Page 40 of A Very Italian Wedding
‘Luna hates country music,’ Rose said, frowning as she continued to admire the jewellery. Ben turned and looked around, deciding to ignore the new black mark on Marco and Luna’s relationship.
‘I wonder where the owner is,’ he pondered. The street was quiet aside from a flock of chorusing birds, but there was a café a few buildings along and someone was just opening up. He considered going to get another coffee, but then Rose tapped on the door of the shop. When nothing stirred, she knocked again and placed her ear to the glass.
‘Surely someone should be here by now?’ she said.
‘It’s still early.’ Ben eyed the coffee shop again. A man wearing a white apron was now outside opening a large white umbrella above a cluster of wooden tables and chairs.
‘I thought we were in a hurry?’ Rose asked, knocking again. But the shop remained silent.
Ben turned, fantasising that he could smell espresso. The man who’d finished opening the umbrella was now openly staring at them. He shouted something, but Ben couldn’t make out the words. He was going to go and speak to him, but then the man started to point frantically at the pots by their feet.
‘I think he’s saying something’s down here.’ Ben knelt so he could look between the terracotta pots and immediately spotted a small hessian sack tucked behind one of them. Rose must have spotted it at the same time because she bent and picked it up.
‘It’s heavy,’ she said, weighing it in both hands. ‘Do you think this is it?’
Ben turned. The man outside the café was now nodding. ‘I’m guessing the answer is yes.’
‘There’s an envelope tied to the outside,’ she said, squinting at it. ‘I’m not sure what it says because?—’
‘It’s written in Italian,’ Ben guessed, drawing closer to her, getting a whiff of strawberries again which merged with the smell of coffee. His heartbeat kicked up, but he ignored it. Instead, he studied the envelope, translating the words written on the outside–
For the one seeking the gift of life.
‘Is it for us?’ Rose asked eagerly.
‘I think so.’ Ben tugged the envelope from the rough string attaching it to the bag. ‘I need to read it to make sure.’ He tore open the top and unfolded the note inside which had beenwritten in black twisty handwriting on yellowing paper. ‘This is a bit ominous,’ he joked as Rose shifted the top of the hessian sack down until it revealed a curved female figure carved from shiny white stone.
‘It’s lovely, and the material is so smooth,’ Rose murmured, running a fingertip over the statue’s head. ‘What does the letter say?’
Ben studied the writing, taking his time translating the words in his mind, until he was sure he understood them. He was fluent in Italian but a little rusty on the written word.
‘It starts with “For Isabella Marino”, so this is definitely for us,’ he said, watching as Rose twisted the statue around and studied its face. It depicted a beautiful young woman with lush curves and long wavy hair.
‘You might want to put that back into the sack so it doesn’t get damaged,’ he said.
‘Why?’ Rose looked up and Ben pointed to the letter again before reading the first sentence aloud. ‘It says something along the lines of, handle very carefully, the magic is powerful.’
‘It’s just an ornament,’ Rose snorted.
‘Is there no room for superstition in your rules?’ he asked, keeping his voice gentle because he wasn’t trying to criticise Rose, but he wasn’t sure he agreed with the tight framework she’d wrapped around her world. There was no room for impulse, or for making mistakes. No room for happiness either, in his opinion. Too many rules made life dull – you could follow all of them and still end up unhappy and alone. Wasn’t she living proof of that? Living for the day was the only way. That and keeping things simple.
‘I prefer to stick with facts, they’re less open to interpretation,’ she said as she continued to run her finger over the smooth stone. ‘Go on, you feel it, it’s beautifully crafted. Luna will love it, I know that.’
Ben moved closer and stroked a finger over the statue, it was colder than he’d expected, but the sensation was so smooth it almost felt soft. ‘It’s very pretty,’ he said after a few moments.
He wasn’t sure what Rose expected him to say but wanted to please her. He got the feeling not many people gained Rose’s approval, and he wanted to be one of the few. He wasn’t ready to examine what that might mean, though.
‘What else does the letter say?’ Rose asked, turning the statue over so she could study it, looking intrigued.
Ben shook his head, trying to push away his attraction to her. She was so obviously immune to his looks that he didn’t really know how to act.
He read the next paragraph. ‘Something about the owner of the shop not being able to be here, after all, due to a family emergency. She’s apologising.’ Ben nodded. ‘She said as she promised Isabella but only found out she couldn’t be here a few hours ago, she wasn’t able to let her know. She wanted to make sure we got it today, though. Marco said payment has been taken care of, so we don’t have to worry about that.’
‘Is that it?’ Rose asked, sounding disappointed. ‘I thought there’d be a story with it.’
‘I’ve not finished reading.’ He took in a long breath and scanned forward. ‘Okay. Apparently, if this is given to a couple who care for one another, it’ll help them to get pregnant.’ He squinted as he tried to translate the next paragraph. It was difficult. ‘Some of the Italian is in an older dialect, but the gist is—’ His heart thumped hard and he took a sudden step away. ‘If you touch the statue, it could make you more fertile. Which means you’re more likely to get pregnant, or in my case more likely to get someone pregnant.’ Oh boy. He flexed his fingers. ‘I’m not sure how long the magic lasts. Perhaps we should put it away?’ He looked up and saw Rose’s hand had stilled over the statue’s head.
‘More fertile?’ she checked. ‘That’s ridiculous.’ Despite her words, she abruptly righted the statue and pulled the hessian bag up and over its head. ‘I think you should take it.’ She held it out, transferring her weight from foot to foot as if she were standing on hot coals. ‘Marco asked you to collect it. I’m not superstitious but?—’
