The Shoemaker's Wife Page 0,197

began to heal her heart, a feat she had never believed possible.

Ciro woke early and looked over at his brother, who was fast asleep. He dressed and went to the convent kitchen. Sitting on a stool at the worktable was Caterina, dressed and ready for the day. She poured Ciro a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Mama.” Ciro kissed her on the cheek.

“How did you sleep?”

“Like the old convent cat,” Ciro said. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“It’s good to be together. You’re a fine man, Ciro. I mean that. And I’m proud of what you have become.”

The words that Ciro had hoped to hear all of his life had now been said. The strong boy who became a strong man had done so because goodness lived within him. He might not have ever left the mountain if his mother hadn’t, and when he looked back over his life, the greatest joy he knew had come as a result of taking a risk. He couldn’t change the past, but he could own it.

“Mama, do you know I call my shop the Caterina Shoe Company?”

Caterina’s eyes filled with tears. “But I didn’t do anything,” she said sadly.

“It doesn’t matter, Mama. Everything was for you. Everything.”

Caterina poured Ciro a cup of coffee. She sat up straight. “Tell me about Enza.” Caterina placed the bread and butter next to Ciro.

“She’s beautiful and strong. Dark like the girls from Schilpario. Honest like them, too.”

“Does she love beautiful things?”

“She creates beauty everywhere, Mama. She sews wool with the same care as she does satin. She’s a good mother . . .” Ciro’s voice trailed off.

“I want you to give Enza something from me. When your papa died, I sold everything. And I thought then that I only needed one thing to remember my mother by. And I hoped that someday my sons would have a daughter, and it would go to her. But all I have heard about your wife leads me to believe that I’ve had a daughter all along.” Caterina reached into her pocket and gave Ciro a velvet box. He opened it, and saw the blue cameo his mother had worn when he was a boy.

“She will like this very much, Mama.”

“If I could give you the mountain for her, I would. But for now, this necklace will have to do.” Caterina placed her hand on Ciro’s; he let the soft warmth of her touch fill him up.

Enza waited at the harbor in lower Manhattan as the SS Conte Grande docked, and watched the passengers disembarking. When Ciro emerged from the gangplank, he looked handsome and robust. She waved to him.

Ciro made his way through the crowd and scooped Enza up in his arms. He kissed her a hundred times, and she him. As they walked to Colin’s car, she told him about baby Henry, and how beautiful a boy he was, and how she had painted the nursery, sewed the layette, and taken care of Laura like a nurse.

Ciro told her about her parents, and the house in Schilpario—the house that Enza built. He told her it was yellow, and clean, and that it was high on the hill, set like a diamond in a crown. He told her about Eduardo and his mother, then reached into his coat and gave Enza a velvet box.

“From my mother,” Ciro told her. “For the woman I love.”

Chapter 28

A SKYLIGHT

Un Lucernario

Ciro was able to work through the new year of 1932, but Luigi did most of the heavy lifting, and when long hours were required, he also picked up the slack. Ciro napped every afternoon, and could work at the table as long as he could sit, but standing was difficult.

Luigi tried to keep the chatter in the shop light, doing impressions of difficult customers and oddball salesmen to make Ciro laugh. Luigi also made sure the men came to play cards, as they had every Thursday since anyone could remember. Enza put out the grappa and the cigarettes as always, and late in the night would serve coffee and cake, but Ciro was getting worse, and everyone could see it. The poker games became shorter, but the players never acknowledged it.

Saint Patrick’s Day was a big holiday in Chisholm because it held the promise of all things green, including the Minnesota spring. The bars on West Lake Street ran specials, and the stools were filled to overflowing, as the miners, from Eastern Orthodox to Lutheran, celebrated the Roman Catholic feastday.

That night, the din from the street

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