Justice came so seldom to the hard working poor in Manhattan. Antonio tried to study the faces of those hurrying past, despite the driving rain. He’d always told himself his music was for them. For the people who came to hear him. Every time he realized his music uplifted someone’s spirit, helped to bring the listener somehow closer to God, he worked harder. Surely bettering himself at Oberlin would achieve that. God would certainly agree and make a way.
A crowd gathered at the el platform. “Has the train stopped running?” he asked a man.
“Not yet, but everything else has. Better hurry on, young man, before they shut it down.”
“But it’s elevated. Far above the floods.”
“Powered by electricity. The floodwaters will turn it off soon if the rain doesn’t stop.”
As if to punctuate the man’s contention, a thunderclap struck overhead. Antonio hoisted his dog up to his shoulder, paid his fare, and squeezed onto a car stuffed with drenched passengers.
At the 92nd Street station, the lights flickered out and the train’s wheels ground down slowly, sending a squeal of metal against metal that caused Luigi to wiggle free. He jumped to the floor at Antonio’s feet and began to howl. No one could hear him, however, due to the loud groaning of the train’s occupants. Antonio leaned down to hook the leash to his dog’s collar. “Time to go, Lu. Easy now. Let’s let the pushy folks go first.”
They inched along behind others from the aisle of the car into the damp station and out onto the rain swept street. When they finally broke free Antonio was relieved to find that they were only a few blocks from the ferry to Ward’s Island. When they arrived at the dock the ferry was still operating.
“A little water never hurt anyone,” the ferryman proclaimed as he drew up a thick rope and waved the all-clear to the captain.
Once on the island, Antonio tried to ignore the water oozing through the seams of his leather shoes as he followed the directions he had been given toward the intoxication ward.
Chapter 26
Sofia sloshed her way through the abbey’s kitchen. Several inches of water covered the floor. No one seemed to be there. She opened the door that led to the nun’s private rooms and jumped back with a shock. Standing in front of her was Stefania with a Victrola hoisted above her head.
“Are you going to hit me with that?”
“Oh, Sofia! What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you. Have the others left?”
“Sì. Gone to the upstairs church. I will make you a hot drink.” She didn’t move, the music machine balanced on her shoulder.
“There is no electricity and too much water near the stove. Let’s get you upstairs.” Her aunt didn’t budge. “Come along, Sister Stefania. The water will not recede tonight.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
She whispered. “The Victrola.”
Sofia put an arm on her aunt in an effort to steer her toward the staircase. “I’m sure the priest will overlook it. No one wants to see it get ruined.”
The sister stared straight ahead, pinching her lips.
“It belongs to the gardener’s wife. Isn’t that what you told me, Sister? I’ll help you find her.”
She nodded her head once and then shook it side to side.
“Uh…perhaps you did not have permission to borrow it?”
Stefania stared toward the flooding floorboards.
“And you do not want her to see you with it?”
“She let me borrow it once. Just not this time. I didn’t think she’d mind, and I was going to ask her. If she saw me with it now, she would not understand.”
“Give it to me.” With some effort Sofia finally got the thing placed on top of the icebox, somewhere her aunt couldn’t have reached. They were finally alone, but this wasn’t the time. “Later, Sister, you will tell me about my lost twin. We will talk about it, sì? But later.”
“She is not lost, Sofia. Jesus holds her in his arms.”
After they went upstairs and Sofia was satisfied her aunt would be fine, she said good-bye.
“Sì, child. Go check on the family now. Just be careful.”
“They are fine, Sister. They are on the third floor. Mamma—”
“Sì, go anyway and make sure my sister is well. She has had such terrible melancholy.”
She didn’t know. As much as Sofia disagreed with Papà, she still felt the order of the family in her heart and she would not disgrace Papà to Mamma’s sister by telling her where Mamma was. It had been a mistake and Sofia was about to remedy that anyway.
When she got back to the Second Avenue el she learned it was running sporadically. “Is it operating now?” she asked a woman in a waist length black scarf.
“Sì, now.” She pushed past Sofia and scurried up to the platform.
Sofia paid her fare and settled in, desperate for the train to get her all the way to the ferry. The rain sounded like marbles beating against the car’s windows. A child seated in front of her cried out as though in pain. The train lurched, the electric lights flickered, the child wailed. But they were in motion. Clutching the rosary she had snatched from her bedside table the night before, Sofia pleaded for God to keep the wheels moving.
Much later, at one of the station stops, a conductor marched down the aisle shouting instructions. “The weather has become unpredictable. You will have to leave the train. The mayor urges everyone to return to their homes or to find a place of safety.”
Shouts of protest rose up. People wanted to know how they would get home if the train wasn’t running. The conductor dodged the complaints by exiting through a side door and walking along the rail. Sofia rose and followed the displeased child and her mother out of the car.
“Where are we?” she heard someone ask.
“Close to 88th Street,” another answered.
Sofia would have to walk several blocks, in the pouring rain, but she wasn’t dissuaded. She would bring Mamma home that very night if she could manage it.
An hour later she arrived at the asylum drenched to the bone but accustomed to the dampness. A man with a mop frowned at her as she approached a receptionist.
“I’m looking for my mother, Angelina Falcone.”
The woman looked up at her over a pair of oval spectacles. “She is a patient here?”
“Sì, yes, but there has been some mistake. I come…” As usual, she struggled with English when others intimidated her. “I have come to take her home.”
“What was she brought in for?”
“I do not know what you call it, ma’am.”
“What sickness?” She raised her voice as though Sofia was hard of hearing. “Lunacy? Drunkenness? A suspicion she might harm herself or others?”
“No. A mistake, I said. She is none of those.”
The woman rubbed her temples. “She had to have been brought here for some reason, even if you do not agree with the doctors, miss. Now, what was it?”
Sofia pinched her coat collar closed, feeling a breeze from an unseen open window. “I believe it would be called lunacy.” The words burned her throat.
“Very well. I will check for you.” She returned her pen to an ink well and then clattered down the hall, her footsteps pounded with the pulse in Sofia’s ears.
She turned to a wooden bench and sat down, soaked coat and all. The sound of voices near the door where she’d entered caused her to look that way.
“Not this building. The ward for men with vices is next door.”
“Vices? What kind of place is this?”
She knew that voice. She rose and took a few steps toward the door. There with his little dog at his side stood Antonio Baggio. They locked gazes. “What are you doing here?”
“Sofia? Is something wrong? Is it your mother?”
“Sì. Why have you come?”
He hurried over to her despite the attendant’s objections and the janitor’s impatient sighs. “It seems they’ve brought my uncle here. I’m afraid he spends to
o much time in the local tavern.”
“You have come to take him home, then?”
“Yes. And you’ve come to get your mother. I’m afraid a terrible storm is raging. I’m not sure if either of us will be able to get back.”
She nodded. She would sleep in Mamma’s bed with her in the asylum ward, then, and return in the morning.
He glanced behind at the door and then turned to her. “I have to go to another building. Will you be all right?”
“Sì.”
He seemed reluctant to leave. She bent to pet Luigi. “Such a fine dog. Sorry you got so wet, my friend.”
Luigi leaned against Sofia and thumped his tail. She laughed. “He remembers me.”
Antonio took a step back. “He does like you. I will check in before I leave. If you are still here, I’ll be happy to escort you both to the train.”
“You are very kind.” She selfishly wished he would stay with her.
The sound of the receptionist grunting her disapproval told Sofia she’d better hurry over to the desk. “Grazie, signore. Grazie.” She rushed toward the woman. “Sì? I may take my mother home now?”
The woman glared. “You certainly may not. Your mother is in a delicate state and is scheduled for a procedure.”
“A what? It was a mistake. I will take responsibility for her.”
“That is not possible.” The woman disturbed some papers on her desk as though she intended to return to her work and ignore Sofia.
“But I have come so far in the rain. I must see her.”
Another irritated sigh. “I suppose there’s no harm in you looking in on her.”
As Sofia followed the woman down the hall, they passed doors with bars across the windows. Wails and cries shot through her heart like a bullet. There was no denying this was a horrible place. Claudia had been right about that. Perhaps Sofia could sneak her mother out. If only this weren’t an island. Her fortitude plummeted. Of course that’s why the place was built here—an isolated, lonely island with no easy escape back to the city.
They stopped in front of a door. The woman grappled with some keys on a ring. Sofia gazed around. A fire escape must surely lie beyond the door at the end of the hall. Light peered from a small window at the top, suggesting it led outside. A vicious-sounding dog’s bark echoed through the hall. Sofia tensed.
“Hounds,” the woman said. “For security.” She shook her ring of keys. “Blasted mess of metal. The regular attendant is at lunch,” she explained. “I don’t know why I consented to bring you down. Should have made you wait.” She got the door open and then stared at Sofia. “I suppose your emotional state made me feel sorry for you. Well, see that you don’t dampen the linens on the bed. Ten minutes and then you must be on your way, miss.” She tapped Sofia’s arm before moving past her. “The doctors know how to handle the poor souls, child.”
Mamma was lying on a cot facing the wall.
“Mamma?”
She jolted into a seated position.
“Mamma, don’t be afraid. It is Sofia. I am here to take you home.”
Angelina jiggled her head, her eyes wild-looking. If this confinement was intended to help, it was not working. There were no doctors. Just caretakers. No, not someone who takes care, just custodians. Mamma wasn’t some stray dog that needed to be contained in a pen.
Sofia stepped carefully toward her, holding out her hands. She spoke softly in Italian. Mamma backed into the farthest corner of her cot. Sofia stopped and Mamma let out a breath. “It is all right, Mamma. I will just sit here with you.” The cold metal chair sent shivers to Sofia’s bones.
Ten minutes.
Sofia began to recite a rhyme her mother used to say when Sofia and her siblings were children. Mamma seemed to relax, so she repeated it over and over.
Bolli bolli pentolino,
fa la pappa al mio bambino;
la rimescola la mamma
mentre il bimbo fa la nanna;
fa la nanna gioia mia
o la pappa scappa via.
Boil, boil, little pot,
Cook the food for my baby.
Mother mixes it
While the baby sleeps.
Go to sleep, my joy,
Or your food will run away.
Mamma smiled. Then she laughed. “A silly little rhyme.”
Sofia had not seen her mother coherent in some time. She did not know if it would last. “Mamma? What happened? Can you tell me what happened to my twin?”
Mamma’s eyes glistened.
“Would you tell me?”
She nodded. Sofia dragged her chair closer. “It’s okay, Mamma. No one will hurt you. It was a long time ago. You will tell me?”
“I chose you, Sofia.”
“What do you mean?”
“That day.” She sighed and glanced away, as though the memory lay beyond the locked door. “I was home alone with my twin girls.” She pointed a finger at Sofia. “You were mischievous, always tearing about the house.” She smiled.
Sofia patted her hand.
“One moment. In one moment. I say, ‘Sofia, Serena, hold hands.’ To keep you out of trouble.”
Sofia could see the two of them in her mind, like a photograph. She thought she remembered holding her sister’s hand in her own. She glanced down at her fingers. In her own right hand.
“You, you, Sofia…” She began to weep and keen for Serena.
“What happened? What did I do?” The knuckles in her hand cramped. She tried to rub out the pain.
Mamma shook her head.
“I did something, didn’t I? I was naughty?”
Mamma’s cries echoed against the cement walls.
“Oh, Mamma.” Tears flowed down Sofia’s cheeks. She wiped them away. “Would you like to go home now, Mamma?”
A voice boomed from the door. “She’s not going anywhere, young lady. Who let you in here?”
Mamma turned her face back toward the wall.
Sofia stood. She would not be bullied. “This is my mother and I am here to take her home. Who are you?”
The man marched in. “Dr. Hansley. This woman’s husband remitted her into our care. She is despondent, without proper mental facilities, but I believe with some electrical stimulation she has the potential for some improvement. But these things take time. She cannot go home now, if ever.”
“What?” Sofia wanted to slap the man.
“You must face facts, miss. Your mother is clinically insane.”
Sofia raised one hand. She would slap him. But the chill she could never keep at bay tingled from her fingers to her elbow so that the pain would not allow her to do anything but lower it again. “There has been a mistake, Doctor.”
He laughed. “No mistake, I assure you, other than you coming out here on a day like this. I do hope you can make your way back to the city safely.”
***
Antonio was allowed to collect his uncle after a bit of persuasion. The authorities had to be convinced that Nicco was not without relatives and a place to stay. “But I warn you,” a man who called himself Master Davidson, because he was master of the house of indigents, said. “Keep your derelict relative off the streets.”Nicco hung his head and hardly said a word as they returned to the building where Antonio had seen Sofia. Luigi ran ahead and scratched on the door. The janitor opened it a crack. “What the devil?”
“I’ve come to collect someone. She was visiting her mother,” Antonio called to him.
The man nodded his head and held the door open as Antonio and Nicco tucked inside and escaped the wind-driven rain. “Worst I’ve ever seen it. Be glad we are not on the coast.”
Antonio settled his uncle and his dog in a waiting area and hurried over to the receptionist he’d seen talking with Sofia earlier. Before he could inquire, a door slammed and Sofia came running down the hall, wailing.
“They won’t let her go!” She wept into Antonio’s shoulder.
“Doctor’s orders,” the woman at the desk said. “Now, you must be
leaving. You’re upsetting the patients.”
Sofia sat down on the chair next to Nicco. “I am not going.”
Antonio glanced to the woman who kept her gaze on her paperwork. Nicco frowned. Luigi trotted over to Sofia and lay down at her feet. Antonio touched Sofia’s shoulder. “You can’t stay here.”
“Why not? If my mamma can lie all day on a cot in a locked cell, I certainly can wait here on this chair.”
“But…what do you hope will happen?”
She covered her face with her hands. “I do not know. I should have let Mrs. Hawkins come with me.”
Antonio shifted on his feet, his damp socks making him miserable. “Would you like to telephone Mrs. Hawkins?”
Sofia brightened. “Sì.” Her shoulders drooped. “She owns no telephone.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I can’t just leave you here.”
“Sì. You can. I am fine.”
The receptionist grunted. Antonio knew that if he left, the woman would throw Sofia out by the scruff of her collar. So he sat too. A few minutes passed by and then Sofia rose and went back to the desk.
“Mi scusci.”
“What?” The woman lifted her head, her brow wrinkled.
“I mean, excuse me. Tell me. The doctor will not perform any procedures before I return?”
The woman drew in a deep breath. “I would not know.”
“Please. Can you…can you find out? Please?”
Antonio joined them. “She’s come all this way. Surely you can grant this one small request before we leave?”
At the mention of them leaving, the woman managed a faint smile. As she walked away from her desk, she muttered, “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
Sofia inhaled deeply. “I know why.”
Antonio looked into her beautiful, weary-looking face. “You do?”
“Sì. I have been praying. God heard me. He may not always answer my prayers, but he hears me.”
Antonio thought about that all the way home. The train wasn’t running so he hired a wagon to take them back to Hawkins House. After he saw Sofia home, he and Nicco would walk back to his apartment. The doctor had agreed to postpone treatment. A miracle, Antonio thought. Sofia’s prayers had been answered, at least in part. Her belief that God always heard her supplications intrigued him. Perhaps he had been going about finding his father’s murderers the wrong way. Since no one felt like conversation anyway, and thankfully so, because the horse’s clopping through the streets would have made that nearly impossible, he decided to whisper his own prayer. Forgive my unbelief, Jesus. Tell me what to do next.
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