Part 14 (2/2)
”Do you know how?” said Lucrezia, holding them back. ”I've never seen you on anything but a bicycle.”
Peppi gave her a look of indignation. ”Trust me, Signorina,” he told her. ”I'm a very good driver. We may not get there as fast as we would if you were behind the wheel, but we'll get there.”
Lucrezia gave him a skeptical look of her own, but finally relinquished the keys.
”Well, just don't run into anything,” she told him, trying her best to stifle another a yawn, ”or I'll be very upset.”
”I'll be careful,” he promised.
Lucrezia said very little once they were on their way, and after a while said nothing at all. Peppi wondered what it was that had suddenly made her so quiet until he looked over and saw that she had simply nodded off to sleep. She was out like a light. Peppi laughed to himself and started to reach over to turn on the radio. Some quiet music, he thought, would keep him company for the rest of the ride. Just then, however, Lucrezia gave a soft moan, curled her legs up, and to his surprise leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder. No longer able to move his arm, for he feared that to do so might wake her, Peppi forgot all about the radio. Instead, he just smiled and hummed a song to himself while Lucrezia slept and the two drew nearer and nearer to home.
CHAPTER THIRTY.
Lucrezia yawned and sat up on the edge of the bed. She stretched her arms over her head for a moment, stood, and looked out the bedroom window to the mountains in the east. To her surprise, she discovered that she had slept well into midmorning, early enough for most people to arise on a Sunday morning, but not Lucrezia. Most mornings she awoke with the birds, sometimes even before the sun had a chance to peek over the mountaintops or the rooster to crow. On those mornings, a low, thin white carpet of mist would cling to the cool, dark ground, making the world outside a dreamy place half between sleeping and waking. It was her favorite time of the day. and sat up on the edge of the bed. She stretched her arms over her head for a moment, stood, and looked out the bedroom window to the mountains in the east. To her surprise, she discovered that she had slept well into midmorning, early enough for most people to arise on a Sunday morning, but not Lucrezia. Most mornings she awoke with the birds, sometimes even before the sun had a chance to peek over the mountaintops or the rooster to crow. On those mornings, a low, thin white carpet of mist would cling to the cool, dark ground, making the world outside a dreamy place half between sleeping and waking. It was her favorite time of the day.
By now, though, the mist had long disappeared, chased away by the warming rays of the morning summer sun. With another yawn, she turned away from the window and sat back on the edge of the bed. She felt too tired to start her day, but too restless to go back to sleep. It was the aroma of freshly brewed coffee that finally tugged her out of bed for good. She put on her robe and slippers and walked wearily to the kitchen.
As Lucrezia had suspected, Filomena was there at the table sipping her first cup of coffee of the day. Lucrezia smiled, for she knew that daily life for her mother, and most Italians for that matter, could not begin otherwise. For them, caffeine was an essential nutrient. The mere thought of starting a day without the bracing jolt of a good cup of coffee was beyond comprehension. She gave her mother a nod and went to the stove to pour herself a cup.
”You're up early today,” she said as the dark, warm brew filled the cup.
”And you're up late,” Filomena replied, barely looking up from the magazine she was leafing through.
”Papa out for his ride?”
”Mm-hmm,” nodded her mother. ”He left just a few minutes before you got out of bed.” She turned the page of the magazine. ”I didn't hear you come in last night. What time did you get home? It must have been late.”
Lucrezia brought her mug to the table and sat down. She said nothing at first but simply gazed out the window as she drank her coffee.
”We stopped for a coffee on the way home,” she said after a time. ”It was a long ride, so we decided to stop and take a break.”
”That was sensible,” noted her mother, still focused on her magazine.
”We got to talking,” Lucrezia went on with a yawn. ”The time pa.s.sed so quickly.”
”That can happen,” said Filomena.
Lucrezia stretched out her legs and flexed her feet and toes. ”Dio mio,” ”Dio mio,” she winced, ”my legs are aching today. I'm not used to dancing anymore.” she winced, ”my legs are aching today. I'm not used to dancing anymore.”
Filomena peeked over the page she was reading, took a sip from her cup, and studied her daughter for a moment. ”Sounds like you two really enjoyed yourselves,” she said before hiding once more behind the magazine.
Lucrezia slammed her cup down. ”Cosa?” ”Cosa?” she said, glaring at her mother. ”What are you trying to say?” she said, glaring at her mother. ”What are you trying to say?”
”What do you mean, what am I trying to say?”
”You know exactly what I mean,” fumed Lucrezia. ”I know from that voice of yours. I can tell when you're trying to say something. What have you been doing, waiting out here for me to get up so you can start something first thing in the morning?”
”I haven't been waiting to start anything. I've just been sitting here reading my magazine.”
”Well you're reading it upside down!”
Filomena's face reddened and she tossed the magazine aside. ”I was looking at an advertis.e.m.e.nt, that's all. I don't see why you're acting so upset. What did I say, anyway? I only said it sounded like you two enjoyed yourselves. What was wrong with that?”
Lucrezia scowled at her. ”What, are you trying to say that we weren't weren't supposed to enjoy ourselves?” supposed to enjoy ourselves?”
”Of course not, just the opposite!” said her mother, throwing her hands up. ”It's natural for a man and a woman to enjoy each other's company.”
”Then why don't you just come out and say what's really on your mind?” said Lucrezia.
”Maybe you should come out and say what's really on your your mind,” Filomena replied, locking eyeb.a.l.l.s with her daughter. mind,” Filomena replied, locking eyeb.a.l.l.s with her daughter.
”I haven't got anything on my mind!”
”Well, it's about time you did have something on your mind,” cried Filomena, slamming her hand down on the table, ”something other than running that stupid candy factory at the bottom of the hill!”
”What on earth are you talking about, Mama?”
”What do you think I'm talking about? I'm talking about you and that cyclist who's living two flights of stairs above the office you work in every day.”
”Me and Peppi Peppi?” answered Lucrezia, gaping at her mother.
”Ayyy, don't act like you don't know,” said Filomena with a wave of her hand. ”You know exactly what's going on.”
”No, I don't know, madre mia,” madre mia,” huffed her daughter. ”Why don't you explain it for me.” huffed her daughter. ”Why don't you explain it for me.”
”What's to explain? You're a woman, he's a man. Figure it out for yourself.”
”Ma, tu sei pazza, Mama!” Lucrezia exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. ”You're crazy!” Lucrezia exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. ”You're crazy!”
”You're right, I am crazy!” Filomena shot back. ”What a mistake we made, your father and I, letting you come back here after poor Francesco died. We should have made you keep your old apartment in the city and forced you to start your life over again. Instead we let you come back here and hide yourself where no one can find you.”
Lucrezia stood in the middle of the kitchen, glaring at her mother. ”Is that what this is all about,” she said, suddenly calm, like the calm before a tumultuous storm, ”you want me to move out?”
”No,” said Filomena, shaking her head. ”All I've wanted for you is to find another man. I want you to be happy. I told you before, it's time to put away the black dress. You can't go on mourning Francesco forever. He He wouldn't want you to.” wouldn't want you to.”
”But, Mama, listen to yourself. Are you telling me I should start my life over with Peppi Peppi?”
”Why not?”
”Please, Mama, he's Papa's friend,” cried Lucrezia. ”Have you forgotten that? And besides, I'm too young for him-or he's too old for me.”
”So what?” said her mother. ”He's strong and fit. And believe me, there's nothing old about the way he looks at you-or you at him. Anyone with eyes can see what's happening between you two.”
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