Page 75 of Destino

“But…”

He kissed her. “Trust me.”

If he cared about her objections, he didn’t let on. He just dragged her by the hand and spoke in Italian to some man with a clipboard. Mira glanced around timidly and begrudgingly climbed inside the small cockpit. Giovanni carefully strapped her inside and gave her a headset. “You are my co-pilot.”

Fear seized her gut, and she couldn’t speak. He winked, slamming the door shut. As he turned the ignition the man out front gave the front propeller a spin and the plane grumbled to life. “Oh sweet, merciful God. Please be with me.” Mira said. She glanced over to her lover. He looked so happy to be flipping switches and speaking into the microphone piece. “Ready?”

She put on a brave smile and nodded. They drove down the runway and slowly they picked up speed. Mira squeezed her eyes shut just as the plane lifted to the clouds and her stomach lurched to her throat. She grabbed his thigh, digging her nails in.

“Open your eyes, Bella. Really see Italia.”

Slowly she did. Her gaze swept the buildings and then the coastline. Nothing had every appeared so beautifully serene. And soon she was relaxing into her seat. They coasted through the sky. He spoke to her through the headset, showing her Mount Vesuvius, one of the few active volcanoes in the world, and flew past Pompeii, so she could see the ruined city. It was magical being with him. The flight ended too soon. When they landed, he kissed her before he turned off the plane, and Mira felt such a profound new feeling of love in that kiss.

They were ushered next to another waiting vehicle, a small convertible two-seater car that had speed. Giovanni looked so handsome driving them through the coast with the sun bronzing his olive toned skin. They travelled roads that were more scenic where street vendors sold everything from leather to fresh fish. And soon she understood his choice in vehicle. A bumpy course of cobblestone had her jostling a bit in her seat. After a few hours he told her they were enteringSan Donato, which was named afterSaint Donata, translating into a gift from God. He shared the history of the village. It dated back to the Romans. In the 4th century Christian soldiers fromArezzostumbled into the vast hills and took up post. The men built the village because of its abundance of fruit and fertile soil. They made a fortress out of it. Afterwards the village was given the nameSan Donatoafter their bishop.

San Donatostood frozen in time, a relic of what once was. Approaching from the distance she noticed a small modest old cement block church on the left side of the country road. Giovanni eased on the gas and the car slowed to a stop. There was no traffic in either direction. Above the pointed roof was a block wall structure with a rusted bell and it appeared older than anything she’d seen thus far.

“It’s beautiful.”

“You should see the inside Bella, it actually dates back to 1000 AD. When the Romans discovered it, they uncovered numerous art treasures still inside.”

Mira smiled at him “What kind of art treasures?”

“The front of the church has a mural painted by Giovanni della Robbia. It depicts the life and death of Giovanni the Baptist. The Romans also found a crucifix toTaddeo Gaddi, two altar pieces by Giovanni del Biondo, another by Bicci di Lorenzo, and a 15th century Florentine chalice.”

“Giovanni and Lorenzo? You have got to be kidding me!” she laughed.

“Our names are as old and steeped in tradition as that church there.”

She stared with eyes stretched in wonder at the church. “I suppose it’s not in there now for me to take a peek?”

“On the way back I’ll walk you inside to see the mural. The other treasures are long gone,” he said smiling, shifting into first gear and driving away.

“How do you know all of this? Seriously as historical as Virginia is back home, I’d barely be able to tell you any of it, and I grew up there.”

“My father would make this same drive to our vineyard when I was a boy. He’d stop along the way and we’d visit families, pray at that church. He’d always share tales and make us recite history to him. He was a man that loved Italian and Sicilian history. He instilled that pride in us. I think he was destined to return to Italia. He met my mother inFirenze. Kept her nearby until she became pregnant with me then brought her to Sicily. He said he knew I’d be born a boy and he wanted my birth to be on Sicilian soil. His family was in Palermo, but Mama lived in Mondello Beach.”

“Mondello Beach? Sounds nice.”

When he didn’t respond she glanced over to find a sullen frown denting his brow.

“You said that you were born in Mondello? Right?”

Giovanni nodded. “At the time of my birth there was conflict within the family. My father at first wanted me born in Palermo where he was born. But for my mother’s well-being he decided on Mondello.”

“What kind of conflict?”

“We’ll talk about it later.” He veered off the main road across a grassy one barely mowed. Mira looked up to see the fields painted brilliant colors of purple and yellow from the wildflowers that bloomed all around and found it captivating. But to be honest their travels into Tuscany had become as freshly exciting as her new love affair with this complicated man.

“This is it?” she asked. She pointed toward the land and the vineyard fields stretching for miles. She saw several weathered barns and a small ranch style farmhouse between them.

“Yes, this is it. We will have to walk the rest of the way. My uncle doesn’t like vehicles driving up to the winery, spewing what he thinks are toxins that poison his land from their exhaust pipes.”

Mira smiled, opening her door. A quick glance back and she caught a glimpse of his gun as he retrieved it. Out in the middle of nowhere she had a newfound appreciation for his Danny-boy. If he felt it was needed, she wouldn’t dare question why. A fresh vibrant fragrance of wild strawberries unfurled all around her. “I smell strawberries. That’s weird.”

“It’s calledSangiovese, the work horse grape of Chianti. When it blooms and ripens, it smells like strawberries,” he said after taking her hand and helping her from the car. He leaned in to brush his lips across hers.

“What is that for?” she touched the side of his face, staring up into his eyes.

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