The Good Left Undone(21)

“That’s not what Signore Aniballi told me. Silvio stole the map. He went into the geography room and pulled it from a display case without asking.”

“We are allowed to look at the maps.”

“With permission.”

“We were going to return it. Half the time Aniballi is asleep at his desk. He doesn’t even notice who goes in and out of the library. He has it in for Silvio.”

“That may be true, but it doesn’t matter. Aniballi was alert enough to see Silvio steal the map. The man that steals a loaf of bread and eats it can never return the stolen bread. And even if he pays for it later, he still is a thief.”

“Papa, this is a map, not bread. Signore Aniballi got his map back.”

“And it was ruined.”

“It was not ruined. I know. I held it.”

“That’s not what Aniballi told me.”

“Aniballi.” Domenica clucked. “I won’t say what he is because I’m about to be confirmed and I don’t want the Holy Ghost to send down a blazing fireball to punish me.”

“Then don’t.”

“Tell me this: What is Signore Aniballi’s punishment? For lying about the destruction of the map? For turning the boys in the village into a pack of dogs?”

“You can’t blame him for that,” Cabrelli countered.

“Why not?” Domenica closed her eyes and tapped her chest. “It is my grievous fault. Silvio was following my orders. Forgive me, Blessed Mother, Holy Communion of Saints, Baby Gesù, and God Himself, for praying for justice. Aniballi should taste bitterness in his mouth until he learns to tell the truth. Amen.”

“That’s not fair. Aniballi has a job. He has to protect the books and maps in the library. Don’t blame him for your mistake. Listen to me. You are the instigator. When the forest burns, it is you we find holding the box of matches. You and your choices. Your crazy scheme led to all of this. You can’t go around telling the other children what to do. You aren’t their mother or father. You are not the carabinieri. You don’t make the rules and you aren’t the law to enforce them.”

“I wish we were rich. Don’t you want to be rich, Papa?”

Cabrelli sighed. “Working with priceless gems cures you of wanting to own them.”

“I want to own them. When you’re rich, no one can tell you what to do. The mayor and the bishop? No one tells them what to do.”

“Your conscience tells you what’s right, rich or poor. And that’s what has your mother and me worried. You didn’t show good judgment.”

“If we borrow books from the library, why can’t we borrow a map? Doesn’t the library belong to all of us?”

“The map belongs to the state. You could have been badly hurt today. Silvio will have a scar.”

“Like a pirate.”

“Pirates are not saints. They are thieves. I forbid you from hunting for that buried treasure. It doesn’t exist. It’s a fable that resurrects itself in the village and makes the rounds whenever people believe that money will save them. I am sorry my own daughter believes that nonsense. Your friend could have lost his eye. And you could have lost yours. The boy who threw the rock didn’t care who got hurt—he was just trying to stop you.”

“Where’s his punishment?”

“Aniballi doesn’t know which boy threw the rock.”

“Aniballi was on the dunes. He could see the whole beach. Only Saint Michael on his blue cloud saw more. It doesn’t matter. I know who threw it.”

“You saw the boy?”

“No. But Guido Mironi got to me first and took the map from me. So it was him.”

“You can’t accuse him unless you’re certain.”

“The wound on Silvio’s brow was long and deep and the rock was heavy, which means the boy who threw it was close. The angle of the cut on his forehead meant the rock came from overhead, so it was thrown hard by someone taller than we are. It was the Mironi boy. He taunts Silvio at school. He takes his book and his bread. Half the time Silvio doesn’t eat because they steal his food.”

“And you share yours with him.”

“Yes, Papa. But don’t tell Mama.”

“You will not be punished in this house for being kind. But it doesn’t make up for stealing the map. You had the angels on your side today, Domenica. I don’t know if you will the next time you take something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“The angels know the difference between stealing and borrowing. They’re on my side. Trust me on that.”

Cabrelli sighed. “Say your prayers.”

“I did.”

“Say a few more.” Pietro walked to the door.

“Papa, why doesn’t Silvio have the same name as his mother? She is Signora Vietro and he is a Birtolini.”

“Signora Vietro could not marry Silvio’s father because the man already had a wife.”

Domenica thought about that. “Is Birtolini his father’s name?”

“No. The way Italian law works, there’s a letter for each month, and the mother without a husband chooses a name, any name, using the letter. Silvio was born in a month where B was the designated letter. His mother chose his name from a list.”