Chapter Eighteen
Terra
It seemed that I looked at my father with different eyes now. Forgiving eyes. Understanding eyes. Appreciative eyes. Having him taken from me allowed me to understand that despite the things about him I’d spent a lifetime judging him about, he was still my father.
A father that I loved dearly.
Now that he’d returned, I appreciated every moment I was allowed to spend with him. Whether my beliefs were accurate or not, it seemed to me that he looked at me—and the world—with different eyes, too.
Maybe the few months he’d spent in jail changed him beyond the ten pounds he lost and the slight girth he’d gained in his chest.
He lifted a forkful of pasta, paused, and smiled. “I want you to have whatever you want,” he said. “This wedding? I want it to be everything you’ve always dreamed. Even more.”
“Thank you. It’s, um.” I twisted back and forth on the barstool. “It’s...it’s important to Michael that he help pay for part of it. He doesn’t want to feel like—”
“He’ll pay for nothing,” he said with a laugh. He slurped the cold pasta from the tines of the fork and then met my gaze.
Laughing was something that my father had rarely done in the past. Seeing him do so was rewarding.
“It’s tradition that the groom’s parents pay for the rehearsal dinner,” I said. “And he was wondering if maybe he could also—”
He lowered the fork. “Whose tradition? Not mine. I’ll talk with him.”
“Papa. He just wants to feel—”
He lifted the fork and wagged it at me playfully. “And I want to feel like a giving father. Michael gave me my life. He gave you your father, and your mother a husband. I owe him my life. The wedding?”
He twisted his fork into the pasta, lifted it from the container, and shrugged. “I have the money set aside. He needs to save for your vacation home.”
I’d all but forgotten about the property in Belize. I shook my head and grinned. “I’ll let you two argue about it.”
“He’s not an easy man to argue with,” he said. “But I’d rather argue with him than fight him.”
It seemed strange hearing my father express fear, even if it was in a joking manner. It was something he’d never done before. At least for that moment, I was convinced that he was doing so out of respect for Michael.
“He’s pretty convincing,” I said. “It’s tough to win with him.”
“Impossible.”
I let out a laugh. “Pretty much.”
“He’s a good man.”
He said that a lot. He’s a good man. It filled me with pride to hear it. My fears of my father not accepting Michael, of him demanding that I separate myself from him, or that me being with a non-Italian would be contrary to his beliefs were all without warrant.
I wondered how I could be so wrong about my father’s beliefs, and fear something with such conviction that I had no reason to fear.
“He is a good man,” I agreed.
He tossed his fork into the sink, put the lid on the container, and then carried the pasta to the refrigerator.
“You didn’t eat much,” I said, taking slight exception to his eating only a few forkfuls of the carbonara I’d made on the previous afternoon. “You didn’t like it?”
“It’s magnifico,” he said while patting his stomach. “I’m trying to stay healthy. I need to look good for the wedding.”
He wasn’t like most middle-aged Italian men. Although he didn’t exercise as much as he probably should, he did exercise, and he wasn’t overweight, at least as far as I could see. The thought of him dieting, especially for the wedding, was cute.
“You look great.”
“I’ve been eating hard-boiled eggs and exercising for the last few months,” he said. “I want to look just like this for the wedding. I want you to be proud when I walk you down the aisle.”
“Papa,” I said, my tone dismissive. “I will be. No matter what you look like.”
He puffed his chest and smiled. “I want to look like this.”
“I’ll boil you some eggs.”
“If I never saw another boiled egg, it would be too soon.”
I wondered what it was like for him to be in jail, but was afraid to ask. My guess was that there would be several things that he either learned to love or detest while he was incarcerated. Learning what they were, I supposed, would take time. If he chose to, he’d reveal them when he was comfortable.
The process would take time.
“The last thing I need to ask is how many people do you think will come from the family business. We need to make sure we’re okay for seating, and I need to get the invitations sent out.”
“I made a list,” he said, his mouth curling into a smirk. “In my spare time.”
“So, you’ve got an idea how many?”
“I know exactly how many.”
“Okay. I’ll need to get their names and addresses.”
“Seventy-one,” he said. “And I’ll have the addresses for you by tomorrow.”
“Seventy-one?” I asked, shocked at the number.
He nodded. “Seventy-one.”
My eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Did you expect more?”
I expected much less. By my calculations, we would have roughly three hundred people at the wedding.
“No. Not more.”
“Is that too many?”
I had no idea the family’s business consisted of so many people. “Is that just your...your employees?”
“Wives, girlfriends, a few children,” he said. “To pay their respects.”
“No,” I said. “It’s fine. I just needed to know. We’ll have plenty of room.”
The thought of a huge wedding excited me, even if I didn’t know everyone in attendance. While I silently pondered the seating arrangements, he sat across from me and cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
I looked up.
“The bride’s family sits on one side, and the groom’s family on the other. Right?”
“Yes.”
“I want to change that. I want half the people on one side, and half on the other. Are you willing to do that?”
“Why?”
My mouth asked the question before my mind had a moment to think about it. While waiting for him to answer, I figured out why. Or so I thought.
“I want—for Michael. I want there to be...it’s just what I want,” he stammered. “Can we do that?”
I nodded eagerly. Michael’s lack of family was something I had considered, but had not resolved. My father’s idea was a perfect solution to a problem that I was afraid was going to go unresolved.
I stood. “I love you.”
He smiled. “I love you, too. I want this day to be special.”
I was going to marry the love of my life, and my father was going to give me away. How could it not be special?
He walked around the corner of the island and gave me a hug.
“It will be,” I said. “It will be the one of the best days of my life.”