and I scamper to her side, but she waves us off. She straightens her shoulders and grabs hold of the concrete parapet. It takes her six minutes to reach the top, but she does it, with grace. She’s holding her chest when I come up beside her.
“Brava,” I say, and kiss her cheek.
“Rico may be watching. I wouldn’t want him to think I couldn’t climb a single flight of stairs.”
I gaze out at the piazza below. But of course Rico isn’t watching.
The first hour is hope filled. I open the door to the cathedral and Poppy steps inside. She does a quick perusal of the church’s interior, in case Rico forgot that they were to meet on the steps. When she doesn’t find him inside, she laughs.
“It’s only eight o’clock. The man always loved his sleep.”
Above us, the church bells clang nine times. All traces of the sun have vanished, and mist falls from the sky like holy water. Poppy stands beneath the eaves at the cathedral’s entrance, surveying the piazza like a queen overlooking her kingdom. But this queen is searching for one person, and one person only. And he’s nowhere to be found.
She remains undeterred throughout the damp morning. She loiters on the stair steps in her yellow slicker, ducking inside the cathedral only once, to “powder her nose.” I take off my sweater and create a cushion for her on the top step, insisting she sit. Why hadn’t I thought to bring a chair, or even a pillow? She’s reluctant, but finally she agrees. It takes both Lucy and me to lower her onto the step, and I briefly worry that we won’t get her back up. Though she doesn’t complain, I see her grimace. I hear the rattling in her chest. She’s not well.
Behind us, the cathedral door opens. A white-haired man with a long, thin nose steps out of the church, wearing a clerical collar. He stops when he sees Lucy and Poppy and me, perched on the top step like a trio of pigeons.
“Father,” Lucy says. “Would you please take our picture?”
“I’d be happy to.”
I hand my phone to the priest, who tells us his name is Father Benedetto, while Lucy helps Poppy to her feet.
“Bei sorrisi!” Father Benedetto says. “Beautiful smiles!”
He hands me the phone. While I check out the picture, I notice Poppy inching closer to the priest. She studies his face, peering closely at his nose. Her hand flies to her throat.
“You,” she says. “You married my husband and me. Fifty-nine years ago, right here at Ravello Cathedral. My husband was German. Surely you remember.”
His lips tighten and he shakes his head. “No, signora. I have been the priest in Ravello only forty years.”
“But …” Poppy’s voice drifts off.
He turns and makes his way down the wet steps.
“It must have been a different priest,” I say, rubbing her back.
By the time the bells chime twelve times, the clouds are spitting rain and my stomach is growling. “How about we break for lunch?” I suggest.
“There is no room for food. My stomach is packed with butterflies. I’m about to see Rico.”
“C’mon. Let’s stretch your legs.”
Poppy won’t hear of it. “You girls go ahead. I wouldn’t want to miss Rico.”
“He’ll wait for you,” Lucy says.
“Yes, but why make him? He’s waited much too long already.”
Chapter 39
Poppy
1961
Ravello, Amalfi Coast
The room was out of focus, and a wet washcloth bathed my forehead. Where was I? I had a vague memory of lying in the stairwell. I tried to sit up, but a firm hand was holding me down.
“Lie still,” a voice from far away called to me.
I was too weak to fight. I closed my eyes and drifted off again. In my dream, Rosa was calling to me. “Open your mouth.”
Suddenly, something hot seared my lip. I flinched and opened my eyes.
Rosa sat beside me on the edge of the sofa, a steaming bowl in her hand. She lifted a spoon to my lips. “Eat,” she demanded.
The weak broth tasted of salt and burned my throat as it made its way to my stomach.
“Another,” she said.
I ate, obedient, until the bowl was empty. Then she held a cup to my lips and made me drink water. When I’d swallowed twice, I found my voice.
“What are you doing here?” My words were hoarse.
She set the cup down on the table. “A letter arrived last week.” She removed an envelope from her pocket. “From Germany.”
I let out a cry of relief. “Thank God. You came all this