I'm unpacking and turn to ask Tony which drawers he wants to use. Then I realize he isn't there anymore.

"Tony, where are you?"

"Downstairs!" he yells. "Looking for a phone."

I go to the doorway and yell, "There isn't one!"

He comes charging back up the stairs. "What do you mean there isn't one?"

I sigh. I had no idea he'd react like this back when I booked the castle, although I guess I should've seen this coming when he wanted to call the kids twice from the ship, and then again in Rome.

"There were certain optional features that I figured we could do without, like servants."

"Angela, that's different. I don't mind cooking and cleaning. But what made you think we could go a whole month cut off from the rest of the world?"

I cross my arms. "I don't know. Maybe the fact that this is our honeymoon."
"I want to spend this month in the castle with you. That doesn't mean I don't want to talk to anyone else!"

"Tony, I knew if I had easy access to a phone, I would constantly be calling the agency."

"Yeah, but what if we need to reach the kids?"

"Tony, we just spoke to them a few hours ago. I doubt anything has changed."

"Yeah, but a whole month! And what if there's an emergency?"

"We can go down to the village if we have to call someone. It'll still be cheaper than if we had a phone here full-time."

He shakes his head. "I'm going to make dinner."

When we arrived in Naples, we had to switch to a local train, for Pozzuoli. Then we caught the ferry to Ischia. It was like a dream to be out on that beautiful water, still blue but with a hint of emerald green. The island itself is volcanic, but not like Hawaii. I can't really describe it, even though I'm in advertising.

"Our" castle is itself on a volcanic rock, connected to Ischia proper by a 722-foot-long bridge. We took the elevator up from sea level (about 260 feet), although there are ancient donkey tracks that you can follow. I might attempt them when I'm not so tired and travel-lagged, and not carrying luggage of course.

From a distance, the castle looks magical and ancient, and in fact it's six hundred years old! Even up close, it's incredibly impressive, although the furnishings are modern, and elegant in a simple, tasteful style. The predominant colors are white and a soft yellow, complementing the gray stone walls. The view from the balconies and patios is unfathomably lovely! When we first got here, I told Tony I felt like a princess.

"Well, you are queen of all you survey," he said.

I paid extra (I don't want to say how much) so we'd have the whole castle to ourselves, since it's actually split up into apartments. But, yes, then I cut corners where I could. It was most important to me to share this with Tony, just us alone. And now he's already missing "civilization."

It's not that I'm averse to going over the bridge, or even to the mainland. I don't mind doing a little sight-seeing. But I feel hurt that Tony doesn't understand how I feel.

Then I realize that I'm not really considering his feelings. Yes, to me it seems ridiculous to want to call the kids twice in one day, when we're on vacation. But we did just find out today that Hank is going through with the divorce. This has to be hard on Tony, to not be there for Sam. And now he's just learned he can't check in with his little girl anymore. Yes, we can write letters, but it's not the same thing, especially since it takes eight or more days for delivery in each direction.

I find him in the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Tony," I say, hugging him from the side as he stirs something in a pot. "You wish you were home, don't you?"

"You kiddin' me? This place is great! How often does a guy from Brooklyn get to stay in a castle?"

I smile and then sigh. "I know, but the timing."

He shrugs. "I was thinking. If we'd waited till the right time, then maybe we'd never have gone. I just want to check in with Sam, and Jonathan, now and then. The rest of the time, it's you and me, Baby."

We kiss softly.

Then he says, "So you're going off the Pill today?"

"Yes, I last took it yesterday morning."

"Wow! I still can't believe this."
"I know."

"How long do you think it will take to kick in?"

"Like I said, it varies from woman to woman."

"Maybe you should call your gynecologist tomorrow."

"Tony, I don't think Dr. Hollis can give me an exam over the phone. No matter how good she is."

"No, but she could give you advice. Like, are you going to go through weight gain or any side effects?"

"If what you're cooking is any sample of what I'll be eating for the next month, I think I'll be gaining weight here anyway."

"I'll help you burn it off."

"Oh? Do you have an exercise regimen planned for me?"

"I wouldn't call it a regimen."

We kiss again, more passionately this time. I want to keep kissing, but he reminds me he needs to finish making dinner, and we do have a whole month alone. So I give him one more kiss, just a peck on the cheek, and go back to unpacking.

I've brought a mix of swimwear, underwear (including a little lingerie), t-shirts, and shorts. One dress fit for dancing, just in case, although we might have to go all the way back to Naples for a nightclub. I tried not to overpack. In fact, I probably took more to Mexico or Jamaica, and those were both shorter trips. Of course, I plan to be naked much more often than I was on either of those trips.

I could not have been naked with Tony in Mexico of course. At that point, we'd flirted, kissed, and even shared a bed (twice), but I did not yet know I was in love with him. And I was then having a hard time even relaxing on the beach, let alone doing something as wild as sleeping with my housekeeper. The Mexican hat dance was about as out there I got then.

Three years later though, I had recognized my love for Tony, and under his influence learned to relax more. In fact, I relaxed more than he was comfortable with. And, yes, although I blush to admit this, I would've liked to have gotten naked in Jamaica, and I don't just mean topless swimming. But Tony wasn't ready yet.

If I want to run around here naked, I can. I'll probably keep nude sunbathing to a minimum though, since there are tourists elsewhere on this islet. I hope Tony will be equally comfortable with clothing-optional in the house, I mean castle.

After unpacking, I take a shower, washing off the long day of travel. Then I put on a royal purple T-shirt, lavender panties, and faded blue denim shorts. I don't wear a bra, which is rare for me. I like this feeling of not being restrained. For once, having a small bosom (well, small compared to Mother's) is an advantage. I decide to leave my hair down, too, since it's late enough in the day that I no longer need to have it up to cool off. Plus, it was getting messy as we went from ship to train to train to ferry, although Tony thought it looked beautiful anyway. I think he called it golden, although I haven't had a chance to check my phrasebook yet.

I want to learn a little more Italian this trip, although I'll admit I won't be interacting with Italians much. Well, yes, Tony, but he's Italian-American, and I've never been so aware of his American side as when we arrived in Rome. In Fairfield, he stands out as very much not a Nutmegger. (I prefer that term to "Connecticutter" or "Connecticutian." Sometimes Tony calls me his Connecticutie, which I like when he says it.) Everywhere we go in our town, he is seen as ethnic. But here, we are both foreigners, he almost as much as I.

I'm not trying to isolate us entirely, but I suppose there is a bit of a shared "strangers in a strange land" feeling here. I hope that will bring us even closer together.

And, yes, tonight we can begin the baby-making process. It may take months. It may even take a few years (hopefully very few). But tonight is the beginning of us genuinely attempting to have a child together. I don't want either of us to feel pressured about it, especially since it's unlikely that one day off the Pill is going to do it. I want us to still make love for the sake of love. But what could be more wonderful than a baby made out of love?

I know, I'm getting sentimental. Maybe my hormones are already going funny, as they adjust to this change.

I hear Tony ringing a dinner bell. I didn't even know there was one here. I give myself one more look in the mirror, wondering if I have time to put on makeup. Purple lipstick? No, that would look too odd. Besides, it would come off while I'm eating. And kissing.

After our ferry docked, and before we took the bus across the bridge, we stopped off at the market in Ischia Porto, the main town. (This islet is Ischia Ponte, or maybe that's the settlement at the foot of the castle. Yes, it's confusing.) Tony marveled at the fresh ingredients and he bought as much as he could carry, despite his suitcase.

He's made what he calls "Sunday sauce," although it's Friday. (The 1st. I need to keep track of the days, especially if I'm trying to get pregnant.) I don't remember all the ingredients (well, my mind isn't set up for that), but I can taste the garlic, onions, peppers, and basil. It smells wonderful of course. We're putting it on meatballs, but he says it goes well with spare ribs, too.

"Hey, Angela, go easy on it. There's half a cup of red wine in there, too."

"Oh, good thing you told me. I'd better eat more meatballs, to soak it up."

He laughs and shakes his head.

We're eating out in the garden, admiring the sunset.

"I can't believe we have a whole month in Paradise!" I sigh.

"Then maybe we should've got ribs after all," he says.

It takes me a moment to get it, and then I laugh. And then I sigh happily again. "I can't think of a more handsome Adam."

"Si sarebbe una bella Eva."

He's been speaking more Italian today than usual, and not just to the locals. The funny thing is, even without my phrasebook, I can almost understand him. He just said something about my being a beautiful Eve.

We kiss. Then we feed each other the meatballs and Sunday sauce. It gets a little messy, like Mrs. Rossini's pasta our first day on the boat. (We ended up throwing most of what was in the Tupperware to the seagulls, but we won't tell her of course.) This is the perfect excuse to go upstairs and take off our clothes.

"I knew you weren't wearing a bra," he says as he removes my T-shirt.

"I didn't think I needed one."

"Yeah, not with me around. If you want me to hold your breasts for the next month, just ask."

"That might get a little inconvenient at the open-air market and on the bus."

"I mean when we're alone."

"Ah."

He kisses my breasts. On the ship, he would do this greedily, but now he is tender. I wonder if he's thinking of what it will be like when I'm pregnant. It's funny, now that we are closer to that happening, it somehow seems more abstract. After all, I haven't been pregnant in eighteen years. I've forgotten so much about it, although I suppose it'll come back to me.

I suddenly remember bringing up the subject with Michael. His reply was a "Yeah, sure, I guess." Not indifferent but not enthusiastic either. Tony may have doubts (as do I, if I'm completely honest), but I'm sure that he will be crazy about our child, if we have one.

And then I remember seeing a baby on the train from Naples. An ordinary baby I suppose, no cuter than average. But it looked right at me, with big brown eyes, and I felt my heart clench, I don't know how else to explain it. Maybe my biological clock was saying You could have an Italian, well, Italian-American baby, like this, but you've got to hurry. I don't know, but it was strange. I've never had that reaction to a baby before.

I think of mentioning it to Tony, but then he starts teasing my thighs with his fingertips, and my thoughts become a lot less, well, maternal.

###

Author's Note: Even if you're skipping the odd-numbered chapters, you may want to read Chapter 15, "Mona's Letters."