Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [57]
“Signora. I don’t ask you to love me. But I will be a good partner if you marry me.”
They both stared out at Brooklyn. Giovanna marveled at the irony. Had Rocco Siena proposed by saying that he loved her, saying that he wanted her to love him, she would have dismissed the offer instantly. But this simple man had said exactly the right thing. She watched a tugboat pushing a tanker down the river and felt the breeze on her cheeks.
“I’ll think about it.”
Ten weeks later, Giovanna had grown marginally fond of Signore Siena, but she was falling in love with the children, particularly Mary. Giovanna had also begun to face up to the truth that in all likelihood she could not have her own children. After all, she was thirty-one, and she and Nunzio had tried to conceive without success. If she married this man, at least she would have a family.
Lorenzo and Teresa had not said a word on the topic, making it easier for her to consider the option. Lorenzo had written of the possibility to their parents, and yesterday she had received a letter, written by her mentor, Signora Scalici, on behalf of her family, assuring her that they would bless whatever decision Giovanna made. Signora Scalici couldn’t help but add her two cents at the end of the letter, obliquely endorsing the marriage by writing, “I am told you are working with a woman doctor. A possibility like that would never exist here.”
Giovanna didn’t need to decide whether to marry Nunzio. It was a given. This, however, was a practical decision—to live her life alone or to create a family with a man she did not love but was beginning to respect. She thought of the lawyer, Signore DeCegli. Even if Signore DeCegli hadn’t just got married, she would never have allowed herself to love him. A smart, handsome man threatened Nunzio’s place in her heart.
Giovanna told Rocco on their next Sunday excursion that she would marry him. She reminded him of his promise that she did not have to love him. In return for this consideration, she said she would care for his children and treat them as her own. Rocco simply said, “Thank you.” The only thing indicating his pleasure was the suggestion that they cut their walk short and go to Lorenzo’s apartment, where his family was also gathered, to deliver the news.
Everyone, even the children, seemed to respect the difficulty of the decision and did not make a fuss. Instead they offered quiet congratulations and best wishes with polite kisses. The exception was Mary, who flung herself into Giovanna’s arms and nuzzled her head into her neck.
Teresa insisted that everyone stay for supper. Giovanna sat opposite Rocco, taking a hard look at the whole of his face for what seemed like the first time. Panic rose in her chest with the realization that she had promised herself to this stranger. She said fervent, silent prayers that she had not made the wrong decision.
Giovanna and Rocco were married in City Hall. Alderman Reichter presided. Rocco had said, “We live in America; we will marry the American way.” Giovanna wasn’t sure there was an “American way” of doing anything but agreed, reasoning that a civil ceremony would further distance this marriage from her wedding to Nunzio.
Following the ceremony on the walk home, they stopped at the bench where Rocco had proposed twelve weeks before.
“So, the widow and the widower got married.” Rocco put extra emphasis on “widow.”
Giovanna had had to be coaxed out of her black dress that morning by Teresa, who had bought her a new one. “I’m sorry, but I will never forget him.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I know this. And I have decided that if we won’t forget, then we should honor the memory of your husband and my wife,” Rocco stammered.
Giovanna looked quizzically at Rocco, who stared at the bridge when he said, “If we have children, the girl will be called Angelina, and the boy will be Nunzio.”
Rocco didn’t see her smile because