The Sunflower Girl

by Rosanna Chiofalo

  The commander looked at her for a moment, before his face broke into a wide grin just as she was beginning to think he never cracked. “You seem to have a lot of spunk, signorina. Perhaps you can join us for an espresso. It is just about time for my break.” He glanced at the clock on his desk.

  Maria’s mouth felt very dry as she remained silent. She needed to find her family, not entertain two bored soldiers, and from the way Kommandant Schmidt kept staring at her legs and now her lips, she knew he would expect more than just friendly conversation over an espresso. Though she knew Wilhelm was also attracted to her, he seemed to exhibit more manners. But she knew very well appearances could be deceiving.

  There was a rap on the open door.

  “Excuse me, Kommandant, but we have an urgent matter that needs your attention right away.”

  “Scheisse!” Kommandant Schmidt cursed at the top of his voice, nearly making Maria jump out of her seat. “Just as I was about to relax. All right. I am coming. Excuse me, Signorina Rossi.” He stood up and followed the soldier who had interrupted them out of the office.

  Wilhelm escorted Maria out of the station.

  “I am sorry, Maria. Perhaps when you go home, they will have returned and can explain the misunderstanding as to why the officers picked them up if they are truly innocent as you say.”

  In that moment, Maria knew Wilhelm had not believed that her family had no reason to be picked up.

  “Grazie for your help, Herr Becker.” She ignored his earlier wish to be called by his first name as she kept her voice cool. “I must return home. Arrivederci.”

  Wilhelm looked as if he were about to say something, but then he merely nodded his head and said, “Arrivederci, Signorina Rossi.”

  Maria wanted to run down the steps of the police station and get far away from him and the other soldiers who were standing guard. But she willed herself to walk very slowly to her bike. Once she got on, she pedaled at a leisurely pace until she was out of their sight. Tears streamed down her face as her mind ran through possible scenarios of what could have happened to her family. She began to take the route that would lead her back home, but then she changed direction and headed to the FAF office.

  Once she reached her destination, she got off her bike, letting it fall to the sidewalk. She began to run up the alleyway leading to the back entrance of the office, but then she heard someone from the street shout her name. She froze and slowly turned around. Franco was standing still and smiling at her, but when he saw her face, his smile quickly vanished as he ran over to her.

  “Maria, what is it?”

  She collapsed against him, her shoulders shuddering with each sob she took. Franco grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back and forcing her to look at him.

  “Please, Maria. You’re scaring me.”

  “My family. The Germans came by my house this morning and took them.”

  “Oh God!” Franco pulled her to him, holding her so tightly she couldn’t catch her breath. But after a moment, he sharply pulled away.

  “But wait. Why aren’t you with them? Why didn’t they take you?”

  “I wasn’t home.” Maria’s face flushed for a moment when she remembered she had been delivering ammunitions to the partisans in the hills. “When I returned, dinner wasn’t on the table. The refrigerator door had been left ajar, and cans of preserved fruit lay shattered on the floor. I then realized how quiet the house was and that no one was answering my calls. I grabbed the largest knife I could find and walked through the house. My brother and Enza’s room was ransacked, as was mine. But my father’s was left intact. And there was blood in Michele and Enza’s room.” Her eyes filled with tears. Franco squeezed her hand, giving her the strength to continue. “I went back downstairs. I noticed a shadow behind one of the windows of the house next door to mine. I saw my neighbor, Felice Salamone, peering from behind his curtains. So I went to ask him if he’d seen anything. He was reluctant to let me in at first until I started shouting. He confirmed for me that he saw a few German soldiers escorting my family out. He said my father’s forehead was bleeding, and Michele’s eye was swollen shut and his nose was bleeding. And poor Enza. Her dress was torn.” Maria shut her eyes, trying to regain the strength to continue.

  “Her dress being torn doesn’t necessarily mean they touched her, Maria,” Franco said softly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  Maria took a deep breath before continuing. “Signore Salamone said he’d heard shouts and that it sounded as if Michele was putting up a fight.”

  “You said they left your father’s room undisturbed and just ransacked your room and your brother and sister-in-law’s room?”

  “Si.”

  Franco paled.

  “What is it?” But as soon as she’d uttered the question, realization washed over her. “Wait. I already know what you’re thinking because naturally the thought occurred to me as well. You believe that they found out somehow of Michele’s and Enza’s involvement with the Resistance and possibly my involvement.”

  “That is what I was thinking. It is suspicious that they didn’t ransack your father’s room, which is odd even if they got wind of your and your brother’s involvement with the Resistance. I would think they would have searched every room in the house to cover their bases unless . . .”

  “Unless they found evidence in one of the other rooms.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “They didn’t find FAF’s newspapers and the articles I was drafting, which I keep hidden under the floorboards of my bedroom. I checked. But if they did find evidence in my brother and sister-in-law’s room, then why didn’t they just take Michele and Enza? Why take my father, an innocent old man?”

  “Maria, you know the Nazis don’t care whether someone is truly innocent, and you know they have made it clear that all will suffer for the efforts of the partisans. We have been getting reports of innocent men, women, and children being killed in the villages in retaliation whenever the partisans succeed in a mission.”

  Maria thought about the poor souls she’d seen hanging earlier.

  “They hanged three people today in the Palazzo Medici courtyard.”

  “You witnessed it?”

  “I arrived after they’d been killed, but I saw the bodies. I had to make sure they weren’t my family.” She closed her eyes, remembering the terror she’d felt before she saw the victims.

  “Why did you go there after discovering your family was missing?”

  “I went to the police station to see if they’d been taken there for questioning.”

  “Maria!” Franco’s voice rose. “They could’ve imprisoned you, especially after you told them your family had already been arrested. You should’ve called me first.”

  Tears spilled from Maria’s eyes. “You’re right, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. All I was thinking in that moment was that I had to find my family. I know I took a chance.”

  “So I take it they weren’t at the station? What did the Germans tell you?”

  “Nothing. Just that no one by my surname had been brought in, and that if they were brought in, they’d notify me.”

  “That sounds too courteous for the Germans.”

  “Well . . .” Maria’s voice trailed off.

  “What?” Franco lowered his face so his gaze met Maria’s.

  “I knew one of the soldiers, so I think he put in a good word for me with the commanding officer.”

  Franco’s eyebrows knit furiously. “And how do you know this soldier?”

  “It was that soldier I ran into that day when I was delivering the newspapers. I never saw him again until today, and he remembered me. I told him I was there to inquire about my family. He offered to go inside with me and see what he could find out. That’s all.”

  “I’m sorry I raised my voice, Maria. Just hearing that you knew one of the soldiers made me go nuts, thinking that perhaps you have put yourself in risky situations without telling me.”

  Guilt washed over
Maria as she remembered what she’d been doing this morning. Perhaps she should come clean with him now and tell him about her delivering the ammunitions? No, now was not the time. She’d already wasted so much time. She had to find her family.

  “As soon as I left the station, I rode here to see if you could help me find my family.”

  “Of course.” Franco thought for a moment. “Did your neighbor say if your family got into a vehicle with the soldiers?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t mention that, and I didn’t think to ask. But I assume the soldiers would’ve arrived by vehicle.”

  “All right. Let’s go back to your house first. Who knows? Maybe your family was released and is home worrying about where you are.”

  “That sounds like a fantasy right now.” Maria’s voice sounded very sad as she said this.

  Franco lifted her chin. “Always hold hope. You hear me?”

  She nodded as she silently prayed he was right.

  Franco recruited Nino, Gaetano, and Vito—three FAF members who were in the office—to help them search for her family. They set out in Nino’s car. No one spoke throughout the drive. Franco sat next to Maria in the back, holding her hand. She rested her head against his shoulder. Nino, Gaetano, and Vito were not among the FAF members who knew that Franco and Maria were dating. In this moment, neither of them cared about their secret being found out. It seemed silly now to Maria that they had kept their romantic relationship a secret, even if Franco had good reason to do so as a means of trying to keep her safe. But none of them were safe. If her family could be taken from their home without warning, anything was possible.

  As they approached Maria’s street, she began to smell a pungent odor. Her eyes soon stung.

  “It smells like there’s a fire,” Gaetano said.

  “Look!” Vito reached his hand out the passenger window and pointed off to the distance. Billows of black smoke were mushrooming up into the air.

  Nino pressed down harder on the gas pedal. When they reached Maria’s home, she was relieved to see her house was still standing. They stepped out of the car. The smoke seemed to be coming from around the block.

  Maria walked to her front door and quickly unlocked it. Her heart sank when she saw the house was as she’d left it—empty. She still called out to Papà, Michele, and Enza and made her way to each room, just in case. Hearing their names said aloud sent a shiver down her spine. Images began flooding her mind as she remembered the moments they’d shared in the house—Michele and Enza’s wedding celebration, each of their birthdays, the beautiful meals Maria and Enza had prepared for the holidays, their heated political debates and laughter over jokes. Franco came up behind Maria as she stood in the dining room. She jumped.

  “You scared me.” She placed a hand on her chest. The smell of the fire was quickly filling up the interior of her house.

  “I’m sorry. Maria, I just spoke to Felice Salamone. He said the Germans walked away with your family. In fact, he said the soldiers arrived on foot. He was positive there was no vehicle.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “They could’ve been parked somewhere else. Maybe they had picked up other people at other houses down the road and just left their car parked there.”

  Maria looked behind Franco’s shoulder. “Where are the others?”

  “They’ve gone to see where the fire is coming from. I told them we’d meet up with them there.”

  Maria and Franco left the house. As they rounded the corner of her street, they could see where the flames were shooting from.

  “It’s the abandoned leather warehouse,” Maria said.

  Franco grabbed Maria’s hand and ran toward the warehouse. She didn’t know why he was rushing. From the looks of the fire, nothing could be done. As she ran, she noticed most of the doors of the neighboring houses were open. But no one was outside. She looked toward the burning warehouse and could make out Gaetano and Vito standing across the street from the inferno. No one else stood with them, which was odd. Whenever there had been a fire before, people always came out of their houses to watch and get help.

  “Where is Nino?” Franco asked Gaetano and Vito when they reached them.

  “He’s searching the houses,” Gaetano said.

  “Maria, we should go back to your house. It’s not safe here. It’s only a matter of time before the fire jumps to the neighboring buildings. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything we can do here.”

  As Franco and Maria began walking away, they finally heard sirens. Maria stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Firemen descended from the trucks and began pulling out their hoses.

  “Why aren’t Gaetano and Vito coming back with us?”

  “They’re waiting for Nino.”

  As they passed the houses, she saw once again that the doors were open. Laundry that was hanging on clotheslines was strewn across several front lawns. A few of the houses had toys scattered on the front steps and sidewalks. Maria looked at the house to her left. She was able to see inside, all the way to the dining room. The table had been set for dinner. But it looked like no one was present. Then Maria saw a trail of splattered blood leading from the front door all the way down the steps and onto the sidewalk. She stopped.

  Your father was holding his forehead. Blood was running down his face and clothes. Felice Salamone’s words came back to her.

  “Maria, are you all right?” Franco asked, but his voice sounded far off, even though he was standing beside her. She then remembered what Gaetano had said about Nino searching the houses. She looked at the houses again; they all looked as if their occupants had been interrupted and had suddenly left. She turned around and ran in the direction of the burning warehouse.

  “Maria, come back!” Franco shouted as he ran after her.

  As she got closer to the warehouse, she saw that a few of the firemen were carrying bodies out and lining them up on the street. Nino ran to her, trying to block her path, but she ducked beneath his outstretched arms and ran to the corpses on the ground. Their faces were burned beyond recognition.

  Franco caught up to her. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her away.

  “Leave me! I need to see if they were in there!” Maria shouted.

  Franco looked at her. Sympathy filled his eyes.

  She shook her head frantically. “Maybe they were brought to the police station after I left. They could still be alive.”

  “Of course. Please, Maria. Don’t drive yourself crazy until we know for certain.”

  “But you know already, don’t you?”

  “No, Maria. I don’t.”

  “You believe they’re in there. That is why you suggested we return to my house.”

  “I won’t lie to you, Maria. I am worried your family was brought here along with the other villagers. When Felice Salamone said the Germans left with your family on foot, I wondered if they had been brought somewhere nearby. But we don’t absolutely know. There’s still hope.”

  “I know. They’re gone. I can feel it. And the feeling only grew stronger once I returned to my house and called out to each of them to see if they had come back.”

  Franco took Maria in his arms and wept softly as he whispered over and over, “I’m sorry.”

  Maria stood still as Franco held her. She felt so, so numb. She wasn’t even crying. How she wished she could feel Franco’s strong arms around her and his breath on her neck. How she wanted to take comfort in his arms, but she wasn’t able to. If only she could feel something. But instead she felt dead, and, in that moment, she wished she were. For then at least she would be with her family—all of them together again. Nothing and no one, not even Franco, could make her feel better.

  Days later, Maria received confirmation that her family had indeed been among the victims of the leather warehouse fire. Not all of the townspeople had been taken. A few had been spared so they could warn the others that the Germans were retaliating for the acts of the partisans. Corpses of entire families had been found, bound to one another w
ith rope. Children as young as two were also among the dead.

  After the fire, Maria went to stay with Franco in his apartment. She could not bear to return to her house with only the ghosts of her loved ones echoing through the halls. For weeks, she did nothing, letting Franco bathe her, clothe her, and feed her. While she slept, he held her throughout the night. And when she woke up screaming from the nightmares in which she could smell the acrid smoke from the warehouse and hear her family’s screams, he rocked her until she calmed down. But once she fell back asleep, the nightmares that would plague her for the rest of her life returned.

  CHAPTER 28

  Signora Ferraro

  Pienza, 1971

  It was an extremely windy March day in Pienza. Though spring was only a few weeks away, to Signora Ferraro it still felt like an eternity. She had never liked the winter, and, ever since she’d moved here and had grown her rose garden, she especially detested winter. For she could not be outside watching her roses bloom to life. As she walked through the rows of roses that grew in her greenhouse, her spirits refused to lift. While the greenhouse ensured she could continue selling flowers in the colder months, these roses never felt the same to her as the ones that grew outdoors. Her special garden would remain barren until June when most of the roses would start to bloom. That was still three long months away. This is what saddened her the most about autumn and winter. And Anabella’s absence had made the season all the more unbearable.

  While Anabella had continued being a loyal, dutiful child, writing to Signora Ferraro regularly, Signora Ferraro could not bring herself to send even a short note to her daughter. It was cruel for a mother to behave this way. But she still felt Anabella’s betrayal just as painfully as on that day she’d left. There were times she had picked up a pen and begun to write to her, but she never made it past the greeting. Signora Ferraro knew deep down the real reason why she refused to stay in touch with her daughter. She simply did not want to be hurt again. How much could a woman her age take? She had turned fifty-six this year. While that wasn’t necessarily old, the hard work she did on the farm and the immense pain she’d suffered since she was a young woman and had lost all of those who were once dear to her had taken their toll, causing her to look and feel much older. No, it was better this way—better that she and Anabella lead separate lives. Besides, Anabella seemed to be doing fine without her and had even wed the artist, even though she’d told her she wanted to have the wedding at the rose farm and wanted her to be present. Words. That was all they had been. Her heart broke every time she thought about how her daughter had not returned soon as Anabella had told her she would. Instead, seven months had gone by. What especially hurt was that Anabella hadn’t even attempted to gain her mother’s forgiveness, nor had she insisted on not getting married until Signora Ferraro gave her blessing. But then again, could she blame Anabella after the way she’d turned her back on her that day in the garden, refusing to say good-bye?