“But not this.” Loreda stood up abruptly. “Not leave. You’re saying no to me, just like you said no to Daddy.”
Elsa released a heavy sigh and stood. “I’ll say to you what I should have had the courage to say to your father: I love this land. I love this family. This is home. I want you to grow up here, knowing that this is your place, your future.”
“But it’s dying, Mom. And it will kill us where we stand.”
“How do you know it’s better in California? And don’t give me that land-of-milk-and-honey nonsense. You saw the newsreel the other day. Half the country is out of work. Soup kitchens can’t keep up with the demand. At least here we have some food and water and a roof over our heads. I can hardly get a railroad job as a single mother. And your grandparents…”
“They’ll never leave,” Loreda said.
Elsa unwrapped Rafe’s shirt from around her throat. “I’d like you to have this. It’s rather old and tattered, but it was made with love.”
Loreda took Rafe’s shirt carefully, as if it were made of spun dreams, and wrapped it around her neck. “I can still smell his hair pomade.”
“Yes.”
Tears brightened Loreda’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Loreda,” Elsa said.
Loreda sighed heavily, touching the chambray at her neck as if it held magical powers. “We are going to be even sorrier. You watch.”
* * *
AT LAST, THE LONG winter ended.
In the first week of March, the sun became a bright and shining friend that lifted their spirits and renewed their hope. One blue-sky day followed the other.
Today, as Elsa stood at the kitchen table, making a batch of creamy ricotta cheese, she thought, Just a little rain, and once again she could believe in it. Salvation. She could imagine a different view from here: Wheat growing tall. A field of gold that stretched to the horizon beneath an endless blue sky.
Rose drifted into the kitchen, pinning her kerchief in place. “Ricotta? What a treat.”
“It’s not every day a girl turns thirteen. I thought I’d splurge. I can feel the rain coming, can’t you?”
Rose nodded, re-coiling her hair at the back of her neck.
Elsa brought a pot of coffee into the sitting room, along with an apronful of cups. One by one, she poured the rich, steaming brew into the speckled tin cups.
“Aw, Els, you’re a godsend,” Tony said, taking a sip.
Elsa smiled. “It’s just coffee.”
Tony reached for his fiddle and began to play.
Ant jumped up and said, “Dance with me, Lolo.”
Loreda rolled her eyes—so put out—and then leapt to her feet and started doing a crazy version of the Charleston that was completely out of step with the music.
Everyone laughed.
Elsa couldn’t remember the last time this house had filled with her children’s laughter. It was a gift from God, just like the good weather.
Things would be better now; she could feel it. A new year. A new spring.
They would have sun—but not too much—and rain—but not too little—and those tender green plants would grow tall. Golden wheat stalks would rise and stretch toward the sun.
“Dance with me,” Rose said, appearing in front of Elsa, who laughed.
“I haven’t danced in … forever.”
“None of us has.” Rose placed her left hand on the small of Elsa’s back and grasped her right hand, pulled her close.
“It was a long winter,” Rose said.
“Not as long as the summer.”
Rose smiled. “Sì, You’re right about that.”
Beside them, Ant and Loreda spun and danced and laughed.
Elsa was surprised by how comfortable she felt dancing with her mother-in-law. Almost light on her feet. She’d always felt so clumsy in Rafe’s arms. Now she moved easily, let her hips sway in time to the music.
“You are thinking about my son. I see your sadness.”
“Yes.”
“If he comes back, I will hit him with a shovel,” Rose said. “He is too stupid to be my son. And too cruel.”
“Do yah hear that?” Ant said.
Tony stopped playing.
Elsa heard the plunk-plunk-plunk of rain hitting the roof.
Ant ran for the front door and swung it open.
They all ran out to the porch. A charcoal-gray cloud hovered overhead, another muscled its way across the sky.
Raindrops fell lightly, pattering the house, leaving starburst blotches on the dry ground.
Rain.
Big, fat droplets splattered the steps, gritty with dirt. More drops fell. The patter became a roar. A downpour.
They ran into the yard, all of them together, and turned their faces to the cool, sweet rain.