Carlo yelled at Matilde, “Who do you think will take care of our mother and sister with Papa gone, huh? You? With your little teaching job?”
Carlo struggled against the bailiffs as they cuffed and dragged him from the table. He slung curses in Italian to both sides of the courtroom until the doors closed behind him.
From the row behind the defense table, Mrs. Costa moaned and sobbed while her other daughter held her.
Mama closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out through her mouth. She and Papa joined hands across Sal’s front and squeezed until their knuckles turned white.
The judge heaved a weary sigh. “We’ll recess until nine o’clock tomorrow.”
Matilde was excused. She rose and locked eyes with Sal. Her back erect and head held high, she walked straight to where the Scavianos sat, her eyes never leaving Sal’s face. When she reached him, she took his hand and pressed a small folded piece of paper into it.
Sal stared into her face but placed the paper into his pocket. There was something about the way Matilde held his gaze, not wavering toward Mama or Papa. This was a private matter between her and him.
His teacher Matilde had been brave enough to say what she had, knowing what it would mean to her family and herself. For the first time, Sal was certain he’d done the right thing, too.
Sheriff’s deputies escorted the Scavianos and Matilde Costa from the courtroom.
Tommy stood outside with some men in suits Sal had never seen before. Maybe G-men from the Bureau. They loaded the defendants into a police wagon. Angelo turned and shouted through the door, “You’ll pay for this, Scavianos! Doesn’t matter the outcome—you’ll pay.”
Chapter 27
Two Kinds of Goodbye
At home in his room that evening, Sal sat on the edge of his bed and opened the folded piece of paper from Matilde. A small note, scrawled as though in haste, lay atop a larger one.
Sal, if at all possible, please see that Enzo receives this. Thank you. Matilde Costa
The page underneath was written in a teacher’s fine hand, with straight, even lines of well-formed letters.
My Dear Enzo,
I returned from teacher’s school to find that the idyllic world I had left behind was no more.
What I had hoped for upon my return was that you would see me as a grown woman worthy of your companionship, rather than the sixteen-year-old girl I was when I went away. I thought I would finally have an opportunity to gain the attention you had given to older girls while I was still a child, hanging around the grocery to catch a glimpse of you when you delivered vegetables to us.
Now I have lost my father, and because of that tragedy, you are gone and I must face a life without either of you in it.
However, as much as I am saddened by my current circumstances, I am also terribly sorry for what has happened to you and what may happen to your family and the part my brother played in that.
Forgive me, but I could not continue without telling you of my feelings, even if only on paper, with a slim chance of these words reaching you. If you think me silly or presumptuous, so be it. However, having known you as a friend for many years, I believe you have too kind a heart for that.
If this letter finds its way to you, please know that you will forever be in my thoughts.
Fondest regards,
Matilde
Still holding the note, Sal’s hand dropped to his lap. Was it possible Uncle Enzo had strong feelings for Matilde, too? And he didn’t get to tell her goodbye.
Sal rubbed his nose to keep from crying. Poor Uncle Enzo. He’d gotten the worst from the whole mess, and he’d had the least to do with it.
A knock sounded at Sal’s door. Suppertime already? He had no appetite for it.
He folded the paper and placed it in his top bureau drawer. Matilde had entrusted it to him, and he would guard it.
The door opened. It was Papa.
Sal quickly shut the drawer. “Please tell Mama I’m coming.”
“Sal, the Labatos are here.”
Sal spread a blanket under the camellia bushes for Antonina to sit on so she wouldn’t dirty her dress. The setting sun winked gold and pink lights between the pine trees. The autumn evening’s air cooled his face.
Antonina squinted into the fading light and then turned to face him. Her eyes were wet. From the light or—
“Your parents told mine, and they told me.” She pressed her lips tightly together.
Sal hung his head. “That we have to leave,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
Her breath was uneven, her shoulders shaking. “Were you planning to disappear without saying goodbye?”
He jerked his head upright to face her. “No. I was going to tell you. I swear.”
“When? Why didn’t you tell me at school?”
“I wanted to. I thought about it, but—I don’t know—not in front of everybody.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked away, hugging herself.
He hadn’t seen her cry in all the years they’d known each other. But he’d never hurt her before either. “If you hadn’t come here, I would’ve found a way to see you tomorrow.”
She wiped her tears with her hands and faced him again. “How much longer do you have?”
“The trial will be over tomorrow. As soon as we finish packing, we’ll be gone, Papa said.”
“No, no, no.” She shook her head. “I thought we’d always be together. Forever.” The pitch of her voice grew higher. “I don’t know what life is like without you. I won’t know what to do.”
“I don’t want to go, Antonina, believe me. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t. Honest.” He took hold of her arms. They were cool and shivering. He put his arm around her shoulders and edged close to her.
They sat together while her breathing steadied. Her shoulders relaxed.
“I’ll miss you awfully bad, Antonina,” Sal whispered. “I’ll do everything I can to see you again someday.”
“Can we write to each other?”
He took her hand with his free one. “I don’t even know what my name will be or where we’ll live.”
“But couldn’t you write to me?” Her eyes pleaded, and his heart caved into itself.
“I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be safe for either of us if I did that.”
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
The rumbling train was the only sound disrupting the stillness until darkness surrounded them. If only they could forget everything else and sit like that forever. “We’d better go in before they begin to worry something happened to us.”
She lifted her head and nodded. Sal stood and pulled her to her feet.
She leaned in and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Before Sal knew it, she kissed him on the lips like a brush of butterfly wings.
He looked into her eyes and stored the moment of her closeness in his memory. Then he picked up the blanket, took her hand, and walked her back to his house.
Chapter 28
Chances Are
Sixteen and a half years later
Their bodies had been shipped and laid to rest in Freedom’s cemetery, Papa’s two years earlier, Mama’s last spring.
So what if any of the Mob tracked them here? Fat lot of good it would do now. Not that Sal had the slightest indication anyone looked for them during their lives on the outskirts of Chicago, living about as close to the Mob as possible, hidden in plain sight.
At least Mama and Papa went to their graves knowing Angelo was executed for the murder of the boss, who murdered their friend Mr. Costa. Sal had heard Carlo got pneumonia and died in prison soon after arriving there. And Sal made sure the other two gang members spent the rest of their lives in prison without parole. Amazing what letters to the right people could do.
He rubbed his chin. It had been a good idea to shave off the beard he’d used as a disguise before coming home. Louisiana was even hotter than he remembered.
“They were good people.”
> Sal’s head jerked toward the sound, and he straightened his back, a defensive reaction from years of looking over his shoulder.
The slender Negro man wore glasses tucked into close-cropped hair receding slightly at the top of his deep brown scalp. With a gray suit coat draped across his left arm, he offered his right hand to Sal. “Hiram Johnson.”
Sal opened his mouth, his real identity fighting toward the surface like it had in the beginning, but not for a long time before today. He cleared his throat. “Robert Brown.” He shook Hiram’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brown.” Hiram’s eyes twinkled, and he patted his shirt’s breast pocket. Sal’s gaze followed the movement, and Hiram said, “Old habit.”
Sal smiled. “Are you visiting a loved one?”
Hiram nodded. “My mother, Marie.” He pointed to a headstone on the edge of the old Negro section of the cemetery. A pot of miniature yellow roses sat in front.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Johnson.” Very sorry.
“Thank you. Call me Hiram.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his back pocket and focused on polishing his glasses. “It’s Mother’s Day, you know.”
Sal had forgotten. Flowers dressed at least half the tombs in the cemetery, Mama’s lying cold and gray. “So it is.” He’d have to find a flower shop. She’d like lilies.
Hiram looked Sal in the eye. “My mother and I worked for Mr. and Mrs. Scaviano for a number of years. I was a farmhand and helped Gianni develop a variety of strawberry.” He paused and put his glasses back on. “He signed over the rights to me before he moved away. I named it the Freedom Beauty.”
So that’s what happened to Papa’s special strawberry. “That was nice of him.” Sal could say no more about it, choking on the memory of those final days on the farm. Papa had never mentioned anything about farming again after they got to Illinois. It was like he turned a page, and it hurt to look back. Sal took a deep breath. “What do you do for a living, Hiram?”
“I’m a professor of agriculture at the college in Grambling.”
Sal’s lips eased into a grin. Mama and Papa would’ve been pleased to know that things turned out just fine for that skinny kid who worked for them.
Hiram grinned back as though he read Sal’s mind. “So, what’s your line of work, Robert?”
“I recently quit my manager’s job at a steel mill up north and joined the Navy. You know, after Pearl Harbor and all, it seemed like I should, even though I’m a lot older than most of the boys. I’m shipping out in a few days.”
“Well, I wish you the best of luck.” Hiram tapped Sal’s upper arm and then held it for a moment. “It was nice meeting you.” He turned away and threaded through the graves toward a shiny beige Oldsmobile.
Sal watched for a few seconds as Hiram’s figure grew smaller. Then he sighed and squatted in front of his parents’ headstones. He brushed a few leaves aside and stroked the name on each stone in turn. “Love you, Mama. Love you, Papa.” He rose, wiping his eyes with his hand and then walked to his new black Ford sedan. It was the only thing remaining that he cared enough about to say goodbye to before he left for the Pacific. But he’d trade it in a second if only he could locate Uncle Enzo.
Sal had seen him once since he disappeared—at least Sal thought he’d seen Uncle Enzo the day of his high school graduation. As teachers and friends congratulated him, Sal caught a glimpse of a bearded man in the crowd. Enzo had never worn a beard as long as Sal knew him, but it was the eyes that made Sal take a second look. He and Sal stared at each other for a moment, and the man smiled and nodded. Then someone shouted Sal’s name and he turned. When he looked for the man again, he’d gone. Sal still carried Matilde’s note in his wallet, the paper now cracking at the folds. As long as he kept it safe, he believed Enzo was alive and doing all right.
Sal’s stomach growled, and he patted his abdomen. He’d have to find a place to eat before buying some flowers for Mama and getting back on the road. Maybe there was still a restaurant in the old Labato’s location.
Sal eased the Ford onto Main Street and coasted for a while to take it all in. Freedom hadn’t changed much. It would’ve made a good turn-of-the-century movie set. The train depot looked the same but with flowers planted around it. The two-story brick buildings were still there, although some had been painted and housed new businesses. And there was Labato’s Restaurant, the familiar name still lettered on the front window. Only no “Whites Only” sign hung next to it.
He parked in an open spot in front and removed his hat, setting it on the seat with his coat.
Wouldn’t it be great to run into Antonina, if she were still around? She’d remember him, wouldn’t she? He’d thought about her many times—every day for the first few years—and wondered if she thought of him. Maybe she never married. She was an independent sort of girl after all. Not like any other he’d known.
More than that, no girl he’d met ever measured up to her in any way. None had her combination of natural beauty and spontaneity, her honesty and loyalty, her good humor. He never risked getting in touch with her, not wanting anything evil to be able to associate her with Robert Brown. If they were both lucky, no one ever bothered her or her family for their part in bringing down the crime ring.
He clicked the car door handle open and touched one buffed leather wingtip to the street.
A woman, tall and slender, stepped out of the restaurant. Her smooth red hair was coiled into a style just as fashionable as that of any girl in Chicago. A blouse, green like her eyes, topped a brown skirt that brushed against her legs just below the knees. High-heeled pumps covered her feet.
Antonina! Sal’s skin tingled at the sight of her.
How fancy that barefoot girl he once knew had become. But her face was still open and cheerful, with the same healthy pink he remembered flushing her cheeks.
He chuckled. What perfect luck to find her like this in front of the restaurant, as if no time had passed at all. He’d see if she recognized him. He’d simply speak to her. That’s what he’d do. With a friendly hello, he’d introduce himself as Robert Brown and wait for a reaction.
She didn’t notice him half-sitting in the car with his door open but smiled and waved at someone down the sidewalk. A man approached her, pushing a baby carriage.
His blond hair had lost its brilliance and a slight paunch strained against his shirt. He stopped the carriage in front of the restaurant window. Tommy.
Sal held his breath.
Antonina lifted a redheaded baby from the carriage and raised her into the air, billowing her tiny pink dress. The baby squealed, and Antonina lowered the baby to nestle in her arms. Tommy’s face beamed at them. It was the perfect Saturday Evening Post cover.
Sal’s heart lay as hollow and lonely as the empty carriage. That should’ve been him in that picture with Antonina. She’d loved him, he was certain, and he’d never forgotten her, never had a friend he trusted more. What had he done to himself—and to her? What if he hadn’t testified, or what if he’d stayed in spite of danger to himself and his family? Maybe no one would’ve ever been hurt.
He’d given up the life he could’ve had, to do right by his family name, a name he couldn’t use anyway. He’d sacrificed everything for Freedom and for the country that had given his grandparents and father a home. There was only one thing left to give, and he was laying it on the line in a few days.
The restaurant door squeaked open, and another redhead joined the trio outside.
Sal leaned closer to the dashboard and peered through the windshield. Wasn’t that Antonina’s older sister?
The woman chuckled as Tommy pulled her toward him and kissed her cheek. Antonina smiled and handed her the baby. Sal drew a breath of hope.
Antonina adjusted the collar of her blouse. Her left hand—no ring!
Sal’s heart took flight as though a force had lifted it into the air like the baby. Thank You, God. Thank You. It wasn’t too late. There was still a chance he and Antonina could be together. T
hey could take a walk, sit under the trees somewhere, and talk and laugh like in the old days. They could figure out what to do for now. And once he made it back from the war, they could plan the rest of their lives. If she would have him.
Antonina and her sister’s family disappeared into the restaurant. Sal looked into his rearview mirror and smoothed his hair with trembling fingers.
A rap sounded at his passenger side. Hiram stood between his car and Sal’s, grinning. “You hungry?”
Sal swung his other leg out of the car and stood up. He smiled and straightened his tie. “I guess I could eat.”
They walked to the restaurant door, and Sal held it open for his old friend.
He’d face whatever waited on the other side.
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THE OTHER SIDE OF FREEDOM. If you did, please consider returning to the Amazon page and leaving a review for the author.
Discussion Questions
1. Who was President of the United States in 1925? Name a few events of 1920 to 1925 that had national importance or interest when Sal was a boy.
2. Who was the first African American elected to the U.S. Senate? Which state was he from?
3. Where is Sicily, and what kind of land mass is it? To which country was it added? During which century?
4. Why do you think Sal wanted to leave Freedom as soon as he got old enough? What makes you want to leave home at times?
5. What was Sal’s and Uncle Enzo’s relationship like? Do you have a family member who is like a mother, father, brother, or close friend to you? Why?
6. What is the first thing Sal did in the story that his parents wouldn’t have approved of but that seemed necessary because of an emergency? Have you ever faced a situation like that, and what decision did you make? Did you get into trouble for it?
The Other Side of Freedom Page 12