A lamb and a young pig had been turning on spits since the early morning. The aroma would have caused poorly trained dogs to abandon their duties, but Jude’s animals lay very still, only the twitching of noses giving away their interest. Anna had less control and was glad that the growling of her stomach could not be heard over the many voices. She passed her plate and watched as it was filled, determined not to make a fuss about the amount of food put down in front of her. She would try everything on her plate, take careful note of textures and tastes and ask questions. There would be a test later, she knew. Many tests to come, and she had no intention of failing even one of them.
So she ate, and talked, and ate. Between sips of red wine she ate a salad of tomatoes tossed with soft cheese and bread and olive oil, wild boar sausage and wide noodles cooked with artichokes and capers, white beans and marinated mushrooms, pork slathered with garlic and lemon and rosemary. They ate and talked, and ate, and talked. And ate. Small bites, long pauses to ask questions and answer more.
Jack said, “Look over there, do you see the boy sitting at the end of the table, next to Rosa?”
Anna did, and said so.
“You don’t recognize him.”
She didn’t, and said that too. But then she looked more closely. Twelve years old, in her estimation, thin but properly nourished, his color high, the very picture of health.
“Hoboken. That’s the boy who wanted to find work to save money for passage home.”
“Santino Bacigalup, you’re right. Looks like a different boy, doesn’t he?”
Jack’s mother leaned toward them. “Good food, sunshine, a safe place to sleep. He’s a hard worker, that one. I wrote to his sister in Palermo for him, but we haven’t had word back yet.”
“It’s been two months,” Anna said. That day in Hoboken seemed even longer ago, and in some ways, not so long at all.
“No cause for worry,” said her mother-in-law. “His sister probably had to take the letter to her priest so he could read it to her, and then she’ll tell him what to say and he’ll write back. It’s the way things work.”
“But if you don’t hear back?”
“Then he stays with us,” Jack’s brother Leo said. “He’s already like a brother to my boys, and he loves Carmela and Lolo. She follows him around with her eyes, wherever he goes.”
“He’s a fortunate boy,” Anna said. “We still don’t know what became of Rosa and Lia’s brother Tonino. He could be anywhere, or nowhere. If he was sent west on one of the orphan trains we’ll never know what happened to him. Jack,” she said, as a thought occurred to her. “Have you told your mother about Vittorio?”
“I mentioned it.”
“Do you have an opinion, Mrs. Mezzanotte?”
Her mother-in-law put down her fork with an unhappy little click. “You are uncomfortable calling me Mama?”
Anna felt a dozen eyes turning in her direction.
“Ma,” Jack began, but Anna put a hand on his wrist.
“Let me answer. It has to do mostly with my own mother. I don’t remember her very clearly. Just a sense of her face and her voice. But I hold on to those small things, and wouldn’t want to lose them.”
“It would feel disloyal to call someone else Mama.”
“No, not exactly. It’s like—” She tried to make her voice sound matter-of-fact. “It feels like admitting that she’s gone, and if I do that, she will be. It makes no logical sense, I know.”
“It makes every kind of sense,” said Mrs. Mezzanotte. “My mother died thirty-five years ago, and every once in a while I still dream about her scolding me because I don’t come visit often enough.”
“Yes,” Anna said. “Like that.”
“I understand. But you can’t call me Mrs. Mezzanotte, it’s too formal. You will call me Rachel, to start.”
“Rachel,” Anna said. “Thank you. I was wondering if you have an opinion about Vittorio Russo.”
“My opinion is, there is no easy solution to this problem. There are too many hearts to be broken and I’m not brave enough to recommend one over another.”
? ? ?
“IT’S A GOOD thing I don’t wear a corset,” Anna said under her breath a little later. “I’d be ready to pop just about now. I may do that anyway.”
Jack rubbed her back. “Savard. You have to learn to say no.”
She laughed at him outright. “That’s the way to endear myself to your mother and aunts. I’ll eventually say no, when necessary. But not today. A short walk would help.”
Everybody close enough to hear this stopped eating and looked at her, concern writ clear on their faces. Anna wondered if the idea of a walk violated some unwritten law, but Jack climbed over the bench to stand, and held out a hand.
“I think a walk is a good idea.”
The look he gave her said very clearly that he knew she was up to something, but that he had no intention of disappointing her or even asking questions that might be taken as less than supportive.
“Ma chiaramente,” Anna heard Jack’s father say softly. “Sono sposini novelli.”
When they were out of hearing, Anna looked at him expectantly.
“Newlyweds,” Jack explained. “Sposini novelli, that’s us. We can get away with a lot on that basis.”
She found herself smiling. “You don’t get away with much otherwise?”