Rosalia lowered her eyes as she quickly brushed egg wash onto the next loaf of Easter bread. “I don’t know. Antonio is a nice boy, but he has plans, and there is still so much that is uncertain in my own life.”
“You feel that you cannot think about your future until you know where your family is.”
Rosalia stopped working and looked up at Madre Carmela. She could see compassion in her eyes.
“That is true, Madre. And then there’s . . .” Rosalia let her voice trail off.
Her heart began to pound. This was all too much for her. She didn’t want to talk about it.
“What happened to you.” Anunziata finished Rosalia’s sentence.
Rosalia merely nodded her head.
Madre Carmela came over to Rosalia’s side. She wiped her hands with a damp towel and then grabbed Rosalia by both arms, startling her.
“Listen to me, my dear child.” She brought her face closer to Rosalia’s, forcing Rosalia to look at her. “Do not let what happened to you in that cave destroy any future happiness you can have. Antonio is a wonderful young man. He is not that evil person who kidnapped you. Do you understand?” Madre squeezed Rosalia’s shoulders as she asked her question.
Rosalia nodded once again.
“He cares about you, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Tears quickly slid down Rosalia’s face as she whispered, “But he doesn’t know. He might not feel the same about me once he finds out.”
“You are not giving Antonio enough credit. Anyone can see that boy worships you.” Madre Carmela finally let go of Rosalia’s arms. She returned to her loaves of Easter bread, quickly braiding them. She seemed upset.
“Do you like him, Rosalia?” Anunziata asked.
“Very much. It’s just . . . I’m afraid.”
“Oh, Rosalia!” Anunziata came over and wrapped her arm around Rosalia’s shoulders.
Madre Carmela stopped working and looked up. Tears were in her eyes.
“I’m sorry if I was too direct with you, Rosalia, but I can tell you are still punishing yourself over what happened, and that is what makes me mad. You are not to blame at all for what that horrible man did to you. But I can see why you are afraid of what Antonio’s reaction will be once he learns about it. After all, your own father seemed to believe the lies in Marco’s letter.”
Rosalia began to sob aloud. It was the first time since her ordeal that she had allowed herself to completely lose control. Hearing Madre voice that her father had possibly believed Marco’s lies was too much for her to bear. Rosalia had been doing her best to push the pain away. Push away the pain of losing her innocence . . . the pain of losing her family . . . the pain of her father’s letting her down.
“It’s all right, my child. Let it out. No one is judging you here.”
Rosalia was grateful the other nuns and workers weren’t present in the kitchen. Madre had assigned them to clean the convent and make sure it was pristine for the holiday. Rosalia continued to cry, her chest heaving with every sob. Once she calmed down and had wiped her tears with a handkerchief Anunziata handed her, Madre Carmela held out a small plate of marzipan fruit—her usual balm for making the hurt go away. And just as with the other times Madre had given her marzipan or whatever sweet, Rosalia felt better.
“Grazie, Madre. And you, too, Anunziata. I’m sorry I became so upset.”
“It’s nothing. Please. Don’t be sorry. We’ve all been amazed at your strength these past few months. If it were me, I would have fallen apart.” Anunziata patted Rosalia’s shoulder.
“Enough sadness for today. Just think about what I said, Rosalia. Give Antonio a chance, and give yourself a chance to truly be happy.” Madre lowered her head, forcing Rosalia to meet her gaze once again.
“I’ll try, Madre.”
“Good. Now, let’s celebrate our Lord’s resurrection and enjoy Easter.”
After dinner, Antonio and Rosalia left for the beach. They rolled down the car windows and chatted all the way to the beach. Rosalia almost forgot about the conversation she’d had with Madre and Anunziata, but every so often she would remember. Perhaps she should finally confide in Antonio and tell him what had happened to her.
Antonio broke in on her thoughts. “I have a surprise for you when we get to the beach.”
“You do?”
Antonio smiled as he kept his eyes on the road.
“I guess I can’t get it out of you.”
“No, of course not. It wouldn’t be a surprise then. Just trust me.”
“All right.”
Antonio took his eyes off the road for a moment and smiled at Rosalia. Steering the car with one hand, he used his free one to pick up Rosalia’s hand and press a kiss to it. He held her hand until they reached the beach and it was time for him to park.
As they walked toward the beach, she noticed a few people on bicycles riding on a gravel path that began before the sand that led to the water. The path wrapped all the way around the parking lot. It was a nice day for a bike ride. Papà had taught Rosalia and Luca how to ride a bicycle when they each turned eight. He felt that was the safe age for them to learn. She remembered how jealous she had been when Luca had learned and how she had pouted. They could only afford one bike—the family bicicletta, as they called it, since they all took turns riding it, except for little Cecilia, who had still been too young to ride a bicycle. Rosalia still remembered her utter joy after she had mastered balancing the bike on her own. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let herself fully experience the emotions she had felt on that day that seemed so long ago now.
Opening her eyes, she was glad to see Antonio seemed preoccupied and was looking straight ahead. He hadn’t noticed how absorbed she’d been in her thoughts. He stopped before what looked like a garage. People were pulling up on their bicycles while others were taking off. She then realized it was a bike rental shop. Antonio got into the line of people waiting to rent a bicycle.
“What are you doing?” Rosalia asked.
“This is my surprise. I thought it would be fun to take a bicycle ride before we go on to the beach. You do know how to ride a bike? I suppose I should have asked you that earlier.” Antonio looked annoyed with himself.
“Si, si! I love nothing more! When I noticed the people riding on the bicycles as we were walking toward here I was remembering how my father had taught my brother and me to ride, and how much I missed it. Grazie, Antonio!” Rosalia reached over and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“Thank God! I was worried my surprise was ruined.” Antonio smiled and kissed Rosalia back.
Once they received their bicycles, they set off. Rosalia followed Antonio’s lead, making sure to keep to the right as people returning from their rides were coming in the opposite direction. After pedaling for fifteen minutes, Antonio made a left turn, and soon there were no other bicyclists on the path. They seemed to be getting farther and farther away from the beach.
“Where are you going?” Rosalia shouted to Antonio.
“There’s a small park this way. Not many people know about it. I thought it would be nice to go somewhere quiet. Don’t worry. We’ll make it back to the beach in time for the sunset, and the beach will be quieter then too. I just want you all to myself.” Antonio looked over his shoulder, flashing a grin.
She pedaled harder to catch up to him. All along the way he had been a few feet ahead of her, but he would turn around every so often to make sure she was keeping up. She realized her physical strength still had not fully returned. Mustering every bit of it, she finally caught up to Antonio.
“You’re killing me, Antonio! I’m out of breath. Please, let’s slow down.”
“I’m sorry! I’m just used to riding fast.” He slowed down.
They rode the rest of the way to the park at a leisurely pace. Soon, a small sign pointing to the park came into view. It was hard to see since a pear cactus plant stood next to it, obscuring it partially from sight.
Antonio got off his bike and held
Rosalia’s bicycle still while she alighted.
“How do you know about this park?”
“I overheard a couple talking about it when I was in town to buy supplies the other day.”
They left their bikes perched against a tree before walking down a narrow pathway that was lined with bushes on either side. Soon the path opened up to a small field. Antonio had been right that they would be alone here.
He took off the canvas satchel he wore strapped around his chest and reached into it, taking out a rolled up bedsheet.
“Help me lay this out.”
Rosalia took the opposite end of the sheet, and they placed it on the ground. She then kicked off her sandals and placed them on the corners of the sheet to hold it down. Antonio did the same with his sandals. They then sat down. Rosalia looked at the different plants, trees, and wildflowers that were planted around the park.
“And here is surprise number two.” He pulled out of his satchel a bottle of white wine.
“You are full of surprises today! What has gotten into you?” Rosalia laughed.
“It’s Easter.”
“Si, Easter. Not Christmas! Grazie, Antonio, but you don’t need to surprise me.”
“I want to.” His eyes met Rosalia’s.
He held her gaze for a moment. Rosalia swallowed hard. He was looking at her with desire in his eyes. Was that why he had brought her to this quiet place?
As if reading her thoughts, Antonio said, “We won’t stay long. I know you wanted to take a walk along the beach, and if we hope to make the sunset we’ll have to go soon since we have a long bicycle ride back.”
“That is true.” Rosalia silently uttered a prayer of thanks.
He poured wine into two small wooden cups he had brought.
“Salute!” He tapped Rosalia’s cup as he toasted. “To our health and happiness.”
“Salute!” Rosalia grinned before taking a sip of wine.
She listened to the birds chirping all around them. Leaning back on her elbows, she closed her eyes, enjoying the peacefulness of their surroundings.
“You’re so beautiful, Rosalia,” Antonio whispered into her ear.
She opened her eyes and saw he was lying back, propped up on one of his elbows. He stared at her and, soon, with his free hand, he tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear before bringing his face closer to hers and then kissing her.
They kissed a little longer before Antonio broke the kiss. Tossing his head back, he gulped the last of his wine.
“So next week is Teresa and Francesco’s wedding.”
“Si. I can’t help feeling a bit nervous when I think about it. I keep wondering what Elisabetta’s reaction is going to be when she finds out her sister has eloped with Francesco.”
“It will be fine. What can she do about it? Besides, Teresa is getting married; she’s not running off with some hooligan. Elisabetta needs to loosen up a bit. She’s too serious.”
“That is who she is. Just as Teresa is who she is.”
“Exactly. If only Elisabetta could accept that and not want to turn Teresa into a nun—or rather back into a nun.” Antonio began laughing so hard, tears welled up in his eyes.
Rosalia joined him. “I know. It is all so crazy! Teresa will have some stories to tell her children some day.”
“Do you look forward to the day you have your own children?”
Rosalia did not know how to answer. Naturally, she had always assumed she would be a mother someday. But again, she hadn’t thought about children or marriage much in the past few months after all that had happened to her.
“When I am ready to have children, I will look forward to it.”
Rosalia couldn’t help noticing how unenthusiastic her response had sounded. Antonio looked lost in thought. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed.
He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then thought better of it.
Rosalia stood up. “I suppose we should head back if we hope to catch the sunset.”
“Of course.” Antonio put the cork back into the bottle of wine and placed it, along with the cups, back in his satchel.
As Rosalia helped Antonio fold the sheet, she could tell he was still thinking, but she was too afraid to ask him what was on his mind. She didn’t want him to ask her any further questions about her future.
As they rode back to the beach, Antonio’s mood lightened once again, and he told Rosalia all the jokes he knew. She laughed at every one of them. Madre Carmela was right. He was a good man. And for the first time, Rosalia let herself imagine what a future with him would be like. She imagined him helping her with the cooking and even a few of the household chores, although she knew that wasn’t the usual arrangement between married couples, but Rosalia sensed Antonio wasn’t like other men. She sensed he would always help her and be by her side—a true companion, much the way her own father had been to her mother.
“I guess that was a bad one,” Antonio said.
“What was a bad one?”
“My last joke. You didn’t laugh.”
“Ah! I’m sorry, Antonio. My mind wandered. Tell it to me again.”
“That’s all right.” Antonio waved his hand. “I already know it’s not my best joke. Besides, I’d rather hear what you were thinking about.”
“Oh, nothing.” Rosalia’s cheeks flushed.
“Ah! You were thinking about me.” Antonio flashed a wicked grin.
“I was not!”
“Don’t lie, Rosalia. It’s unbecoming to you.” Antonio broke out laughing.
Rosalia shook her head, but didn’t say anything. She knew when she’d been caught redhanded.
Once they reached the beach, they returned their bikes to the rental shop and then made their way to the shore. A few other people were either walking or standing along the shore, waiting for the sun’s descent.
Antonio and Rosalia walked hand in hand. She enjoyed these moments the most—when they didn’t need to fill up the quiet with constant talk. Well, she couldn’t lie to herself. She also enjoyed when Antonio held her . . . and kissed her.
Reaching the shore, they walked slowly on the wet sand. Every so often, Antonio would kick up a pebble that had washed ashore.
“You’re getting that wet sand on our legs.”
“So what? It’s already on our feet. I have a great idea! Why don’t we have a wet sand fight?”
“You’re crazy! I know you’re not serious.” Rosalia returned her gaze straight ahead, but suddenly she felt something hit her arm.
“I can’t believe you!” She watched a clump of wet sand roll off her arm. Some of the sand had splattered onto her sundress.
Antonio giggled like a schoolboy as he bent over, scooping up another small mound of sand.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Rosalia quickly bent down, scooping up what she could, but he threw sand at her again before she could strike first, hitting the hem of her dress.
She stood up, throwing her small pile of sand at Antonio. But she missed.
“Looks like I’m winning already!” Antonio taunted her before throwing another clump of sand, but this time he directed it at her ankle.
Rosalia picked up as much sand as she could with both of her hands and ran up to Antonio, throwing the pile at his back.
“You aimed right for my shirt!” But Antonio looked amused.
Rosalia bent down to scoop up more sand. She hadn’t had this much fun since she was a child, chasing Luca on the beach. But suddenly, Antonio wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her high up in the air.
She kicked him lightly with her feet, screaming, “Put me down! Put me down!”
But Antonio swung her over his shoulder and headed into the water.
“Have you gone mad? The water is still too cold. And we’re going to be a sight when we return to the convent. How will we explain our disheveled appearance?”
“We’ll just tell them we felt like going for a swim.”
And Antonio meant it, as he waded into
the water until he was chest high in it. He then slowly lowered Rosalia but, knowing she was much shorter than he was, he held her rather than let her stand in the water.
“Let’s go back. You must be freezing.”
“You must think I’m a weakling. I’m fine, but thank you for being so considerate.”
He brought his lips to meet Rosalia’s and kissed her. Rosalia wrapped her arms around Antonio’s neck. She didn’t care any longer that they had gotten wet or about what everyone back at the convent would think when they saw them. She just cared about this moment and how happy and carefree Antonio made her feel.
“Look!” Antonio had pulled away from their kiss as he pointed out the sun setting.
As they watched the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon, Rosalia marveled at how magical it was. She wished she could freeze this moment and forget about all that had happened in the past—and not contemplate what her future still held in store for her.
19
Trionfo di Gola
TRIUMPH OF GLUTTONY CAKE
April 14, 1956
Though it was only the second week in April, the temperature had climbed to the low seventies, a good ten degrees warmer than what Sicily usually experienced during this time of the year. Rosalia wiped the beads of perspiration that were forming along her hairline with a handkerchief as she stood at the altar of a small church in Messina, watching Teresa and Francesco take their wedding vows.
Antonio stood opposite Rosalia, next to Francesco. Every so often, he caught Rosalia’s gaze and smiled deeply, holding her stare. But Rosalia could not hold his gaze for long and would look away. Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel nervous. Instead, she let her thoughts drift to the couple before them who would begin a new life together.
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