Sal took a deep breath and exhaled. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Carlo was up to no good. “Maybe the hiding is not as important as the getting out.”
Sal had no appetite. He’d deceived his own father, and the tongue that had broken his promise to Papa tasted nothing but dread. Sal read suspicion in every look Papa gave him until he couldn’t remain any longer at the supper table.
After excusing himself, he sat on the front porch steps of the house with Bruno at his side. This was the most private spot on the porches—outside the front room and facing the Domiano farm—and there was an unspoken rule that anyone who sat there should be left alone for a while. He’d stay put until after Papa and Mama went to bed if he had to. He stroked Bruno’s coat as they watched the fireflies play in the night. Until today, Sal had always enjoyed the aimless movement of the stupid glowing insects.
Chapter 14
The Darkest Night
Thunder rumbled from an ash-colored sky the following afternoon. The sun retired early behind the clouds, leaving the farm in a gray sadness, and Mama’s daylilies closed their yellow petals as if it were evening. Sal, Papa, and Uncle Enzo abandoned the fields and secured the mules and milk cow in the barn.
The air lay still and heavy with humidity. Texas was sending another summer rainstorm Louisiana’s way, one that likely would bend the spindly pines until the weakest branches snapped, and Sal would have to spend the next morning picking up the pieces.
He wrinkled his nose. The smell of eggplant frying in olive oil wafted through the kitchen screen door and open windows. During summer, suppers consisted of more vegetables than meat, as Mama fed her family the pickings not suitable for market. There would be cucumbers and sliced tomatoes with basil for the next several weeks. And unfortunately, cucuzzi squash and eggplant. Oh well, he’d drown the eggplant in tomato gravy to disguise the flavor. And eat more of Mama’s bread with the butter he churned for her.
Sal joined Papa and Uncle Enzo at the water pump in the yard, where he unbuttoned and peeled off the shirt stuck to his back and chest with sweat. He placed his head and hands under the flow just as a gust of wind announced the storm’s arrival. The combination of air and water on his skin erased the heat for a few seconds. He took a bar of soap from the little wooden stand next to the pump and ran it over his forearms and hands. Digging his nails into the bar helped loosen the dirt beneath them. He rinsed and then wiped off with the towel Papa left behind.
With a strike of each heel of his galoshes against a cinder block, he loosened the dirt caked around them and rinsed them clean. On the back porch, he plopped down on a long wooden bench and pulled the galoshes off, leaving them next to Papa’s and Uncle Enzo’s.
The shirt dropped onto the floor of the tiny laundry room outside the kitchen and settled atop the others next to the wringer washing machine, Mama’s pride and joy. Lightning crackled across the sky as Sal entered the house. He let the screen door slap shut behind him.
“Come stai?” Mama smiled as she placed another batch of eggplant slices in the skillet.
“Fine, Mama.” Sal kissed her cheek on the way to his room.
Papa and Uncle Enzo sat at the table wearing clean shirts by the time Sal changed and returned to the kitchen.
Mama placed a platter of eggplant slices on the table and took her seat. The aroma of garlic surrounded her.
Everyone made the sign of the cross and bowed their heads as Papa inhaled and prepared to say the blessing.
“Someone’s coming up the drive.” Uncle Enzo leapt from his chair, and everyone’s heads snapped upright.
In three strides Uncle Enzo reached the door to the porch. He slammed it and turned the key.
Thunder exploded like a giant pine tree crashing to the ground. A white-hot flash of light illuminated the kitchen for a split second. Then the house went dark.
“Sal, stay away from the window!” Mama commanded, but Sal was already there.
A second bolt of lightning lit up the farm, familiar objects giving off an unfamiliar glow.
Sal’s eyes strained to adjust from dark to bright to dark again. The next bolt struck, but where there had been empty darkness outside the window just a moment before, three men stood.
Sal took in a sharp breath, and his body jerked as though the bolt’s electricity had shot right through him. He stepped backward and crashed into Uncle Enzo.
“It’s the police.” Uncle Enzo supported Sal with a single arm.
Sal returned to the window and looked out again. The men were gone.
A pounding rattled the kitchen door, and Sal spun toward it.
Papa crossed the room and opened the door without saying a word.
“Gianni Scaviano, you’re under arrest.” Officer Hammond’s voice roared over the thunder.
“No!” Sal shouted, and everyone looked at him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. What about the gang? He started toward Papa, but Uncle Enzo grabbed Sal from behind and pulled him back.
Mama rushed to Papa, wailing like a lost calf. “Gianni, no, no, no.”
Sal’s body shook and went cold. Why had he trusted Tommy? What had he done to Papa—to his family? He bit his lip to keep from crying out again and clutched the back of his chair.
Uncle Enzo gripped his shoulder.
Papa held Mama close and kissed her cheek. “I have to go now.” His voice revealed a peace of sorts. “Sal, take care of your mama.”
Sal’s eyes met his father’s, and his heart ached. He was sorry, so sorry, but the words were trapped deep inside someone he hardly knew anymore. Sal went to Mama and, placing his arm around her, drew her a few feet away.
“Let me see your hands.” Hammond’s wizened face showed no expression as he encircled Papa’s wrists with handcuffs. Tommy and the third officer stood rigid as fence posts, watching the rest of the family.
Click! The handcuffs locked. At the sound, Papa’s eyes became those of an old man.
Mama’s scream filled the tiny kitchen as she sank to the floor. Sal and Uncle Enzo raised her back up, supporting her under the arms.
The three policemen escorted Papa through the kitchen door. Uncle Enzo held Mama back until the police car’s engine started, and its sound traveled down the driveway. Sobbing, Mama ran to the door of the front room. Sal rushed to follow her.
They clung to each other while the night swallowed the police car and grew quiet again.
Sal lit a kerosene lamp for the room. Mama withdrew her rosary from her writing desk, made the sign of the cross, and began to pray. She didn’t have to ask Sal or Uncle Enzo to join her.
Sal awoke in the chair where he’d sat during the praying of the rosary. The front room’s screen door tapped against the doorframe in the night breeze. Papa always checked it before bed on hot nights when the wood door remained open. Sal got up and hooked the latch.
Mama lay asleep on the couch, her rosary on the floor. One curl of hair clung to her damp cheek.
Sal removed the coverlet from Mama and Papa’s bed and placed it over her. It held Papa’s smell of straw and soap and cotton shirts. Maybe that would give Mama comfort, but it made Sal want to cry.
Light shone from the kitchen, so the electricity must’ve returned. Uncle Enzo might be up already.
But no aroma of coffee greeted Sal. The clock’s hands showed three in the morning, too early even for Uncle Enzo. Sal turned off the light and headed to their room.
He slipped out of his clothes and shoes as quietly as he could. Clouds moved across the sky and uncovered the moon. Its light poured across the front yard, through the tall windows, and touched their beds.
Uncle Enzo was gone.
And so was the car.
Chapter 15
The Disappearance
Sal remained awake and lying in a cold sweat when the robins began to chirp in the predawn.
Papa was in jail. Uncle Enzo hadn’t returned.
Sal raised his head, sliding his arms to prop on his elbows. Maybe Uncle Enzo had driv
en a half mile down the road to his friend Joe’s house to sneak a drink of muscadine wine. It wasn’t unusual for him to visit Joe, who made wine for the priests to use at Mass, the only legal way to sell it since Prohibition passed. He always had a little extra set aside for Uncle Enzo and himself. Sometimes a lot. More than once Uncle Enzo had come home tipsy late at night after Mama and Papa were asleep. Sal pretended not to notice.
Yes, as upset as he was, Uncle Enzo might’ve gone to Joe’s. But that didn’t explain why he took the car for such a short distance, unless it was because of the weather. He would’ve been back long before now, though, for a few hours sleep before starting work.
What if Uncle Enzo drove to the police station to see Papa—or to break him out? Sal sprung to sit upright on the mattress. No. His uncle wouldn’t be that stupid.
Sal gritted his teeth and pounded the mattress with a fist. If only Papa had let them get a telephone when Mama asked. Sal could call and see if Uncle Enzo was at the police station or at Joe’s. Pressure built at the back of Sal’s skull.
What if Uncle Enzo had gone after Angelo like he’d threatened? What if he drove off somewhere and Angelo or some of the gang saw him before he saw them? He could be hurt—or dead.
Sal bounded out of bed and paced the room. He had to think, had to think. Had Uncle Enzo taken his pistol with him? He ran to the bureau drawer. Missing. Sal’s heart dove to his stomach.
He dressed in a flash and ran to check on Mama. She’d moved from the front room, and her bedroom door was closed. He wrote her a note saying he was going to see Papa. He left it on the kitchen table and grabbed Papa’s keys off their hook.
Sal skidded the truck right up to Hiram’s house, spattering mud against the steps.
Marie was dressed and ready for the day. “Sal, what’s wrong?” Her eyes opened wide, like she feared someone had died—or that he was crazy.
“Papa’s been arrested, and Uncle Enzo’s gone.”
“Lord, no.” Her face changed from chestnut brown to ashen. “Hiram, come quick!”
“I need Hiram to help me look for Uncle Enzo.”
“Sure, sure. Where’s your mama?”
“She’s at home. I left her a note. Can you check on her?”
“I will. Don’t you worry.”
Hiram ran out carrying his socks and boots. “You drivin’?”
“Yeah.” Papa wouldn’t have approved, but Sal didn’t care. He jumped back into the driver’s seat, and Hiram scrambled into the passenger side.
The car wasn’t parked at Joe’s house, so Sal didn’t bother knocking on the door. No need to get anyone else involved in his problems.
Daylight broke. He and Hiram searched along the roads and ditches and in the fronts of homesteads going into Freedom. In town, they paid attention to every man who was out, even one lying on the sidewalk, apparently drunk. Sal drove once around the train depot.
They arrived at the police station and parked, Sal rehearsing in his mind what he’d say. Hiram accompanied him inside, and Sal’s heart fluttered like a moth trapped in a jar. What if one of the policemen he was about to talk with had been bought?
“Hi, Sal.” Antonina stood in the front corner of the room, holding a crate that smelled like bacon and eggs.
His stomach lurched in surprise and then growled. Sal ran a hand over his belly. He hadn’t eaten before dashing from the house. “Antonina, what are you doing here?”
“My mama and I brought breakfast for the prisoners.” She wore a green dress and a ribbon in her hair, like a regular girl. Both matched her eyes.
“I came to see—”
“I know.”
“Excuse me.” Sal ducked his head and turned away from her, toward his purpose. He approached the first desk with Hiram close behind.
“Can I help you fellas?” The officer behind the desk was the one who was with Tommy and Officer Hammond when they arrested Papa. Sergeant, his badge read. His beady eyes shifted between Sal and Hiram.
“I want to see my papa. And my uncle is missing.”
“Sal, let’s go in the back.” Tommy stood next to them.
Sal startled but regained his composure. “Okay, but Hiram needs to come with me. And I still want to see my papa.” Sal set his jaw and looked Tommy squarely in the eye.
“Good enough.” Tommy led them into the little gray room and shut the door. Officer Hammond entered through the rear door.
The walls closed in on Sal. His fear tasted bitter, like the farm’s red clay soil.
“My uncle disappeared during the night.” Sal spoke in rapid bursts, his heart pounding. “He took my papa’s car. We searched everywhere we could think of this morning.”
“And who is this?” Tommy raised an eyebrow at Hiram.
Sal slowed down a bit. “Sorry. This is Hiram. He works for us.”
“How d’you do, sir.” Hiram showed no expression.
“Have a seat, boys.”
“Hiram was there when the gang came to the farm, and he heard everything.” Sal didn’t mean to come out with that so suddenly. He stopped for Hiram’s reaction, but Hiram’s face didn’t change. He stared straight ahead.
“Is that right, Hiram?”
“Yes, sir.” Hiram nodded.
“Tell me what you heard.” Tommy opened his notebook and held a pencil ready.
Hiram explained that he’d been on the front side of the house having a smoke the first time the gang arrived on foot and met Papa and Uncle Enzo in the yard. He told Tommy he understood Italian, and he recounted the conversation even better than Sal could’ve hoped. Then he told how Angelo and Emilio captured Sal and Antonina and forced Papa to give them money for a car. Every detail. Sal couldn’t have done a better job himself. His heartbeat slowed a little.
“Thank you, Hiram.” Tommy tossed the notebook and pencil onto the table.
The pitch of Sal’s voice rose a bit. “See? Just like I said. My papa’s innocent.”
“This information certainly helps.” Tommy exchanged glances with Hammond.
Sal’s face grew hot, and he jumped to his feet. “I’d already told you the crooks forced him to help them. Why did you arrest him?”
Hammond took a step forward.
Tommy frowned and his voice deepened. “Sit down, Sal.”
Sal lowered himself into his chair and took a deep breath. “So, have you seen him? My uncle, I mean.” Sal wiped sweat from his upper lip with a forefinger knuckle.
Tommy squinted. “Why are you worried about him? Maybe he just went out.”
“He wouldn’t have left Mama and me by ourselves, except …”
“Except what?”
Sal was afraid that what he was about to say would get Uncle Enzo into trouble. Like he’d gotten Papa in trouble. And they’d both be in jail. Then he and Mama would have no one. But Tommy’s face told him there was no way out now. “He’s been very angry at the gang members, especially Angelo.”
“Does your uncle own a weapon?”
Sal hesitated and swallowed. “A pistol.”
Hammond slipped out of the room. Tommy glanced at the rear door as it clicked shut and then turned his attention back to the table.
Sal’s anxiety swelled, pushing his insides. He was either going to crack wide open or start crying like a little kid.
“He’s in more danger than they are! They’re five against one!” He perched on the edge of his seat.
Hiram placed a hand on Sal’s shoulder, and he sat back a little.
“Let’s go see your papa now.” Tommy rose from his chair. “Hiram, you can wait outside.”
Papa sat on a cot eating breakfast in his cell. The room was smaller and more dismal than their packing shed and smelled like bleach. An empty cot lined the wall opposite Papa’s.
“Hello, Papa.”
Papa raised his eyes, dull and unfocused, from behind the bars. It took a moment before he smiled. “Sal.”
Tommy unlocked the door. “You have ten minutes.”
The door c
langed shut behind Sal. It was a wretched feeling, being shut away from life, from love, from God. But he knew he could leave. It must’ve been horrible for Papa last night.
Papa set the plate on his cot and rose to his feet.
Sal rushed to Papa and hugged him tight. He pressed his cheek against Papa’s chest and memorized his heartbeat.
Papa patted Sal’s back. “Are you okay, son?” He took a step back and put enough space between them to search Sal’s face.
Sal nodded.
“Where’s Mama? Is she all right?”
“She’s at home. She’ll come soon. Marie is with her.” No need to worry Papa more.
“How did you get here?”
“Hiram and I came in the truck.”
Papa inhaled a sharp breath as though he just remembered something. “Did Enzo go to the university? For our meeting today, about the strawberry?”
That was today? Why didn’t anyone tell him? Sal opened his mouth, but his brain wasn’t working. It formed no soothing words to break the bad news to Papa. Not that any would hurt less than the simple truth. “No.”
“What do you mean? Where is he?” Papa took hold of Sal’s shoulders.
Sal cringed, and Papa let go.
“Uncle Enzo is missing, Papa. He left in the car during the night. I told the police.”
Papa sighed and shook his head. His lips quivered without making a sound.
“The police will find him.” Sal spoke as softly as he would to one of Mr. Domiano’s newborn calves. “And maybe Mama can explain to the university …”
Papa sank back down on his cot and held his head in his hands.
Chapter 16
Everyone’s After Enzo
Sal let Hiram drive them back home while he sorted things out.
Uncle Enzo had failed Papa by disappearing and missing the meeting about the strawberry. The second person to let Papa down. If only they’d treated Sal like a man instead of a kid and told him when they’d scheduled it—but what? What could he have done?
The Other Side of Freedom Page 7