Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [55]
Giovanna stood, as did Rocco. She did not need to work at avoiding his eyes because she was a head taller than him. Rocco’s hair was wiry and going gray, as was his mustache, and although he was lean, his muscles were thick and gave him a stocky appearance. His laborer’s hands looked enormous in proportion to his body. And now these big hands fumbled nervously as he tried to stuff the medal back in his pocket.
The commotion in the hall signaled the children’s return. Unlike the adults, they were not having problems socializing, although Domenico was acting the tough guy because Clement was a working boy, and with his calluses came street status.
Even with the children’s chatter, the awkwardness didn’t go away. Giovanna was silently fuming. If Lorenzo and Teresa wanted her out of the house, why didn’t they just tell her?
Teresa was the first to speak. “Rocco, who cares for little Mary?”
“Frances, of course. When Mary is old enough for school, Frances will work.”
“I thought all children in America went to school,” said Giovanna dryly.
“What does a daughter need to go to school for? America or no America?”
Giovanna wanted to hate him for this comment, but it seemed genuinely ignorant and not mean-spirited.
“And your son?”
“He’s a big boy. We’re in America to make money.”
“Rocco and his family live in that new apartment building at 202 Elizabeth Street,” bragged Teresa.
Giovanna knew the building; she had delivered a baby there. It was what they were calling “new law” tenements. They had more light, but the major improvement was that they each had their own toilet instead of a shared toilet in the hall.
Unimpressed, Giovanna changed the subject. “When did your wife, Angelina, pass, signore?”
“In childbirth, with Mary.”
Her professional curiosity piqued, Giovanna only stopped herself from asking further questions when she caught Teresa’s scolding look.
It was Lorenzo’s turn to try to keep the conversation going. “Isn’t it strange, Giovanna, we did not know Rocco in Scilla, but here in America, in this big city, we meet. Luigi and Pasqualina DiFranco introduced us.”
With that, Giovanna knew that Teresa and her bosom buddy, Pasqualina, had dreamt up this scheme. Teresa believed in keeping her enemies close, so when she found out that Lorenzo had once loved Pasqualina, she made Pasqualina her friend and confidant.
“We’re going back out,” Domenico announced, as the children piled their plates in the washtub.
With the children out of the room and more wine in him, Rocco turned his focus to Giovanna. “Lorenzo tells me you are a levatrice,” said Rocco.
“Sì.”
“Working with Signora LaManna.”
“Sì.”
“She is a good woman.”
“Sì.” He was trying so hard, Giovanna softened a little. “Did she deliver your children?”
“Yes, but not Mary. My wife was already too sick by then and was in the hospital.”
“Let’s have our fruit,” said Teresa.
“I have to go. I must visit a patient,” interrupted Giovanna.
“You said you only had to see Signora Russo today!” Teresa protested.
“Well, this is sudden,” replied Giovanna, grabbing her shawl.
“Signora, before you go,” Rocco stepped forward, “can I ask you if next Sunday we can walk together?”
Unable to meet his expectant gaze, Giovanna instead looked over his head to Lorenzo’s downcast eyes and Teresa’s reddened face. She would have said or done anything to get out of the house at that moment. “Va bene, signore. But only if there are no babies to deliver.”
She flew down the stairs, praying that Signora Russo would go into labor next Sunday, and almost tripped over Mary, who was sitting on the stoop.
“Signora, where are you going?” asked Mary, getting out of her way.
“I must see someone.”
“Will you come visit us, signora?”
Giovanna was taken off guard and reached down to pat the child’s head.
“Have you calmed down yet?” asked Lucrezia, pouring Giovanna another glass of wine.
“I have every right to be angry.”
“Yes, you do,” nodded Lucrezia, who had artfully defused Giovanna’s rage by calmly agreeing with everything she said.