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“What? Tell me from there!”
Francesco led Mafalda to hishouse and admitted her to its warm room. It was dark inside, but she could discern a bed with the sleeping form of Francesco’s wife. Otherwise there was a table, chairs, and a small copper brazier.
Francesco lit a candle, then woke his wife, who stirred, revealing a tiny baby sleeping beside her. “Anna, I’m home.”
“Francesco!” Anna reached up to embrace him, and Mafalda felt a pang at seeing the love between the couple. She used to have such love, but those times were gone for good.
Francesco gestured to Mafalda. “Anna, I have someone for you to meet.”
“Who, now?” Anna sat up, covering herself with the sheet. She was a small woman with a delicate face in the candlelight. Her long brown hair trailed over her shoulders in ringlets.
“Anna, this is Mafalda. I brought her home to help us.”
Anna’s gaze took in Mafalda and Lucia, then she smiled. “Oh my, you have a baby, too?”
“Yes, a girl.” Mafalda kept Lucia’s face turned to her chest. “She’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her. I was traveling through town when I met Francesco. He said you needed a wet nurse.”
“I do, but where are you from? Where’s your husband?”
“I left him.”
“With a baby?” Anna’s lower lip puckered with sympathy. “Why?”
“I’d rather not say.” Mafalda would have to keep to herself if the situation was going to work. She and Lucia would be safer here in the nighttime, rather than outside with the wolves. “Anyway, I can be your wet nurse.”
“You can? I make some milk, but not enough.” Anna reached on the night table for anex voto, a small, silvery plaque shaped like a female breast. “I bought this to bring to church for Saint Agatha. I pray to her to help me.”
“Anna, we can’t wait anymore,” Francesco interjected, shaking his head. “My son needs more milk.”
Mafalda added, “Anna, I’d be happy to nurse your baby. What’s his name?”
“Salvatore.”
Mafalda felt a pang, thinking of Turi.
“We call him Salvo.”
Thank Madonna. “I’d like to come at night, nurse the baby throughout, and leave in the morning.”
“Fine, I can nurse in the day, then sleep without interruption.”
Francesco turned to Mafalda. “How much would you charge? We don’t have a lot of money.”
Mafalda felt for them. “I’ll settle for dinner every night, fresh clothes, and diapers.”
Francesco’s eyes widened with relief. “Then we have a deal!”
Anna beamed. “That would be wonderful! I could give you Salvo’s baby clothes, and we can become friends, and the children can grow up together—”
“No, I’m a private person. I’d rather keep my baby to myself.”
Francesco shrugged. “Fine. This is too good a deal to pass up.”
Anna’s forehead buckled. “But may I ask why, Mafalda?”
“Some people think my baby is ugly, but I think she’s beautiful. I want her to grow up seeing people smiling at her, not frowning. She’s innocent and she deserves to feel loved. I hope you can respect my wishes.”
“I understand.” Anna smiled, her sympathy plain. “Every woman in the village has opinions about my Salvo. They say he looks like a skeleton. They criticize me for not having enough milk. They say I’m eating the wrong food or praying to the wrong saints. I’ll respect your wishes, mother to mother.”
