The Good Left Undone(99)

“What did your mother do?”

“It was the only time in my life she spanked me. She said, ‘I am your mother. You belong with me.’ I never ran away again, I assure you.”

“You were all she had, Nonna.”

“When my mother died many years later, I called Sister Matelda. She had to be ninety when we spoke, but her mind was sharp. She remembered my father. She said a more gallant man never lived. He was tall and blue-eyed and had thick, shiny brown hair. He was funny. When he wasn’t smiling, he was whistling. Do you know that’s the only image I have of my father, an old nun’s memory? That’s it.”

“Why didn’t you ask your mother what your father looked like?”

“I did ask for a picture once, but she got so upset, I never asked her again. Later on, my mother felt bad about the way she reacted and she told me about my grandmother Grizelle McVicars. Mama said to me, ‘Matelda, don’t ever turn bitter like your Scottish grandmother.’ But I have a little of her mean streak in me, don’t I?”

“You have your reasons.”

“And I suppose my grandmother did too. There were many people that had it worse than I had it, but somehow I managed to be bitter for all of them.”

Anina laughed.

“I’m still angry about the Speranzas. No person should ever go through what they endured. That’s when the Italians turned on the Italians.”


VENEZIA

October 1943

“La bella famiglia,” Speranza said as he examined the photograph from America. “Aggie, how did you get this letter delivered?”

“I paid Goffredo.”

“He didn’t offer to give you the mail you have a right to receive?”

She waved her hand. “We are long past civility. Doesn’t my brother look happy?”

“Yes. His wife? Not so much.”

“She’s begging us to come to America.” Agnese stood over her husband as he read.

“She makes New York City sound wonderful.”

“Maybe we should think about it. I could help Freda with the girls and the new baby. Venezia is not what it used to be. I don’t want to live in a place where we’re not welcome. You could work with Ezechiele. He says there is more cutting to do than he can manage. They have shop after shop of cutters in the diamond district. Can you imagine? Streets of cutters.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’d better think fast.” Agnese placed dinner on the table.

“I don’t need to think because you’ve already made your decision.” Speranza tasted the artichoke.

“You make it sound like I’m the padrone when I’m your obedient wife. Wherever you go, I will go. Just like Ruth and Naomi. You don’t go? I stay too.” She patted him on the shoulder.

Agnese had made Speranza’s favorite meal. She had one artichoke, which she split open and roasted in the fire. She made cannoli stuffed with chicken roasted with garlic and onions, bathed in a butter and lemon sauce. She made the shells out of the last bit of flour she had in the bin. Goffredo had brought her a chicken he found on the piazza. She wrung its neck, plucked, washed, and roasted it, just as she had when times were good.

When night fell, they ate by the light of the traditional Shabbos candles. Before Speranza closed the shutters to the brisk night air, he leaned out and looked up and down the canal. The torches flickered, reflecting light on the surface of the pale blue-green water, which formed a path of light to the sea.

“Do you see something?” Agnese asked.

“A way out,” he replied before pulling his head back.

“You know, we don’t have to go all the way to America immediately. Cabrelli invited us to stay with them. They’re in the mountains above Viareggio.”

“What’s the difference between Venezia and the other coast of Italy? Both are crawling with Fascisti. No, the only place we can go is America.”

“Va bene. I will make a plan,” Agnese offered.

“I’ve been soldering medals for the Fascisti. They know where we live. The government needs the jewelers to make the claptrap. Medals and pins. Regalia. All of it.”

“Good. Let them think you approve of them.” There was a knock at the door.

Agnese quickly blew out the Shabbos candles and moved the small candelabra to the windowsill. The last thing they needed was a stranger observing them as they practiced their faith. Agnese nodded. Speranza answered the door.

“Goffredo!” Speranza was relieved to see his friend in the doorway. “Come in.”

Goffredo’s eyes followed the tendrils of smoke that remained in the air from the Shabbos candles. Agnese waved her hand through the air to clear it. “Thank you for the chicken. Won’t you join us?”

“Grazie, but I can’t. I came here to tell you that your paperwork at the passport office was kicked upstairs.”

“This is good news!” Agnese clasped her hands together in gratitude.

“No, it means they won’t let you travel. I tried to pull your paperwork, saying it was a mistake, but they caught it and flagged you.”

“But they’re issuing passports!” Speranza insisted.

“Not anymore.”

“What do you recommend we do?”