“You could be a Sister of the Tarantella.”
Domenica laughed. “How about you? Are you married?”
“Betrothed.”
Domenica looked around the pier, happy to have something to do to hide her disappointment. “Where is she? I’d like to meet her.”
“She’s in Parma.”
“When are you getting married?”
“This summer.”
“Congratulations. You deserve happiness.”
“You’re the only person that thought so. Well, that’s not exactly true. You and my mother.”
The bandleader blew the whistle to summon the dancers to the stage.
“I have to go. Will you wait for me?”
“I’m sorry. I have to meet my friends for the drive back to Parma.”
Domenica couldn’t hide her disappointment. “That’s too bad. So much more to talk about.” She bit her lip. “All this time I’ve been praying for you. Take care of yourself.”
Domenica turned to the stage to join the dancers when Silvio took her hand. “Before you go”—he leaned down and whispered in her ear—“did you ever find the buried treasure?”
The band began to play. The dancers moved across the floor without Domenica.
“I never found it.”
“That’s too bad. I have a reminder every morning when I look in the mirror.” Silvio moved the lock of hair that had fallen across his face, revealing the scar over his eyebrow. The black arch was staccatoed with tiny pink dots where the stitches had been.
Domenica leaned closely to Silvio’s face to examine the scar. She touched the outline of the arch gently with her finger. She was close to his mouth, her finger tracing the outline of his face to his lips.
“Domenica,” he whispered. His lips grazed her cheek.
“You can barely see the scar. It healed beautifully. You made a wise choice. I wanted to sew you up and you wouldn’t let me.”
Silvio laughed. “But I took your advice about the olive oil. Looks less like a gash, thanks to you.”
“Now that I don’t remember.”
“That’s all right, because I do.” Silvio took her hand. “I remember everything.”
“Remember your fiancée in Parma.” She let go of his hand. “Where do you work?”
“I’m an apprentice to Leo DeNunzio, a master gem cutter in Torino. I was lucky he took me on.”
“Papa will be pleased that you took up the trade.”
“How is your father?”
“He works hard and my mother pushes him to work harder.”
“Your father has a fine reputation throughout Toscana.”
“Grazie. And how is your mother?”
“She married a nice man from Firenze. A stonemason. After so long, she found happiness.”
“She deserved it too. Was he a good father to you?”
“He was gentle and fair.”
“I’m glad,” Domenica said sincerely. “Your mother is one of the finest ladies I’ve ever known.”
“I’ll tell her you said so. How is your brother?”
“The same.”
Silvio laughed. “Aldo hasn’t changed?”
“Not at all.”
“Where is he?”
“He joined the army. Maybe that will help.”
“It might make him worse.”
“That’s what Mama said!”
Mauro Cincotto came to the edge of the stage. He motioned to her. “Domenica. Box formation. We need you.” He lowered his voice. “I can’t lift Stella Spadoni.”
“Yes, you can.” Stella, tall and broad shouldered, yanked Cincotto back into formation. “And you will.”
“I lost my partner.” Domenica turned to Silvio. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’m not a good dancer.”
“Don’t let that stop you!” Ignoring his pleas to let him go, Domenica pulled Silvio onto the dance floor. “Come on. You’re a native! Follow me,” she commanded. She took Silvio’s hands in hers and placed them on her hips. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Now count.” She patiently taught him the box step until he was comfortable with the footwork. “We add the skip.” Silvio skipped in time to the music. “Well done. Now, move!” Domenica instructed.
“I thought we were.”
“Like this.” Domenica led Silvio until he took the lead and reversed their movements. She laughed while he concentrated on his feet.
Silvio and Domenica took a skipping tour around the dance floor until they reached the edge of the stage. Instead of pivoting, Silvio lifted Domenica and swung her around before placing her on the ground. A smattering of appreciative applause was heard from the tables where the old people sat with a view of the stage.
“Do it again,” Domenica said. Silvio lifted her into the air, this time twirling her aloft above the other couples.
The Cabrelli girl always makes the Birtolini boy do things that he shouldn’t do. Silvio remembered what the nuns had told his mother when she went to school to tell them that they were leaving the village.
Silvio placed her on the ground gently.
“Excellent! You did a good job and you deserve a prize,” she said as she bowed to him. “They have bomboloni.”
“Are they as good as they used to be at the feast?”
“We’ll have to see.” She took his hand and led him off the dance floor.
Silvio followed Domenica through the crowd. He felt lucky to take his place anywhere near the light of her. Silvio Birtolini hadn’t realized how much he missed Domenica Cabrelli until he danced with her.
Silvio bought Domenica a bombolone. “You don’t want me to go, do you?”
“But you have to. You have a lovely girl waiting for you.”
“How do you know she’s lovely?”
“Anyone you chose would be.”
“You think highly of me.”
“Is that allowed?”
“Yes, and it’s appreciated. Would you like to know what I think of you?”
“I already know.” Domenica fed him a bite of the doughnut.
“You do?”
“Bossy.”
“It’s true.” He laughed.
“Who else could get you to dance at Carnevale? Filomena Fortunata? You liked her for six days when we were ten.”
Silvio did not take another bite of the pastry because he was too busy talking to Domenica. When Silvio’s friends found him, it was time to go. Domenica walked them to the car.
“Just like the old days, you have to make sure I get home safely,” Silvio joked.