“You’re under a lot of emotional strain at the moment, Sandro… and I know that I probably wasn’t making it any easier on you. Please just forget about it.” He sighed deeply before nodding and sitting down next to her. He picked up a small remote control from the coffee table in front of them and started up the camera, indicating towards the blinking red light that he had told her would mean that the camera was on. An image of an elderly couple suddenly filled the previously blank screen of the big television to the left of the camera. Broad smiles suddenly lit up their faces and they both started chattering at the same time. Theresa knew that they were his parents from the pictures she had seen in Sandro’s study. His father looked a lot frailer and more tired than the robust man in the photographs though and Theresa could see from the sallow skin and sunken eyes, how very ill the older man was.
Sandro was smiling warmly as his parents continued to chatter, before he finally raised a hand and they reluctantly fell silent. He said something to them in Italian, before indicating towards Theresa, who sat with a frozen smile on her face. She wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say, she wasn’t even sure if they spoke English.
“Mama, papa… I know this has been a long time in coming,” he said, in heavily accented English. “But this is Theresa… la mia moglie, my wife.”
“Piacevole per incontrarli,” she murmured haltingly, not sure if she had said it right or if they even understood her but the smile Sandro directed down at her was filled with so much overwhelming pride and tenderness that Theresa felt bathed in its warmth. He entwined the long, lean fingers of one hand with hers but she didn’t understand why he felt the need to make the gesture when their hands were out of the camera’s sight.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” she repeated in English, in case the couple hadn’t understood her, which seemed likely if their baffled expressions were anything to go by. His mother’s lips pursed in what looked like disapproval but his father’s smile broadened and he said something in rapidfire Italian that Theresa didn’t stand a chance of understanding.
“My father says that you are truly beautiful,” Sandro translated for her. “And that he is very happy to finally meet you.” Her eyes flooded with tears and she nodded slightly.
“Thank you... grazie,” she smiled warmly at the fragile looking old man and he looked delighted by it. He once again said something in high speed Italian and Sandro chuckled before responding in an amused voice. It was obvious that they were talking about her and she turned to Sandro waiting for the translation, when it didn’t look like it was forthcoming, she prodded him with a nudge from her shoulder and he grinned before saying something in a wry voice to his mother and father before turning to her with that same warm humour in his eyes.
“My father says that while you look as sweet and docile as an angel he does not imagine that a woman with your red hair can be easy to live with. He believes that the angelic exterior must hide a fiery temper...”
“Oh?” She asked in a deceptively calm voice, even while she narrowed her eyes at him. “and what did you say?”
“I told him that he definitely knows women a lot better than I do because when I married you I thought that the angel was all there was, until I provoked the fiery demoness into showing herself, to my detriment.”
“Demoness?” She asked in a highly offended voice and both his father and he chuckled simultaneously.
“Easy cara,” he lifted his free hand in a gesture of surrender and his father burst into warm, genuine laughter, the sound so happy and carefree that for an instant everyone, including his wife simply stared at him with huge smiles. The older man finally brought his laughter under control and said something in Italian, which seemed to be aimed at Theresa. She looked at Sandro for a translation and he hesitated for a millisecond before clearing his throat and turning back toward Theresa.
“My father says that it’s good to see me with a woman who isn’t intimidated by me, who can give as good as she gets. He thinks we will have strong sons and daughters...” he cleared his throat slightly before continuing, even though the huskiness persisted. “He is honoured to call you daughter and is proud that his son’s children will come from a worthy woman like you.”
“Oh...” Theresa whispered, her hand going up to cover her mouth and her eyes flooding with tears. “Oh God.”
“Cara,” his soft voice in her ear pleaded with her to keep it together and she nodded, closing her eyes briefly to keep her surging emotions under control, before bracing herself and opening her eyes to meet the wise, old eyes of a man who was halfway across the world.
“Thank you,” she told him again. “You are so very kind to say that. I am equally proud to know that my child comes from a strong family such as yours. I look forward to the day I can present my son to you, sir.”
“Or daughter,” Sandro inserted smoothly, before translating what she had said to the beaming older man.
“You are... lovely girl. I sorry for all trouble,” the man suddenly said in broken but understandable English and Theresa’s lips trembled with emotion. “You make my boy happy. I see this... grazie. I so worry... but I see now, he very happy with you. Very much love here. I see.”
She couldn’t respond to that with much more than a nod and another emotional grazie, overwhelmed by the perception that had allowed the sick old man to see how much she loved his son. He and Sandro were now having a solemn conversation and the older man started pausing more and more frequently, seeming to lose track of his thoughts more and more until his wife stepped in and called a halt to the conversation.