Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [54]
The woman’s mother soon entered the apartment and provided the distraction Giovanna needed to continue. Twenty minutes later, the baby was in position.
“Signora, please stay and have supper with us,” invited the mother, who was preparing their Sunday meal. The woman’s kindness reminded Giovanna that she needed to head home.
“No, thank you, I must go. Signora, stay on your feet for the next hour. Go for a walk, let the baby settle, and send for me if you feel anything out of the ordinary.”
Teresa knew it was Giovanna coming up the stairs because no one else took the stairs in twos. She always wondered how Giovanna managed to do that in a long skirt. It seemed hard enough to get up the steep stairs without tripping on your hem.
Giovanna burst through the door, making apologies. “I’m sorry, my visit went longer than I thought.” Her voice trailed off at the end of her sentence because she found herself face to face with a row of strangers. Almost at attention, there in front of her stood a man nervously holding his hat in his hand, with three children in their Sunday best lined up next to him.
“Buon giorno,” mouthed Giovanna, but she was looking at Lorenzo for an explanation.
“Giovanna,” said Lorenzo with more than usual flourish, “this is our friend Rocco Siena, from Scilla.”
“Oh, piacere,” said Giovanna, thinking the man’s recent arrival to America explained this awkward formality. More relaxed, she added, “Welcome to America.”
Two of the children giggled.
“Quiet! No, no, signora, we have been here a long time,” interjected the stranger. “In fact, all my children were born in New York. I will introduce them.” As if to make his point, he said all his children’s names in English. “This is Clement, he’s twelve, Frances is eight, and little Mary is four.”
All the children gave her a big grin when their names were said.
“Well, let’s sit,” said Teresa. “You children can play in the hall or on the stoop. But don’t go far, we’ll eat soon.”
Giovanna couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable her brother and sister-in-law were with their own friend.
“Signore Siena, I don’t know any Sienas in Scilla,” commented Giovanna, attempting to make conversation.
“Sì, signora, there are not many Sienas in Scilla. My wife, bless her soul, had much family in Scilla. She was a Bellantoni.”
“Oh, of course, the Bellantonis,” replied Giovanna.
Lorenzo cut in, “His wife was Angelina, daughter of Vincenzo and Mattia.”
“Yes. Mamma knew them. They lived in San Giorgio, yes?”
“Sì,” answered Rocco this time, “so did the Sienas. But we were sailors and often away.” After an awkward pause, he said, “Your brother tells me you are a widow.”
His question raised her worst suspicions, and she answered indignantly, “Yes, I was married to Nunzio Pontillo.”
Lorenzo immediately started in on the sales pitch. “Giovanna, Rocco was given a medal by King Victor Emmanuel!”
Her reaction was to shoot Lorenzo a stony stare.
“He saved the king from drowning when their ship went down! Show her the medal, Rocco!” exhorted Lorenzo.
Giovanna politely looked at the medal only because the man was so embarrassed at being forced to produce it. A bronze disc nearly filled the man’s palm, which was shaking slightly.
“Why were you on the king’s ship?”
“I was a merchant mariner…”
Again, Lorenzo cut in enthusiastically. “The king wanted him to be in his Roman guard.”
“And why didn’t you?” questioned Giovanna skeptically.
“Because I wanted to start a new life in America with my family.”
Teresa could see that Giovanna remained unimpressed and decided the best tactic was to keep things moving. “Lorenzo,