“But …” Now she was frightened. “… why? You work for Henry Ford, everybody—”
“No—I don’t, not anymore.” Jane just stood there and stared. “I have been relieved of my position—no pay and there’s no guarantee that my back salary—which has been frozen—will be released, unless …” Not wanting to worry her further John stopped himself from voicing what he suspected—that once he agreed to Fascist demands—only then would his bank account once more be made available to him. “Ninnie, please do what I say.” He held her against him wishing he could spare her.
“Will you follow? Will they let you?” For just a second he hesitated then assured her of course—after all he was an American citizen—if Ford no longer protected him the American embassy certainly would. His main worry now was getting her and Billy out of Italy and as quickly as possible.
“Ninnie, please listen—if you stay they might try to force me, use my family and then I would be helpless. Please understand!”
That note of pleading disturbed Jane more than the words.
“Where will we live? Our house is …”
“All is arranged … I …”
“It is?”
“Yes, when Mr. Cooper warned me …”
“He did?”
“Yes, before we left Constantinople, he found out that the Boss might be letting me go. So when it happened I immediately wrote Zoltan that we would be coming home and to find us a house … he immediately wrote back, said because of the hard times there were a lot for sale and Agnes had seen one over on Pilgrim that she said was exactly like our old one so I told him—buy it.”
“That’s crazy! You just can’t buy a house like … like buying a new hat! Why?”
“I HAD TO! Hannah wouldn’t be there, Fritz wouldn’t—I didn’t want you to have to live with strangers. I want you to have a home of your own to come back home to.”
Never having seen her husband’s pride laid bare, this silenced Jane into acceptance.
“It’s on Pilgrim?” Her voice reed thin held a hint of tears.
“Yes. Zoltan and Agnes are ready to help all they can. They say the house will need a little fixing but Rudy says …”
“You even contacted Rudy?!”
“No, Zoltan did. The moment he got my letter he telephoned everybody. Rudy said that Sundays he and the others can give the house a fresh coat of paint inside and out and it will look like new. When Ebbely heard he deposited a sum of money to see us through the first few months until …”
“Ebbely lent us money?”
“He insisted. And I have to accept. I have no choice—of course I will pay him back the moment I find employment.” Ashamed, John sounded like an earnest boy explaining his intention to be good.
“John …”
“Yes, Ninnie?”
“You will follow?” Her eyes searched his face.
“Of course.”
“When?”
“Carissima, I don’t know! I don’t know.” It was such a cry from the heart that Jane reached out, took her husband’s hand to comfort him. “Agnes says she has extra furniture, not to worry and you are so wonderfully frugal I know you will manage.”
“Just come home.”
“The house, Ninnie—I used all my savings—it’s all we have left—try to keep the house. I know it will be hard—but try.”
“I will, John—I promise.”
24
Milling crowds, the chaos of an imminent sailing, worried someone might jostle it, Jane adjusted her grip on the travel bag that held Michael’s ashes. The noise all around them was so deafening they had to shout.
“Billy …” His father sounded so strange. “… remember, take care of your mother. Promise me you will always take care of Mama.”
“I will, Papa. I promise.”
“Ninnie—I am sorry—about the cabin. I promised you a good life and now I can only afford to give you a third-class passage to go home. Forgive me.”
“Oh, John—” She flung herself into his arms. “I don’t care, it’s been a wonderful life—it has—really it has.”
“Here Ninnie, I bought this for you long ago. I wanted to give it to you when we returned home—as a reminder of our years away—but now … take it, Ninnie—they say amber brings luck.” He placed the necklace of purest living beauty around her neck. “I love you,” he said and for the very first time of their many years of marriage—she believed him completely, without question or hesitation. “Good-bye, boy, take care of your mother. You’re the man now, Billy—I’m counting on you.” Sensing his father’s despair, Billy moved towards him. “No, Billy—time to go—be a good boy, work hard at school—you’ll love America—you hardly know it, but you’ll love it. It’s the best country in the whole wide world. There is none better. It’s your country—remember that. It belongs to you and you to it.” A last kiss, a whispered “Carissima … ciao.” Then he pulled away allowed himself to get lost in the crowd.
Knowing for his sake she mustn’t run—call his name, she stood where he had left her and cried.
“Come, Mama—” Billy led his mother up the gangplank and onto the big ship that was to carry them home.
For the first time feeling like a true immigrant, she watched Italy become a leave-taking memory. Was John still there on the quay or had he refused the memory? She knew so well his need to negate all that might have the power to weaken him—drain off what he believed he had to be—he had to retain to survive—be the man he thought he was. He who had taken her with such assurance from Italy, now was forced to remain behind—and as the land of her birth receded in the morning fog she had the strangest sensation of loss quite unrelated to homeland or memories of it. Feeling strangely bereft as though deserted by what she couldn’t identify, she turned her back, walked along the overcrowded third-class deck in search of her son.