From Sand and Ash(29)

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m really no different from so many others, I suppose. I have been hoping it would all right itself.”

“What?”

“The world, Eva. The terrible state of the world. I thought I could just juggle, strategize, bend myself and my circumstances around the laws. And I have. I’ve managed to keep the business afloat, keep our home, provide for you and Santino and Fabia. But the world isn’t going to right itself; Italy isn’t going to right herself. Not without help. I can’t continue hoping and doing nothing. I can’t continue hiding in my shell and making glass. I have to do more. We all have to do more. Or we will all die.”

“Babbo?” She heard the alarm in her voice, and her father turned to her with sorrow-filled eyes.

“I have to go get your grandfather, Eva. I owe it to Felix.”

“In Austria? But . . . isn’t he in a . . . camp?”

“The Germans can’t possibly want one old man. He won’t be a good worker. I will buy his way out. Trade something of value. It is what I’m good at. I’m a natural-born salesman. You know that. I will get him and I will bring him here with us. Then Angelo will help us hide him until the war is over.”

“How will you get him out?”

“Eva, Ostrica provides bottles to many wineries in Austria. I have been to Austria dozens of times, and I have every reason in the world to travel there for business. I am an Italian citizen, and my documents clearly show that. No one will question me. I have identity papers for Otto claiming that he is also an Italian citizen.”

“How did you get false papers?” she cried.

“I have a very good printer at Ostrica. You remember Aldo Finzi? He makes labels for bottles—beautiful labels—and we have been making passes, Eva. We are making false papers for refugees. It is some of the best work Aldo has ever done. I didn’t want to tell you. What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

“Oh, Babbo,” she moaned. “If you get caught with Grandfather, they might arrest you both. They could take the factory if they discover you are forging documents there.”

“I do not own the factory,” Camillo said lightly. “How can they take it away?”

“Does Signore Sotelo know?” Gino Sotelo was her father’s best friend and non-Jewish business partner.

“Yes. Gino knows. And if something happens to me, I hope he will let Aldo continue his work. It is work that will save lives.”

Her stomach rolled and her heart plummeted. She was worried about her father’s life most of all, and what he was planning to do would put it in terrible danger. Eva didn’t really believe her grandfather was still alive in Austria. He’d been arrested, taken away, and Uncle Felix had lost hope. Then they’d lost Felix too. But they’d lost him incrementally, inch by inch, indignity by indignity, until there was nothing left when he finally pulled the trigger.

“Don’t worry, Eva. I will be fine, and I will bring Otto back. I can’t leave him there. He cannot save himself. No Austrians are being allowed to leave anymore, especially Austrian Jews.”

“You can’t go! Please don’t go.”

“I have everything in order. I won’t draw attention. I will be courteous and quiet, just like I always am. Invisible. And everything will go smoothly, you’ll see.”

“If something happens to you I will have no one left. No one,” Eva cried, abandoning her courage for honesty. She couldn’t let him go.

“I will be fine. But no matter what happens to me, you will always have Angelo. He promised me. You will always have Angelo.” Her father’s voice was fierce, as if he could make it so by sheer will.

“Oh, Babbo, you don’t understand! I will never have Angelo.” She looked out at the horizon, squinting into the sun, letting her eyes burn as she cried. “I don’t have Angelo, I don’t have Uncle Felix, and soon I won’t have you.”





1943





16 September, 1943


Confession: I never feel safe.



Just last Wednesday, people were dancing in the streets saying the war is over for Italy. Italy surrendered to America and an armistice had been granted. Everyone said the Americans would be arriving soon and our soldiers would be coming home. Some even said the Racial Laws would be revoked. But on Saturday, the Germans moved in and occupied Florence. They have taken control of everything north of Naples. The celebration is over but the war is definitely not. The sides have just changed.

We’ve had no word from Babbo. I try not to think about him at all because it hurts too much. Maybe I’m weak, but I’ve heard rumors about the labor camps. Some say they are death camps, and I’m afraid I’ll never see Babbo again. So I put him out of my head completely and I put one foot in front of the other. Forgive me, Babbo.

Angelo is here. He’s back. He says everything is going to get worse, not better. He thinks I need to go back with him to Rome. I don’t know why he thinks Rome will be safer for me. The Americans bombed Rome in July, and so far, no bombs have fallen in Florence. But he says he can hide me. He’s been helping Jewish refugees since the war began. Santino and Fabia will be alone, but Angelo says I only endanger them. Santino and Fabia are afraid for me, and they begged me to go. They think Angelo can keep me safe. They don’t know that Angelo makes me feel things that aren’t safe. He makes me reckless and angry. He makes me sad. And I know he doesn’t feel safe with me.