One Winter Weekend

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“ M olly?” a voice called up to where the blonde twenty-eight-year-old sat gazing out the window as a dusting of snow fell softly outside.

Molly O’Brien barely noticed the noise. She was captivated by the magic of this first snow – even if it was just flurries - and which she knew would have melted away by the time she and her parents boarded the plane to Italy later that morning.

There was just something about Christmastime – the brisk cold weather, greenery around the hearth, candles and fairy lights, holly and mistletoe – that filled her with such joy she could hardly contain herself. And with everything building to an even more joyous occasion now just a couple of sleeps away, Molly was entranced.

“Love?” her mother’s voice came again, this time from just down the hall.

Molly sighed and returned to the suitcase laid open on her childhood bed, folding up the last of her clothes and stuffing them in the remaining spaces.

A long packing list rested nearby. She glanced through it as her mind raced. Forgetting anything for this trip would be disastrous. She couldn’t afford to be distracted or unfocused.

A gentle knock came at the door, followed by a creak as it opened. Her mother Helen stood in the doorway.

Just then, Molly was struck by the greyish streaks in her mother’s blonde hair; surely they hadn’t been there before. But her ever-glamorous mum was getting older. They all were.

However, despite the strands of grey and the faint lines around her lips, Molly couldn’t remember a time when Helen looked better. The years agreed with her.

She smiled. “Hey, Mum.”

‘We’re all set to go, love. Have you packed the last of it?”

Molly nodded and took her mother’s arm, bringing her over to the window. “Look,” she smiled. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Helen sighed. “It is, honey, yes,” she said wistfully. “I remember you and Caroline sitting here as young kids for hours just watching the snow fall in winter. We could barely peel you two away for anything. Well, except maybe for a few Jammie Dodgers…“

“Feeling nostalgic?” Molly asked casually. She looked at her mother who had the same dreamy look on her face she herself had. It ran in the family apparently.

Helen shook her head. “Just a bit, maybe,” she admitted. “It’s hard to see your baby grow up before your eyes. And now, well I suppose I’m just wishing we could have the wedding for you that your father and I always envisioned. I always knew you would get married at this time of year with that love of Christmas of yours, but I never expected that you would do it somewhere else . ”

“Ah, mum,” Molly replied, “we’ve been through all this a million times already.” She was exhausted. Her parents had barely let up with their complaints since, she and her fiancé Ben had announced their intentions to get married in Rome.

Helen put her hands up defensively. “I know, I know,” she responded, “and it is of course your wedding – yours, and Ben’s.”

Helen thought back to the little girl playing weddings with her best friend, Caroline. There was always a beautiful red and green bouquet, teddy bears and dolls representing friends and family - and snow boots under an old white costume.

“Mum,” Molly said gently. “Look around this room. What do you see?”

Helen looked at the walls of the room that had been Molly’s bedroom for most of the last three decades.

Framed posters of the Colosseum, St. Peter’s Basilica, and the Trevi Fountain graced the walls.

On the bookshelves were everything from Italian phrasebooks and texts on Roman history, to tomes by Dante Alighieri and Italo Calvino.

Even the wallpaper, though a bit frayed and yellowed now, featured a watermark of the Arch of Constantine.

It was in effect, the most Italian room in all of Ireland.

“I’ve been dreaming of this forever,” Molly continued. “A Christmas wedding in Rome has always been the dream. And finally it’s coming true.”

Molly was as in love with Italy almost as much as she was with her fiancé.

She had studied Italian literature in University College Dublin, and had even taken several Italian cooking classes for fun. While she may no longer be that little girl dressing up teddy bears and ‘marrying’ her best friend, she was still the woman with Italian posters, books, and maps in her bedroom.

Helen nodded. “I know, love,” she said kindly. “And your dad and I want to give you the wedding of your dreams. Even if it happens to be in another country.”

She had struggled to come to terms with her daughter’s decision, but at this point, there was no turning back. Molly and Ben were getting married in Rome on Christmas Eve - two days from now.

“Girls!” Molly’s father Paddy yelled at the two women from the foot of the stairs. “It’s time we headed off.”

Paddy O’Brien had also been staring out the window at the snow rolling in and wondering how long they would be stuck at Dublin airport because of it.

“We’re coming now,” Helen called down to him. She turned to Molly. “Ready, sweetheart?” she asked with a smile.

Molly looked through the packing list once more, nodded and pulled her stuffed suitcase off the bed.

She grinned. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”