Within Me, an Invincible Summer

By D.J. Paolini

Stories of Love, Life, and Passion in Northern Italy

After an eventful five months, Angelina, an Italian native, and Benjamin, a transplanted American, have fallen in love and are expecting a child-both events unexpected. They begin planning their wedding in Rimini, on the Adriatic coast of

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rock & Rose Press
• Release date: Aug 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736119563

D.J. Paolini

D.J. Paolini is the author of The Infinite Passion of Life, his first novel, and the first book in the planned six-book series: The Rock & the Rose. His non-fiction work includes technical editor of three award-winning database programming books. He was the contributing editor with a monthly column for a database industry magazine. He was selected to coauthor a database programming book in the popular "Teach Yourself..." series. Paolini was on the team that won an award for best technical documentation for a software program. He has delivered several dozen technical papers in more than one hundred sessions at conferences in North America, Europe, and Asia. Paolini has had three poems published. He also writes music and has had several pieces performed in the United States and France. He wrote a column for his college newspaper and he received a creative writing award in high school. He has traveled extensively and infuses that experience into his writing. Within Me, an Invincible Summer is the second book in the series set in Northern Italy. In his spare time, he has played in weekend rock bands and served as a volunteer firefighter and emergency squad member, including six years as fire chief. He is a licensed soccer referee and has served as the administrator for youth soccer referees in his home state of New Jersey.

Book preview

BOOK II IN THE ROCK & THE ROSE SERIES

Within Me

an

Invincible Summer

Stories of Love, Life, and Passion in Northern Italy

D.J. PAOLINI

Copyright © 2021 D.J. Paolini.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

KDP ISBN: 978-1-7361195-4-9

IngramSpark ISBN: 978-1-7361195-5-6

eBook ISBN: 978-1-7361195-6-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021906937

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

Cover and interior design: AuthorPackages.com

First printing edition 2021.

Rock & Rose Press

29 Windham Drive

Eastampton, NJ 08060 USA

www.theRockandtheRose.com

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Man Must Have His Mate

One

Two

Angelina

Intermezzo

What the Future Brings

Three

Valentina

Intermezzo

A Sigh is Just a Sigh

Four

Benjamin

Five

Angelina

Six

Benjamin

Intermezzo

A Fight for Love and Glory

Seven

Valentina

Intermezzo

You Must Remember This

Eight

Angelina

Nine

Valentina

Intermezzo

A Kiss is Just a Kiss

Ten

Benjamin

Eleven

Angelina

Intermezzo

The Fundamental Things Apply

Twelve

Benjamin

Thirteen

Angelina

Intermezzo

Sister, Sister

Fourteen

Benjamin

Intermezzo

Four Funerals and a Wedding

Fifteen

Angelina

Sixteen

Benjamin

Seventeen

Angelina

Eighteen

Benjamin

Nineteen

Angelina

Twenty

Valentina

Twenty-One

Benjamin

Twenty-Two

Valentina

Twenty-Three

Angelina

Twenty-Four

Valentina

Intermezzo

Passion, Jealousy and Hate

Twenty-Five

Angelina

Twenty-Six

Benjamin

Twenty-Seven

Valentina

Twenty-Eight

Benjamin

Twenty-Nine

Angelina

Intermezzo

A Case of Do or Die

Thirty

Valentina

Intermezzo

As Time Goes By

Thirty-One

Valentina

Thirty-Two

Benjamin

Thirty-Three

Valentina

Intermezzo

It’s Still the Same Old Story

Thirty-Four

Valentina

Thirty-Five

Ogier

Intermezzo

That No One Can Deny

Thirty-Six

Ogier

Thirty-Seven

Valentina

Thirty-Eight

Ogier

Thirty-Nine

Valentina

Forty

Angelina

Epilogue

Father Confessor

Dramatis Personae

The Rock & the Rose Series

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Book II exists for several reasons. When I first decided to write something, I had planned to write a more extensive story about the characters which would span several books. My development editor, Julie Mianecki recognized that the original manuscript was far too long, and identified the appropriate stopping point for book I, The Infinite Passion of Life. Then my core beta readers, Tina, Deborah, Barbara, Jessica, and Krys provided not only encouragement and support, but expressed curiosity about what would happen next. And, of course, my extended family continued to cheer me on, especially my wife Patty, la mia lettrice numero uno, who tolerated (appreciated?) the time I spent at the word processor.

I was most fortunate to have Tiffany Tyler, my copy editor from the first book, available for this book. Tiffany, in addition to her meticulous editing and continuity checking within book II, was invaluable in maintaining consistency and continuity with book I. As with the first book, she contributed ideas to improve story flow or to better express a concept. All this, while she cleaned up my embarrassingly large number of typos and grammatical errors. Whatever is readable in this book is thanks to her efforts; any errors that remain are entirely mine.

I must thank Kevin and his wife Edda for their support and assistance with my Italian language and idioms, as they did for book I. Sono sinceramente grato, amici miei. For the scenes in Lebanon, Anne Frandi-Coory, author of the autobiographical Whatever Happened to Ishtar? provided much appreciated assistance and encouragement.

As with book I, I made every effort to ensure that the timeline, the locations, the events, and the historical references are accurate. The fictional characters intersect with real events at real locations; even the references to the weather, sun, and moon are accurate for each scene on each date. You gotta love the Internet as a resource! (Please do not tell Valentina I wrote gotta.) I hope you find the resulting story—these characters and their lives—interesting. I appreciate the investment of your time in reading it.

A novel is never anything but a philosophy put into images.

― Albert Camus ―

For Kelsey

Thank you for being my inspiration to observe the world.

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Prologue

Man Must Have His Mate

Chance is a word void of sense; nothing can exist without a cause.

― François-Marie Arouet (Voltaire) ―

Giovanni Fabrizzi finished his dinner, not knowing it would be the last home-cooked dinner he’d ever enjoy. Valentina, his clueless ogress of a housekeeper, possessed many faults, but at least she could cook—which was more than he could say for his wife, Angelina. Next week would be their twelfth wedding anniversary; to Giovanni it seemed longer. He neither noticed nor cared how his wife felt about their marriage. He only cared that she knew her place in the world—his world.

If only I could get the housekeeper to fall in line. She was his wife’s godmother, and for some reason only God knows, she believed that made her family. Not my family, he thought, and he belched loudly, drawing stares from the two women.

He’d married Angelina because her family was wealthy and upper society held them in high regard in his hometown of Rimini on the Adriatic coast of Italy. Giovanni believed the best way to stop worrying about money was to have money. He also knew that he’d never achieve that goal on his own. After considering his options, he’d searched for an ally, or at least an accomplice. When he’d learned his boss, Tàmmaro, was the father of a twenty-year-old unmarried daughter, Giovanni began ingratiating himself; it was one of the few skills he possessed.

Giovanni had never met Angelina, but he’d met her mother, Isabella—before she became ill—and had lusted after her. He was closer in age to the mother and could only imagine how attractive her daughter must be. In Tàmmaro’s presence he spent almost as much effort hiding his lust for Isabella as he did in creating the myth that he’d met the wonderful, beautiful Angelina. Tàmmaro was unaware of the truth of Giovanni’s feelings toward either woman. He wouldn’t have cared had he known.

***

In early January 2004, Tàmmaro walked past Giovanni’s desk, speaking to no one but loud enough for Giovanni to hear.

Why was I cursed with such a willful daughter? Tàmmaro said, his eyes and arms raised to the ceiling as he walked past Giovanni and into his office. Giovanni, his curiosity piqued, and his opportunism aroused, stood up and followed his boss, but he stopped at the doorway.

"What do you mean, capo?" Giovanni asked him.

Some women do not understand their role… their place. My wife and daughter believe that women should go to university, have opinions—speak for themselves, for God’s sake! My daughter needs to marry… to become someone else’s problem.

As Giovanni strived to convey what he hoped was sympathy, Tàmmaro said, Giovanni, come in and sit down, please.

Giovanni nodded in faux deference while doing his best to hide his excitement. He realized that all his hopes and machinations were coming together, and the next few minutes would secure his future. This is it.

Giovanni, you say you know my daughter, but I wonder if you truly do.

Stunned, Giovanni’s smile froze. Has he learned I’ve never met her? As he struggled to maintain his tight smile, he brought his palms, now as damp as his spirits, to his thighs, hoping the perspiration wasn’t obvious.

You see a sweet, demure woman-child, but I tell you she is willful and stubborn, a colt that must be broken.

Giovanni relaxed, controlling his exhalation as his smile broadened. He said, But of course. He found the idea of breaking this colt exhilarating.

Tàmmaro continued, Did you mean what you said about her before the holidays? That you found her beautiful? That you—how did you say it—that you considered her the most wonderful girl you had ever met?

Giovanni’s palms, sweating again for a different reason, gripped the arms of the chair. He eyed Tàmmaro to see if he’d noticed. He replied, "Sì, don Tàmmaro. Giovanni raised his hands toward the ceiling and said, She is the woman of my dreams."

Tàmmaro tilted his head slightly and brought a hand to his chin, resting his index finger on his lips. He curled the finger across his chin and said, It is hard for me to understand, but as the poets say, love works in mysterious ways…

"Mi fa sorridere il cuore," Giovanni said, bringing a hand to his chest.

What the hell, if she makes your heart smile, who am I to disagree?

Tàmmaro stared at Giovanni and rubbed his chin. Giovanni found his gaze unnerving and tried not to squirm in his seat. It was a relief when Tàmmaro smiled and brought his hands together over the desk, as if celebrating a triumph.

So, you would consider marrying my daughter, yes? He shook his hands once.

Giovanni stood up—he’d have taken off his hat were he wearing one—and said, Don Tàmmaro, marrying Angelina is my dream, one I didn’t believe was possible.

Over the years he’d learned how to play to Tàmmaro’s ego, and all his experience and practice culminated in that singular moment. "Ma signore, he said, C'è un problema."

In response, Tàmmaro held out his arms, palms up, lifting them in unison with his eyebrows as he awaited Giovanni’s explanation.

Giovanni applied regret and humility to his face as if it were makeup. I am a man of limited means. I could not provide for your daughter how she deserves… how you deserve.

Giovanni, my son, you are drowning in a glass of water. His future father-in-law added, "Ignora i cavilli."

Giovanni hoped he understood what Tàmmaro meant by ignore the quibbles, and Tàmmaro soon confirmed it.

It so happens that I believe you have earned a promotion; it should include a significant raise, his future father-in-law said. And, of course, he added, my family will provide you a suitable dowery.

I am honored that you have blessed my wish to marry Angelina this way, Giovanni said. "Grazie mille, don Tàmmaro."

Giovanni, please call me Maro.

Giovanni appreciated that Tàmmaro didn’t mention the twelve-year age difference between his daughter and Giovanni. At first, he’d worried the age difference might be an issue for the family. Why am I worried? I forgot Maro is over twenty years older than his wife. He later learned that there were many such marriages in the social circles he sought to enter.

***

Giovanni was more than a little shocked when he met Angelina for the first time, but believed he hid it well enough. The woman was ugly as hunger. Her eyes were disconcerting—disturbingly so, yellow, like a wolf’s. If that wasn’t strange enough, a shock of silver hair erupted from above her forehead, competing with her thick, dark auburn hair.

I have agreed to marry a ghoul. His mood was as dark as the growing storm clouds coming in off the Adriatic. But his thoughts soon brightened. A rich ghoul, he acknowledged, and that makes all the difference.

He felt relief that she was deferential. She doesn’t act like a colt.

At least she was nubile—a nice mountain road. I will just ignore her face and pretend she is someone else. Besides, he’d no intention of curtailing his active social life just because he was getting married. In fact, part of the dowry was going to help him pay off a woman who claimed he’d fathered her most recent brat. He doubted it, but not wanting to risk any drama before the wedding, he had agreed to pay her off.

That potential drama was nothing compared to the drama while he and Angelina honeymooned in Vienna. Her mother’s condition worsened, and Angelina returned home. Giovanni remained in Vienna to see the sights—mostly young Austrian women. After his mother-in-law died a few days later, he learned that Angelina’s godmother had killed Tàmmaro at the reading of the will, allegedly in self-defense.

After Tàmmaro’s death, Giovanni had hoped he’d get his position. To his dismay, the owners brought in a new director who seemed immune to Giovanni’s manipulations. The owners must have felt an obligation to Tàmmaro’s daughter, however, as Giovanni soon realized he needn’t have feared for his position. That almost compensated for learning that Angelina’s attorney—also her godfather—had insulated most of her inheritance from Giovanni’s control or even influence.

He found trying to ignore Angelina’s appearance only made it more of a distraction. The initial novelty of another young woman quickly turned to boredom. While not a virgin—not that he cared—she was inexperienced and inept. That he cared about. If she were less unattractive, he might have enjoyed teaching her, but it was easier and more enjoyable to return to the pastures in which he’d grazed before the wedding. She seemed happier as well.

Vincono tutti, he thought. Definitely a win-win.

Besides, she was still there if he felt the urge, like when he’d come home at lunch for sex. He enjoyed telling her to go to the bedroom, appreciated even more that she complied meekly, as God intended. He derived perverse satisfaction that she’d dyed her hair a uniform shade of red and wore brown contact lenses, as he’d commanded. I must admit, while she isn’t quite un pasto completo, she is deliziosa since she covered up her defects. It made his occasional afternoon naps with her that much more enjoyable.

One

Benjamin

Your breath isn’t any worse than usual.

Ben woke before Angelina the morning after their engagement. As Angelina slept alongside him, he remembered the events of the previous day. Did it really happen? It felt like a dream.

Ben had begun All Saints’ Day 2017 in Geneva, before returning to Rimini and to Angelina, the woman he loved. Ben had ended the day engaged to her, which was, while ahead of his intended schedule, a welcome yet not complete surprise. He’d also finished the day a father-to-be, an unexpected and most welcome surprise. Ben had learned that Valentina, Angelina’s godmother, with whom he’d struggled to form a trusted relationship, was his surrogate future mother-in-law.

Or is she my father-in-law? Ben didn’t fully understand Valentina’s relationship with Angelina’s late mother, Isabella.

I can’t believe it’s only been five months since Angelina began scolding me on the train from Como.

After that emotion-laden first encounter, he would not have predicted what had followed. It was the most eventful day in his thirty-seven years—at least, until the Valentina’s Date Massacre. That was how Ben referred to the events that had followed their first romantic date back in September.

Ben experienced severe time distortion remembering their first date. The two months since that evening had carried them along like an express train. Yet at times it felt as if he and Angelina had been on that train for years. They went on a date that started out not as a date, where they both were surprised to learn of the other’s love. Angelina fell into the harbor near the Rockisland club while celebrating, and Ben jumped into the dark waters to retrieve her. The next morning, Valentina misinterpreted events in Angelina’s bedroom and assaulted Ben in a misguided rescue attempt before Angelina intervened.

I don’t care what the women say, it was a massacre. Ben winced in reflex at the memory. He scanned the room before settling his gaze on the chair near the door. That’s where I first slept with Angelina. He smiled at his silly joke, and the reflexive pain dissipated.

His encounters with Valentina were the stuff of legend—at least to me, he thought. The night they first met, the day he triggered traumatic memories in Angelina concerning children, the massacre, and, of course, last night when she shared her love for Angelina’s mother with them.

After Angelina told him she was unexpectedly expecting, he’d felt compelled to propose on the spot. It was something he’d planned to do, just not at that moment. Ben found it ironic that his proposal would have been symbolic because he lacked a ring, itself symbolic of the commitment. Valentina rescued him when she presented the engagement and wedding rings that had belonged to Angelina’s mother.

The more Ben learned about Valentina, the more Olympian she became to him. He’d known polymaths and philomaths; she was both. I have known no one so informed or self-assured.

At first, he’d taken offense at her characterization of his Italian language skills as terrible. In retrospect, he realized how much better he now spoke Italian, thanks to her insistence that he only speak Italian around her.

Ben wasn’t sure of the exact moment she changed her opinion, but after the massacre, she no longer treated him as a threat to Angelina. For Ben, the emotional capstone to last night was when Valentina welcomed him into her family and called him her son. That was overwhelming.

Ben exited the bathroom and gazed at Angelina, still asleep… truly, an angel. My angel. Her—no, now their—dog, Mondo, gazed up at him from the floor alongside the bed. Part mastiff, he was a devoted guardian of Angelina. Ben had always gotten along well with dogs, but to Valentina’s surprise, he and Mondo hit it off the first time they met. Ben believed had they not, he and Angelina would never had developed a relationship. Angelina said Ben was the only man Mondo had ever liked, although he seemed to get along with Ben’s musician friend Luca.

Ben began humming the song to which they’d first danced at Rockisland, Pretty Eyes by Alex Goot. Ben never remembered song lyrics, but he remembered the chorus: "Cause you and your pretty eyes, you keep me alive, keep me alive."

Angelina opened those pretty eyes—her pretty amber eyes—and smiled at Ben as she clasped her hands and stretched her arms above her head.

Ben said, "Buongiorno, Lina," as he sat on the bed next to her before leaning over and kissing her, just a soft caress. He watched as she closed her eyes. When they did not open, he wondered if she had fallen back asleep. Ben arose and headed for the bathroom.

As he returned, she startled him when she shrieked and covered her face with a pillow. Are you okay? he asked.

Angelina nodded. Just happy, sorry to worry you.

Don’t apologize. I like your happy shrieks.

Not that kind of happy, silly. Mother-to-be, wife-to-be, in-love-with-my-soul-mate happy.

Oh, that’s good too. He ducked under the flying pillow. You missed.

Maybe I didn’t want to hurt the father of my child.

As he attempted a more passionate second kiss, Angelina objected. "No, per favore, il mio alito cattivo!"

Your breath isn’t any worse than usual.

Ben ducked as a second pillow missed and then was shoved out of the way by Angelina as she headed to the bathroom. He was unsurprised but still appreciative that she was giggling as she left the room.

Looking down at Mondo, Ben said, Why does her strength still surprise me? Mondo didn’t answer. Ben smiled, as did Mondo, but Mondo always smiled.

Two

Angelina

I hope you don’t mind my little fib.

Angelina awoke the morning after their engagement celebration. Wow, no hangover. Then she remembered she’d avoided alcohol last night. Her unexpected pregnancy was introducing many changes; adjustments to her routine were not the least of them.

I did like that orange soda. To think they bottle Galvanina not far from here, and yet I’d never tried it.

She stretched her arms above her head, competing with the smile that seemed to stretch just as far. She was still basking in the glow of a pregnancy, the love of a soul mate, and her general good fortune—all possibilities she could not have imagined before she met Benjamin. It was my late pig of a husband who couldn’t have children, not me.

When Benjamin said, good morning, Lina and gave her a gentle kiss, she thought, Giovanni—no, the asshole, she corrected herself—never did that. She tried to banish him from her thoughts, but without success. At least the asshole did her a favor by not complicating their marriage with children… and by dying. That thought brought awkward shame that Angelina struggled to dispel. She shook her head as if the thoughts were dust on her memories. It must have worked, for she returned to the here and now.

Angelina remembered how Benjamin had surprised her when they first met, and then continued to surprise her—first with a series of coincidences, then with empathy and self-effacing charm. He displayed respect for her wishes and ideas in a way she’d never experienced with any of the males in her life—except my godfather, she thought.

What had captivated her most, and why she’d realized he was her soul mate, was how he considered everything about her beautiful, from the inside out. Having been taunted for her unusual hair and eyes her entire life, even by her father and husband, she had accepted that she was no beauty.

She now understood that her insecurity about her physical appearance had evolved into insecurity about everything. Benjamin told her she looked beautiful, and she believed him. But he also considered her to be a beautiful spirit, a loving partner, and an intellectual companion—that had taken her longer to accept. Great sex is just the cherry on the cake. She smiled and wrapped her arms around herself.

And now I am to be a mother and a wife to someone who loves me! Unable to contain her joy any longer, she screeched and covered her face with her pillow. The embarrassment she felt at first by her outburst was replaced with warmth when Benjamin asked if she was okay. When he teased her, she returned the attention by tossing her pillow at him.

When he tried to kiss her—trying to make-up for teasing me, I bet—she pushed him away, complaining about her breath. He teased her again, so she flung another pillow. He hasn’t learned his lesson. She exited the bed and gave him a shove. You haven’t learned your lesson yet? she said, then hurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

When she returned, Benjamin was lying on his side in the center of the bed, watching her—no, fixated on her. How does he do that? she wondered, then asked, How do you do that?

How do I do what?

Look at me as if I am the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world.

It’s easy; you are, he replied.

No, I mean, without making it seem lecherous, lewd… tawdry. How?

Years of practice. Benjamin pulled Angelina down and onto her back. Because you are my soulmate, the mother of my child. He placed his head on her abdomen.

What are you doing? she asked.

Practicing, Benjamin replied.

For what?

For when I can hear something. I plan to talk to our child as often as possible for the next seven months.

"E dire cosa?"

Well, let’s see. I could tell the truth, or I could invent some fairy tale. At Angelina’s frown, he added, Wait—no… the truth is a fairy tale.

You should be glad I cannot reach the other pillow, Angelina said. After a moment, she asked, "Davvero, una favola?"

What would you call it? Think of how we met, of how Valentina and I met. Remember all the tension until our first date?

"Il Massacro da Valentina?"

"Allora, you’re calling it that now? Benjamin said. But ‘Valentina’s Date Massacre’ sounds better in English."

Don’t you dare tell Valentina!

I promise, scout’s honor. Seeing her confused expression, Benjamin explained the idiom.

Angelina smiled and asked, Were you a Boy Scout?

When he nodded, she said, Why am I not surprised?

Our motto is ‘Be prepared,’ he explained.

"That sounds like something my godmother would tell me. You know how my madrina loves Don Quixote."

Well, Cervantes wrote, ‘To be prepared is half the victory,’ Benjamin replied.

That’s where I heard it! Angelina said. "Allora, what are you going to say to our child, my love?"

I’ll say how you played hard to get, jumping into the harbor to get away from me. How you forced me to swim after you to retrieve you and carry you back to our home like some caveman, where I made mad, passionate love to you and we conceived him or her—but only after Valentina beat the crap outta me. He smiled with twinkling eyes and added, That’s what I’m gonna say.

I remember it a little differently. I remember I had to command you to dance with me.

Yes, you did. And I will remember our first dance for the rest of my life.

Benjamin, Angelina said as she frowned, I’m having trouble remembering some details.

Which part?

The mad, passionate lovemaking. Her frown turned into a hopeful smirk before resolving into a loving smile. She wondered if he’d rise to the occasion. He did and helped her remember what she knew she’d never forget.

Afterward, as he finished dressing, Angelina said, I really didn’t forget. I’ll never forget our first time. I hope you don’t mind my little fib.

Benjamin replied, Of course not, and I hope you don’t mind mine, and he walked out of the room and down the stairs, followed by her—no, their—dog, Mondo.

No, dear, of course not—wait… what? Neither Benjamin nor Mondo answered.

Intermezzo

What the Future Brings

The husband who decides to surprise his wife is often very much surprised himself.

― François-Marie Arouet (Voltaire) ―

As the housekeeper cleared the dinner dishes, Giovanni finished his third glass of wine and thought, I think I’ll stay home to get laid this evening, for a change of pace. Thinking of his wife had aroused him; that was a rare occurrence. Giovanni had tried to ignore her over dinner. It was harder to ignore the housekeeper who’d killed his father-in-law, even though she ate in the kitchen. She was another freak: almost two meters tall and a former poliziotta.

Time to send the housekeeper home. As Giovanni folded his newspaper and prepared to tell his wife to get ready for a special night, he inspected her for the first time that evening. A pair of yellow eyes returned his gaze. Fucking wolf’s eyes! As he looked closer, finding it difficult to focus through the wine, Giovanni also noticed her vampire streak was showing—a silver slash above her forehead.

Why does she look like that? he wondered. Then, slurring, he began shouting it, "Angie, fottuta puttana, perché sembri così?" As he rose from his chair, it fell over backward. Behind him, Giovanni didn’t notice Valentina step into the kitchen doorway, focused as he was on their