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CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Dante walked down the street with Gaetano, going to see his parents after so many years. The prospect filled him with nervous anticipation, and Palermo bombarded him with noise and motion. People hurried this way and that, talking in different languages, sharing the street with carriages, donkey carts, bicycles, and horses. Fruit and vegetable vendors pushed barrows and called for customers, while shopkeepers hawked toys, frocks, and fresh fish. Houses and stores of all types lined the streets, with signs he couldn’t read, flowers blooming on balconies, laundry flapping on clotheslines.
Gaetano looked over. “Your Lucia sounds wonderful.”
“She is.” Dante came out of his reverie.
“I’m sure she’ll come back.”
“I’m worried it might not be before I go to the new madhouse.”
“You can leave word for her. You never know, you might want to move home with your parents. Do you remember anything about them?”
“Some things, about my father.” Dante filled him in about the piano playing.
“And your mother?”
“Just that she used to read to me. My eyes remind me of hers, but I can’t remember what she looked like.”
“Dante, seeing your parents will be joyful, but difficult. Have you thought about that?”
“Yes, I’m just so surprised by everything. I’m trying to keep up.”
“I understand. So much of your life was taken from you. The law let you down.”
“But you didn’t.” Dante looked over, his curiosity stirring. Gaetano had told him about the search for him, begun so long ago. “You looked for me. You tried to get witnesses. You made those baptismal lists. You knocked on doors. You went toprisonfor me. You did so much, and I thank you. But I have to ask,why?”
Gaetano smiled. “Because it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t me anyway. It was Saint Paul. He worked through me.”
Dante didn’t reply, since he didn’t know Saint Paul as well as Gaetano.
“Your family’s house is on the next block.” Gaetano slowed his step, then stopped, astonished. “Wait, I know this house! I stopped here. I didn’t recognize the name when you said it, before. I remember now, Imetyour mother!”
“You did?” Dante gasped. “What does she look like?”
“She’s beautiful, but she had sorrowful eyes. I knew something was wrong. I asked but they hid that you had been kidnapped. She must have been afraid.”
“Poor woman.” Dante’s pulse quickened. He realized he was only steps away from his mother and his father. The house looked vaguely familiar from the outside. “What was my father like? Was he nice?”
“I didn’t meet him. My old boss, Don Matteo, and his wife, Donna Angelina, were there. Your mother is their niece.”
“How funny.”
“The more you know about Palermo, you’ll see it’s not. The privileged travel in the same circles. Let’s go!”
Dante and Gaetano approached the house, which had a carriage and a mule cart in front. Laborers were loading the cart with boxes of books, and a well-dressed older man emerged from the house next to an attractive older woman in a black dress.
Gaetano waved to get their attention. “Don Matteo, Donna Angelina! Remember me, Gaetano Catalano?”
“You’re out of prison, Gaetano?” Don Matteo looked over, frowning as they reached them. “Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you.”
Donna Angelina’s lovely face fell. “Gaetano, I was so disappointed in you.”
Gaetano stiffened. “We’re here to see Signore Michangeli and Signora Catena.”
Don Matteo’s frowned. “Just go away. Our niece passed away six months ago. We’re closing the house to put it up for sale.”
Donna Angelina’s eyes filmed, her mouth turning down. “Our Vera, what a loss.”
