“So you make trouble. Oh, Innie …” Matela giggled. “Now I understand. I don’t mean to laugh, but it is funny. You are so good at being bad.”
This was a mistake, Innie thought. I never should have told. She turned away. “Everybody gets to be good at something, I guess.”
Matela shook her shoulder with a firm hand. “No, no. We must ask somebody. About this promising. The Sisters? Surely they know.”
“I can’t ask. It would get back to my family. At Saint Leonard’s, everybody knows each other and everybody else’s business. Zia Rachela says it’s like a little Italian village.”
“My shul is like that too,” Matela said. “But Boston’s big. Go to another church. Not in the North End.” She pointed across the harbor. “Over there. I see steeples.”
Innie shrugged. “Sure, they have Catholic churches in Charlestown. Lots of Irish people live there. But I can’t …”
“Now who is the coward? Charlestown. I’ll … I’ll go with you.”
Innie spoke gently. “No, Matela. A church would be too hard. All those crosses.”
Matela’s chin came up and her face took on a stubborn look. “Those crosses are in the old country. A long time ago. Now we have a new country. We try new things.”
“But you …”
“I and you, both, new girls in a new place. Not stuck with the old. No more azoy gayt es, no more give in to the old times. No more vita …”
“No more la vita è così?”
“Right. Things only go bad if we let them. And we don’t let them. We find the tunnel, which is deep in the ground. So how hard is it to find an answer? These Sisters you talk of, they don’t carry swords, do they?”
CHAPTER 11
NO LONGER WELCOME
Innie couldn’t sleep that night. First thing next morning, she patched up her argument with Teresa. But still, during school she had trouble concentrating, and her teachers scolded. By afternoon, she couldn’t wait to get to the settlement house, where it was calm and clean, and where people were kind.
Not long after Innie, Teresa, and Matela arrived, Miss Guerrier called the Wednesday afternoon girls into a circle. She sat with The Prince and the Pauper on her lap, but she didn’t open the book. She looked at each girl in turn.
“Before I begin to read today, I have some serious news to share,” she said. “Once again, a thief has come to the settlement house.”
Innie wasn’t imagining it—Miss Guerrier’s eyes were fixed on her face. Matela took her hand and squeezed it gently, but still, Innie’s chest tightened and it was suddenly hard to breathe.
“Money was stolen from the pottery shop downstairs,” the woman continued. “Miss Brown and I will deal most severely with the culprits when we discover them.”
Innie’s heart thudded. Did those Yankee ladies somehow know that Innie, Matela, and Teresa had been in the settlement house yesterday? Had somebody seen them? Innie didn’t dare look at Matela or Teresa. Instead she stared straight ahead and squeezed Matela’s hand, hard.
Miss Guerrier opened the book and began to read, but for once in Innie’s life, the words from a book gave her no comfort. She barely heard them. All she could hear were the words Miss Guerrier had said earlier, pounding in her head like drums. We will deal most severely with the culprits when we discover them.
Innie’s voice sounded sour in her ears during the singing. She couldn’t seem to breathe right or remember the words to the songs. Her feet forgot the steps of the dances, and she stumbled twice. Only Matela’s hand kept her from disgracing herself.
When club time was over and the Wednesday girls hurried to the hall for coats and sweaters, Miss Guerrier stopped Innie, Teresa, and Matela. “Please come into the music room for a moment,” she told them.
They followed her in, and she shut the door. “Now, do you know anything about our most recent troubles?”
Innie couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“The money?” Matela asked.
“You said somebody took it,” Teresa added.
Innie curled her hands into fists. She couldn’t let her cousin keep talking. Even if Teresa didn’t mean to say anything about their snooping, she’d let something slip. Innie spoke fast. “When did you find the money gone? Today was the first we heard of anything else missing.”
“The thief must have come sometime between Monday afternoon and Tuesday evening. You, Innie, were here on Monday. I saw you.”
Miss Guerrier’s eyes bored into Innie’s. It felt as if the woman could see right into her thoughts.
“Until the thief is caught, we are suspending house time for all the girls. You will not come to work tomorrow.” Miss Guerrier let out a sigh. “This is such a disappointment to Miss Brown and me. So much good can come from our activities at the settlement house. It would be a shame if one or two persons ruined it for all.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Innie whispered.
When Matela spoke, Innie felt as if she’d been rescued. “Yes, ma’am, no work tomorrow. We come again to club next Wednesday, then?”
“Indeed. You and Teresa may come.” Miss Guerrier’s voice was stern, and her face looked sharp and pointy.
“What about me?” Innie asked softly. “Can’t I come?”
“Wait here.” She turned and strode toward the kitchen. When she returned, she was holding something in her right hand.
Innie turned cold when she saw Zio Giovanni’s screwdriver. How could I have been so dumb? Innie asked herself. How could I forget such a thing?
“Have you seen this before, Innie? You’ll notice the initials GM scratched into the wooden handle. Could the M stand for Moretti?” Miss Guerrier held the handle right under Innie’s nose.
Innie stared at Zio Giovanni’s initials. Her voice failed her; she could only nod. Her cheeks burned and her eyes filled.
“Just as I thought. The cash box was pried open, and we found this screwdriver on the floor of the shop.”
No, Innie thought. I left it in the basement, in the kiln room. By the old door.
“You may confess if you wish. Until such time as we have reason to believe otherwise, Miss Brown and I consider you the thief. You are no longer welcome here, Innie. I’m sorry.” Miss Guerrier turned coldly and left the room.
Innie ran for the hall. She grabbed her coat, ran downstairs, and stumbled out the front door.
“How can they think such a thing?” Matela asked when she and Teresa caught up to Innie on the sidewalk. “You are no thief. You are trying to help.”
“Oh, Innie, I know you’re not the thief,” Teresa said. “But—but what if Carmela loses her job because of this? I need to go home and tell Mama.” She hurried around a couple of schoolboys playing on the sidewalk.
Misery and more misery, Innie thought. Everything she did went wrong. “Wait, Teresa, don’t tell yet, please. Let me think what to do.”
“Do? Do? Nothing is what we can do. They won’t even let us come for house time. Oh, Carmela will be so mad.”
“We will go back to the tunnel and find the real thief,” Matela said quietly.
“We could at least tell the ladies about the tunnel,” Teresa said. She stopped walking and leaned against a lamppost.
Innie frowned. “That’s not enough to prove I didn’t take the money. Or the silver teapot. We have to go back inside the tunnel and trap the thief.”
“Yes. In the basement,” Matela said. “But not tomorrow. Tomorrow they watch everything—very careful. And the day after, that is Friday, when Shabbos begins. From sunset Friday until sunset Saturday, I cannot come out. Can you come out on Saturday night?”
“We can’t,” Teresa said. “Carmela, she’s a Saturday evening girl. She has her club meeting at the settlement house until nine o’clock. She’ll come home at nine-thirty and find me gone. So I can’t sneak out. Not on Saturday.”
Innie could tell that Teresa was glad for an excuse to say no. But Innie didn’t want to waste even one extra day. “What time does Carmela go to
sleep on Saturday nights?”
“Innie, you can’t mean—”
“What time?” Innie repeated. “Ten o’clock? Ten-thirty?”
“Ten-thirty, maybe. But, Innie—”
“So we leave the house when? Eleven? Maybe eleven-thirty, just to be safe?”
“Safe?” Teresa sputtered. “Innie, you’re crazy. Don’t you listen to Papà? No girl is safe out alone at night. And the later it gets, the more dangerous it is.”
“But we will be three,” Matela said. “We are small and quick, and no one will see us.”
“Let’s plan to meet at Copp’s Hill again,” Innie said. “At midnight, just to make sure Carmela’s asleep.”
“Midnight? In a burying ground? Now I know you’re crazy.” Teresa’s cheeks were flushed.
“Nine o’clock or twelve o’clock—if we get caught, what difference does it make? If you don’t come, Matela and I will go without you.”
Teresa just glared at her, then stomped off up the street.
“Innie,” Matela said. “Teresa or not, we will catch the thief soon.”
“I guess so.” Innie shook her head. “But I hate to waste tomorrow doing nothing.”
Matela stepped close to Innie and spoke softly. “We do not waste tomorrow. Mama thinks I have house time, so I don’t have to help at home.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Charlestown.” Matela pointed across the harbor where a tall church steeple stretched toward the sky. “That mystery we solve tomorrow.”
Innie looked over the water. Had she heard right? Did Matela really want to go ask about all that promising?
She turned to see Matela’s dark eyes staring at her solemnly, and they made Innie feel ashamed. If Matela was brave enough to visit a church, the least Innie could do was dig up the courage to ask questions and wait for the answers. After that, meeting at midnight in a burying ground shouldn’t be hard at all.
After school the next day, Innie picked another fight with her cousin. Teresa marched home alone, and Innie hurried to the Charlestown bridge to meet Matela.
Matela was waiting there for her. “What? No Teresa?”
“I couldn’t tell her about this. She’d spill it to the family. Bad enough they’ll find out about the settlement house trouble. I don’t want Carmela to know about the promising. And those boys, never!”
“All right. You ready?”
“I guess.”
Matela didn’t have much to say as they crossed the bridge into Charlestown and climbed the hill toward the tallest church steeple they could see. Innie tried not to think about the questions she would ask the Sisters. With the sun warming her shoulders, she concentrated on walking and breathing in the spring air, scented with flowers and salt and the sea. Everywhere she looked, green leaves were bursting, painting the city with life again after the long, chill winter. It might have been a day like this when the fire happened, she thought. Only a little later. June seventh, that was the day her parents had died.
To reach the church, the girls had to climb to the top of a steep hill. Soon they stood on the steps at the side doorway of Saint Francis’ Church.
Innie kept walking, but Matela didn’t. Innie stopped and turned around.
Matela’s face had gone even paler than usual. “Innie, I can’t come in. I thought I could help you, but it’s too hard.”
“It’s all right. Really. I’ll go ask my questions, and you can wait outside.”
Matela didn’t smile. She wouldn’t look Innie in the eye.
“I mean it, Matela. You don’t have to come along.” Innie reached into her pocket for a handkerchief to cover her head. She turned back toward the church and practically crashed into a black-robed priest. “Sorry, Father. I was clumsy.”
He smiled. “I was also clumsy. I’m sorry.”
Innie studied the priest. He had a round face with red cheeks, and graying hair. He’d probably know the answers to her questions, she thought. In his black cassock, he looked strict, more serious than the brown-robed Franciscan fathers at Saint Leonard’s. But those priests knew the Morettis, and this one was a stranger. Innie figured she could talk to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat froze.
“We come across the bridge for a question,” Matela began, her voice shaking.
She’s never talked to a priest in her life, Innie thought. These are my questions. I can’t make her do the asking. It isn’t fair.
“Father, I came to ask about being a Sister.”
His eyebrows went up in surprise. “A nun? Well, you seem a bit young to profess a vocation. Tell me how you’ve come to such a decision.”
“I don’t. I mean, I didn’t. I …”
“Come, let’s sit down. We will speak more easily.” He sat on a stone step. Innie and Matela did the same.
“Now, about you being a Sister?”
Bit by bit, Innie explained about her mother’s promising, then Nonna’s.
“I see. So your mother named you Innocenza for purity, and Maria, to honor the Holy Mother. Innocenza Maria. A fine name for a fine girl,” the priest said. “You’re Italian, aren’t you? From the North End?”
“Yes, Father. Salem Street.”
“As I said, a fine girl. Not every girl would cross the bridge into Charlestown to get her questions answered.”
“My friend came too. She helped.”
“And you are … ?” he asked Matela with a kind smile.
“Matela Rosen. I am Jewish and from Russia.”
The priest’s eyebrows went up again, and he paused for a moment. “Another fine girl. And a good friend, to help.”
He turned back to Innie. “From what you’ve told me, this promising has weighed heavily on you, Innocenza. Surely your mother and grandmother had reason to be grateful, to ask God’s blessings on you and to give thanks for you.” He smiled gently at her. “It is a good thing to consecrate a child to God.”
Innie’s heart thudded in her chest. She wanted to plug up her ears, for it sounded as if the priest was about to agree that her future was already decided.
“But I think that perhaps your family used the wrong words when they prayed about you. No one can promise another’s life,” he said firmly. “Becoming a nun is a holy and serious choice, one made by a grown person after much prayer and soul-searching.”
Was he saying that she might be free after all? Innie needed to make sure. “I’ve heard about girls left on convent steps, given to the Sisters …”
“Yes. Sometimes our Sisters of Mercy tend to orphans or lost children. But they don’t try to turn them into nuns and priests, just good Catholics. And that is what I pray you will become, Innocenza. A good Catholic girl who will grow into a good Catholic woman. Whether or not your heart leads you to a vocation, well, that’s in God’s hands.”
Suddenly Innie’s shoulders felt so light, she wondered if she might float right up to where the spire of Saint Francis’ met the sky. “Thank you, Father.”
The priest stood and put his hands out. “Bless you. Bless you both. Now go on home. Your families will be looking for you.” He made his way down the steps and crossed the street.
Innie stood and took a deep breath of the warm, fragrant air.
Matela flung an arm around her and spun her in a circle. “What did I tell you? In America, you choose for yourself.”
As they walked to the corner, Innie felt like dancing. “Thank you, Matela. I never could have come here without you.”
“It’s all right. I’m sorry I cannot go inside.”
“You made me come here. That was plenty.”
Matela nodded. “You know, that Father, he isn’t so bad. For the first time ever, somebody with a cross says a blessing on me, not a curse.”
“That’s good, then,” Innie said.
“One more thing,” Matela began. “Can I … can a Jewish person pray next to a Catholic church? Is it allowed?”
“I think so. Sure, why not? Did you pray back there on the step
s?” What a brave thing to do, Innie thought.
Matela nodded. “I pray for two things. I pray for us to find the thief. Saturday night, like we plan—so you can come back to the library club. Until you go back, I too will not go, for you are my friend.”
Innie didn’t know what to say. Her throat went dry.
Matela grinned at her. “Also, I pray to say thank you. Now you are not promised anymore. So you can be good sometimes. No more big fights with Teresa, yes?”
“Oh, Matela!” Innie laughed and threw an arm around Matela’s shoulder.
But as they walked down the streets of Charlestown toward the bridge and home, Innie couldn’t help but wonder. Now that she knew she didn’t have to become a Sister, did she have to do what Matela said? Being bad was easy. But being good would take a lot of work.
CHAPTER 12
AN AMERICAN PARTNER
When Innie arrived home, she found Zia Rachela sitting on the tenement steps waiting for her, with a stern look on her face.
“Where have you been, Innocenza?”
“I …”
“You turn my household upside down, and then you disappear. First you hurt my Teresa’s feelings, so she comes home crying and upsets her sister, who is missing work to study for the citizen hearing on Friday. Then Carmela bangs books and stamps her feet. Boom. She’s like a firecracker, that one. So now you must tell me where you go and why.”
Innie twisted the handkerchief in her coat pocket. She looked around the busy sidewalk. “Out here? With all these people around?”
“All right, come up to the kitchen. But talk quiet. Carmela is in the back room studying again, and Teresa rests on my bed.”
As she climbed to the second floor behind her aunt, Innie was tempted to make up a big whopper of a story, but she couldn’t. Not today. Today, she wanted to be good. She took a chair at the kitchen table and breathed in the spicy smells of supper cooking.
Under Copp's Hill Page 9
