Bella Fortuna (43 page)

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Authors: Rosanna Chiofalo

BOOK: Bella Fortuna
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“That's exactly why, Ma! I don't want anyone else to have my wedding gown design.”
“Bridezilla comes out!” Rita laughs.
Connie quickly comes to my defense. “She's right, Ma. Come on! We're the DeLuca girls, masters of the fine art of designing and creating wedding dresses. No one can have our dresses.”
“Yeah, it's like we're royalty.” Rita curtsies toward me. I break out laughing.
“
Va bene.
I see what you girls mean. But I think it's a shame not to display this dress. We can tell people it's a design we no longer create.”
“Ma, how long have you been in this business, yet you still don't know that the word no is impossible to say to a Bridezilla? They'll just ask you to replicate a dress that is as similar as possible or insist on making this dress.”
Ma throws up her hands in resignation. “Okay, okay, Valentina. You have me beat. I give up.”
There's a knock at the door. We all call out, “Come in!”
“Buon giorno, Signorina DeLuca. I tuoi fiore.”
“Ahh, si. Entra, per favore.”
I quickly walk over to examine my flowers. My bouquet contains all white cymbidium orchids. I had purchased crystal bobby pins that matched the crystals in my hair comb and asked the florist to scatter them throughout my bouquet. The stems are wrapped with a deep plum sash to go with the color of my bridal party's dresses. I walk over to the night table in my hotel room and take out Signora Tesca's brooch and fasten it to my bouquet. Rita, Connie, and Angela's bouquets are much smaller than mine and also feature white cymbidium orchids, but theirs do not contain the crystal bobby pins.
Ma wears an exquisite pale green gown, and her corsage holds two cymbidium orchids and two of the same crystal bobby pins that are in my bouquet.
“Hey, why didn't we get the crystal pins?” Rita balks.
“Because you are not her mother. That's why.”
Ma nods her head once emphatically and looks at herself in the armoire's mirrors, admiring her sparkly corsage.
“Hello? Is the bride ready?” Aldo holds my hotel suite's door slightly ajar. “Why are you getting ready with your door open?”
“The florist must've left it open on his way out, and we were too busy admiring our beautiful flowers to notice.”
“Oh my God, Vee!”
Aldo stops in his tracks when he sees me.
“I swear you guys are a bunch of saps! I thought Ma would've been the one crying nonstop, but it's the rest of you!”
I walk over to Aldo, offering my cheek for him to kiss, but he simply air kisses me.
“I can't smudge your makeup. I'm sorry. I just can't help myself.”
Tears stream down Aldo's face while he fans himself with his hand. Connie hands him a bunch of tissues.
“Well, you'd better get yourself together before we walk down the aisle.”
“Don't worry. I take my duties very seriously. You can count on me.”
Ma and Aldo are giving me away. Aldo had cried when I asked him. He'd also been surprised since I hadn't asked him to give me away when I was supposed to marry Michael. Only Ma was going to give me away, but I'd asked her if she would mind sharing the duties with Aldo. He'd helped me so much after Michael and I broke up. My mother had told me Aldo was family so of course she wouldn't mind.
Aldo is dressed in a charcoal gray tuxedo, which matches Stefano's tux except that it's a little paler in color.
“Oh, before I forget, here's your corsage.”
I pin onto his chest his corsage, which contains just one of the cymbidium orchids.
We spend the next hour and a half with my photographer, and before I know it, the time has arrived for me to make my procession in my gondola down the Grand Canal to St. Mark's Basilica, where Stefano and I will exchange our vows. The Basilica is the only ostentatious part of the wedding. We've decided to get married there because it's where our love affair began. And while I adore so many of the other churches in Venice, none of them hold the same allure for me as St. Mark's Basilica. The dim, gilded interior creates an intimate and sacred atmosphere that none of the other churches manage to capture.
The day is overcast, and there is a slight chill in the air. But I don't mind. To me, it's the most perfect day. As my gondola glides down the Grand Canal, I can't help thinking how lucky I am to be here in my favorite city in the world, but more importantly, to be marrying the man I'm crazy in love with. Finally, the tears come into my eyes, but I fight them off. Too late. Aldo's noticed.
“I was beginning to wonder when you'd crack!”
He pulls out of his trousers pocket a plain white handkerchief. He notices me staring at it in shock.
“Can't ruin the Fendi silk one that's in my breast pocket.”
I laugh. Aldo lightly dabs the corners of my eyes.
“No damage. So were those tears of joy or sadness?”
“Joy! What would I be sad about?”
Aldo's face clouds over, but he says nothing.
“Forget I even mentioned it.”
It still amazes me sometimes how much Aldo and I are psychically linked. I suddenly realize the one thought that could've made me sad today. My father. Of course, he's been in my mind, and I wish he could be here to give me away. But I know his spirit is present. For some reason today, I feel him more than I ever have since he died.
“You were referring to my father.”
Aldo smiles. “You're a witch, you know that? How do you know my thoughts so much of the time?”
“If I'm a witch, you're a warlock, since you often know my thoughts as well. I wasn't crying because of my father. I was thinking how lucky and blessed I am.”
“Good. I'm glad to hear they were tears of joy.”
Aldo looks off into the distance. I see tears forming in his eyes. He quickly puts his sunglasses on.
“I'm really going to miss you.”
“Oh, Aldo. I'm going to miss you, too.”
He pulls his cheap handkerchief out of his trousers again and dabs at his eyes.
I squeeze his hand gently.
“You have an excuse now to come to Venice whenever you feel like it. And you can always stay with us.”
Aldo shakes his finger at me. “Watch what you promise. I might take you up on it more times than you and your Rick Springfield lookalike of a husband will appreciate.”
I laugh. “You noticed that too about him, huh?”
“How could I not, being the eighties child that I am?”
“You and me both. I noticed it the first time I laid eyes on him.”
“I bet. Stefano told me how you played a little hard to get in the beginning. It's too bad I wasn't here. I would've knocked some sense into your head and made you see what you were missing in bed.”
“And how are you so sure he's great in bed?”
“Remember, I'm a warlock. I can sense these things.”
I give Aldo a mischievous smile, which is testimony enough that what he's guessed at is true.
I glance at the gondola behind me that's carrying my mother, sisters, and Angela. They're talking and laughing. I'm so happy we're all here together.
We arrive at St. Mark's Square. I wait in the gondola with Aldo until my family and Angela have disembarked. Aldo helps me out of the gondola. He quickly fluffs out my dress, patting it down with his palms to make sure there are no wrinkles. My photographer, who rode in my gondola so that he could snap photos of me on the ride over, takes a few shots of us in front of the Basilica. Passersby and tourists stop to stare at me.
We make our way into the Basilica and down to the crypt where wedding ceremonies are held and where St. Mark's body is entombed. The space is dark and very intimate.
The quartet we've hired begins playing Bach's “Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.” Signore Lambrusca escorts his wife down the aisle. Then Angela followed by Connie and then Rita make their way down the aisle. There is a brief pause before the notes of Handel's “Largo” fill the air. I look at Ma and Aldo. Ma finally looks like she's about to cry. I loop my arms in theirs as we begin marching slowly down the aisle. My eyes immediately seek out Stefano. He smiles as soon as he sees me. Our gazes lock on to each other's, never breaking until I reach the altar. Aldo and Ma kiss me before taking their places in the front pew. I turn around and give my bouquet to Rita. Stefano and I hold hands, smiling at each other.
Our priest, Padre Domenico, recites the entire ceremony in Italian. I feel bad for a few of my out-of-town guests who do not know the language. My heart races erratically. Stefano lightly strokes my hand with his thumb.
Padre Domenico announces that it's time for us to exchange our vows. I go first. I swallow hard. First, I say my vows in Italian, then I say them in English. Padre Domenico allowed us to do this—a small gesture to make our guests who don't speak Italian and who came all the way here feel as if they're a part of our special day.
Stefano's grip on my hand tightens before he says his vows in English. I'm wondering if he's forgotten the small sheet of paper he wrote the English vows on. But he hasn't checked his jacket pocket. Instead, he fastens his eyes on mine and recites his vows, speaking slowly and clearly. I'm touched that he memorized the vows in English. And he hasn't mistaken any words!
At the end of the traditional wedding vows, Stefano adds, “I will always love you forever.” Our wedding guests are delighted and applaud, receiving a stern glance from Padre Domenico, who without a doubt is not thrilled at Stefano's minor deviation from the traditional Catholic wedding rites. My eyes fill with tears as I silently mouth the same words to Stefano.
The Mass portion of our wedding ceremony continues. Stefano and I receive communion. After all of our guest have received communion and are kneeling in prayer, suddenly Paulie's voice rings out, “Christ!”
Stefano and I look in horror at him. I don't even want to look at Padre Domenico. Everyone is staring at Paulie as if he's transformed into a hideous beast before our eyes. I knew the chivalrous Renaissance man I'd seen the night before at our rehearsal dinner was too good to be true.
“I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Father.
Ahhh . . . mi dispiacio, Padre. Scusa!
Is that how you say it, Signora DeLuca?”
My mother shoots him the dirtiest look I have ever seen her give anyone. Her face is flaming red, and her signature knitted eyebrows are arched as if they're ready to fence. Her fists are coiled around the rosary she's holding, no doubt praying to God to finally rid me of the
malocchio
she believes has plagued me throughout life. Aldo places his hand on Ma's shoulder as if he's afraid she's going to charge Paulie.
“It's just that my video camera's battery is about to die.”
I hadn't been able to book a videographer in Venice. They were all booked for my wedding day. Since Paulie was attending, I asked him if he could do it and lent him my mini camcorder. Of course, he agreed and spoke of nothing else in the days leading to my wedding. He had assured me he was practicing every day so he would get the hang of using my camcorder. How could he have forgotten to recharge the battery before the wedding?
“Non ti preoccupare. Lo faccio io.”
Fortunately, Giovanni, one of Stefano's cousins, comes to the rescue and says he's been recording the entire ceremony with his own camcorder, and he can continue doing so.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Padre Domenico continues with the rest of Mass. No other disturbances occur, and soon Padre Domenico pronounces us husband and wife. Stefano and I both look at Padre Domenico for permission to kiss. We don't want to upset him any more than he has been today. Finally, his stern face breaks into a smile, and he surprises us by saying in English, “What you wait for? Kiss. Kiss.”
Stefano and I kiss, and in that moment, I already feel different. I am now Valentina Lambrusca. Everyone applauds, including Padre Domenico. Stefano and I laugh. Rita returns my bouquet to me. We proceed up the aisle, and I try to make eye contact with my family and friends. Everyone looks truly happy for me. I'll never forget this feeling or this day. Even with Paulie's faux pas, the wedding ceremony was perfect.
After taking photos inside and outside the Basilica, we make our way toward our gondola, which is waiting to take us to the restaurant where we'll be having our reception. Before our gondolier begins steering us away from the dockside, our guests throw rice at us and continue throwing until we're much farther down the canal. Once they're certain they've thrown every last grain of rice, they begin loading two
vaporetti
to follow us to the reception.

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