It was Enza’s turn to laugh. “I’m sorry, I just never heard anyone describe love in terms of almost.”
“Well, I loved her from afar, let’s say. But it turns out that she loves someone else.”
“So your love story has a sad ending.”
Ciro shrugged. “She’s not the only girl in Vilminore.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Enza said. “You can be the Prince of the Alps, wooing girls with your charm and your shovel.”
“Now you’re making fun of me!” Ciro cried.
“Not at all. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. There are lots of girls in the Alps. Pretty ones in Azzone, and more up the mountain. Or go to Lucerne. The girls are blond there, and petite and pretty. Just like you like them.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Ciro stopped and put his hands in his pockets.
Enza faced Ciro. She reached behind her apron and tightened the bow. Then she smoothed the front placket with her hands. “You should have what you want. Everyone should.”
“And what do you want?” Ciro asked her.
“I want to stay on this mountain. And I want to be with my parents until they’re old.” Enza took a breath. “Before I go to sleep, I picture my family. Everyone is safe and healthy. There’s enough flour in the bin and sugar in the jar. Our chickens decide it’s a good day, and they lay enough eggs to make a cake. That’s all I want.”
“You don’t wish for a gold chain or a new hat?”
“Sometimes. I like pretty things. But if I had to choose, I’d rather have my family.” Enza put her hands in her apron pockets.
“Have your parents made a match for you?”
“If they have, they haven’t told me who he is.” Enza smiled. How odd that Ciro asked her this question on this day, of all days. Stella’s death had forced her to grow up, or at least ponder the choices that lay ahead in adulthood. But now she realized that to have a full life, you must commit to building one.
“Maybe they haven’t chosen him yet.” Ciro leaned against the shovel.
“I wouldn’t want my parents to make a match for me. I want to choose who I will love. And I want—more than anything—to see my sister again.” Enza began to cry but stopped herself. “So I’m going to do my best in this life so that I’m sure to see her in the next one. I’m going to work hard, tell the truth, and be of some use to the people who care about me. I’m going to try, anyway.” Enza took the handkerchief out of her sleeve, turned away from Ciro, and wiped her tears away.
Ciro instinctively moved toward her and put his arms around her. Even though he had been thinking for the past several minutes how to get his arms around her, he was surprised to realize that the urge to comfort her came from a place of authentic compassion, not simply desire.
The scent of the earth and his skin enfolded her as he pulled her close.
Enza felt a sense of relief in his arms. This kindness from Ciro felt good after a day of comforting others. She leaned into him and released her burdens, crying until the tears stopped. She closed her eyes and let him hold her tight.
A feeling of contentment washed over Ciro as he held her. Enza seemed to fit naturally in his arms. There was a familiarity between them that made him feel useful. He discovered a purpose in her arms that he had never known before.
Ciro’s worth had always been measured by how hard he worked, how many chores he could complete from the time the sun came up until it went down. His diligence was his calling card and the foundation of his fine reputation; he had built his sense of self-worth one task at a time.
Ciro hadn’t had any idea how capable he would feel, caring for a person rather than completing a chore. He felt a deep well open in his heart. He believed that a girl could be a thrilling mystery, but he couldn’t have guessed she could also be a true companion, that conversation with her would fulfill him, or that he might even learn something from her.
Enza pulled away from his embrace. “You came to dig a grave, not to talk to me.”
“But I found you,” he said, took her into his arms, and kissed her. As his lips caressed hers, his mind