“You came so far,” Assunta said.
“But not too far.” He smiled at her. “Not too far to come again.”
All the Ieovli women whispered about the handsome, well-off young scholar who came all the way from Sambiase because he had been bewitched by Stella’s beauty. She was the envy of the town, and Assunta often performed the Evil Eye hex to protect her from the other girls’ jealousy, but it was true Stefano must have been very smitten. He visited four more Sundays over the course of the winter, even in early January when a surprise storm hit. That day, there was an inch of snow lying over the flat surfaces, and it was still there when Stefano arrived, unexpected, as mass was letting out. He had brought the Fortunas a tiny jar of real coffee. They brewed it in a saucepan over the open fire, then let it cool on the snowy stones outside the front door. Stefano led the giggling Fortunas down the white-dampened street, tipping clean snow off tree branches into a bowl. They drizzled the collected snow with the almost-cool coffee and two teaspoons of precious honey, and ate this rare treat,scirubetta,passing around three shared spoons. Five-year-old Luigi, who had a sweet tooth, managed to get the lion’s share.
Besides coffee, Stefano brought the Fortunas other gifts—a bottle of grape brandy, a carved serving spoon. Eventually, he brought a chain for Stella’scornetto—a fine gold chain, with interlocking links the size of the head of a needle. Stella wondered if he’d overheard Assunta’s advice to her daughters all those months ago at the festival, or if he just had parents who’d taught him the same.
That was the visit when he asked Assunta’s permission to be her daughter’sfidanzato.
“Well, I’m not her father. So it’s hard to say.” Assunta didn’t feel secure in her own judgment on this matter, but it wasn’t her place to destroy an opportunity for her daughter, so she said, “But yes, you have my permission.”
Another parent might have added “If she agrees,” but this did not occur to Assunta. Stella was grateful for her mother’s absentmindedness, because at least she’d never had to make any promises about her own cooperation. She was confused and uneasy about Stefano’s attention, and spent his visits torn between enjoyment of his wonderful company and fear that he wanted to make a wife out of her. Why did she fear being his wife? She couldn’t answer that question for herself, either, but the idea made her stomach twist. She liked him and thought he was handsome. But the closer she felt tugged to him by his charisma, the more acute her aversion. If she let him get too close, he might touch her; he might put his hands where her father had, bind her to him, fill her with his seed. Handsome as Stefano was, Stella couldn’t imagine she’d ever like a man enough to make entering into the servitude of marriage worthwhile.
“I’m not going to be acontadino,” Stefano told her. He couldn’t have guessed that saying so only made Stella think of her father. “You wouldn’t be a farmer’s wife who is hauling firewood on her back and plowing fields like an ox.”
“I’m happy to work,” Stella said. “I’m a good worker.” She didn’t want to give him false confidence. “Besides, what will you be if you’re not going to be acontadino?”
“I’m going to own land,” he said. “Not farm someone else’s.”
Stella turned this over. It sounded nice, but she thought a chicken might as well sayI’m not going to lay eggs anymore. From now on I’m going to be a rooster.“How are you going to get land? You’d need so much money.”
“Mussolini is making changes. He is going to take Italy away from the rich princes and give it back to the Italians.” He tossed his head; his dark curls had a great effect on the Fortuna women. “I might move to Catanzaro, or maybe even Rome. I am thinking that maybe I can get involved in politics.”
Stella exchanged a glance with Cettina. The girls weren’t sure what “politics” entailed. “You want to be a mayor, something like that?”
“I want to be part of the new world,” Stefano answered, his dark eyes narrow. “Maybe a government minister. But to get there I need to build up a reputation, respect. So first I am going to become a soldier.”
“Ooo, a general, I could see him.” Assunta leaned over Stefano to present him with a bowl of doughnuts she had just fried. “He would be so handsome in a uniform.”
Stella was quiet for the rest of his visit. Her mother was very sure of Stefano, and Stefano seemed very sure of Stella. Here was a clever, ambitious man who wanted to take care of her. He was certainly a prize—clean cut, well groomed, educated, willing to travel hours from another, richer village to visit her. Stella realized no one was waiting to hear what she had to say. It seemed that the world was accelerating around her while she slipped deeper into a pool of unease.
She was never forced to assert her position because the letter came.
***
ANTONIO’S LETTER,which arrived in early April, was addressed to Cicciu Mascaro, Nicola’s older son, who as closest living male relative was to act as his Aunt Assunta’s chaperone and representative. The letter explained that Antonio had obtained a five-person passport for his family, despite his wife’s unhelpfulness. The passport was waiting for them in Napoli with a Signor Vittorio Martinelli, who also had prepaid tickets for their passage on a ship called theMonarch. They would be leaving in five weeks, on May 18. Cicciu would put the family’s affairs in order and sell the donkey, the goats, and the furniture. If they could not find someone to buy the house in that short window, Cicciu should look after it until a sale was arranged. Cicciu was to chaperone Assunta and the children as far as Napoli and help her meet up with Signor Martinelli—Assunta would pay for all related expenses.
How did Antonio have the right to arrange such a thing? “It can’t be, Mamma,” Stella said. “He can’t sell your house. He can’t make us do any of this.”
Assunta was speechless with grief, but Maria replied sadly, “He can. He is her husband.” Everything Assunta owned was in fact Antonio’s to dispose of as he would. A house that one woman, Ros, had given to another woman, Assunta, subsumed by the patriarchy, snap! Just like that.
IPROBABLY DON’T NEED TO TELL YOUthat Assunta was distraught. She incapacitated herself in a two-day breakdown during which she lay in bed and sobbed, a kitchen towel pulled over her eyes.
What would happen to Nonna Maria? She was not included on the passport. Assunta was sure her mother would die, what with having no eyesight, no source of income, no one to bring her food or to help her wash her clothes. Well, there was Za Violetta, but that was hardly comforting.
During this period, while Assunta was prostrate with ruinousemotion, Cettina cooked all the meals. She and Stella weeded the garden, although they reflected together that they wouldn’t be there to eat what they’d planted.
Stella was numb with ambivalence; her heart was foggy, cold, locked. On the fringe of her emotional void—like Gypsies circling at thefhesta,waiting for their chance to approach—were splashes of regret, relief, heartache, hatred for her father, anger at her village for not being more prosperous, harder to leave behind. Together they didn’t make sense. Stella was a person who preferred black-and-white distinctions, so she shut them all out. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Ievoli—her grandmother, her perch on the churchchiazzawhere she liked to watch the sunset, the stray cats who stopped to visit with her in the sun-baked alleys. But budding, flowering inside her heartache was something else—ambition for another life. Despite the cold shock of it—of learning that with one snap of his faraway fingers her good-for-nothing father was upending their existence—Stella wondered if this was a gift from God. She would go to America, and she would not have to make a decision about marrying Stefano.
Cettina, fourteen, vacillated between tearful and stoic; she always took her emotional cues from her mother and sister, so this was an especially confusing time for her. Stella knew Cettina would suffer more than she would, in the end, because Cettina wasn’t as tough. Stella wouldn’t make things worse for her mother and sister. Instead, she bottled up her grief, compressed her frustrations into compassion, brushed and braided their hair, rubbed their backs, turned over the logistics—the reality—in her head.
Someone had to be in charge of tying up all the loose ends. As Assunta cried into her blind mother’s lap, Stella decided she herself was going to have to be that someone. There was no time to sell the house, so they didn’t try. Cicciu would send the money to Antonio whenever the sale was finally made. The Fortunas’ clothes all fit in one trunk, which Stella bought from Zu Salvatore’s store. She carried the trunk up the hill alone; it was unwieldy and heavy and halfway home Stellawas in a sweaty rage at herself for not having accepted help. When she got it home Cettina lined the bottom with basil and mint, to keep away the insects and disease and bad luck, and together the sisters folded and packed.
The pork cured in January would go to waste, so they ate as much as they could,suppressatasliced up with every dinner. The widow Nicoletta had heard the Fortunas were leaving and asked if she might have their chickens. She had no money to exchange, but it was one thing taken care of. They were good layers and Stella hoped Nicoletta wouldn’t kill them and feed them to her layabout son.
The donkey, who was thirteen years old, Stella gave to Gae Felice. She didn’t want to sell the poor thing, not to someone who would try to put the wilted beast in front of a plow. But she thought of Gae as softhearted and believed he would care for theciucciarijllufondly. She had to arrange it behind Assunta’s back or there would have been a great show no one wanted.
STEFANO CAME TO SAY GOOD-BYEon their second-to-last Sunday. He wasn’t ruffled by the departure; he, too, was leaving to join the army in the fall. “We will be together soon,” he told Stella, who was even more uncertain that was what she wanted than she’d been before. “The ocean is not so hard to cross. When I have enough money for a nice house, I’ll send for you. You won’t have to be gone long.”
