our baby son died.”
Pappina was a year or two younger than Enza, and this baby had been a surprise. Pappina had been going through the change of life early, and hadn’t thought creating another life was possible. But the Latinis had been as happy with the news as they had the first four times. Enza, who had prayed for years for a sibling for Antonio, was always profoundly touched by the way Pappina included her at the heart of every pregnancy. Pappina never made a fuss, but she somehow drew Enza into the circle of happiness with her, involving Enza in every aspect of the new baby’s life, so Enza might be filled up with joy despite her longing.
After leaving the hospital and ensuring that Luigi was capable of handling the final arrangements, Enza took the Latini children back to 5 West Lake Street with her. John Latini was eighteen and an apprentice in the shop. The older boys were stoic, but Angela could not stop crying for her mother. As they walked along the sidewalk beneath the bare winter trees, Enza tried to comfort them.
“Children come to us in many ways,” she remembered Pappina saying. The thought sent a chill through her.
At home, Enza cooked for the Latini family, Antonio and John led them in games to distract them, and later on, Enza bathed Angela and prepared her school clothes. It was, of course, the least she could do for all the Latinis had done for her and Antonio when Ciro died. The children had always called her Zenza, a combination of Zia and Enza, and most of them had spent as many nights under her roof, playing with Antonio, as they had under their own.
Pappina’s funeral was held four days later in a standing-room-only mass at St. Joseph’s. Pappina had been beloved in the community, a wonderful baker, a beautiful wife and mother. Luigi was bereft at the loss of his wife and new baby. His life would never be the same, nor would his heart.
Each of her children took a turn reading the scripture. Enza knew her friend would have been very proud of her children that day.
Enza slowly eased the younger family back into their routine. After a few weeks, she moved them back to the Latini house, showing the boys how to do their own laundry and prepare meals.
Angela watched Enza carefully, and tried to do chores as her mother had done. Cleaning was not difficult, but cooking and baking for the entire family were too much for a child only ten years old, and she grew frustrated at the challenge. Enza stepped in and made the meals. She arranged to have the children come only on the weekends for lunch, and made sure they went to church on Sundays.
One morning, Enza had opened the shop and was sewing in the back. Luigi came in, and called out to her. He began to repair shoes as he had every morning. But something was different about him that day. He put down his tools, went back to the sewing workroom, and sat in front of Enza.
“I’m going back to Italy,” he said.
“Luigi, it’s too soon to make any decisions.”
“No, I’m going to do it.”
“You can’t run away from what happened to you.”
“I can’t bear it. I want to start over. And the only way I can do that is go back to the beginning.”
“But your children!”
“I’m going to take the boys with me.”
“But what about Angela?”
“I was hoping you would take her. I don’t know what to do with a girl,” he cried. “She needs a mother.”
Enza sat back in her chair. She understood Luigi’s concern. In the coming year or two, Angela would begin adolescence. Without a mother in the home, there would be no one to guide her in the matters of womanhood.
Antonio was leaving for Notre Dame in the spring, to begin training for the basketball team. Enza would be alone, and now, if Luigi left for Italy, she would have to rent the workroom out.
“Leave her with me,” Enza said. “I’ll take care of her.”
“Grazie, Enza. Grazie.”
“Pappina would have done the same for me.” Enza was sure of it.
Enza prepared the spare room for Angela. She painted it pink, sewed a white chenille coverlet, and made lampshades with some leftover chintz. She made sure that Angela had photographs of her mother, father, and brothers on the dresser. Knowing what it was like to live in someone else’s home, Enza vowed that she