wouldn’t want you to.”
“It’s as if you seek me out because you buried my sister.”
“Stella isn’t the only thread between us,” Ciro insisted.
“You remember her name.”
“I would never forget it.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at her.
“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you, only to be disappointed.”
“I’m here now.” Ciro reached out to take her hand.
“But tomorrow you’ll be gone.”
“We have a history.”
“No, we don’t. We have moments.”
“Moments are history. If you have enough of them, they become a story. I kissed you on the mountain when we were fifteen,” he said. “And I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”
“And Ciro, I remember every word you ever said to me. I could tell you what you were wearing that night on the Passo Presolana and in the chapel at Saint Vincent’s, and on the roof of the Zanetti Shoe Shop. How could you not know what I was feeling? I thought I made it plain that night on Mulberry Street.” Enza looked away, thinking the Automat was so crowded, it would take her a few minutes to navigate her way out onto the street should she cry. She didn’t want to cry in front of him.
“You did—I know that. And I wrote you that letter. I said I would come in a few weeks, and I came—I was there, Enza! But Signora Buffa lied to me.”
Enza pulled her hand from his and placed it on her lap. “No, Ciro! Listen. A man who wants a woman will do anything it takes to win her. If you thought I went back to Schilpario, why wouldn’t you write? Why wouldn’t you move heaven and earth to find me? No ocean, no obstacle, no excuse could have kept us apart had you wanted me.”
“That’s true.” His heart grew heavy as he realized she was right. He knew how single-minded he could be when he pursued a woman he desired; why had he avoided pursuing Enza?
“But there wasn’t an ocean. There wasn’t even a mile separating us. I’ve seen you with other women, Ciro. I’ve seen you when you’re happy. Then you run into me—”
“That’s fate—”
“Or just an accident!” Enza replied. “I remember the look on your face when you came into the shoe shop with Felicitá. You were blissful. You had champagne and a beautiful girl on your arm, and you were happy. You took one look at me, and you were instantly uncomfortable.”
“No, I was happy to see you there!”
“Well, it didn’t seem so, Ciro. It’s not wrong of you to choose women who make you happy. You should have that.”
“You’re encouraging me to go with other women?” Ciro felt himself losing patience. “That’s rare in a girl.”
Enza persisted. “I remind you, I imagine, of things you’d rather not think about.”
“You know what I’m thinking?”
“I can only trust what people do in this world, not what they say. You say all the right things, and then you disappear,” Enza said quietly. “When I was ready for you, I couldn’t find you.”
“What if I told you that I want you now?” Ciro leaned toward her.
She smiled. “I would think that you’re a courageous soldier going off to war, who wouldn’t mind leaving a nice girl behind to pray for him. I remind you of what you come from. Don’t mistake that for love. It’s a deep connection, but it isn’t what you think.” Enza released her hands from his grip, put them in her lap, and leaned back.
Ciro walked Enza home to Greenwich Village that night. She shared stories about the opera. She mimicked Enrico Caruso, Geraldine Farrar, and Antonio Scotti and made Ciro laugh. He told Enza about the repair cart and his plans for the business when he returned from the war. He marveled again at how easy it was to talk to Enza, and how honest and open he was when he was with her.
They held one another close on the stoop of the Milbank House. Ciro wanted to kiss her good-bye, but she kissed his cheek instead. And that night, she remembered him in her prayers, but she did not pine for him.
Chapter 20
A HATBOX
Una Cappelliera
November 22, 1917
Cambrai, France
Dear Eduardo,
I hope this letter reaches you, as it’s the only one I have written in my time at the front. You know, above all others, how difficult it is for me to describe the world in words, but I will try.
From the first moment of my service, the days have rolled out with such