Defining Moments (31 page)

Today, I’m going to the old farmhouse vineyard again, which is a couple of hours from Rome. When I first arrived in Rome, all the locals I met told me it has amazing food and wine and that the family who owns it is absolutely amazing. “A perfect tribute to what raising a family on a vineyard in Italy is like,” a bartender at my favorite little bar had told me. They hadn’t been wrong. I’ve been here many times and I love it the best of all the places I’ve visited.

So here I am, again, at the Giordano Farmhouse Vineyard, sitting out on their back deck, soaking up the summer sun, snacking on antipasti, and enjoying amazing wine. Life really can’t get better than this. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m comfortable in my own skin, loving who I am, and enjoying every second I can spend on myself. Does that make me selfish? Maybe. Do I care? Not one damn ounce. I know being here will end at some point, and I’ll return to my life before I was able to step away from it. The only difference will be the person I am now. I’ve made great strides in becoming who I am supposed to be, and I have Italy to thank for it.

I do yoga daily.

I meditate daily.

I go for runs when I need to clear my head.

I eat what I want, but I watch my portion sizes, so I can continue to eat what I want.

I smile all the time. Why? Because although my life hasn’t been traumatic, the past eighteen months have been extremely stressful, and being away from it all to focus on myself is a gift not everyone gets. I am very blessed.

I sit for hours, writing in my journal about my time here, taking pictures of the vineyard, and reading. The smells and sounds of this country lighten my heart a little more every day. It’s almost like I can feel the pieces coming back together, trying like hell to become one whole again.

Mrs. Giordano brings me another glass of wine and sits down beside me, patting my leg gently like we’re old friends. She comes out and chats with me each time I’ve come here. Her husband has come out a few times as well. They’ve never really asked me anything overly personal, but we’ve talked about my boys and they know I’m a divorcee.

“So, are you finally going to tell me what you are running from, tesoro?” she asks me gently.

I watch as mischief crosses her face and her old eyes crinkle when she smirks at me.

“I’m not running from anything. I’m doing the home cooking internship through Italia Culinary Art School, and enjoying being single.” I smile at her, before changing the subject. “What does tesoro mean?”

She laughs quietly before replying, “Treasure or darling. But you did not tell me the whole truth, my darling girl,” she continues. “I’ve watched you these last few months. I’ve seen the pain through the smiles. Something has you fleeing those you love. Why?”

She is no longer looking at me, but out across the vineyard toward the sun, which is starting to set. I don’t really know how to answer that. Was I running when I initially got here? Probably. I’d wanted to come before the blowup, but the fight had definitely helped me make the decision. Now, I’m staying because I love it here and I truly am making big strides in figuring my life out.

“In the beginning, I may have been running a little,” I tell her honestly after a few minutes.

“Tell me about him,” she chuckles, continuing to stare off in the distance.

I take a slow sip of my wine to decide whether or not I really want to rehash the whole story to a virtual stranger, but truthfully, it may help me to let it all out and let someone outside the box tell me their thoughts on both Cord and my actions.

“It’s a long, painful story,” I begin.

“I’ve got all night,” she clucks.

“Well, I don’t think you need the nasty details of my divorce, but the problem started there. My ex-husband basically told me he needed more than what I could give him, that I wasn’t enough and he didn’t love me. We’d been married twenty-one years and have three sons. His betrayal didn’t stop there, but everything else about him isn’t part of Cord and my story. I did let Justin’s history cloud my judgment when it came to the trust I had in Cord though.” I stop long enough to take a sip of my wine and grab a few grapes and a slice of cheese that Mr. Giordano brought out to us a few minutes ago.

We snack and enjoy the sun setting, her not pushing me to continue, which I’m thankful for. It’s hard for me to explain how horribly both Cord and I handled things. I can look back on it now and see how shitty we’d dealt with our issues, but I didn’t see it at the time. We were both still so tied up in what we’d been through that neither of us made good decisions.

“Cord lost his wife under horrible circumstances, and he hadn’t really dated much since she passed. He became my neighbor after I moved into an apartment after the divorce and he owns the restaurant I was working in. He is absolutely beautiful,” I say the last part under my breath. God, I miss him.

“Anyway, we became pretty good friends; hanging out together some evenings and hiking together. It eventually became obvious we were both extremely attracted to each other. At some point, we decided to try, very slowly, to have a relationship. Meanwhile, Justin had been texting me weekly, sometimes daily, about how stupid he was, how much he’d messed up, and even went as far as saying he wanted to fix things between us. Apparently, after I got hit by a car, Justin ‘realized’ how important I was to him.” I raise my hands in the air make the finger-quotes.

“Wait. Did you just say you got hit by a car?” Mrs. Giordano asks, looking extremely concerned.

“Yep. Apparently, a drunk driver jumped the curb and hit me while I was running down the street. Sad part is, I probably would’ve seen it coming if I hadn’t been so lost in my own thoughts at the time. I’d just found out that Justin had been cheating on me our entire marriage,” I reveal to her before lifting my glass to my lips again.

“Stronzo,” Mrs. Giordano murmurs under her breath.

“All right, you know I don’t know much Italian and I’ve not heard that one before. What does that mean?” I laugh out, knowing full well it must mean something bad with the sour look on her face.

“Asshole. You’re ex-husband is an asshole,” she grinds out.

I laugh and she glares, so I respond, “You are completely correct. He is. And the funny part is, after the accident, he was at the hospital professing his love for me, begging for forgiveness, and telling me we would be back together.”

“So he’s also an idiot? Because I’ll tell you right now, Ellie, if you take that man back, I will fly to the United States, a place I’ve never wished to go, and smack you myself,” she barks. “No woman deserves to be treated like that. If my Stefano had ever treated me that way, I’d have killed him.”

And I don’t doubt her one bit. She wears the pants in that family for sure. Tough old lady.

“Get back to your story, bella,” she chuckles.

“So, anyway, when I got the offer to come to Italy for the internship, I was on the fence about coming. I mean, I had only been working at Saint for a few months and really liked the job, it would be the first time away from my boys for an extended period of time, and I didn’t know how Cord would feel about it since our relationship as more than friends had just begun. Then the night I told him about the offer, after he’d fallen asleep, he said something in his sleep that made me realize he wasn’t over the tragedy of losing his wife. I knew then I needed to come to Italy, because truthfully, neither of us had let go of what we’d been through,” I confess. “He’d woken the next morning and run.” I realize, as I lift the wine to my lips yet again, I am past the point of driving, and go to set the glass down before I drink anymore. Mrs. Giordano watches me closely, noticing I didn’t take a drink of it.

“You stay here tonight, Ellie. We have many guest rooms and I want you to enjoy this visit with me. Drink your wine,” she chatters. “I’ve already requested Stefano to go ready a room for you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Mrs. Giordano, really. I’ll just have some water and I’ll be okay after we are done talking,” I promise.

“Please, we’re past the ‘Mrs. Giordano.’ Call me Gianna, and I insist you stay. I am enjoying our visit and I wish for us to continue to drink wine and enjoy this beautiful view.”

“That would be lovely, Gianna. Thank you,” I reply.

“I know you come here to heal, Ellie. I’m not sure what it is about my place that is helping you, but I’ve been able to see the change in you since you first started coming here. The first few times, you looked sad and unsure of yourself. Now when you come, I can see the serenity you’ve accomplished within yourself.”

The words she says brings tears to my eyes, because she’s reading me like a book. She is completely right. I am finding my serenity.

“Please continue, my dear,” she pleads.

“Well, after Cord ran the next morning, I decided I was taking the internship. I started making arrangements and then went down to the restaurant to let them know I’d be leaving. I got into a discussion with Cord’s brother, Bishop, and sister, Angelica, about Cord’s deceased wife and Cord heard parts of it. He was furious with all three of us for talking about it. He basically threw me out and called me a stranger.”

I lift the glass to my lips and drink the rest, just as I look up and see Mr. Giordano coming back out with another bottle of wine, along with a platter of sliced bread and olive oil with herbs for dipping. I’m going to need to put in an extra-long run to burn all of this off. I’ve earned it though. I’ve been taking care of myself and am in the best shape of my adult life. Mr. Giordano smiles politely, sets the wine and tray down, kisses his wife on the cheek, and walks quietly back into the house.

“Long story short, he didn’t talk to me for the five days I had left before I left Colorado. The day I flew out, he sent me a text saying he wanted to talk to me. I told him it was too late and I left. He continued to text me during the days I was at my parents’ home in Pennsylvania, but I never read them or responded. I waited until I was on the plane to Rome to read them.” I pause only long enough to refill both of our wine glasses and tear a small chunk of bread off. “Anyhow, when I texted my boys once I arrived in Rome, one of them insisted I call Cord because he was worried. So I called,” I explain, stopping to take a gulp of wine because this part is starting to choke me up. “A woman answered the phone in the middle of the night, and I could hear him beside her,” I croak.

“He’s a stronzo too then,” Gianna bites out.

“I hung up. He tried to call back for a while and I finally just told him I had nothing to say to him and then blocked his phone number. I handled it like a damn scorned teenager. I should’ve listened to what he had to say. I don’t know why that woman was there.”

I stop for a bit, watching as the rest of the sun goes down behind the hill.

“A few weeks later, I got an email from Cord’s best friend, Sami, who is married to Cord’s brother, Bishop. She’s a lovely little woman. You’d like her, Gianna. She reminds me of a thirty-something you.” I feel my eyes start to mist. Sami’s probably six or seven months pregnant by now. I wonder if they found out if it’s a girl or a boy yet. I should really email her and see how she’s doing.

“Sami asked me to email Cord just to see if he was okay. She said he’d been reclusive and they were beginning to really worry about him. So I did, and it didn’t go well.”

Taking a deep breath, I look back out at the now dark countryside.

“At the end of the ‘chat,’ he basically threw the woman who answered his phone in my face, and told me he’d needed more. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

She nods her head but doesn’t say anything. I know she knows what I’m thinking. He’d said that to hurt me. I see it now, but like I said, it’s easy for me to look back on things that happened back then and realize how stupid we were both being.

“You should call him,” Gianna blurts. “He cares for you or he wouldn’t have continued to chase you. He emailed more after that right? You just didn’t respond. Did you even read them?”

I shake my head, not making eye contact with her. “Nope, and I deleted them all so I couldn’t go back later and read them. I thought I needed a clean break from him so we could both take time to heal and figure out what it is exactly we are doing, what we are looking for in this life.”

“Bella, you need to go home and fix this,” she tells me in all honesty. I know she’s right. I know that at some point, I need to decide how I’m going to handle the talk I need to have with Cord, even if we never speak to each other after that. I think we both need the chance to say our piece, and I’m sure that will help make the decision on whether we try to be friends or walk away.

“I will, Gianna. I only have a few short weeks left of my internship and my best friend is getting married in a few months too, so I’ll be going home before then,” I trail off.

Oh yeah, did I mention Claire and Tyler are getting married? Yep, she dropped that bomb on me a few weeks ago, and to say I’m elated for her is an understatement. She’s finally found her “soul mate,” or so she proclaimed to me while sobbing hysterically the night he asked her. I really am truly happy for her. It’s about damn time an amazing man appreciates her the way she deserves.

Gianna and I sit for a little while longer just chatting about nothing and everything. Once she starts yawning, I know it’s time to get her off to bed and as long as I sit here, she’ll stay.

I stretch and fake yawn before turning to her. “We should head to bed. It’s gotta be late.”

She nods and goes to start clearing the wine bottles, glasses, and platters. “I’ll get this, Gianna. It’s the least I can do for your hospitality and letting me bend your ear this evening. I do really appreciate your insight on the mess Cord and I made,” I chuckle.

She nods, yawning again. “Just put all the dishes in the sink, Ellie. Mrs. Marie will be here in the morning to do the chores,” she replies before heading toward the door, stopping to hold the door open for me since my arms are full.

I place the dishes in the sink and turn to Gianna who is patiently waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll show you to the spare room Stefano prepared for you.”