The Shoemaker's Wife(65)

“I haven’t read a book in twenty years. Once again, the apprentice surpasses the master. I’m almost obsolete. You’re not only smarter than me, you’re a better shoemaker.”

“Then why is your name on the door?” Ciro teased him. “You know, Cellini dictated his autobiography to his assistant.”

“You should write down my wisdom before I die and it’s forgotten.”

“You won’t be forgotten, Remo.”

“You never know. That’s why I want to sell everything and go home to Italy.” Remo admitted, “I miss my village. I have family there. Three sisters and a brother. Lots of cousins. I have a small house. I have a crypt with my name on it.”

“I thought I was the only one who dreamed of home.”

“You know, Ciro, if there’s a war, we don’t know what side Italy will be on. It could make it very difficult for us here.”

“We’re Americans now,” Ciro said.

“That’s not what our papers say. We’re welcome to stay and work; beyond that, it’s up to them. Until you pass the test for citizenship, you are here at the whim and fancy of the United States government.”

“If they threw me out, I would be happy to go back to Vilminore. I liked that I knew every family in my village, and that they knew me. I remember every garden and street. I knew who owned the best ground to grow sweet onions and who had the best spot to plant pear trees. I watched women hang the wash and men shoe the horses. I even watched people pray in church. I could tell who was truly penitent and who was there to show off a new hat. There’s something to be said for life on the mountain.”

“You dream of your mountain, and I dream of the port of Genoa. I spent every summer there with my grandmother,” Remo said. “Sometimes I go through the leather and look for the exact blue of the Mediterranean.”

“And I look for the green of the juniper trees. Everyone on the mountain had the same view of Pizzo Camino. We looked at the world in the same way. I can’t say that about Mulberry Street.”

“So many layabouts here. They don’t work hard enough. They want the sparkle without doing the polish.”

“Some, not all,” Ciro said. Ciro heard the men leaving for construction jobs before sunrise, and watched the women tend their children. Most of the people in Little Italy worked hard to keep their families secure. “I’m lucky,” Ciro admitted.

“You made your luck. Do you know how many boys I tried to train in this shop? Carla never liked anyone I tried to apprentice here. But she’s never said a word against you. I think you work harder than she does.”

“Don’t tell her that.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Remo looked at the doorway, hoping Carla was not coming through it.

“I am very grateful to you, Remo. You didn’t have to take me in.”

“Every boy deserves a second chance.” Remo shrugged.

“I didn’t think I needed one. I didn’t do anything wrong. But I learned that it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what the padrone believes—that’s what counts.”

“We all have a boss.” Remo pointed up the stairs. “Thirty-seven years with her taught me to keep my mouth shut and follow instructions.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t marry a padrone, Ciro. Pick a quiet girl who likes to take care of you. An ambitious woman will kill you. There’s always something that needs to be done. They keep a list. They make you a list. They want more, more, more, and trust me, more, more, more leads to an ulcer.”

“Don’t worry about me. I make shoes for a living, and love . . . only when it suits me.”

“Smart boy,” Remo said.

“What are you two talking about?” Carla asked as she entered the room with the mail. She pushed the leather samples aside. “What are these doing here?” she barked, then glanced back at Ciro.

“We’re not going to make anything in this shop but work boots. Get those pipe dreams out of your head.”

Ciro and Remo looked at one another and laughed.

“It’s a good thing I keep the books,” Carla said, undeterred. “If I left this business to you two, I might come home one day to find you making cannoli instead of boots. You’re a couple of dreamers.” Carla gave Ciro a letter before she climbed back up the stairs.

Ciro was thrilled when he saw that the return address was Eduardo’s seminary in Rome. He excused himself and went out to the garden with the letter, put his feet up, and carefully opened the envelope. Eduardo’s perfect penmanship was a work of art. Ciro handled the letter reverently.

October 13, 1916

My Dear Brother,

Thank you for the work boots you sent. I laced them up tightly and tested the steel toes you mentioned like a prima ballerina. Our old friend Iggy would not have been capable of en pointe. Of course, I examined the boots as closely as Sister Ercolina would have and was happy to see that you are every bit the craftsman you claim to be in your last letter. Bravo, Ciro, bravissimo! Though I wear the sandals of Galilee, I can still appreciate a good pair of boots!

I have some news regarding our mother.

Ciro sat forward in the old wicker chair.

This information has been relayed to me by letter from the abbess in a convent near Lake Garda where our mother has been living for the past several years. I know this will come as a shock to you. Mama was so close to us, just a few kilometers from Bergamo. But she was very sick. She went to see a doctor in Bergamo the day she left us at the convent. He made his diagnosis and sent her to the nuns. They have a hospital and a sanitarium there. Our mama suffered from mental distress so severe she could not function. Papa’s death had put her in a grief state she could not overcome. Sister Ercolina made sure that Mama got the best care, and now, I am told, she works in the hospital there. I wrote to her and told her about you, and about the seminary. As you know, seminarians are not allowed any contact with family members except by letter. If I could fly over these walls to see Mama in this moment, I would, if only to write to you to tell you that I had seen her and was assured by my own eyes that she was safe and healthy. But, sadly, I have only the promise of the sisters to go on. We must trust that they are taking care of her, as they always did for us.