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“Good night, Serafina,” he whispered.
His mouth lingered on my face longer than a typical good-night kiss. It was slightly closer to my lips than it should have been. My skin burned where his lips parted slightly and his warm breath settled on my cheek.
I turned away and walked into my room.
I climbed into bed. I went to sleep.
But that wasn’t what they would all say happened that night. From then on we were watched and even though I was completely innocent that night, no one would believe me. Everyone whispered behind our backs.
Witch. Whore.
ELEVEN
SARA
For a brief moment I was weightless. I was free. I was resigned.
Suddenly I was yanked away from the precipice with a single jerk, sharp fingernails digging into my biceps, hurling me backward onto the hot slate rooftop.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re mental. Pazza. Totally pazza.” Giusy’s face was bright red from the exertion of pulling me back from the edge.
But I had felt someone shoving me forward. I knew that I had. I could still feel the force of it. The wind swirled in my ears, and nothing made sense.
“I wasn’t going to jump!”
“Like hell you weren’t!”
“You pushed me?”
Her face contorted into disgust. “I saved your life. You were about to go face-first down into the valley if I hadn’t grabbed you.” Sweat poured down her cheeks. She was as terrified as me. Three of her red nails were ragged. They broke where she dug them into my skin. She followed my gaze to her hands and peeled off the remaining acrylic, revealing the rough yellowed nails beneath. “I came up here to tell you I called the police for you and then I found you like this, doing this!”
“I wasn’t...”
But she didn’t let me finish. “Whatever. Thank me later, American.” She gazed out over the edge of the roof and caught her breath. “We can go to the police station and officially report the stolen passport tomorrow morning. I also reached out to the notaio.”
“The who?”
“The notaio, the person who handles land sales and purchases and deeds and all the things. He will determine whether you have a real legal claim to the land and figure out the next steps.” Giusy said this like she was explaining something to a slow child.
I nodded and sat in silence for a moment, brushed the dust and grime from the rooftop off my legs and pulled in a couple of deep breaths. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do. You were robbed in my hotel.” Giusy lit her cigarette with shaking hands, as unmoored by what just happened as I was but clearly trying to regain her composure. “Your aunt trusted me to take care of you. We’re lucky. Appointments with the notaio can take months to get.”
“What do I need to bring?” I asked her. “He’ll probably want some form of identification besides my expired driver’s license, and I still don’t have my passport. I need to drive into Palermo to apply for an emergency document with the consulate.”
She produced a folded piece of paper from her pocket. A photocopy of my passport.
“From when you checked in,” she said, like it was obvious all along that she had this copy of my missing identification.
“And you have the deed?” she said. I wondered if she had a copy of that too.
“I do.” It was in my backpack along with Rosie’s letters.
“Why don’t you rest for a while? We will go first thing tomorrow.” She looked me up and down. “And dress nice, Sara. Maybe wear something that shows off your boobs. It never hurts.”
—
“It isn’t the first time we have been broken into,” Giusy admitted as we walked to the office of the notaio the next morning. “Petty theft. Crime. It is worse now, but I cannot blame them, the thieves. We are all poor. In hard times we turn on one another. It has always been that way. At least for the men. There are few jobs. Palermo and Rome have been cracking down on the illicit organizations and the crime families so there is barely any money left even in illegal activity, even the drug money has started to dry up because the Cosa Nostra has gotten lazy in their work.”
