Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [98]
“The good doctor has been kind enough to invite me to live with him. I have nothing left in Scilla. Nor does he.”
Seeing Giovanna’s expression, he realized he had once again made her feel guilty. “Signora, it has been a privilege to bring you this good news. I am sincerely happy that your family has survived. But, as I know, it is not so easy in this circumstance to be among the living. I will pray for your family as I pray for mine.”
Clement spoke for the first time. “Signore, are you related to my mother, Angelina Bellantoni?”
“A third cousin, yes.”
“Did anyone from my mother’s family die in the terremoto?”
“Most everyone.”
These were distant relatives that the children had little knowledge of, but the news brought the disaster closer to home for her stepchildren, who had never even seen Scilla. Giovanna thought about how tragedies knitted themselves into your soul when there was a connection—no matter how tenuous. If you walked down a street where a murder had occurred, or studied a country where there was a famine, all of a sudden the horror became your own. She watched ownership of this earthquake creep over her stepchildren’s faces.
Giovanna went to her bedroom and took two palm fronds that had been braided into crosses off the wall. “These are from Scilla’s Feast of Saint Rocco this past August. Please take one and give the other one to Dr. Bellantoni.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
FEBRUARY 1, 1909
The thousand-dollar payment from Nunzio’s settlement did not arrive on January 1. In fact, Signore DeCegli had to remind the attorney to send it. They had never seen the first check; it had gone directly to the bank to pay for the store. Giovanna stared at the check with three zeros and tried to figure out the safest way to get it to Scilla. With Lieutenant Petrosino’s warnings ringing in her ears, she decided to ask Signore DeCegli’s advice. Signore DeCegli assured her that Bank Stabile on Mulberry Street would transmit it safely, and he accompanied her there. She was not the first Italian to be sending money home, but Giovanna couldn’t help but notice the clerk’s expression when he saw the amount.
“I do not want to send this unless you can tell me that it will go directly to my family,” stated Giovanna.
“I assure you, signora, we can do that. We have already sent a great deal of money to Messina and Reggio.”
“But this isn’t going to Messina and Reggio; it’s a small village.”
“I understand, signora, and we will get it there safely.”
Signore DeCegli stepped in. “I suggest that we prepay a reply for her family. This is my card. Certainly, if it does not arrive in due time, I could be called for assistance.”
Taking the card, the banker said in an offended tone, “Sir, we are a reputable institution.”
At the door, Giovanna thanked Signore DeCegli.
“I assume you will no longer be moving, signora.”
“No. We’ll have to wait.” Giovanna’s voice carried with it the conviction she felt. When she buried the swordfish mustasole at Nunzio’s grave, she promised to watch over all that Nunzio loved in Scilla. The earthquake left Nunzio’s mother and his sister’s family without homes and in need of medicine. Now Nunzio would provide for them. While her plans to move her family to a safer place were scuttled for now, tonight she would go to sleep knowing that her family in Italy would have shelter and food.
Feeling at peace for the first time in a long while, Giovanna headed home. At the corner of Prince and Elizabeth streets, she nearly careened into Lieutenant Petrosino.
“Lieutenant!”
“Good day, signora. How fortunate! I wanted to speak to you. But not here. Can you come to my office?”
When they had settled into chairs at his desk, Petrosino said, “I heard the good news about your family!”
“How is it that you know everything?”
“When will you understand that this is my job!” chided Petrosino good-naturedly. “In all seriousness, signora,