Адриана Трижиани – The Shoemaker's Wife / Жена башмачника. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 24)
«I loved Concetta, you know.»
«I know.»
Ciro tried to lighten the mood, for Sister Teresa’s sake and his own. «I can’t believe Sister Ercolina shook Don Gregorio down for one hundred lire. He didn’t even know what hit him. I wish she would’ve asked for two hundred, and then you could’ve gotten some cows and pigs for the convent.»
«Sister only takes what she needs. It’s the secret to happiness, you know. Only take what you need.»
«I’ll remember that,» Ciro smiled. «I guess I should say good-bye. I will write to you. One day, I promise, I will return to Vilminore. This is my home, and I plan to grow old here.»
«I’ll be so happy to see you when you come back.»
«Thank you for all you’ve done for me.» Ciro embraced Sister Teresa.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Ciro wiped his own tears on his sleeve. «You have been my mother and my friend. You have been on my side from the day I arrived here. Eduardo will always do well because he knows how to follow rules. I never could, but you protected me and made it seem as though I was. I’ll never forget you. It’s only fitting that I leave you with a special gift so you’ll always remember me.»
«Absolutely not, Ciro.»
«Oh, yes, Sister.»
Ciro whistled. «Come on, boy.»
Spruzzo bounded into the kitchen.
«Spruzzo will keep you company. You can feed him bits of salami, just like you fed me. He won’t talk back, and he won’t hound you for seconds. He will be happy with whatever you give him. Promise me you’ll be as good to him as you were to me.»
Sister Teresa’s tears gave way to a hearty laugh. «All right, all right. But when you come back, he’s all yours.»
«Absolutely.» Ciro hugged Sister Teresa one last time, then slowly walked out the door. Ciro did not look back. He wanted to, but he knew that the greatest gift he could give Sister Teresa was to forge ahead and take a bold step into his new life. He knew that she hoped above all he would be brave; courage would keep him from harm.
Spruzzo looked up at Sister Teresa. She sat down on the work stool, lifted her apron to her face, and cried into it. She had vowed to be true only to God, and then to her community, but she hadn’t counted on raising a hungry little boy who had walked into the convent kitchen and won her heart. No mother had ever loved a son more.
The bells in the tower above the convent chapel rang out over the valley as the rectory carriage made the turn on the ridge above Valle di Scalve. Iggy pulled the reins tightly as Eduardo and Ciro looked up the mountain at Vilminore for the last time.
Ciro’s eyes did not linger on the landscape, as he vowed to return quickly. Eduardo knew differently, taking a few moments to commit the green cliffs to memory. He was certain the antiquities of Rome could never be this beautiful.
«Those bells are for you boys,» Ignazio said. «If I didn’t have to drive you down the mountain, it would have been me working the ropes in the tower to say good-bye to you. I’m deaf in one ear from ringing those chimes.»
«I’m sorry you have to scrub the church from now on,» Ciro said.
«You left it so clean, I think I can get to next Easter without a major scouring,» Iggy said. «Now, Ciro, when you get to America, remember that every other person you meet is trying to trick you out of what’s in your pocket. Only drink wine with your spaghetti and never alone at a bar. When a woman seems interested in you quickly, she is looking to take advantage of you. Ask for your wages in cash, and if they pay by paper, don’t let them take a cut for cashing your check. Open a bank account as soon as you get there, with ten lire. Leave it there, but never add to the sum. Every man needs a bank, but the bank doesn’t need your money.»
«I’ll only have two lire after I pay my passage,» Ciro reminded him.
Ignazio reached into his pocket and gave Ciro eight lire. «Now you have ten.»
«I can’t take this.»
«Trust me, Mother Church will never miss it.» Iggy winked as Eduardo rolled his eyes and made the sign of the cross.
«Thanks, Iggy.» Ciro put the money in his pocket.
«I always felt for you boys. I remember your father, and I know he would be very proud of you.»
Eduardo and Ciro looked at one another. Whenever they asked Iggy about their father, he made a joke or told a funny story.
«What do you remember about him?» Eduardo asked.
Iggy took his eyes off the road and looked at the boys. He believed dwelling on the past and revisiting the pain would make their loss worse, so he had kept quiet all these years. Today, though, Iggy wanted to share all he knew. «He never set foot in church. You must get your devotion from the Montini side. Anyway, his people were from Sestri Levante originally, down in the Gulf of Genoa[133]. He came up to Bergamo to find work. At that time, they were building the train station, and there were many jobs. Your mother’s people had a printing shop, and he would walk by on his way to work and see your mother in the window. He fell in love with her and that was that.»
«Why did they come to Vilminore?»
«Your father got a job in the mines. But then he was told he could get twice the wages for the same job in America. And your mother came from some means, and he felt that he had to provide her with a life like the one she knew as a girl. So he set off to make his fortune.»
«Do you know where he went?»
«He went to a place in America called the Iron Range[134], in Minnesota.»
«Do you know how he died?»
«I know only what you boys have been told, that he died in a mining accident.»
«But they never found his body,» Ciro said, a phrase repeated whenever he spoke of his father.
«Ciro,» Iggy said solemnly, «you’re a man now. It’s not good for you to believe that he’ll return. Put your hopes in something real, something that will bring you happiness.»
Ciro stared ahead, wondering what, if anything, would ever bring him happiness. Eduardo nudged Ciro to say something.
«
«You just do your best, and life will follow. That’s what my papa used to tell me.»
They stopped in Clusone to deliver a package to the local stonemason. Iggy tied the horse to the railing outside the post office. Eduardo and Ciro sat on the bench and ate their lunch. Ciro squinted and looked across the street, taking in the homes staggered on the hillside like dollhouses, painted yellow and white, pale blue with eggshell trim, moss green with black shutters. Ciro never tired of looking at houses. He was fascinated by their design and longed for the permanence they represented.
Across the street, a girl closed the door of a white house with dark blue trim. She pulled on a straw hat with a long red ribbon and tied it under her chin. Ciro saw the ruffles of her white skirt as they grazed the top of her brown leather ankle boots. She turned and walked out onto the street. It was Concetta Martocci.
«Where are you going?» Eduardo called out as Ciro leaped from the bench. «We’ll be late for the train!»
«I’ll be right back.»
Ciro ran across the road and followed her. Concetta turned and saw him, then quickened her pace.
«No, please… stop, Concetta!» Ciro called after her.
«I don’t want to talk to you,» she said as Ciro raced alongside her, until he overtook her. She stopped.
«I never meant to hurt you,» Ciro said.
«Too late for that.» Concetta moved around him and kept walking.
«Why are you in Clusone? Did Don Gregorio send you away?»
«No, my mother decided it was best. I’m staying with my aunt.»
«He should have been the one to leave, not you and not me.»
Concetta stopped and faced Ciro. «Why did you have to ruin everything?»
«He was taking advantage of you!»
«No, he wasn’t. I didn’t want to end up a miner’s wife, I wanted something more for myself.» Concetta’s eyes burned with tears.
«You couldn’t make a life with him,» Ciro said, frustrated by her ignorance. «He’s a priest.»
«Just so you understand,» Concetta said, «I never would have fallen in love with you. I don’t like the way you would strut on the piazza, lifting stones and hauling wood, talking loudly and making jokes. Your clothes were always dirty, and when you’d eat, you ate with both hands and hungrily, as though you would never eat another meal again. I watched you too, Ciro, just like you watched me, and I was not impressed. You deserve the work camp. Maybe they can straighten you out.»
«Maybe they can.» Instead of defending himself, instead of trying to convince her to see what he believed to be true, he surrendered. What had always been impossible would remain so forever.
Eduardo waved to Ciro from across the road.
«Good-bye, Concetta,» Ciro said as he turned to the carriage. He didn’t look back, but this time it was because he didn’t want to.
In the days that followed Stella’s death, Giacomina hardly spoke. She took care of the house, washed the clothes, and cooked the meals as she had always done, but joy was lost along with her baby girl. She knew that she should be grateful that she had five other healthy children, but the comfort of many could never make up for the loss of one.
Slowly, Enza was beginning to feel the suffocating bonds of her grief break loose[135]. She picked up after the children and took care of chores her mother usually attended to. Marco kept busy running the carriage from Schilpario to Bergamo.