinner, Mia Caro?” Tony says when he joins me.

“Sounds like a great idea. I’m sure we’ll hear from Salvatore soon. Maybe his plane was delayed.”

I pull out another CD of Italian Favorites, and as soon as Rosemary Clooney starts “Mambo Italiano,” I pull the baked Ziti out of the oven and put it down on the little dinette set in his dining room.

“This house is so cute,” I tell him as we are getting ready to eat. The cottage has seen slight remodeling over the years to keep up the charm and functionality of it. At about 1300 square feet, the two-bedroom, two-bath structure has a detached garage, hardwood floors and a small, but functional fireplace. The kitchen isn’t big enough for a table, but the house has a great room for lounging and dining.

After Tony moved in, he had ramps put in to accommodate his wheelchair.

He looks around and I see a smile cross his face and light his eyes. “Yes, this house serves me just fine,” he says. “Is the kitchen hard to cook in? You must be used to that big gourmet kitchen you gotta next door.”

“Nope,” I tell him, “I like your kitchen–it’s cozy and quaint. Mine feels too industrial sometimes. I was going to have it remodeled but that’s pointless now.” I take a sip of wine, determined not to go down that sorry path again.

“Okaaaaay,” I sing, to change the subject. “Tell me about Salvatore? Where has he been? What’s his deal?”

Antonio smiles at me and shrugs his shoulders.

“My son, he always fought me, he makes up his own rules and he can have a bad temper.”

“How old is he?”

“He is-a- forty-one now.”

              “Oh he’s my age!”

“Yes, Joseph is two years older than Sal. They were born shortly after Marie and I moved to the States. They went to school up in NJ, then went their separate ways. After school, Sal went into the military, there was Desert Storm first, and when we got hit with 911, I knew he would be off to Iraq.”

Antonio shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “After that he went into Special Ops. We couldn’t hear from him much because he was Secret Service. But he had plenty of time to know his mother was-a sick. He kept saying he would come, then never did. Just like now.”

“He’s just late, Tony.” I try to sooth him. I can tell he is getting aggravated because there is no word from Sal yet and he is saying things like, “See how he is? He don’t call to tell-a- me if he is okay.”

I grab his hand. “Don’t worry, he’ll be here!”

After dinner, Antonio goes outside on the deck to have a cigar. He takes Toby with him. I clean up and can still hear thunder in the distance.

I pack up the trash and get ready to take it out to the garbage. I hear the click clack of dog paws on the wood floors. Toby’s back and circling me, waiting to see if he is going get any leftovers. Suddenly he stops, his hackles go up and a low thunderous growl roars out of him. He is standing close enough for me to feel his whole body vibrate. 

“What is it Toby?”

He trots to the front window and cocks his head to the left and then right.

“What’s a matter with Toby?”

“I don’t know?” I shrug. “I was picking up a garbage bag to take out side, he must hear a deer or something, I’ll be right back. You want some coffee Tony? I made your favorite cookies too, chocolate chip biscotti’s!”

“Si, caro, but let me make it, you did enough.”

It’s just getting dark as I make my way out the side door to go to the garage. Toby comes running up behind me.

“Slow down, boy!” I call to him. I round the side of the house where the garbage cans are. And Toby is in front of me growling at something.

I look up and there is a shadow of someone. Bigger and taller than me, standing there like a marble statue. I suck in my breath and it gets stuck in my throat.

A calm and smooth voice says,  “Can you please tell your dog I’m not an ax murderer?”

I try to speak, but stutter instead. “I ..I.. how do I know you’re not?”

“Because I don’t have an ax in my hand?” he answers.

Toby continues to growl as he moves closer to the stranger.

“Can you please call your dog off?” he asks again.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Sal, Antonio’s son.”

Toby gets closer to Sal and is about zipper level to his jeans.

“Please, the dog!”

“Oh my God! Sorry!” I yell.

“Toby, it’s okay shhh.. it’s okay.”

Toby takes a few whiffs but stays alert. I squint in the darkness. “You’re late!” I scold him. “Your father’s been very worried. Why didn’t you call instead of sneaking around?”

“I didn’t know I needed to.” Who the hell are you?” he demands.

“First of all,” I start, “You should have called your father when you landed. Second, my name is Gracie. I live next door. I’m a friend of your father’s.”

He looked over his shoulder at the mansion, then back to me.

“Oh. okay, Princess,” he says putting his hands up in surrender, “you and the mutt gonna let me pass?”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go inside.” I motion toward the house. “He’s
not
a mutt by the way. He’s a full-bred German Shepherd. His name is Toby.” We round the corner of the garage when I decide to set things straight. “And for the record, I’m
not
a Princess, far from it.”

I yank open the door and Toby leads the way. Sal follows me inside and through to the kitchen where Antonio is making coffee.

“Look who I found?” I chime. “He says he belongs to you.”

Antonio looks up at his son and they stare at each other for a minute.

Sal lifts his chin. “Hey, Pop.”

Antonio examines his son for another moment. “Okay let-a-me see what they do. Gotta you in the shoulder, huh?”

“Yeah Pop, it’s really nothing, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, okay. Come sit down.” Antonio spoke softly, “What happen you’re late? This-a-lovely gal made us a wonderful meal, you missed it. Where were you?”

Sal put down his duffle bag. “We couldn’t land because of the storms. They had us circling. I thought I’d never land!” he said, shaking his head.

As the two men are getting acquainted, Toby is still sniffing Sal and his duffle bag thoroughly. I sit down at the counter stool and take in the sight that is, Salvatore Petroni.

He’s about six feet tall and has on old jeans, faded in the knees and fraying at the hem of each leg. His sneakers are clean and white. A dark red and blue flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off hugs his big frame.

Since it’s not buttoned all the way up, I can see a massive chest with just a little bit of hair. He’s sporting a plain, dark blue baseball hat with the bill pointed down low, so I can’t see his eyes.

For a military guy, he has quite a bit of hair, it seems to me. Medium to dark brown and in waves slightly past his collar. One arm is in a black cloth sling. His other arm, totally defined with muscle.

He isn’t dark olive skin tone like his dad, so he must take after his mom’s side of the family. He takes off his ball cap and tosses it onto the chair. 

He looks in my direction. He has his father’s eyes—big dark brown, velvet eyes which seem to cut right through me. He steps toward me and offers a crooked half-smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I must have missed a very good meal, but I’ll get to eat the leftover’s, I suppose.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, that’s fine” My voice comes out sounding like I’m a two-year old with a cold. I clear my throat. “We were just going to have coffee and cookies. Would you like some?”

“Did you make the cookies too?” he asks.

“I did, chocolate chip bicotti’s—your dad loves them!”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “they are my favorites as well, but I need a shower first.. You two go ahead. I’ll be back in ten!”

Sal goes off with his bag in hand to the other side of the house where the spare bedrooms are. I stand for a moment staring after him like a lovesick puppy.

“Gracie!” Antonio calls, snapping me back to the moment.

“Huh? Wha..what?” I stammer.

Antonio laughs and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Hey, you like what you see, caro?”

“Huh? No, no,” I say, giggling to hide my embarrassment. “Let me get dessert out…. and don’t you worry about what I’m looking at!”

Antonio laughs his hearty Santa laugh, then mumbles something in Italian under his breath.

*       *       *

Salvatore emerges from the guest room wearing black cotton lounging bottoms with a draw string at the waist and a white sleeveless Tee shirt.

He doesn’t have the sling on and I can see a cluster of stitches where he was shot and patched up again.

From behind the kitchen counter, I watched him approach us, barefoot, walking around and stretching his arms. His hair is damp and pushed back off his face hanging in loose waves to his neck. A little five o’clock shadow clings to a square jaw line and a handsome cleft chin

He sits down at the table and I hand him a mug of hot coffee. When he takes it from me, he flashes a big smile that travels to his eyes.

“Thanks!”

I almost faint—or is it throw up? I feel a pulling sensation deep down in my chest and stomach like I’ve just done a roller coaster ride.
Do I know him from somewhere?

Does he feel something, too? I feel his eyes on me the whole time we sit there. As if he is trying to get in my head or trying to remember something. It’s unnerving and intriguing at the same time.

Father and son chit chat for a while until I just know it’s past time for me to go home. I get to my feet so fast, I knock over the kitchen stool, which bangs on the floor like a gunshot. Sal flinches and my stomach lurches again.

“Listen guys, I think it’s time for us to go. Sal, I’m glad you finally made it. Can I get you guys anything else before I leave?”

Sal looks at me with his dark eyes. “So you live next door?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply, then turn to rinse my coffee cup at the sink.

“And you came here and cooked dinner for us?”

“Yes,” I say, turning back to the counter. “I make lots of stuff and bring it to your father. Your dad has been wonderful and kind to me. I’m lucky he’s in my life.”