Don't You Need Somebody To Love?

Christmas morning arrived and Angelina rolled over in the bed, her arm stretching to reach for someone not there. She had had another dream... his strong arms holding her to him, she feeling his arousal pressing against her. 'Yes,' she screamed in her mind, 'take care of me! Wrap me in those arms of yours and let me get lost in those dark eyes for a lifetime.'

She startled awake, her pulse racing. Where was she? And then she remembered. After closing the store, they were so tired that they all went to the Silvestri house and after a small supper, Jim insisted that she sleep in his bed and he took the couch, unsure of his parents' reaction if they were to share the bed.

"Buon Natale, cara mia."

Angelina looked up from the blankets covering her face. It was Jim's mother, Adriana, and she was holding a robe before her. "I brought you this," she said, hesitantly pushing the garment forward toward her.

"Grazie, Signora Silvestri." Angelina pulled the covers away and sat up on the side of the bed. She was wearing one of Jim's T-shirts as a nightgown and reached out for the robe.

"After you shower, we'll have breakfast and then go to Mass."

She nodded and looked at the dress hanging from the closet doorway. The dark green fabric was the closest Adriana had for Christmas and almost an hour later, she and Adriana were sitting near the back of the church, the family's usual pew filled with those that came to church once or twice a year while Jim and his father stood along the church's outside aisle. For a moment, she blushed, for her own attendance had been lacking, especially when she had been overwhelmed by her own sad loneliness.

"Go, the Mass is ended," said the priest as the people stood in their rush to leave. She was still not used to hearing the Mass in English. It somehow lacked the reverence and mystery she had given the ceremony all those years before.

After Mass, she joined the family going to the cemetery, giving her a chance to place some flowers on her husband's grave. One corner of her mouth twitched. She wondered how Jim felt about that and glanced at his face but he was busy filling the flower container with water.

"Here," he said, pushing the metal vase into the ground with his foot and stepping back. She looked closely at him but could tell nothing. She still couldn't share her fears about them and wondered if she ever would be able to.

Angelina didn't want to be alone... again.

By the time they had returned to the house, she was hungry and looked forward to an early Christmas dinner. Adriana had set the table the night before and had gotten up early in the morning preparing the food.

First course was a selection of cold cuts and cheeses from the store and even though Angelina had worked in the store for several days, she was still amazed at the different meats on the table. She especially liked the prosciutto, loving the taste of the thinly sliced Italian ham. Fontina, gorgonzola, Swiss, Gouda... the cheeses were all there for the tasting.

Helping to clear the plates from the table, she could smell the spaghettini and clams that were waiting in the kitchen, warm in the oven. She brought out the bowl of calamari, the crispy fried squid something that she had never tried before. Sometimes, she wondered what kind of Italian she was. Jim was busy slicing lemons to juice the dish while his father was filling glasses with Chianti. She noticed Luigi looking at her, almost as if he were seeing something not quite there. What was he seeing? she wondered, blushing. Did he know about the passion-filled night she had shared with his son?

"Mangia, Angelina, mangia."

"I'm about to explode," she said, laughing as she reached for another piece of bread. "This is so good."

Adriana walked back into the dining room. "Leave some room for dessert."

"Oh, God," Angelina replied. "I'm stuffed." Then, she looked at the food on her plate and laughed some more. "Well, maybe, a little."

Luigi was fast asleep on his recliner while Adriana and Angelina washed dishes and Jim cleared the table. He was carefully putting the Christmas pastries and See's candy in the middle of the table when he heard the two women talking about him.

"So..." Adriana started to say in Italian, looking at the younger woman hands deep in the dishwater.

"Yes?"

"You and Giacomo..."

Angelina looked at Adriana, knowing what was coming.

"Yes... I'm in love with him, that's what you wanted to know, wasn't it?"

Adriana smiled, nodding her head.

Angelina shifted over, making sure she didn't splash water onto her borrowed blouse. As much as she loved him, he had never spoken about his time in Vietnam other than he had been there with an armored group. She sometimes wondered what dark secrets he had and admitted to herself she was afraid to ask. The war still raged on but he never commented about it other than to mention he was seeing someone with the V.A. Why, though, he never said.

She shook her head, throwing those thoughts out of her mind. It was Christmas, after all, and there was no need to travel into dark thoughts. She dried her hands, the last of the dishes done. Walking back into the dining room, she saw the open box of See's and couldn't stop herself from snatching one of the milk chocolate candies. She licked the chocolate smears stuck to her fingers and took another. As much as she loved chocolate, she rarely indulged, knowing her figure would soon suffer if she gave into her sweet desire.

Hands moved around her waist from behind and a kiss caressed on her neck. "Merry Christmas," Jim said, pulling her back against him.

"Merry Christmas," she answered, tilting her head up to kiss him back. She felt warm... hot. Was it the warmth in the room or the warmth in his arms, she wondered.

Thursday, December 26, 1969

He couldn't keep his eyes off her. She had changed into a soft blue skirt and a white sleeveless blouse and one of her cardigans that kept slipping off one shoulder. Her hair fell shining to her shoulders and her skin had a golden sheen reflecting the Christmas lights from the tree.

The air between them was so charged with electricity that Angelina felt as if every breath set off a chain of tiny sparks. The silence between them was intense and she was sure that Jim could hear her heart beating, aching, thundering with desire. Unable to stand the tension, she squeezed his hand harder. "I've never been here," she said, appalled to hear how high and strained her voice sounded.

"I've been here several times." He looked around at Clearman's, the restaurant seemingly an Alaskan log lodge with sawdust on the floor. "My fam..."

He was interrupted by the arrival of the hostess. "Two?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Jim, holding Angelina's hand tighter.

They followed the girl to a quiet table in the corner. "Will this do?"

"Yes, thank you." He nervously pulled out Angelina's chair and waited for her to sit down. He sat down.

Within minutes, the waiter had arrived to take their drink orders and he soon found himself emptying four packets of sugar into his ice tea. "The potatoes are huge," he said, trying to start a conversation with her, wondering why he suddenly had become so shy, his voice so deep.

The space around them shrank until there was just the two of them and a need that was too insistent to be ignored.

She smiled and played with some of the peanuts on the table.

"I was going to say, my family has come here several times over the years..." He stopped talking.

She gazed at him, searching. "I can't concentrate," she finally said, breathlessly, pushing away the large menu between them.

"I can't either. Do you want to know why?"

"Why?" she whispered, looking again into his eyes.

"Because I can't stop thinking about what it felt like to make love to you. Because I can't stop thinking about kissing you again."

She couldn't speak. She felt as if all the air had been sucked away, as if the floor beneath her feet had cracked and crumbled away and the slightest movement would send her tumbling into an abyss that was at once terrifying and tantalizing and utterly irresistible.

He offered his hand across the table, slowly reaching for her fingers, caressing the warmth of her skin, lifting them to his lips. Angelina gasped at the sensation that shot through her at the touch of his lips on her skin.

Suddenly, she was aware of the waiter ready to take their order.

"Uh... please, order for me," she said, pulling her hand back.

Jim gave the order: two sirloins, medium-rare, baked potatoes, plenty of cheese toast and red cabbage salad.

When the salad arrived, she felt her face was as red as the cabbage.

"Taste it," he said, offering a forkful.

The rest of the dinner was finished quietly, the sound of the other diners' conversation a low background sound. She looked at him, realizing how deeply in love with him she was. She never considered falling in love again, thinking it was a 'once-in-a-lifetime' event and yet, she never felt this way about her husband. Why was that, she wondered.

The drive back to her home was quiet. She snuck glances at him as he drove the car north on Sepulveda toward Culver City. They approached the airport tunnel and dipped beneath the runways just as a jetliner lifted away above their heads.

Instinctively, she had ducked her head away from the plane now screaming its way toward the ocean.

A slight smile was on his face as he watched her. "All right?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"I... uh, it just startled me, that's all."

He headed northwest on Lincoln. "Would you like to go for a ride?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied, looking out the passenger window at the evening traffic.

*****

An hour later, they were driving north on Pacific Coast Highway toward Malibu. "I haven't been up this way in a long time," Jim said, pushing the car faster through the darkness. "Not since before I went in."

Angelina sat quietly, watching him in the dim light as they continued. She put her hand on his thigh, seeking his companionship, seeking his closeness, seeking his warmth.

"Jim..."

He looked, wanting to say something in reply. He wanted her so much it hurt. He put his right hand over her left, holding it down, holding it close, feeling the heat. "I..." he started to say, tried to say, finally looking at her when it was safe.

"Jim, I'm pregnant."

Angelina could feel the car slow as Jim took his foot from the accelerator. He pulled over to the side of the road, a million thoughts racing through his mind. A baby. Oh, my God, a baby....

He looked at her, a smile crossing his face. It never occurred to him to question if it was his.

"That's wonderful. Now you can finally marry me," he said, hopefully, looking at her in the dimness of the evening. He had wondered what his mother and Angelina had spoken about Christmas day and now he knew. All he had to do was hear her answer.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied, making him wonder why there was such a hesitation on her part. Why tell him, otherwise?

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, wondering what could be making her hesitate.

"No, I just never thought...."

"What? Don't you want to get married?" He was confused.

"I wasn't sure you'd want to... I mean, really want to."

"How can you ask that? I love you. Haven't I told you enough? Without you, my life is empty."

Angelina leaned over to kiss him, feeling the warmth of his lips fill her soul. "You love me, don't you?"

"Yes."

It was a long, quiet drive back to the South Bay from Malibu, the Dodge moving slowly south on Pacific Coast Highway. Every few moments, he glanced over at her, marveling at the new life she was carrying. His baby... would it be a boy... or a girl?

His mind entertained the image of a small boy running through a field, pulling a kite high into the sky... a small girl, carrying a ragdoll by the arm, a cookie in her other hand....

He drove her home.

"Come in," she said. "Stay."

He closed the door. "Forever."