Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [95]
“Yes, yes, of course. I knew I recognized you. Have you brought news?” he added anxiously.
Giovanna’s heart sank. In thinking of herself, she hadn’t considered that their visit would raise his hopes. She said gently, “I’m sorry, Dottore, we know nothing. We were hoping you might know something more.”
Dr. Bellantoni’s disappointment was palpable, but he responded graciously. “Please, come in,” he instructed, leading them to the sitting room.
Under different circumstances, Giovanna would have memorized the brocades, the enameled globe, and gilt frames. Instead, she sat down awkwardly and Rocco followed.
“If I remember correctly, Signore Siena, you no longer had family in Scilla.”
“True. But my wife, Giovanna, all her family is in Scilla, and we’ve had no word.”
“And their names?”
“I am a Costa. Our other family names are Pontillo and Arena.”
“I remember. You are in the Chianalea, yes?”
“Sì.”
Dr. Bellantoni looked uncomfortable. “I have received no word on individuals. But I do know the devastation in Scilla was great. Particularly in the Chianalea.”
“Yes. We also heard this.” Giovanna tried to hide her pain upon hearing the Chianalea singled out. “We were thinking, Dottore, that perhaps when you send your messages, you could add my families’ names. I only know how to send a cable, and the paper mentioned that you’ve been in touch with the government.”
Dr. Bellantoni’s face flickered with the recognition of how they got here, and he also seemed to notice for the first time their Sunday best, which was far from the best. “Oh, yes, the paper. Yes, of course. I will do what I can.”
There was nothing left to say. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the doctor said, “Can I invite you to share my Sunday meal?”
Rocco stood and answered before Giovanna could. “Thank you, Dottore. But the children are waiting at home to be fed.”
Giovanna also rose. “Dottore, I am so sorry that we have bothered you.”
“No, no, it is no bother. We must help each other in this time of crisis. Please, wait a few moments and I will get you a carriage.”
“That is not necessary.”
“It’s my personal carriage. I insist.”
All heads turned on Elizabeth Street when Giovanna and Rocco alit from a private carriage. On the ride downtown, Giovanna thought how hospitable New York could be when you had means.
JANUARY 11, 1909
Lucrezia had insisted that she needed Giovanna’s help, but Giovanna knew it was only to get her out of the house. In the last week the only time she had left the confines of her apartment was to check the telegraph office, which she did as religiously as she lit candles in church.
She imagined that Lucrezia also wanted to tell her all about the concert she went to last night at the Metropolitan. Scores of singing sensations performed to raise money for the victims of the earthquake, including the great Enrico Caruso. Already, Giovanna could see the headlines announcing, MORE THAN $15,000 RAISED as she made her way down the street. With a stab of resentment, she imagined Lucrezia’s husband accompanying her to the opera. It allowed him to show his concern for the heathens and still wear white gloves. Giovanna quickly chastised herself; it was unkind of her to question the charity of others.
She decided to stop by the telegraph office before going to Lucrezia’s. The clerk was just unlocking the door.
“You’re early this morning, signora.” He went to the in-boxes and leafed through the stack of cables quickly because he had become accustomed to no replies from the hundreds of telegrams he was sending to Italy.
Giovanna’s head was turned when the clerk doubled back through the stack.
“Giovanna Costa Siena, correct?”
Giovanna spun around.
“Yes. You have an answer.”
After all this waiting, Giovanna couldn’t take the envelope from the clerk’s hand.
“Open it for me.”
“Signora, I am only allowed to read your missive if you are illiterate.”
“I can’t read.” At that moment she wasn’t lying.
“Va bene,” he said, eyebrow raised, and slit the envelope with a silver knife. It