Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 23)
Chapter 9 Part III
Cindy Bradford
Patrick looked around at the terrazzo floor, the ornate mirrors, a small marble fireplace and fresh lavender flowers on the dresser and in the bathroom. The bathroom was huge. This is bigger than the room Joe Jr. and I slept in the whole time we were growing up he thought. Unsure of how long he would stay he took only a few clothing articles out of his suitcase. Carmella and Stefano had both assured him he was welcome for an extended stay, but he was not accustomed to such hospitality and generosity and wasn’t sure how to react.
After taking a quick shower, he hurriedly changed into fresh clothes, not wanting to keep anyone waiting for lunch. The flight had left him feeling worn and grimy, but he suddenly felt better, as he headed for the main house.
He spoke a loud, “Hello,” entering the house. Not knocking was strange to him, but after his upbringing and sports involvement he followed directions well.
“We are in the kitchen, Patrico,” he heard Carmella say. “Come through the entry and to your left.”
Patrick quickly noticed that she had changed into an obviously expensive multi-colored floral silk pant suit. “I am just helping Carmen and Claudia a minute, then we will go in the dining room.”
Stefano came through the door with a handful of basil. “Your request, my dear,” he said, handing the herbs to Carmella. “She has me trained well, do you agree?” he asked, smiling at Patrick. “Many of the Italian men would be horrified to see me respond to her every whim. But she is my wife, my life.”
Patrick hardly knew how to respond. This man was so out of character of what he expected a rich Italian estate owner to be, but he said, “She is quite a woman; I knew that in a very brief time. She is so full of energy, obviously in love with life”.
“That is why I love her so much. Now, young man, come sit in the dining room and tell me about basketball. Carmella tells me you were on scholarship at Notre Dame. She also says you are going to study in Rome to be a priest.”
Patrick followed Stefano into the large dining area. He felt small looking at the table that could easily seat two dozen people.
“Over here, we will eat lunch at the smaller table,” Stefano said, signaling him to a nook that overlooked the lake. “This is one of my favorite rooms in the house.”
“I can understand why,” Patrick answered.
When the women came in with lunch, the two men were discussing the view just outside the window.
“I wanted you two to have time to talk. That is why I helped Carmen with lunch,” she offered.
Her explanation indicated to Patrick what he had sensed. Although exuberant and outgoing, she was aware of giving her Italian husband his space, a role Patrick would see again, especially in those areas where Stefano was in charge.
“We’ll have a light lunch, but tonight a feast,” she said.
After setting three small salads of puntarelle, radishes and endive with anchovy dressing, at their places, Carmen put a large platter filled with fried artichokes in the center of the table.
“May I pour you some of Italy’s finest?” Stefano asked proudly, but not waiting for a reply, he began filling first his wife’s glass and then Patrick’s. “You did say, yes, I believe,” he said laughing.
This is a happy home, Patrick thought, as he waited for Carmella to take the first bite.
“Please, Patrico, you must eat. Stefano has much work for you,” she teased. “You did not think I brought you here for nothing. Now you are captured.”
“I can’t think of a more pleasant place to be a captive.”
In a few minutes Carmen brought the vignarola, a stew of fava beans, peas and artichoke, seasoned with guaniciale, Patrick learned.
“This is so good. I don’t think I have ever tasted fava beans and I have never heard of guanca…,” he struggled with the pronunciation.
“The fava season is coming to a close. Earlier in May you could eat them raw, right out of the pod. But as they grow they begin to assert themselves and are better cooked. As for gwan CHA leh,” she pronounced slowly for Patrick, “it is similar to pancetta which you have probably eaten. This has a little more fat content which just makes the dish richer.”
“Much of this, the sweet peas, and the artichoke in the salad–they will be gone soon. It is a pity you were not here in early May. These artichokes are at their best then, Stefano explained.
Patrick could see that this was definitely a man who enjoyed his food. “Is there a market near here?”
Stefano laughed, “Yes, about ten feet from the house. We grow our own vegetables.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Patrick exclaimed, looking at Carmella.
“There was so much to tell I forgot about that and the herb garden.”
“After a gelato, you will have to indulge me, Patrico. I would like to show you around. That is, if you are not too tired.”
“Oh no, I’m fine. I am anxious for the tour.”
“Good, while you two gentlemen do that I think I will lie down for a short nap.”
“The lady needs her beauty rest,” Stefano said, standing and then kissing her on the top of her head.
“Poor Patrico, you will pay for your keep. The tour is very lengthy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Stefano, he does not have to see it all in one day. We have to have reasons to keep him here.”
“Okay, first the tobacco,” Stefano said, leading Patrick outside. He could faintly hear Carmella saying, “I should have known,” but he knew she was being playful.
“How did you learn to speak such good English, Stefano?”
“My parents sent me to boarding school in Naples. They wanted me to learn English and manners. The former was easier than the latter,” he smiled. “Anyway, I try to use it as much as I can, so I will not forget it. But most of the help speak only Italian. It is good that you are here. I can practice my English.”
They turned the corner and were in the courtyard. Flowers were growing everywhere, some hanging, others in pots and urns. Fresh flowers adorned vases on each table of the courtyard.
“We will take a look at the vegetables and herbs, and then jump in the Land Rover for a look around the larger grounds.”
Everything was impeccable, not a weed in sight. “Cesar takes good care of this don’t you think? But it is Carmella who adds the love. She comes out here every morning and checks the garden. I sometimes hear her talking to the vegetables and herbs as though they are her children. Sometimes she sits for hours on that bench and just looks at everything.”
“She is very proud of this place and very proud of you, Stefano.” Stefano blushed slightly, “The only thing I could not give her was more children. She wanted a houseful, but that was not to be. I guess we could have adopted, but once Elisabette was born, she seemed more content. Maybe Elisabette will be here this weekend. She usually tries to come once a month. We are very fond of her new husband, Guliano. Since he owns a wonderful old hotel in Milan it makes it difficult for him to get away, but he accompanies her when he can.”
The two men rode around for another hour. “More tomorrow?”
“Great.”
“I will take you back to your bungalow so you can rest awhile. Carmella will expect you at six o’clock for drinks on the terrace. It is the perfect place to watch the sunset.”
Tired, Patrick was glad to be back to the bungalow for awhile. It was almost four o’clock. Setting an alarm for five o’clock, he fell onto the bed. When he heard the alarm, he was startled, not remembering where he was. After looking around, he thought he must be dreaming until he remembered Carmella and Stefano. “What a nice couple,” he said aloud.
When he walked out back, he was amazed to see that there was a small patio with blooming flowers growing around the perimeter. Two lounge chairs faced a grove of olive trees, framed by hills in the far background. This is like a Renaissance painting. It almost looks as though time has stopped over this landscape, he thought. After showering, he dressed for dinner or the feast, as Carmella had said. Not sure what to wear he hoped his khaki trousers and tieless shirt would be appropriate. This way of life was so new to him, it made him feel a little uneasy not knowing quite how to act.