New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [363]
“The Frenchmen took off from Paris on Sunday. They were seen heading out over the Atlantic from Ireland. Then nothing.”
“They must have gone down over the ocean.”
“Brave men,” said Uncle Luigi, then he glanced at Salvatore thoughtfully. “Are you brave, Salvatore?”
“I don’t know,” said Salvatore.
“I suppose we never know until we are tested.”
They ordered crème caramel. When it had been served, Uncle Luigi looked at Salvatore thoughtfully again.
“Tell me, Salvatore,” he asked, “do you love Teresa?”
“Yes,” said Salvatore.
“And do you think she loves you?”
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
“Well, she does. She loves you, Salvatore. She has told me so.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes. But I have bad news. It may not be possible for her to marry you. That is why she spoke to me. She is very distressed, and she does not know what to do.”
“Is it her parents still?”
“No.”
“Is she sick? I would look after her.”
“No. You must be brave, Salvatore. She has fallen in love.” Uncle Luigi paused. “It is very difficult for her. This was a love she did not seek, and it has taken her by surprise. She has fought against it, but now she believes she cannot marry you with a good heart.” The older man sighed. “She is an honest woman, Salvatore, who does not want to cause you pain. I admire her.”
Salvatore was silent for a while. “That explains everything,” he said quietly. He gazed at the table. “Who is the lucky man?” he asked at last.
“Your brother. Angelo.”
Salvatore was stunned by how quickly everything happened after that. At first, for some hours, he had been stupefied. After that, rage had set in. It wasn’t only that he’d been hurt. It wasn’t only that the woman he loved had preferred his little brother. But his own kid brother, with the connivance of his uncle, had made a fool of him.
For it didn’t take long for the rest of the truth to come out. Uncle Luigi had told Angelo about Teresa’s feelings while Salvatore was taking her to the station. So for three days Angelo had worked beside him and never said a word. He’d been betrayed.
“You must understand,” Uncle Luigi had explained, “that Teresa confessed her feelings to me, but not to Angelo. It was I who had to talk to him, to discover whether her love might be returned. I discovered that it would be. He loved her, absolutely, but in his mind, she belonged to you. He was distraught. He was lost. He didn’t know what to do. It was I who told him to say nothing, until I had talked to you.”
Salvatore listened to these explanations, but they did not alter the fact. Angelo had stolen his bride, and he had lied. For days, he could hardly bear the sight of his brother. At work, they joined different gangs so that they could avoid each other. They spent as little time in their lodgings as possible, and when they were both there, Salvatore did not speak to Angelo. After a few days Angelo asked him: “Do you want me to leave?” But Salvatore only shrugged.
“What’s the point? You’ll be going soon.”
The next weekend, Angelo disappeared. It was obvious that he’d gone to Long Island. Salvatore stayed in the city. When Angelo returned, he said nothing, but the next day Uncle Luigi gave Salvatore a letter from Teresa, which Angelo must have brought. The letter was full of expressions of affection. She hoped he could forgive her, that he would understand, that they might remain friends. He almost tore it up, but finally put it in a drawer with feelings of disgust.
“Maybe I’ll go to California,” he told Uncle Luigi, who remarked sadly: “I’ll be lonely.”
His uncle did tell him one other thing, in the hope that it might be of some comfort.
“Understand, Salvatore, that nobody except myself and the parties concerned even know that it was you who were courting Teresa. Nothing was ever said. Nothing happened. All anybody knows is that Teresa became friendly with two brothers and that she is marrying one of them. You haven’t made a brutta figura.”
At the time this seemed small comfort. But as the