The Four Winds(46)

Loreda sighed heavily, touching the chambray at her neck as if it held magical powers. “We are going to be even sorrier. You watch.”



AT LAST, THE LONG winter ended.

In the first week of March, the sun became a bright and shining friend that lifted their spirits and renewed their hope. One blue-sky day followed the other.

Today, as Elsa stood at the kitchen table, making a batch of creamy ricotta cheese, she thought, Just a little rain, and once again she could believe in it. Salvation. She could imagine a different view from here: Wheat growing tall. A field of gold that stretched to the horizon beneath an endless blue sky.

Rose drifted into the kitchen, pinning her kerchief in place. “Ricotta? What a treat.”

“It’s not every day a girl turns thirteen. I thought I’d splurge. I can feel the rain coming, can’t you?”

Rose nodded, re-coiling her hair at the back of her neck.

Elsa brought a pot of coffee into the sitting room, along with an apronful of cups. One by one, she poured the rich, steaming brew into the speckled tin cups.

“Aw, Els, you’re a godsend,” Tony said, taking a sip.

Elsa smiled. “It’s just coffee.”

Tony reached for his fiddle and began to play.

Ant jumped up and said, “Dance with me, Lolo.”

Loreda rolled her eyes—so put out—and then leapt to her feet and started doing a crazy version of the Charleston that was completely out of step with the music.

Everyone laughed.

Elsa couldn’t remember the last time this house had filled with her children’s laughter. It was a gift from God, just like the good weather.

Things would be better now; she could feel it. A new year. A new spring.

They would have sun—but not too much—and rain—but not too little—and those tender green plants would grow tall. Golden wheat stalks would rise and stretch toward the sun.

“Dance with me,”Rose said, appearing in front of Elsa, who laughed.

“I haven’t danced in . . . forever.”

“None of us has.” Rose placed her left hand on the small of Elsa’s back and grasped her right hand, pulled her close.

“It was a long winter,” Rose said.

“Not as long as the summer.”

Rose smiled. “Sì, You’re right about that.”

Beside them, Ant and Loreda spun and danced and laughed.

Elsa was surprised by how comfortable she felt dancing with her mother-in-law. Almost light on her feet. She’d always felt so clumsy in Rafe’s arms. Now she moved easily, let her hips sway in time to the music.

“You are thinking about my son. I see your sadness.”

“Yes.”

“If he comes back, I will hit him with a shovel,” Rose said. “He is too stupid to be my son. And too cruel.”

“Do yah hear that?” Ant said.

Tony stopped playing.

Elsa heard the plunk-plunk-plunk of rain hitting the roof.

Ant ran for the front door and swung it open.

They all ran out to the porch. A charcoal-gray cloud hovered overhead, another muscled its way across the sky.

Raindrops fell lightly, pattering the house, leaving starburst blotches on the dry ground.

Rain.

Big, fat droplets splattered the steps, gritty with dirt. More drops fell. The patter became a roar. A downpour.

They ran into the yard, all of them together, and turned their faces to the cool, sweet rain.

It doused them, drenched them, turned the ground to mud at their feet.

“We’re saved, Rosalba,” Tony said.

Elsa pulled her children into her arms and held them tightly, water running down their faces, sliding down their backs in cool, cold streaks. “We’re saved.”



THAT NIGHT, THEY SPLURGED on the evening meal, ate homemade fettuccine with bits of browned pancetta in a rich and creamy sauce. Afterward, while Tony played his fiddle in the sitting room amid the percussive beat of the rain, Elsa carried the ricotta cassata out to the family. The cake’s golden top, covered with shiny preserved peaches, held a single burning candle.

Rose reached into the velvet pouch at her neck and pulled out the American penny that she’d worn for more than three decades. Elsa knew every word of the story of this penny, the family lore. Tony had found it in the street in Sicily and picked it up and showed it to Rose. A sign, they’d agreed. The hope for their future. It was the family talisman.

This penny had made the rounds every New Year’s morning as each member of the family held it for a moment and said aloud what their hope for the new year was. They passed it around when they planted crops and on birthdays. On the back of it, curled on either side were beautiful, embossed shafts of wheat. It was little wonder Tony believed it had shown the Martinellis their destiny.

Rose handed the penny to Loreda, who stared solemnly down at it. “Make a wish, cara.”

“I don’t believe in it anymore,” Loreda said, handing the coin back to her grandmother. “It didn’t keep our family together.”

Rose looked stricken; it was a moment before she recovered and managed a smile.

Tony’s music stopped.

Loreda stared at Elsa, teary-eyed. “He promised to teach me to drive when I turned thirteen.”

“Ah . . .” Elsa said, feeling her daughter’s pain. “I will teach you.”