Once again, Mac and Carla arose early on a Saturday morning to make the day sojourn to Tuscany, this time to its capital, Florence, Firenze, as it is referred to by the Italians. Situated on the Via Cassia, the main route between Rome and the North, the present city of Florence was established by Julius Caesar in 59 B.C. as a settlement for his veteran soldiers, on the Arno River, in the basin formed by the surrounding hills. The domed cathedral of Florence, the Santa Maria del Fiore, also known as “The Duomo,” can be seen from miles around. Filippo Brunelleschi built the dome of The Duomo over six hundred years ago, and it is still the largest dome built of brick and mortar in the World.
The city of Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance, was a center of medieval European trade and finance. The Medici family, bankers by trade, was grand patron of the arts, supporting DaVinci, Michelangelo and Boticelli, and a cast of Florentine artists, writers, and poets. The museums of Florence are some of the finest, attracting tourists from all over Europe, even as the world was about to explode.
Mac and Carla entered the medieval walls of the old city, built in the 14th Century. They stopped to take pictures in front of Bartolomeo Ammannati's Fountain of Neptune, a masterpiece of marble, build in the 16th century. Carla was dressed in a light, pink sundress, with white sandals, a white straw hat, and sunglasses, while Mac had on a tightly creased pair of khaki pants, and a striped button-down shirt, his sleeves folded up to his elbows. Together, they looked like young lovers away on a Tuscan holiday.
They prayed together in the Duomo, before they stopped to take pictures in front of Lorenzo Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise, the doors to the San Giovanni Baptistery, at the front of the cathedral. They shopped the Ponte Vecchio, the oldest of the bridges across the Arno, with its shops hanging off the sides of the bridge on stilts.
As a brief sun shower began to intrude upon their sightseeing, Mac pulled Carla into the Galleria dell’Accademia, one of the many Italian Renaissance art museums in Florence. The Galleria was founded in 1784 by Pietro Leopoldo, the Grand Duke of Tuscany; its original intent was to create a “Michelangelo Museum,” with the master's original sculptures and drawings. While there is small collection of Michelangelo's work, including the original David, and his Pieta, the museum had become home to the works of many 13th and 16th century Florentine painters and sculptors, as well as of Russian icons.
“I wanted to go to see a museum, anyway,” said Mac. “Florence is the birthplace of Renaissance Art. We might as well go now, while it is raining.”
“Great idea,” said Carla, “I have heard that the Galleria is the museum to see in Florence if you can only go to one. It has the best Michelangelo collection.”
“Good, then we are in the right place,” laughed Mac, walking Carla into the ornate lobby of the Galleria.
“Oh, Mac, the David is here,” cried Carla, as she saw a poster upon entering the museum. “The original David, by Michelangelo. Oh my God!”
They made their way through the various works of Renaissance art, and Russian icons, coming upon a hallway of sculptures leading to a two-story white paneled rotunda, with “The David” standing tall in the center of the room, tourists milling about the seventeen-foot marble statue masterpiece. The statue portrays the biblical figure of David after he had made his decision to battle Goliath, his brow drawn, his neck tense, veins bulging out in his lowered right hand. The single slab of marble was fashioned into a thing of beauty, conveying to the viewer the feeling of motion, or as the art historians called it, contrapposto.
“Oh, Mac, there it is! Isn’t he beautiful?”
When Mac did not respond right away, Carla turned to see Mac on one knee. Her face burst out into a brilliant smile, as she realized his romantic intention.
“Carla DeFelice, will you marry me?”
“Oh, Mac!” she cried. “Oh, Mac! Yes, yes, yes! I will marry you; I will marry you whenever you want! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”
Mac pulled the ring out of his pocket, and he presented it to his beloved Carla.
“Oh, Mac, it is beautiful!” cried Carla, as she opened the small velvet jewelry box that Mac had put the ring in for its presentation.
A crowd had gathered around to witness the young man's profession of his love to the lovely young lady.
“It was my grandmother's, Carla. This is what I had to get from my mother. I hope you like it?”
“I love it, Mac; it means even more to me; it came from your grandmother. Oh, Mac! In front of The David! You are so incredible, so romantic. You drove all the way from Rome to propose to me in front of the David. Oh, Mac!”
“I asked Alberto for his permission,” laughed Mac.
“When?”
“The other day, I went to his office.”
“They knew? They didn’t say a word!”
“I want to stop at Palombara on the way home to ask your father formally for your hand, Carla.”
“Oh, Mac! You are the best! He will be so happy! When can we get married?”
“The sooner the better, as far as I am concerned, after what I saw on the beach last month.”
“You are such a beast, Mac,” laughed Carla. “But I have to say, seeing you on the beach made me flutter in my belly.”
“Let's talk to your family about when. We will be married at the Trinita dei Monti?”
“Yes, yes, oh Mac, yes!”
Carla gave Mac the biggest kiss in the shadow of the David, as the sun now streamed in from the skylight above, while the gathered tourists clapped their hands in approval.
Mac and Carla no longer felt the need to explore Florence any further. They both had gotten what they had come for. They left the museum, finding their car, for the three-hour drive to Palombara Sabina.
As they entered Carla's house, they realized that her mother had been told what was happening, hugging them both lovingly as they walked into the eating area. She silently fawned over Carla's ring, while Mac made his way to the living room, and to Carla's father.
“Mr. DeFelice, sir?”
“Oh, Tommaso, it's nice to see you. I didn’t know you were coming today. Is Carla here?” asked the man, as he struggled to get up from the soft couch.
“Mr. DeFelice,” continued Mac, without answering the man's question, “I have come to ask permission to marry your daughter. I love Carla with all my heart, and I will love her forever, sir. I will always honor her, along with your family, and I will protect her until my dying day.”
The man said nothing as he sat back down on the couch, a tear rolling down his cheek. After a few seconds to digest what was said, the man looked up at Mac, unable to stand again, holding out his two arms, inviting Mac to bend down to embrace him.
“I knew this day would come, my son. I fear I may cry. I am so sorry, but my tears are tears of happiness. You are a wonderful young man. I trust you with my love, with my life. Carla is my everything. And now she will be your everything. Yes, Tommaso, you have my permission to marry my daughter.”
Mac hugged the man, as he saw Carla and her mother standing in the doorway to the living room, holding each other, crying their eyes out silently. Mac could not help but to cry himself, as he continued to hug Mr. DeFelice, and the women continued to hug each other. Carla broke her mother's embrace to go to her father, putting her arms around him, as Mac did the same to her mother. Through the tears, and through the joy, a new family was born in Palombara Sabina.
The family sat down to eat, as is the Italian way in times of joy. Dry sausage, sharp cheese, and red wine, all consumed as plans for the wedding were discussed and agreed upon. All were in accord that the wedding should take place as soon as possible, given what was happening in Europe, but not too soon, as there would be salacious questions. An October wedding seemed right, the date depending upon the availability of the Trinita dei Monti church, and the Castello Savelli, in Palombara, where Carla insisted upon having their reception. Mac would invite his relatives from Palombara, and a few people from Rome, out of respect, some of his partners in the firm, the Ambassador and his wife, Father Leiber, and of course, Pope Pius XII, without expecting him to come.
“The Pope?” said Mr. DeFelice. “Oh, Madonna!”
As it was getting late, the young couple had to leave the home of Carla's parents, and head back to Rome. When they arrived at the DeFelice residence in Rome, Alberto and Teresa were prepared with yet another spread of food, and the fine wine they had been saving for a special occasion. After a time celebrating, Carla and Mac went outside, sitting on the front stoop, in the warm summer breeze, as Frank Sinatra crooned on the radio from inside the house.
“Mac, thank you.”
“For what? It is I who should thank you!”
“No, I mean for being such a good sport. When you marry me, you get not only me, but my entire crazy family.”
“Oh, Carla, I love your family. Not only is it part of your charm, but anyone who loves you the way they do is all good in my book.”
Carla tucked her arm inside of Mac's, pulling him close, and they sat there in silence, until finally, Mac spoke.
“Kitten, you have a ring on your finger now. You know what that means?” laughed Mac.
“Beast!” kidded Carla, punching him in the arm. “You think I am going to go to the beach with you again, don’t you?” There was a silence between them again before Carla now spoke. “When can we go?” snickered Carla, with little girl excitement in her voice.
“Whenever you want,” laughed Mac.
“Let's go now! We will tell my brother that we want to get an early start.”
Mac laughed, and he gave Carla a kiss on her cheek before he jumped up.
“Let me go home and shower. I will be back in a couple of hours in my bathing suit. It will be almost light by then, so we can see. You wear your bathing suit, as well, so there will be no questions. Let's go to Anzio. I hear that is a beautiful beach, and it is not too far.”
“That's fine, Mac, as long as we can find a secluded spot for a while,” laughed Carla. “We have some unfinished business we need to take care of.”
“And you call me a beast,” laughed Mac. “Trust me, I will find a spot to get you out of your bathing suit again,” chuckled Mac, looking her up and down with desire in his eyes.
“Mac! Shhh! My brother will hear you!”
“We are engaged now, kitten!”
“But, not married,” laughed Carla. “And, I meant a wedding ring on my finger, not an engagement ring.