The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany(101)

Time stills. Ever so slowly she turns to me. She blinks once. Twice. I take a deep breath, and when I speak again, my voice is soft. “But I’d love to know why. And how. Tell me. Please.”

She puts a hand to her chest. From his place at the table, Rico whispers. “It is time, mio amore.”

Her troubled gaze travels from him to me. Finally, she pivots and disappears down the staircase.

Tears sting my eyes and I drop my head. I had such high hopes that she might want me. Rico’s warm hand rubs circles on my back. “Our Poppy has strong principles,” he tells me. “Too strong, I fear.”

Footsteps sound on the stairs. I lift my head. Poppy appears, a large manila envelope in her hand.

“I had planned to keep this secret for as long as Rosa was alive. It seemed the right thing to do.” She looks at Rico. “For weeks, mein Ehemann has been trying to convince me otherwise. Perhaps he is right.”

She pulls a document from the envelope and sets it on the table in front of me. “I wrote this from my suite in Venice, while you girls were exploring the city.”

I swallow hard. “That’s why you insisted on a private room.”

“Huh,” Lucy says. “And I thought you were hoping to get lucky.”

She whacks Lucy’s arm playfully and slips into the chair beside mine. “Before our trip, I made a promise to you, Emilia. In hearing my story, you will finally learn of your mother’s.”

I stare down at a stack of pages, stapled at the upper right corner, titled Poppy’s Final Chapter—1961.





Chapter 54




Poppy

1961

From Italy to America

With Rico trapped behind the Berlin Wall, Rosa was my bedrock. Without her grit, I may have crumbled. She was the one who insisted I get up every day. She was the one who walked me through the markets, helped me care for Johanna.

Even through my grief, Johanna was thriving, taking to my breast like a little champ. Mercifully, Rosa finally stopped badgering me about coming to America. She understood, even with the news of the wall, I could not leave Italy. Rico would come back for me, I was certain. And when that day came, I needed to be in Ravello.

On a Monday morning, four weeks after I’d delivered Johanna, my sister finally admitted defeat. “I am disappointed in you, la mia sorella testarda,” she said as she folded laundry. “But I cannot force you to come to America. Tomorrow, we will pack. By the end of the week, you must return to Trespiano.”

“Trespiano? No. Ravello is my home.”

She spun around, a clean diaper in her hand. “No, Paolina. I can no longer help with Johanna. I am leaving for America in ten days. You will live with Mamma and Papà.”

Fear shot through me. I was a single mother, with no money, no options. How was I to support Johanna on my own? But the thought of returning to the farm drained my soul.

“Do you think Mamma will be angry?” I asked, hoping against hope my fears were unwarranted.

“Sì. She is. But not as angry as Papà.”

I gasped. “You told them?”

“I am sorry, Paolina. It slipped.”

I gazed down at the bundle suckling my breast. “They will grow to love her. She is their grandchild.”

Rosa shook her head. “Love her? My sister, how can you expect love?” She peered into my eyes as if I were a small child in need of a lecture. “Mamma is a proud woman. You know this. Now, she is humiliated. First her daughter runs off with a German. A year later, she returns with his bastard child, for all the village to witness. This has broken her heart. You will always have my love, Paolina. But Mamma’s? I am afraid not.”

A headache kicked at my temples. No matter what rosy future I’d promised my baby girl, at that moment I could only imagine a scorned life, the poor illegitimate daughter of the Fontana whore, living on the farm, resented by her grandparents, ridiculed by the village. For the first time, I became furious at Rico. How could he leave us? How could he choose his father and mother over his wife and child?

“When is he coming for us?” I said aloud.

“Rico will not be returning.” Rosa reached for me, but I pulled away.

“You don’t know this.”

“There is a wall, Paolina! What further proof do you need? You will never see your Rico again. Stop your foolishness!”

Tears sprang to my eyes. “He loves me. He will return, you will see.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice oozing sarcasm. “Your Rico will leave his ailing father’s bedside. He will abandon his fragile mother and the sister who is counting on him for her very existence. Or maybe he will risk his life and escape the guards at the border, poised with their machine guns, all for you.”

I looked away, suddenly aware of my na?veté.

Rosa pulled me into her arms. “Shhh,” she whispered, stroking my back. “You, of all people, should not be surprised at this unhappy ending. You are the second daughter. You’ve known all along you would never marry.”

“But I am married!”

She ignored me and stepped back to straighten my collar. “Now, it is time you returned home. Mamma will raise baby Johanna, regardless of her disgust. You will help Papà in the fields. When Joh is old enough, she will work on the farm, too. That is, if they will allow it.”