Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop (26 page)

They kissed a little longer before Antonio broke the kiss. Tossing his head back, he gulped the last of his wine.

“So next week is Teresa and Francesco's wedding.”

“
Si.
I can't help feeling a bit nervous when I think about it. I keep wondering what Elisabetta's reaction is going to be when she finds out her sister has eloped with Francesco.”

“It will be fine. What can she do about it? Besides, Teresa is getting married; she's not running off with some hooligan. Elisabetta needs to loosen up a bit. She's too serious.”

“That is who she is. Just as Teresa is who she is.”

“Exactly. If only Elisabetta could accept that and not want to turn Teresa into a nun—or rather back into a nun.” Antonio began laughing so hard, tears welled up in his eyes.

Rosalia joined him. “I know. It is all so crazy! Teresa will have some stories to tell her children some day.”

“Do you look forward to the day you have your own children?”

Rosalia did not know how to answer. Naturally, she had always assumed she would be a mother someday. But again, she hadn't thought about children or marriage much in the past few months after all that had happened to her.

“When I am ready to have children, I will look forward to it.”

Rosalia couldn't help noticing how unenthusiastic her response had sounded. Antonio looked lost in thought. Perhaps he hadn't noticed.

He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then thought better of it.

Rosalia stood up. “I suppose we should head back if we hope to catch the sunset.”

“Of course.” Antonio put the cork back into the bottle of wine and placed it, along with the cups, back in his satchel.

As Rosalia helped Antonio fold the sheet, she could tell he was still thinking, but she was too afraid to ask him what was on his mind. She didn't want him to ask her any further questions about her future.

As they rode back to the beach, Antonio's mood lightened once again, and he told Rosalia all the jokes he knew. She laughed at every one of them. Madre Carmela was right. He was a good man. And for the first time, Rosalia let herself imagine what a future with him would be like. She imagined him helping her with the cooking and even a few of the household chores, although she knew that wasn't the usual arrangement between married couples, but Rosalia sensed Antonio wasn't like other men. She sensed he would always help her and be by her side—a true companion, much the way her own father had been to her mother.

“I guess that was a bad one,” Antonio said.

“What was a bad one?”

“My last joke. You didn't laugh.”

“Ah! I'm sorry, Antonio. My mind wandered. Tell it to me again.”

“That's all right.” Antonio waved his hand. “I already know it's not my best joke. Besides, I'd rather hear what you were thinking about.”

“Oh, nothing.” Rosalia's cheeks flushed.

“Ah! You were thinking about me.” Antonio flashed a wicked grin.

“I was not!”

“Don't lie, Rosalia. It's unbecoming to you.” Antonio broke out laughing.

Rosalia shook her head, but didn't say anything. She knew when she'd been caught redhanded.

Once they reached the beach, they returned their bikes to the rental shop and then made their way to the shore. A few other people were either walking or standing along the shore, waiting for the sun's descent.

Antonio and Rosalia walked hand in hand. She enjoyed these moments the most—when they didn't need to fill up the quiet with constant talk. Well, she couldn't lie to herself. She also enjoyed when Antonio held her . . . and kissed her.

Reaching the shore, they walked slowly on the wet sand. Every so often, Antonio would kick up a pebble that had washed ashore.

“You're getting that wet sand on our legs.”

“So what? It's already on our feet. I have a great idea! Why don't we have a wet sand fight?”

“You're crazy! I know you're not serious.” Rosalia returned her gaze straight ahead, but suddenly she felt something hit her arm.

“I can't believe you!” She watched a clump of wet sand roll off her arm. Some of the sand had splattered onto her sundress.

Antonio giggled like a schoolboy as he bent over, scooping up another small mound of sand.

“Oh, no, you don't!” Rosalia quickly bent down, scooping up what she could, but he threw sand at her again before she could strike first, hitting the hem of her dress.

She stood up, throwing her small pile of sand at Antonio. But she missed.

“Looks like I'm winning already!” Antonio taunted her before throwing another clump of sand, but this time he directed it at her ankle.

Rosalia picked up as much sand as she could with both of her hands and ran up to Antonio, throwing the pile at his back.

“You aimed right for my shirt!” But Antonio looked amused.

Rosalia bent down to scoop up more sand. She hadn't had this much fun since she was a child, chasing Luca on the beach. But suddenly, Antonio wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her high up in the air.

She kicked him lightly with her feet, screaming, “Put me down! Put me down!”

But Antonio swung her over his shoulder and headed into the water.

“Have you gone mad? The water is still too cold. And we're going to be a sight when we return to the convent. How will we explain our disheveled appearance?”

“We'll just tell them we felt like going for a swim.”

And Antonio meant it, as he waded into the water until he was chest high in it. He then slowly lowered Rosalia but, knowing she was much shorter than he was, he held her rather than let her stand in the water.

“Let's go back. You must be freezing.”

“You must think I'm a weakling. I'm fine, but thank you for being so considerate.”

He brought his lips to meet Rosalia's and kissed her. Rosalia wrapped her arms around Antonio's neck. She didn't care any longer that they had gotten wet or about what everyone back at the convent would think when they saw them. She just cared about this moment and how happy and carefree Antonio made her feel.

“Look!” Antonio had pulled away from their kiss as he pointed out the sun setting.

As they watched the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon, Rosalia marveled at how magical it was. She wished she could freeze this moment and forget about all that had happened in the past—and not contemplate what her future still held in store for her.

19

Trionfo di Gola

TRIUMPH OF GLUTTONY CAKE

 

 

 

 

T
hough it was only the second week in April, the temperature had climbed to the low seventies, a good ten degrees warmer than what Sicily usually experienced during this time of the year. Rosalia wiped the beads of perspiration that were forming along her hairline with a handkerchief as she stood at the altar of a small church in Messina, watching Teresa and Francesco take their wedding vows.

Antonio stood opposite Rosalia, next to Francesco. Every so often, he caught Rosalia's gaze and smiled deeply, holding her stare. But Rosalia could not hold his gaze for long and would look away. Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel nervous. Instead, she let her thoughts drift to the couple before them who would begin a new life together.

Teresa was stunning as always, but today her beauty radiated even more. She wore a long-sleeved, white lace dress that accentuated her svelte figure and came just past her knees. The dress's neckline was scalloped, revealing her delicate collarbone. Just before the ceremony started, Rosalia had helped her with her hair. Teresa wanted it to be coiled into a bun of several thin braids.

“My hair looks so pretty, Rosalia! I wish I didn't have to cover it with this veil,” Teresa had exclaimed after seeing her hairstyle. She held a short mantilla veil with a lace trim, looking at it with disdain.

“It's just for the ceremony. You know we have to keep our heads covered in church.” Rosalia had bought a simple black veil when she had gone into town with Antonio on their last day off. Since she and the other laywomen who resided at the convent always attended Mass at the convent's chapel, there wasn't any need for a veil. But if she ever wanted to attend Mass in church, she would have to wear one. So at least she hadn't been spending money on something she would only wear once.

Something flashed before Rosalia's eyes, shaking her out of her reverie. Teresa was waving her small bouquet of white daisies rather impatiently in Rosalia's direction.

She took the bouquet and silently mouthed, “I'm sorry.”

Francesco turned toward Antonio, who held out two gleaming gold wedding bands. Francesco went first, taking Teresa's ring and placing it halfway down her finger. He repeated the priest's words and then fully slipped the ring on. Teresa smiled, glancing down at her ring with admiration. The priest took Francesco's ring, handing it to Teresa as she repeated her vows after the priest. After she slipped Francesco's ring all the way down his finger, the priest took their hands and joined them together, saying a prayer of blessing and announcing their union. Teresa and Francesco both looked at the priest, waiting for his nod of approval before they kissed. And in true Teresa fashion, she kissed Francesco for a few seconds, causing the priest to blush before he coughed loudly.

Rosalia looked at Antonio, wanting to share her amusement with him. But Antonio seemed oblivious to Teresa and Francesco's long kiss. He stared intently at Rosalia. This time, she didn't pull her gaze away. Instead, she imagined for a moment it was them standing before the priest taking their wedding vows. An image of Rosalia's mother's wedding dress came to her mind. Tiers of lace wrapped around a voluminous ball-gown skirt that held a hoop beneath it, causing the dress to billow dramatically out to the front. Mamma's hair was pulled up into a gorgeous bun. A veil made of Alençon lace, which had been a gift to Mamma from Papà, hung down to her elbows. Since Rosalia was a little girl, she had known she would wear her mother's dress when she got married some day. Perhaps she still could—if she found her family. She did not have to abandon all hope of that dream's coming true.

The wedding ceremony was over, and Rosalia and Antonio followed Teresa and Francesco out of the church. No one else was in attendance, and Rosalia couldn't help noting how sad it was having only herself, Antonio, and the priest witness such a momentous event in the newlyweds' lives. But that was how they had wanted it, and they didn't look like they held any regrets. They laughed as they rushed down the aisle and out into the street. As usual, they were so wrapped up in themselves that they hadn't even waited for Rosalia and Antonio. Teresa and Francesco picked up where they had left off at the altar, and resumed their kissing.

“Let's give them some privacy for a few minutes. They'll come look for us.” Antonio pulled Rosalia's arm, leading her to the side of the church building.

“Are you sure they'll come looking for us? They probably forgot we even exist.” Rosalia laughed.

“True.” Antonio winked at Rosalia. He then took her hand in his.

“It was a nice ceremony,” Rosalia said, not voicing her thoughts from a moment ago.

“I suppose. It did seem a little sad that we were the only people to witness it.”

“I was thinking that as well, but the ceremony itself was nice, and they look happy.”

“They do.”

“I can't stop thinking about what Elisabetta's reaction will be when she finds out her sister has eloped. Actually, everyone at the convent will be surprised.”

“I know. I hope I am around tomorrow when everyone discovers she is gone.”

Rosalia elbowed Antonio. “You're terrible!”

Antonio laughed. “It will be fun. I'm sure you will enjoy it, too! The best will be seeing Sorella Domenica's face. I'm sure she will feel vindicated in some way and will have to say something about knowing Teresa was up to no good.”

“She thinks the worst of everyone.”

“Rosalia! Antonio! Where are you? Have you decided to get married next? Ah, there you are!” Teresa made her way toward Rosalia and Antonio.

“Shhh!” Rosalia scolded her as her cheeks quickly burned hot. Once again, Teresa had managed to embarrass her. Rosalia stole a sideways glance at Antonio, who was smiling slyly.

“What do you say, Rosalia? Should we make it a double wedding?”

Rosalia's eyes widened.

“I'm only teasing you. Come on!” Antonio laughed, but Rosalia couldn't help noting that his laugh didn't reach his eyes.

They walked to a
trattoria
near the church, where they had their midday meal and celebrated.

“To the happy newlyweds.
Salute!
” Antonio held up his glass of wine as he toasted Teresa and Francesco.

“
Grazie!
You both have become such dear friends to us. We must continue to see each other even though Teresa and I will be living in Messina,” Francesco said.

“As long as you don't mind coming here. I don't know how welcome I'll be at the convent after today.” Teresa's eyes looked sad.

“That's nonsense! I'm sure Madre Carmela would welcome you,” Rosalia offered.

“She would, but I don't know about a few of the other nuns and . . .”

“Elisabetta will come to understand. You're sisters, after all, and have only each other left in your family. Just give her some time.”

“Maybe you're right, Rosalia.”

“Enough! Today is a happy day. Waiter! Another carafe of wine, please! On second thought, make that two!” Francesco called out.

They laughed and celebrated for the rest of the meal. Francesco became a bit drunk and began singing, even getting down on his knees to serenade his new wife. The restaurant's other patrons applauded him.

Though Teresa laughed, Rosalia heard her whisper to Francesco, “Enough!”

After the dishes had been cleared from the table, Antonio looked at Rosalia and silently mouthed the word “now.”

“Excuse us for a moment. We'll be right back,” he said.

“Ah! They need some time alone! Go, go, my friend.” Francesco patted Antonio's back as he walked by.

When they were out of earshot, Antonio whispered, “If he keeps drinking, I'm afraid their wedding night won't be memorable at all.”

Though Rosalia was surprised by Antonio's frank comment, she couldn't help giggling softly.

They entered the
trattoria
's kitchen. Antonio spotted the owner, Signora DelAbate, who was coating the sides of a
Trionfo di Gola
cake with chopped pistachios.
Trionfo di Gola,
or Triumph of Gluttony, was a very old cake recipe passed down from nuns over the centuries. The batter was divided among three different-sized round cake pans. After the individual cakes were baked, filling was spread on top of each layer, and then they were stacked one on top of the other. Once the cake was assembled, it was then frosted with marzipan paste, and the finishing touch was the coating of the chopped pistachios around the cake. The cake's tall, pyramid shape gave it a unique, impressive appearance. Rosalia had wanted to make a cake that was more elaborate than a typical wedding cake.

“
Signora,
it looks beautiful!” Antonio exclaimed.

“I am almost done with it. You know you could have asked me to make the cake. We make some of the finest cakes in Messina even though we are a simple
trattoria
.”

“I'm sure you do, but as I explained earlier, this is our gift to our friends.”

“You both made this cake?” Signora DelAbate looked up, surprised. “I thought it was just your wife who made it. A man who bakes. Very nice.
Bravo!
” She nodded approvingly before returning to her work.

Antonio opened his mouth to correct Signora DelAbate, but Rosalia placed her hand on his. It was all right that the
trattoria
owner had mistaken them for a married couple. It was a natural assumption. Also, Rosalia had been the one to actually make the cake, but she and Antonio had collaborated on the recipe, especially since it was their first time making
Trionfo di Gola
.

“All done. Ah! Wait!” Signora DelAbate grabbed her cane, which was propped against the worktable, and hobbled over to a vase of large blood-red tulips. She snipped two of the tulips from their stems with a pair of kitchen shears and hobbled back to the table. She placed the flowers side by side in the center of the cake.

“One for the groom and one for the bride!” She laughed, pleased with herself.

“It's gorgeous,
signora. Grazie!
” Rosalia admired the cake.

She couldn't wait to see Teresa's and Francesco's reactions. Rosalia and Antonio had agreed not to decorate the cake themselves out of fear that it would get ruined when Antonio transported it to the
trattoria.
They had traveled to Messina an hour before they were supposed to meet Teresa and Francesco at the church. It had been difficult to convince them they didn't need a ride to Messina, and Antonio had told a small lie and said he needed to meet with one of Madre's suppliers in Messina. Besides, he told them if they left together it might arouse suspicion, although they'd gone out on other occasions. But Teresa and Francesco were so anxious to tie the knot and not be discovered by Elisabetta that they had heartily agreed it was for the better if they didn't leave the convent together. Antonio had borrowed his friend's car, and he and Rosalia had snuck the cake out of the convent's kitchen. Rosalia had made the cake secretly the day before in the kitchen. The other workers in the convent were too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. Once the cake was baked, Antonio had placed it all the way in the back of the refrigerator that was used for their meals and not for the pastries the convent made. And when it was time to take the cake to the car, Rosalia had found an empty potato sack to cover it with. God had been on their side, since no one had seemed to notice them as they carried this odd-looking platter covered in burlap outside.

“Would you like me to carry it out?” Signora DelAbate asked.

Rosalia shook her head. “No.
Grazie.
We would like to do it since we are presenting it as a gift to the newlyweds.”

“
Va bene.
” Signora DelAbate motioned with her hands for them to take the cake platter.

Antonio carefully picked up the cake with both of his hands.

“This is heavy. Did you put rocks in this, Rosalia?”

Rosalia narrowed her eyes at him. “Funny!”

She followed Antonio out of the kitchen. She began to feel nervous.

“I hope the cake came out good. Can you imagine if it tastes horrible, and they'll always remember their wedding cake as being this terrible cake Rosalia made?”

“When have you made anything that tasted bad, Rosalia?” Antonio said without turning his head.

She couldn't help noting he seemed nervous, too, as if afraid he would drop their treasure.

When they reached their table, Antonio and Rosalia shouted, “Surprise!”

“Is that for us?” Teresa looked at Rosalia, who nodded.

“It's beautiful! Isn't it, Francesco?”

“
Si!
What a gorgeous cake!”

“We made it. Well, Rosalia made it, but I consulted with her on the recipe. But it's truly Rosalia's creation. And it's not just any cake. It's a
Trionfo di Gola
. A special cake for your special occasion.” Antonio was beaming with pride.

“Antonio was very much a part of it. It was his idea to make you a wedding cake as our gift to you. I hope you like it. Oh, and we have Signora DelAbate to thank for decorating it. We were afraid to decorate it back at the convent and have the frosting get ruined while we transported it here. I'm sure if we had, most of the pistachios would've fallen off!” Rosalia laughed.

She then gestured toward Signora DelAbate, who waved and shouted, “
Buona fortuna!
”