The young woman beamed. The young man fumed.
Peppi smiled and turned to look out the window as the train clattered along. The landscape had changed dramatically, the flatlands now replaced by rolling hills that would soon give way to the mountains. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the Abruzzo region.
“I hope I didn’t miss my stop,” said Peppi, stretching his arms and legs.
“Where are you traveling to, Signore?” the young woman asked.
Peppi turned back from the window. “Sulmona,” he answered. “And from there to Villa San Giuseppe.”
“Villa San Giuseppe,” she repeated. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
“It’s a little paese, outside the city.”
“I’ve heard of it,” the young man offered, hoping to join the conversation. He might just as well have been talking to himself for all the heed the young woman paid him.
“Forgive me,” she said to Peppi, “you look like an American, but your Italian is very good.”
“I am an American,” Peppi replied. “But I was born in Villa San Giuseppe.”
“Ah, going there to visit family?” she said brightly.
“No, I’m going there to live.”
“To live, how nice!” said the young woman. She paused and glanced at the ring on Peppi’s finger. “Is your wife already there?” she asked.
Peppi shook his head. He glanced over at the young man, who immediately understood the look in Peppi’s eyes. The young man gave a little cough, hoping the young woman would get the hint.
“Oh, then she’s waiting for you back in America,” she continued, oblivious to him.
“No, Signorina,” said Peppi gently. Then he explained to her that Anna had recently passed away.
“O, Dio!” the young woman cried, throwing her hands up. “You poor thing, I’m so sorry for having asked.”
“Don’t worry,” Peppi assured her. “I’m sorry for having told you.”
Upset with herself at having made what she obviously considered a terrible blunder, the young woman sat there fretting for a time about how to make up for it. The fashion magazine on her lap no longer held any interest for her. She tossed it aside and looked at Peppi with sympathetic eyes.
“I know it’s none of my business, Signore,” she said at last, “but I can’t help asking. Why are you going back there to live all alone? Where will you go?”
Peppi shrugged and looked out the window. Just then the train entered a tunnel. All went dark for a few moments and the only sound he could hear was the muffled roar of the wind caught between the train and tunnel walls. Just as quickly, the train burst back into the sunlight, the mountains now rising all around them. Peppi turned away from the window and saw the sincere look of concern in the young woman’s eyes. Even the young man had set aside the newspaper to pay attention. Peppi looked at them both and smiled.
“What is your name, Signorina?” he asked.
“Loredana.”
“Mine’s Claudio,” the young man added.
“And yours?” said Loredana, giving Claudio only the vaguest hint of acknowledgment that they were on the same train together.
“My friends call me Peppi,” he replied.
“Tell us about it, Signor Peppi,” said Loredana. “Please, tell us where you are going.”
“It’s a long story,” Peppi said.
“And it’s still a long way to Sulmona,” she replied.
Peppi gazed at her for a time. He smiled again, for there was something pure and irresistible in her youthful eyes. Peppi had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, particularly in the company of complete strangers. All the same, he could see no harm in talking about his life and the simple plans he had made for what was left of it. If nothing else, it would help pass the time. Peppi sat there for a moment, rubbing his chin.
“Where do I begin?” he wondered aloud.
Loredana smiled. “Begin at the beginning,” she suggested.
“Hmm, the beginning,” said Peppi thoughtfully. “I was born in the mountains. I guess that’s a good place to start.”
As the train clacked along the tracks and the compartment gently swayed back and forth, Peppi told them about growing up in Villa San Giuseppe and how his family had made its living from the little mulino next to the house. Before long he was talking about cycling and how much he had loved to race his bicycle when he was young.
“I used to race too,” said Claudio brightly.
Peppi assessed the young man’s slight build. “A climber,” he guessed.
“Like a feather on the wind!” Claudio boasted. “I could pedal uphill with the best of them.” Then he shook his head and shrugged. “Of course I wasn’t much good going down the hills, or in the sprint for that matter.”
“Cycling is an unforgiving sport,” said Peppi.
“But it’s the best sport,” Claudio enthused.
Loredana give a little cough to let them know that they had discussed cycling long enough. Peppi nodded to show that he understood.
“Did you come from a big family?” she asked.
“No,” said Peppi. “Actually, I was an only child. Now and then, when I was small, I used to ask my parents why I didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“What did they say?”
“They always told me that the house was too small,” he chuckled. “If another baby came along I would have to sleep outside.”
At that Loredana and Claudio laughed.
Peppi laughed as well. He could still remember riding off to bed at night on the broad shoulders of his father, Allesandro. Peppi loved to reach back and give his father’s dark mustache an impish yank. His father would always pretend it hurt and let out a howl like a wolf. Without fail, Peppi’s mother, Angelina, would playfully scold him for being so mean to his father. “Mario,” she would say, for that was Peppi’s real name, “basta! Enough! Be nice, don’t hurt your poor papa, he has to work for us in the morning.”
The memory brought a grin to Peppi’s face.
“But I had lots of cousins,” he went on, “so there were always lots of people in our home. I never felt lonely, at least not until the war came and suddenly everyone began to disappear. Some of my parents’ relatives went off to live in America before things got bad. Others just ran away to God knows where. Many of the men of course were taken away to become soldiers. Lots of them, like my father, never returned. It was as if he and the rest of them just vanished from our lives.”
“How awful,” said Loredana.
Peppi paused and shook his head. “It was a terrible war, like all wars,” he said. “It seemed like everything was destroyed. After it was over and the Germans were all gone and the Allies finally went home, it was to time to rebuild our lives, but there wasn’t much left for us to build on. My father was gone and then my mother became ill a few years later. After she died, my uncle arranged for me to come to America. I had relatives in Rhode Island and some out in San Francisco. My plan was to stay in Rhode Island for a while to get used to things, then move out west to California where one of my cousins had a job as a construction worker waiting for me.”
“What was it like living in California?” Loredana asked. “Beautiful, I would imagine.”
“Yes, I’ve heard it’s wonderful there,” Claudio agreed.
“Actually,” Peppi chuckled, “I never lived in California.”
“What happened?”
“Eh,” shrugged Peppi, “I met my wife.”
Peppi told them the story. After arriving in America, he had gone to work at his uncle’s music store in Providence, intending to wait until he had earned some money before heading out to California. One day he was carrying a box full of sheet music and lesson books across the store. It was a sizable box and Peppi had to keep leaning to one side to watch where he was going. Just as he was passing the front door a young woman walked in. She was a piano teacher and had come in to inquire about giving lessons at the store. Somehow or
other the two collided and the box went toppling to the floor.
Embarrassed that he had caused such a commotion in his uncle’s store, Peppi dropped to his knees and quickly began to pick everything up. He was so upset with himself that he barely noticed the piano teacher who had knelt down beside him to give him a hand. It wasn’t until he had finally collected everything and restored it to the box that he stood up and turned to her so that he might thank her for her help and apologize for running into her.
Peppi took one look at her and went speechless. Though dressed plainly, the young woman had dark, silky hair and the most serenely beautiful face he had ever seen. As she gazed at him with her soft, warm eyes, Peppi felt certain that he had encountered an angel.
A long, awkward silence ensued as the two regarded one another.
“Hi, my name is Anna,” the young woman had finally said, extending her hand to him.
Peppi was a strong young man, but when their hands touched for the first time he had the odd sensation that he had lost all the strength in his well-muscled limbs, almost as if he were suddenly melting.
“I am Mario,” he had answered in faltering English. “But everybody calls me Peppi,” he added hastily.
“Why?” she said, giving him an inquisitive look. “Is there something wrong with the name Mario?”
“Why, no,” said Peppi, by now completed flustered.
“In that case, I’ll call you Mario,” Anna told him with a mischievous sparkle in her eye, as if she had understood right away that this would be a great annoyance to him.
Peppi stopped talking for a moment and let himself enjoy the memory.
“So what happened next?” said Loredana eagerly.
“Well,” he shrugged, “I took one look at her and forgot all about California.”
“You got hit by the thunderbolt,” laughed Claudio. Then he looked at Loredana and added, “I know how that is.”
Loredana responded by rolling her eyes and looking the other way.
Peppi went on to tell them about how he and Anna were married a little over a year later. He told them about Anna’s parents and brothers and sisters, and how they had all welcomed him into the family as one of their own. He told them about how Anna eventually took a job teaching music at an elementary school while he started his own landscaping business. He told them about how they scrimped and saved every nickel until they were able to buy their first and only home in Providence, a move that had caused everyone in the family great consternation even though they all lived in Cranston, just a few miles away. Peppi spoke of the many happy times he and his wife had enjoyed there, the memories flowing from him like water over the falls. Now and then he glanced at Loredana and Claudio, certain that he must have been boring them to tears, but he saw that the two were listening attentively, their faces all smiles.
“Do you have children, Signor Peppi?” Loredana asked.
“No, Signorina,” Peppi said wistfully.
“Well, that just gives a husband and wife more time for each other, right?” said Claudio at seeing the sad look in Peppi’s eyes.
“Yes, that is true,” Peppi replied. “Still, we always wanted them, but it just never happened for us. Back then of course things weren’t like they are today, with all the different tests they have. In those days the doctors couldn’t tell you why someone couldn’t have children. It was just one of those things and you learned to live with it. People used to tell us that we should have adopted a child, but to tell you the truth, we had so many nieces and nephews around us all the time that we just never gave the idea much thought. Besides, it’s better to just accept things the way God gives you them and then get on with your life.”
Loredana and Claudio nodded in agreement as Peppi continued to recount some favorite memories of his marriage, but their smiles soon faded away and their eyes started to well up when Peppi eventually told them about the day Anna became sick. Without warning, she collapsed at home one afternoon. It wasn’t until later at the hospital that Peppi learned that she had suffered some sort of stroke. For a week, while she was recuperating in the hospital, Anna had been unable to speak. It was an agonizing time for both of them. Gradually, though, as the days passed, she regained her voice and the movement she had lost on her right side showed signs of returning. Peppi had been sick with worry for her the whole time, but he was encouraged by the progress she was making. It seemed as though everything was going to be all right.
One night at the hospital when visiting hours were nearly over, Peppi tucked the blankets in around his wife to make sure that she would be comfortable. When he finished, Anna reached out to him.
“You’re a good husband,” she told him, kissing his hand. “I’ll owe you a nice dinner when I get home.”
“I can’t wait,” Peppi said, caressing her face. He gave her a kiss and began to head toward the door. He turned and waved.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her.
Anna smiled. “Ciao, Peppi,” she said. Then she blew him a kiss.
That night, after Peppi had gone home, Anna passed away.
Now, sitting on the train with the mountains looming all about them, Peppi still wondered about that final night. “I don’t know why she called me Peppi,” he said. “She never did that. But whatever the reason, God decided to take her that night.” He paused and looked down at his hands. “After that, the light went out of the world for me and I knew it was time for me to finally come back home to Italy.”
He looked back up at the two young people and shrugged. “So that’s all there is to tell, I guess,” he said. “I left for America all alone and now I’m coming home all alone.”
By this time, Loredana and Claudio were both in tears.
“Dio mio,” sniffled Loredana, “how sad—but how beautiful too.”
“What a life you’ve had,” Claudio added, wiping his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve.
“Eh, not so different from anyone else’s life,” said Peppi, “not so different at all.” He gazed out the window and spoke no more for a very long time.
When the train finally pulled into Sulmona, Loredana and Claudio hurried to help Peppi with his luggage. It was late afternoon and a chilly wind greeted them when they all stepped out onto the station platform. Peppi had pulled on a heavy sweater and jacket just before they arrived, but Loredana and Claudio had left theirs on the train. They stood there shivering, unsure of how to say farewell.
“There’s no one here to meet you,” observed Loredana.
“No one knows I’m coming,” Peppi replied.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” said Claudio. “Do you need help finding a place to stay for the night?”
“I could come with you and help you find a hotel,” offered Loredana. “There’s another train for Pescara later on.”
“I’m going to Pescara too,” said Claudio. To his disappointment, Loredana gave no discernible response at learning of the happy coincidence.
“I’ll be fine,” Peppi assured them. “Thank you for offering. Now please, hurry back to your seats on the train before you both catch cold.”
Loredana opened her purse and pulled out a small card. “Here,” she said, pressing it into Peppi’s hand, “my address in Pescara is on this. If you ever get lonely, call and you can come stay with my family for a while.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” said Claudio, quickly producing a business card of his own. “Please, Signor Peppi, call me anytime. Let me know how you’re doing.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Peppi. “Claudio, you give Loredana one of your cards, and Loredana, you give Claudio one of yours. This way if I ever contact one of you, you’ll be able to let the other one know. How does that sound?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” said Claudio, holding up another business card. Loredana eyed him slyly before taking it.
“I’ll call you,” she said, not bothering to offer her own card in return. “If I ever need to.”
Claudio sighed. �
�Well, at least that’s a start.”
Just then the conductor blew his whistle, calling for everyone to get on board. Loredana rushed to Peppi and gave him a hug and a kiss on each cheek.
“Buona fortuna, Signor Peppi,” she said before pulling away.
Claudio took her hand and helped her up onto the train. The two hurried to their compartment and lowered the window as the train began to pull away from the station.
“Ciao, Signor Peppi!” they called. “Arriverderci!”
“Arriverderci!” Peppi called back as he waved them out of sight. Alone once more, he collected his bags and headed out of the station to find a room for the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Luca groaned when he heard the cock crowing out in the yard. He had been up late the night before and the bird’s shrill cry pierced through his skull like the bit of an electric drill. He rolled over and tried to pull the covers up over his shoulders, but Filomena had already snatched them from him. To all appearances his wife was sound asleep, but when he tried to wrest a larger section of blanket from her grasp she held on with such tenacity that he was afraid the blanket might rip in two.
“Get out of bed, old man,” she warned him. “It’s Sunday morning. Leave me alone and go for your ride.”
“I don’t want to ride,” moaned Luca. “The train to Milano is running through the middle of my head. I think I’m dying.”
“That’s what you get for drinking so much wine,” she snipped. “You’d think that a man your age would know better by now.”
“And one would think that you would have more compassion for your husband,” he griped. The cock crowed again and Luca grimaced. He buried his face in the pillow to escape the agony. “If that animal makes another noise,” he vowed, “I swear that we’ll be having him for Sunday dinner this afternoon.”
“Don’t blame the bird for your foolishness,” said Filomena, consolidating her grasp on the blanket. “Now go and let me sleep. Hurry, or they’ll leave without you.”
With another groan, Luca rolled over and let his legs drop off the edge of the bed. He sat up and set his feet on the floor. For a long time he simply sat there, holding his head in his hands. At last, though, he mustered the energy to stand. He trudged over to the dresser, pulled open a drawer, and began to dress.
Home to Italy Page 4
