The Good Left Undone(22)

“Poor Silvio. Il bastardo,” Domenica said softly. “Papa, I thought you said that in Viareggio the only two things you cannot be are a beggar or a thief.”

“That’s right.”

“But that’s not true. You can’t be il bastardo either.”

“Domenica.”

“It’s not Silvio’s fault. How can he be blamed for something he didn’t do? Why is he marked?”

“We have to pray for him.”

“That’s not going to get him a father.”

Domenica was right, and her father knew it. Il bastardo was not simply a taunt. It was an indictment of his future. Silvio would inherit nothing and was barred from getting an education beyond primary school.

Aldo’s snores could be heard from the alcove in the next room. Prepuberty had turned him into a hulking, burping, flatulent bear of a boy. He was even offensive when he slept. Domenica couldn’t wait to grow up and get as far away from Aldo as she could.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, Papa,” Domenica lied.

“Mama will make a frittata for you in the morning.”

“How do you know?”

“She arranged for the eggs.”

“She did?” Domenica settled under the covers with the confidence that her mother hadn’t blamed her for the events that day after all.

Cabrelli blew out the flame inside the hurricane lamp, and sweet almond oil filled the air. “The sooner you sleep, the sooner you eat.”

Domenica turned over in her bed. When she heard the gentle click of her parents’ bedroom door as it closed, she flipped onto her back, put her hands behind her head, and looked up at the ceiling. She said a quick prayer of thanksgiving for the eggs. Her mother loved her. She prayed for her father because he loved her no matter what she did. She also prayed for Aldo because she was obligated to do so.

Her eyes were fluttering closed when a face appeared in the window like a tintype, backlit by the moon. Too stunned to scream, she rolled off her cot and onto the floor. She jumped to her feet to run out of the room when she turned back to look. The shape of the head was familiar, round like a hazelnut, with a point to the chin. The black curls on his head blended into the scrollwork of the Figliolos’ wrought iron fence across the street, making it hard to see. The boy stepped into a shaft of light.

Domenica knelt on her cot and opened the window.

“Did you have any supper?” Silvio whispered.

“I am not allowed any supper until Sunday. They’re trying to starve me to death.”

“Here.”

Domenica unwrapped a cloth. The sweet fragrance of vanilla and butter filled the air. The puffy pastry was drenched in sugar. “How did you get these?”

“Mama went to the feast.”

Domenica took a bite. She chewed slowly, savoring the buttery sweetness of the dough and the sugar as it melted on her tongue. “Have one.” She held the pastry out to Silvio.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My stitches hurt when I chew. Pretucci must’ve tightened something up.” Silvio demonstrated by baring his teeth like an orangutan and attempted to move his bared teeth up and down. Domenica laughed.

Aldo snored loudly and turned over in the next room.

Domenica climbed out the window. She sat down next to Silvio on the stairs.

“Go back inside. You’ll get in more trouble,” Silvio warned her.

“Once you’re in trouble, it’s too late to get in more trouble.”

“Is that true?”

“It’s common sense.” Domenica finished the first bombolone. She carefully picked the sugar sprinkles off the cloth and licked her finger. “That is the most delicious treat I ever ate. Ever. Thank you.”

“Prego.” As hungry as Silvio was, it made him happier to see his friend enjoy the pastry.

Fortified by a full stomach, Domenica presented a new scheme to her friend. “We don’t need that stupid map. Aniballi can keep it in his dusty library. We can find the treasure without it. We will work our way through the pine forest. I have a hunch the pirates left it close to the canals.”

“Are you certain?”

“That would make the most sense. They would have to make a fast getaway. We’ll go tomorrow! When the sun comes up. After I’ve fetched the water.”

“I won’t be able to help you find the treasure.”

“Well, perhaps not right away. We have to let Aniballi’s curse wear off. He has it in for us.”

“No, I mean I won’t be here. We have to leave Viareggio tomorrow.”

“Where will you go?”

“We are going to my aunt’s in Parma.”

“Not her!” Domenica remembered Zia Leonora, who had airs. She had the unlined brow and high hair of an aristocrat. Zia visited the seashore in August. Signora Vietro had to wait on her like a maid. They called her Zia Regina behind her back. “She’s awful!”

“I know. But I have no choice. I’ll have to do my chores and behave myself. That’s what Mama says.”

“How are you supposed to do anything when boys throw rocks at you?”

“Maybe they don’t have rocks in Parma.” Silvio tried to smile, but it hurt his face.