To Find a Mountain

Chapter Forty-four

We passed through the fog on our way down the mountain. The old bus alternately chugged and braked, smoking and squeaking until the orange glow of Naples came into view, the sunlight sparkling on the Mediterranean just beyond.

It was the first time I had ever been to Naples, but there would be no wandering through the shops and restaurants of the biggest city I had ever been to. The bus would take us directly to the harbor where a ship sat docked, waiting to take us to the Land of Opportunity.

The good-byes in Casalveri took nearly a week to complete. We were invited to dinners put together by groups of families; my father at one time or another had helped everyone in Casalveri, and it was important to pay our respects to everyone, lest we insult a single person.

It had been almost a year since the Germans left. The war was over now, Japan had surrendered, and the Americans were returning to their country, ready to start families and build houses. Lots and lots of houses.

Our land and home were sold. We were officially a family without a country until we landed in America and found a place to live, a place to call our own.

I had said my good-byes to Dominic. The bond between the two of us was eternal, I knew that deep in my heart. His vows of love and mine were genuine; our fates were sealed together now, even if our physical selves were divided by an ocean.

Dominic would stay with his three brothers and mother to help them plant the new crops and get things in order, then he would come with his younger brother to America. If they did well, they would send for the mother and brother.

The bus took us directly to the harbor where the huge ship, called the Volcania stood waiting patiently.

A man offered to take our luggage, but we refused, finding a seat on the deck. We tucked the small trunks beneath our legs. Our valuables and the money from the sale of the house and land were neatly sewn into a leather satchel that circled my father’s waist.

It would remain there until we reached Zi Antonio’s.

Zizi Checcone, dressed in a flowery print dress instead of her usual black, her hair pulled back neatly behind her head, sat next to my father. It had come as no surprise when Papa told me they were going to get married before leaving for America. I had known they were falling in love, but tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about my mother and how she might feel about it, even though I knew she would be happy for Papa.

Their wedding had been a village celebration; a chance to reaffirm life and a new beginning for them, as well as for Casalveri.

The last of the passengers boarded the ship, and the sailors cast off the huge ropes holding us to shore. We pushed out into the harbor with a thunderous blast from the ship’s horn and applause from the hundreds of people who had come to see off their loved ones.

I looked behind me where Papa and Zizi Checcone sat next to one another, Iole and Emidio on their laps, wide-eyed and excited. They were smiling at me, the strong breeze pulled back Iole’s long hair and she raised her hands out as if she were going to fly. Emidio hugged Zizi Checcone harder, his face buried in her ample bosom.

Thick black smoke billowed from the ship’s stacks, and we crept out of the harbor, the slow speed in stark contrast to the sounds of the engines churning. I leaned over the side, my fingers gripped the white metal railing as I looked into the water below, trying to get a feel for the speed of the ship.

The water was dark, black really, and it caressed the rusty hull of the ship, tiny bubbles of froth fizzing before being swept under thick waves.

I heard the sound of the water, felt the wind on my face, and watched as the dark waters swirled behind us, their peaks and troughs briefly marking our passage before reshaping into the flat calm that erased history with silent ease.

THE END