My father used to do this. Try to stump me. I'd gone through dozens of calendars and books on vocabulary, e-mail words of the day, and the thickest dictionaries on the planet trying to keep up. “Hit me.”

“Abaction.”

“Good one. But we are in Texas, cattle country. It means cattle-stealing.”

Cortland frowned. “Okay. Devoir.”

“As in, ‘It is your devoir to win this spelling bee, Ramona.‘ Courtesy, my dad before my fourth-grade regional championship.”

“And did you do your duty and win?”

“Second place, and don't rub it in.”

“I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I was Texas spelling bee champion in 1972. Sixth grade.”

“Fine. I'm a little jealous. I lost sixth grade to Morton Fitz.”

“With a name like Morton Fitz, how could he lose?”

The lights went off, abruptly ending our conversation. Only our third meeting and I could see why my dad and sister both liked Cortland. Skilled conversationalist, never at a loss for words. Unlike me, who had so many words to choose from I often gave up and remained silent. Cortland knew I liked words, so that's where he started with me. Charming, really. But devoir? Come on. Amateur.

The curtain raised and within a minute, da Vinci held my hand. I could feel my heart quicken as I decided whether or not to let him hold it (which my heart wanted him to do) or to slip it out (which I felt I had to do to save an explanation to my parents). The second option would no doubt hurt da Vinci's feelings, and I really did want the raincheck on the shower and whatever else may come. Why did I care what my parents thought? Hadn't my mother just the week prior said how glad she was I have some company? That I didn't seem quite so lonely anymore? Maybe she didn't think I would have that kind of a relationship with da Vinci. But still.

I squeezed da Vinci's hand and then got up, telling him I needed to go to the restroom. I made my way to the back of the theater where I watched my darling niece stumble over her lines, trip across the stage and keep a plastered grin on her face for a solid hour. My knees were weak from standing, but I didn't return to my seat until the final number and then I put my hands in my jacket pocket and shivered as if I were cold in the theater.

When Rachel and the tiny starlet joined us in the aisle, Rachel hugged Cortland and kissed him on the lips, right in front of my parents. I'd always felt funny about public displays of affection, even after Joel and I had been married for years. “Hey, you,” she said to him in a flirty voice full of sex appeal. Their language of love was out in full view for the world to see. They were an open book. They were having sex and lots of it. Only later in the bathroom she'd told me I was wrong. No sex yet.

“Believe me, I've practically thrown myself on him, but I can't believe he's the wait-until-marriage type, even if he is a good Christian man,” she gushed as she reapplied lip gloss, then tilted her head as if to reconsider. “A few more dates I'm sure he'll give in. How can he resist this?”

“How indeed,” I said, my throat catching. Maybe I was feeling a little jealous, and though my sister had enjoyed a spirited sex life since her divorce, this one got to me. I didn't want her to kiss Cortland, let alone have sex with him. He was the only guy she'd ever dated after Michael that I liked. Not like liked, just liked in the general humankind sort of way.

“What about you? Knocking boots with Leo yet?”

I brushed through my hair, trying not to compare it to my sister's. It wasn't fair that I'd just spent $125 on a color job that I couldn't afford in the first place and hers still looked shinier and bouncier. “Don't be silly.”

“I'm not being silly. I'm being hopeful. For you. If I weren't with Cortland, I'd be in hot pursuit. You're just not interested, huh?”

“Actually, he has kissed me. I mean we've kissed. At a wine festival.”

Rachel's wide mouth opened even wider and emitted a squeal of delight. “OhmygodI'msohappyforyou. Is he a great kisser? I always imagined Italians would be the best kissers.”

“Very much so. He's young, though. I think kissing improves with age.”

“Poo. It's when they're young and hot and full of reckless abandon that it's good. I bet sleeping with him will be…” She rolled her eyes into the back of her head. “OhmygodIcan'tbelieveI'mjealousofyou.”

I swelled with pride. Of course I shouldn't have to keep da Vinci a secret. I was a grown woman. I could make my own decisions about my love life. About getting one, that is. I'd just have to deal with the teacher issue and figure out how to break the news to Judith without breaking her heart, and then we were fair game. Not that I'd let my sister's jealousy speed along any decision.

“There you are,” Cortland said as I exited the bathroom, and for a split second I thought he'd been waiting for me until I saw that my sister was directly behind me. Cortland locked eyes with me, one, two, three, then focused on my sister, who put her arm around his waist and led him away from me.

My boys were still at the table, talking football. My boys: William, Bradley, and da Vinci. When I approached, they all three looked up at me with adoration. Not as adorably as when my boys were little and they shouted “Momma!” every time I entered the room, but for growing boys and one young man, I felt very lucky. Especially when da Vinci leaned over and whispered in my ear, “ Usci-amo di qui. ”

Let's get out of here.

Anagrams: Leonardo da Vinci

FOR SOMEONE OF QUESTIONABLE faith, I looked for signs only where I'd felt comfortable: within words. I thought it meant something that Cortland named his dog “love.” I thought it meant something that my da Vinci had been named after that da Vinci and that Mona Lisa was a derivative of my full name. Even though I couldn't explain it, I knew that in this time and this space Mona Lisa (me) and da Vinci (him) meant something together though. To figure it out, I searched for meaning within his name, playing the anagram game that had become second nature to me. There were plenty of messages to be found within Leonardo da Vinci:

A candid lore vino. The “lore” of our names.

A candid role vino. The “role vino” had played in our courtship at the wine festival.

A candid rove loin. Having a roving loin could be a bad thing, but as long as it was roving in my direction, I took it as a good sign.

Which led me to:

A candid lover ion. It couldn't be helped. We couldn't be helped. It was right there: da Vinci and Mona Lisa's union. Love matter. Right there in his name. All along.

As Anh helped me rake leaves the following day (the thing about leaves is, they keep falling until the last leaf is gone. The trees were now bare, which meant we were only two weeks from Joel's death date), I confessed to Anh my intentions. I'm not sure if I wanted her to give me a high-five or a stern, shake-her-finger-at-me type of warning or do a cartwheel. Instead, she stared at me blankly for a few seconds, which felt more like an hour. Then she threw her rake down and wrapped her skinny arms around me.

“Good for you, Rames.” Her hug also felt like it lasted an hour. When she let go, she had tears in her eyes.

“Oh, dear. Why are you crying?”

“Because I'm so happy for you. Because I can tell how much happier you've been lately and if he's the reason for it, then I say, more amore!”

“Well, I got him transferred into another class. I'm no longer his teacher, though I am still a teacher. Fortunately Panchal met his own wife at the cultural center, so he can't exactly throw stones.”

Anh shrugged. “You're both adults and it's not a public university. Besides, sometimes you can't help how you meet who you meet, you know?”