“Why did you feel so drawn to Rosa as soon as you met her?”
Others had asked her this question, but she had never answered it truthfully because, she knew this much, she didn’t know the answer. She thought back to that day in the church basement in Hoboken, all the frightened and anxious and angry children and Rosa, holding on with all her strength to her brothers and sister. As if they were all that kept her afloat. She was going to find her father. She had promised her mother. She would keep the family together, come what may. Anna had listened closely and watched her face, knowing that none of those things would happen. They were orphans and Italian, and they were about to be tossed into a whirlwind.
She said, “I was that determined too, once upon a time. When the telegram came saying Paul had been wounded in battle I tried to run away. I thought that if I could get to Virginia and find him in the army hospital he would get better.”
“How far did you get?”
“Not very. Uncle Quinlan caught up with me at the corner, on my way to the omnibus. I was six years old. I screamed and kicked and bit, but he never scolded me. He just carried me home to Aunt Quinlan and they sat with me while I howled.
“That evening Uncle Quinlan left for Virginia. Later Auntie told me he would have gone under any circumstances, but I still think that he went for me. The irony is that Paul was dead before Uncle Quinlan got there, but there was no way he could have known that and so he went around the field hospitals, asking. That’s how he caught typhus. He died not two days later and they both came home in coffins.”
Jack seemed to hesitate. “You blame yourself for your uncle’s death.”
She turned on her side to look at this man who was her husband. “I blame Paul. I blame Paul because when our parents died he swore he would always take care of me and never leave me, that when he grew up he’d have a house and we could live there together. And just three years later he broke his word and went to war. He was the most important person in my world. He knew that, but he left me to go to war when he promised he wouldn’t, and he died when he said he wouldn’t, and he took Uncle Quinlan with him. Uncle Quinlan was the only father I remembered.
“Everyone thinks that I was mourning my brother. That I’m still mourning him, but that’s not true. I was consumed with anger. I couldn’t say his name, I didn’t want to see his likeness, I hated him for leaving me. And I couldn’t say that, not to anyone. Not even to Aunt Quinlan. It was unsaid until Sophie came, but she understood without words.
“All these years people tiptoe around me when the subject of my brother comes up. It’s almost funny, sometimes. And the thing is, I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t feel any other way.”
She drew in a breath like a hiccup and turned away to lay an arm over her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, but she was powerless to do anything but let it happen. She was afraid to look at Jack, sure to see disappointment and disapproval where there had been no doubt.
? ? ?
JACK MADE HIMSELF take three deep breaths and reached for her. She came to him trembling, pressed her face against his shoulder, and wept.
When she was quiet he said, “I don’t know if it would be any comfort to me if I were in your place, but I can guarantee that your brother died thinking of you and full of regrets. You were so young, Anna. He was young too, but old enough to know that he had failed you. He made promises he couldn’t keep because he thought that would make you happy.”
She swallowed hard. “All these years I was so angry at him, so unforgiving, and then I went and did the same thing to Rosa that he did to me.”
Jack sat up, pulling her with him, holding on to her shoulders so he could look into her face, tear streaked and swollen.
“You are too rational a person to really believe that. You promised to look for the boys, and you’ve done that. You’re still doing that. Rosa doesn’t hate you. Anna, Rosa and Lia will love you for as long as they live.”
He pressed his mouth to her temple. “And so will I.”
43
ROSA CAME TO breakfast on Friday morning, without Lia. She stood very formally before Anna, her expression almost sorrowful as she put a folded piece of paper on the table.
“Will you read this, please?”
Anna could feel Jack watching them, but she kept her gaze focused on Rosa.
“Now?”
Rosa nodded, the muscles in her throat working hard as she swallowed.
Anna spread the single sheet open. Rosa had written from margin to margin, each letter carefully formed and spaced.
Dear Mayor of Annandale Staten Island New York,
I write to ask whether you have living in your town Eamon and Helen Mullen, and their two children, a girl and a baby boy. Mr. Mullen is a blacksmith. If you know of them I would very much like to learn their address in order to write them a letter. Thank you. Yours sincerely,
Rosa Russo
18 Waverly Place