The smile that covers her face tells me she genuinely cares for the woman. “She was on a flight of mine years ago. It was a red-eye, like the one we were just on. She had drunk coffee, trying to stay up, as she was confused on how the time zones worked and thought she needed to stay awake rather than try to sleep.”
She laughs like she’s remembering the moment. “Poor woman was all jittery and having a hard time sitting in her seat, but didn’t want to bother the couple next to her, who were set with blankets and pillows, just waiting for takeoff so they could fall right asleep.
“The flight wasn’t full, so I moved her to a seat in the back where us attendants normally lie down, play card games or read. She fit right in with us. By the end of the flight, we were all great friends, and she invited us to her house for her homemade gnocchi.” Jolene’s eyes widen at the mention of the dish.
“Is this the one you learned how to make?” I ask.
She nods with a grin on her face. “That and tons more. She reminded me so much of my grandma—the way she spoke, her mannerisms, all of it. Funny how she spoke in a different language, yet I felt like I was sitting at the table with my grandma, making Thanksgiving pies all over again.”
“Did everyone else keep in touch with her like you have?”
She sighs, shaking her head and glancing out at the beautiful countryside that looks straight out of a painting. “Nah. Just me.” She turns back my way, and I see the sadness that flashes across her face. “They all have family. I don’t. I guess she kind of adopted me that way.”
I place my hand on hers and hold it tightly. The shy smile she gives me makes me want to rub my chest, but I fight the urge and hold my position for a moment.
Looking down, she smiles like she’s pushing the sadness out of her mind. “Wait until she meets you.” The way she says it makes me nervous.
“Um, should I be afraid?”
“Let’s just say, she can be a little intense at times, and I’ve told her all about you.”
“You have?”
Her lashes flutter as she looks up at me and shrugs. “She knows everything about me. Of course she knows who you are.”
“How did she react when you said I was coming then?” I ask and watch as Jolene lifts a shoulder to her ear and raises her brows. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
She shakes her head. “I told her I’m bringing a friend; that’s all.”
“So, I should be nervous then, huh?”
“Maybe a little.” She laughs, nodding. “I’m teasing. It’s gonna be fine.”
As we drive through Naples, I’m surprised to see how dirty parts of the city are. Graffiti mars many of the buildings, and there are some dilapidated places that look like they were once quite beautiful.
The closer we get to the Bay of Naples, the neighborhoods seem to get nicer. We drive up a hill and into what Jolene says is the Vomero neighborhood. Out the window, I can see glimpses of the water and, if I’m correct, Mount Vesuvius.
“I asked the driver to take the scenic route. I wanted you to see some of the nicer areas of Naples,” she says.
I lean in, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and bringing her to me so I can kiss the top of her head.
We make our way down the hill, and the buildings get closer together. That historic, rustic feeling you get when you think of Italy comes to life.
We stop in front of a small alleyway. Two buildings are facing each other, their balconies practically touching with the proximity to one another. Clotheslines hang from one stucco front to the other, creating banners, except instead of flags, it’s someone’s underwear up there.
I take my duffel bag and Jolene’s suitcase and follow her out of the taxi and through the alleyway. The cobblestone walkway is as rich as the history these buildings share.
Jolene stops about halfway down the alley and rings a buzzer on one of the doors.
A little old woman, about five feet tall, with curly gray hair and thick metal glasses opens the door, wearing a housedress and an apron covering it.
Her arms are held out wide, beckoning for Jolene to come down to her, as she says, “Ciao, dolcezza mia.”
Jolene embraces the woman, crouching down to hug her. All I can see are the woman’s hands gently patting Jolene’s back.
I’ve wondered over the years how Jolene has been, alone in the world without a family. I never considered people she’d meet along the way.
When Jolene rises, she turns toward me to show she brought a visitor.
The woman reaches out her arms to me. “Chi è?” Her hands are cool and smooth as she firmly grips mine.
Jolene wraps her fingers around my arm. “Nonna, questo è Zack.”
Nonna’s eyes dance over our joined palms as she takes in what Jolene just said and then widen with a quick inhale. “Il tuo Zack?”
Jolene nods her head, and the woman yanks me toward her, wrapping her arms around my neck, bringing my tall frame down to her petite one.
“Oh mio dio, Zack. Sei davvero tu?” she asks, keeping her arms locked around me.
I can tell by her tone that she’s surprised, but I have no clue what she said. I turn to Jolene, who’s laughing.
“Yes, Nonna, it’s really him,” Jolene, thankfully, says in English.
“Ah, si, scusami. English,” she says through her thick accent. “Please, come, come.” She waves for us to follow her inside and up two flights of stairs into her home.
I have to duck my head as I pass through the door. I know I’m big for a guy, but this place makes me feel like a giant. We walk into a living room, which has a sofa and two upholstered chairs facing each other. A kitchen is off to the side with a wood dining table for four.
The windows are all open with one leading to a small terrace that looks over the alleyway.
It might be small, but it’s clean with a tiled floor and a vase of fresh flowers on the coffee table. She has photos on the wall of saints and another of a family, which seems to have been taken in the earlier part of last century.
“What do you think?” Jolene asks me.
I raise my brows. “I’m thinking the walls are pretty thin.”
Jolene giggles. “Come, I’ll show you our room.”
With her hand in mine, she walks me to a guest room that barely fits the full-size bed inside. I place our bags on the floor and then fall onto the bed. It squeaks loudly with my weight.
I raise a brow to Jolene, who doubles over with laughter. I sit up and grab her by the waist, bringing her to me. The bed shrieks with the way our bodies bob. My own laugh booms throughout the small room.
“Did I mention the bed is really, really old?” she says when she catches her breath.
I brush the hair that has fallen in front of her eyes off her face and hold her cheek in my hand. Man, she’s beautiful. Especially when her face is pink with laughter.
Yesterday, she lured me on this trip with her naked body and the promise of more to come. While I’d be crazy to say I haven’t been looking forward to burying myself in this woman while we’re here, I’m just as content to hold her like this.
Her breaths level out, and she stares up at me with a bashful grin.
“You mad?” she asks.
I gently kiss her on the lips. “Not at all.”