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Ciro turned to head out to the workhouse. Eduardo stopped him. «They’re waiting for us in the kitchen.»

«They?»

«The nuns.»

Ciro followed Eduardo. «What’s going on?» he asked. A sense of unease displaced the contentment he had felt moments before.

The kitchen door was closed, but light spilled through the cracks in the doorjamb. Ciro told Spruzzo to stay outside as Eduardo pushed it open.

The nuns had gathered around Sister Teresa’s worktable. Some sat on stools, while others stood. Sister Teresa stood off to the side, a look of worry on her face.

«Are we taking a vote?» Ciro asked. «Because if we are, I vote to plant more olives next year than grapes.»

The nuns, who usually appreciated Ciro’s jokes, were in no mood for them tonight.

«Okay, before you punish me, for whatever I’ve done—» Ciro took the lira from his pocket. «For you.» He handed it to Sister Domenica, whose white hair stuck out of her wimple, a sure sign she’d been in a rush to get to this meeting.

«Thank you,» she said. The sisters murmured their gratitude.

«We have a very serious problem,» Sister Ercolina said as she adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and stood tall and reedy, like a palm frond on Easter Sunday. She crossed her arms across her chest inside her sleeves. «We have loved having you boys here. Eduardo, you have been a wonderful student, and Ciro, we don’t know how we would have handled the garden and the chickens and the maintenance of the convent and the church without you—»

«This is about Don Gregorio, isn’t it?» Ciro interrupted her, but his mouth was so dry, he could barely swallow. He picked up the pitcher and poured himself a glass of water.

«He has asked to have you removed from the convent immediately,» Sister said.

Ciro looked at Eduardo, whose face had turned as white as the flour in the enamel bin. Ciro placed his hands on the table and nodded his head in disbelief. The Lazzari boys had lived in two homes in their young lives. The first had been taken from them because their father had died, and their mother could not build a life for them alone. Now, it was Ciro’s own actions against the village priest that had caused them to lose their home. The boys had grown accustomed to their role in service to these good and poor nuns. They felt long work hours in exchange for their room and board was a fair trade. They had become part of this community, and grown to feel affection for it. The nuns were purposeful in their motherly care of the boys, making certain they celebrated holidays and feast days as they might have with their parents. Now, the security that had given them confidence and a place in the world had been taken away.

«I hope you told Don Gregorio to drop dead,» Ciro said.

The novitiates gasped.

«He’s a priest,» Sister Ercolina said.

«He’s also a fraud who takes advantage of young girls. You press his vestments, but he is not worthy of them. You—» Ciro turned and searched the eyes of his family of nuns. «You are worthy. Every single one of you. You serve. Don Gregorio takes.»

Eduardo gripped Ciro’s arm.

«My brother and I»—Ciro’s voice broke—«thank you for taking us in. We’ll never forget you. You should not suffer because I was honest with Don Gregorio. My brother and I will pack up and find another place to stay.»

Sister Ercolina’s eyes filled with tears. «You won’t be together, Ciro.»

«Don Gregorio has seen to it that you will be separated,» Sister Teresa cried.

«Ciro, he has arranged to send you to the boys’ workhouse in Parma,» Sister Domenica began. «I argued that you had done nothing wrong, and that you don’t belong there with boys who steal and do worse, but he was vehement.»

«So the infidel punishes us instead of doing penance for his own sin. And this, dear sisters, is the man who represents God on earth? I have no words.»

«He deserves our respect,» Sister Domenica said, but the steady look in her eyes told Ciro the words were bitter in her mouth.

«Sister, you can give him yours, but he will never have mine.»

Sister Ercolina looked around, then fixed her gaze on Ciro. «I am not here to debate the power of the village priest, I am here to help you. We have all gathered to help you.»

«That’s why we meet in secret in the kitchen.» Ciro looked around at their faces, the same sweet faces with whom he and Eduardo had shared dinner since the first night they came to the convent. He could not imagine his life without them, nor could he accept the loss of his brother. Fury rose within him. «He would never think to look for us here. The saint of pots and pans is not one he calls upon. No, the saints of gold, frankincense, and lire are more his style.»

«Stop it,» Eduardo said sadly. «Listen to Sister.»

Sister Teresa stepped forward. «Ciro, we have a plan to help you.»

«What about Eduardo?»

«Eduardo is reporting to the seminary of Sant’Agostino in Rome.»

Ciro turned to his brother in disbelief. «You’re going into the seminary?»

Eduardo nodded. «I am.»

«When were you going to tell me?»

Eduardo’s eyes filled with tears. «I’ve been thinking about it. And now I will leave the convent when you do.»

«So you’ve been sacrificed on the altar of the priesthood in exchange for me?»

Sister Teresa stepped in. «Don Gregorio insists you both leave the mountain.»

«Of course – I saw too much.»

«But we have a plan of our own. Sister Anna Isabelle has an uncle who is a very good shoemaker.»

«Oh, come on,» Ciro blurted.

«Ciro—,» Eduardo warned.

«It was either apprentice with him or go to the workhouse in Parma. That’s not a place for a fine young man with a good mind and a good heart.» Sister Teresa began to cry.

«We have to protect you,» Sister Ercolina said. «We promised your mother.»

The weight of what had transpired on this day finally settled on Ciro. This wasn’t really their home, and the nuns weren’t truly family. The security they had provided was only on loan.

«Is this shoemaker in Rome, so I can be near Eduardo?» Ciro asked, accepting his fate. Ciro would work anywhere, for anyone, as long as he could be close to Eduardo.

«No, Ciro,» Sister Teresa said.

«Milan, then?»

«America,» Sister Teresa said, as her voice broke.

The cot creaked as Ciro rolled over in the dark. «You awake?»

«I can’t sleep,» Eduardo said.

«Probably a good idea. Keep your eyes open. Don Gregorio will come in here and stab us in our cots,» Ciro said. «No, he wouldn’t. He’s too much of a coward.»

Eduardo laughed. «Do you take nothing seriously?»

«It hurts too much.»

«I know,» Eduardo said.

«Do you really want to be a priest?»

«Yes, Ciro, I do. Though I’m not worthy of it.»

«They are not worthy of you.»

«Well, either way, they’re about to find out.» Eduardo’s wry tone made Ciro laugh.

«I suppose there were signs. You served every morning mass, and you never missed vespers. And I saw you read your missal every night.»

«I’ll do my best to be one of them. I’ll become a priest, and then I’ll be able to help you should you ever need me. It doesn’t hurt to have a brother with an education and a good position in the church.»

«I would have been proud of you no matter what you became.»

«You are pure of spirit, Ciro. You always have been.»

«Right,» Ciro joked. «And what does it say in the Beatitudes¹²⁶? The pure of spirit inherit what? The shoes?»

«I didn’t think you knew what the Beatitudes were.»

«I guess some of your dogma soaked in after all.»

«There’s another reason for me to become a priest. I can find Mama and take care of her. The church provides for the families of the clergy.»

«You’re going to give up everything for the chance it might help Mama?» Ciro asked.

«Yes, Ciro. It’s the first vow I ever took.»

«If I could, I would help. That was always our plan. But now the Holy Roman Church has ruined that, too,» Ciro said. «I miss her.»

Eduardo got up, went to Ciro’s cot, and lay down on the floor next to him, as he had every night when they first arrived at the convent. The nearness of Eduardo was all it took to soothe Ciro. And tonight, it still did.

«When you find her, no matter where I am, I will come home to you,» Ciro said.

Spruzzo jumped up on Ciro’s cot and nestled at his feet. Ciro lay back and crossed his arms behind his head, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling, with their spikes and hooks sticking out where pots and tools and loops of rope once hung. He wondered how soon the nuns would put all the equipment back into this room after they had left. The sisters reconfigured the space inside the convent like wealthy women in the city changed their hats.

This old room wouldn’t be empty for long.

The winter bulbs asleep in pots, the urns, the buckets, the wreaths of wire, the spirals of rope, and the bowed wooden frames of the grape arbors would find their way back onto the shelves, as the trowels, rakes, and shovels would dangle from the hooks once more. It would be as though the Lazzari brothers had never lived at San Nicola.

One day, when Ciro took a walk up the hill to Via Bonicelli, he had seen that a new family had moved into the house where he and Eduardo were born. Sometimes Ciro would climb the hill just to look at the house, so as not to forget the details of the only place his family had ever lived. Eventually, he stopped going, and now he knew why.

Memories take the place of rooms. The sisters would fold up the cots, roll the rug, and put the lamp back into the office. The ceramic washbasin and pitcher would be returned to the sisters’ quarters in the guest room. Will the nuns even think of us when we are gone? Ciro wondered as he lay in the dark.

Ciro knew every street in Vilminore, every house and every garden. He would study their architectural details, creating his own perfect home in his mind’s eye. He’d imagine a staircase here, a veranda there, windows with small panes that swung out, a garden with an arbor for grapes, and a patch of sod to grow a fig tree. He preferred a house built of stone to one of stucco and pine. He’d live at the end of the street, high on the mountain, with a good view of the valley below. He’d open his windows in the morning and let the fresh breeze through, as the sunlight filled every room, as bright as the petal of a daffodil. Light would fill every corner, and happiness would fill every room. The love of a good wife and children would fill his heart.

All Ciro knew of America was what he had heard in the village. There was a lot of boasting about the potential there, the money to be made, the fortunes to be built. But for all its promise, America had not returned their father home to the mountain. America had become, in Ciro’s mind, almost like heaven, a place he could only see in his dreams. He had longed for his father and pictured him alive still, imagined their reunion. Maybe his father was filling his purse to return to the mountain to buy them a fine house. Maybe his father had had a plan, and something had prevented him from seeing it through¹²⁷. Anything but death in the mine, anything but that. Ciro still believed his father was alive. He vowed to find his father and bring him home. Maybe his father had grown to love America and didn’t want to return to the mountain. That particular thought always brought Ciro pain. Ciro imagined America loud and crowded, and wondered if there were gardens and sun.

Southern Italians had flocked there to America to find work; fewer had emigrated from the Alps. Maybe that trip down the mountain was long and treacherous because it should be made rarely, if at all. It seemed to Ciro that a man had all he needed in the shadow of Pizzo Camino, so long as he was lucky enough to find love and a job to sustain his family.

Ciro was sure of one thing; he would only stay in America until the scandal blew over, not one day more. He vowed that he and Eduardo would return to Vilminore together, someday, to live on the mountain where they were born. Nothing would separate them, not even the Holy Roman Church. The Lazzari boys were blood brothers, and as their mother left them on that winter day, together, so they would remain, even when an ocean separated them.

Chapter 7. A straw hat
Un Capello di Paglia

The nuns kept Ciro out of sight for two days as they plotted to save him from the work camp in Parma. As the sun set behind the mountain, Sister Domenica, Sister Ercolina, and Sister Teresa carried trays across the piazza from the convent to the rectory.

Sister Ercolina shivered as they approached the rectory. «What did you make?» Sister Ercolina asked Sister Teresa.

«Veal,» said Sister Teresa.

«It’s his favorite meal,» Sister Domenica said softly.

«Of course it is. It’s the most expensive meat.» Sister Ercolina sighed.

«I know. I bribed the butcher,» Sister Teresa said.

Sister Domenica unlocked the door to the rectory kitchen. Sister Teresa lit the oil lamps, while Sister Ercolina placed a tray on a butcher-block worktable in the center of the room. The marble floor was pristine, the walls painted bright white. Fine copper pots, a deep stove, and a double enamel sink filled the wall under the windows. The rectory kitchen had the scent of fresh paint. Only rarely was food cooked here; the nuns bussed every meal over from the convent.

Sister Teresa placed Don Gregorio’s dinner on the counter. She gathered the china, silver, and cloth napkins from the open shelves and pushed through the swinging doors into the dining room. Sister Domenica followed her, lighting candles in silver holders. The formal dining room was splendid, its walls adorned with a wallpaper of pale green stripes, staggered with oil paintings in gold-leaf frames.

The mahogany dining room table, which seated twenty, was polished to a mirror shine. The nuns had embroidered the seats of the chairs by hand in a pattern of lilies of the valley¹²⁸, surrounded by ivy vines, on a field of navy blue.

The nuns worked silently and swiftly, setting a place for Don Gregorio.

Sister Ercolina entered the dining room, checking her watch. «May I call Don Gregorio to supper?»

«Yes, Sister.» Sister Domenica folded her arms into her habit sleeves, took her place by the sideboard, and looked straight ahead.

Sister Teresa entered the dining room with Don Gregorio’s meal, warm under its silver dome. She positioned it on the starched linen place mat and took her place next to Sister Domenica.

Sister Ercolina entered the dining room and stood on the opposite wall, facing Teresa and Domenica.

Don Gregorio entered. «Let us pray,» he said without looking at the nuns. He made a sweeping sign of the cross, his hands cutting a swath through the air as he said,

 
Benedice, Domine,
nos et haec tua dona
quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi
per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.
 

The nuns made the sign of the cross with him, and Don Gregorio took his seat as Sister Teresa moved forward to serve him. She lifted the silver dome off the plate, and Sister Domenica took it from her. They returned to their stations by the server.

«What a beautiful cut of veal,» Don Gregorio said.

«Thank you, Don Gregorio,» Sister Teresa said.

«Why am I deserving of such an opulent meal in the midst of Lent¹²⁹?»

«Don Gregorio, you must keep your strength up during Easter week.»

«Have you set the schedule for the house blessings, Sister Ercolina?»

«Yes, Father. We have the LaPenna and Baratta boys accompanying you. We thought you should begin in Vilminore Alta this year and work your way down the mountain. Ignazio will drive you in the carriage. We have the silver polished, and the urns ready for your blessing of the holy water.»

«Have the palms arrived?»

«They were shipped from Greece, and we expect them any day now,» Sister assured him.

«And the linens for Good Friday?»

«They are pressed and stored in the sacristy.»

«And my vestments?»

«Hanging in the chifforobe in the sacristy.» Sister Ercolina cleared her throat. «Are you expecting any visitors during Holy Week, Father?»

«I’ve sent a letter to the priest in Azzone to concelebrate Easter mass with me. I understand the choir has been practicing.»

«Yes, they sound wonderful.» Sister Ercolina motioned to Sister Teresa to refill Don Gregorio’s wineglass.

«Sisters, I’d like to speak to Sister Ercolina alone, please.»

Sister Domenica and Sister Teresa nodded and left quietly through the door to the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

«You may sit, Sister Ercolina.»

Sister Ercolina pulled a chair out from the table and sat on the edge of it.

«Have you taken care of the Lazzari boy?» he asked.

«Which one?» Sister Ercolina said innocently.

«Eduardo.» The priest was impatient.

«I sent the letter to the seminary weeks ago. They are willing to take him now. Eduardo is a very pious young man,» Sister Ercolina said.

«I can see that. I believe he’ll do very well there.»

«He has been a great help to us at the convent.» She added, «And I know you will miss his expert planning of the liturgy and music for Sunday mass. He really is quite talented.»

«I agree with you. That’s why I recommended him,» Don Gregorio said.

On the other side of the door, Sister Teresa and Sister Domenica listened to the conversation.

«What are they saying?» Domenica asked.

«They’re talking about Eduardo. Don Gregorio is taking full credit for Eduardo’s admission into the seminary.»

«Really? He applied months ago with Sister Ercolina’s recommendation.»

Sister Ercolina folded her hands on her lap. Don Gregorio tore a bit of bread from the loaf and sopped up gravy, made with butter, red wine, and mushrooms.

«And the other one?» He bit the bread and chewed.

«They are willing to take Ciro at the workhouse in Parma.»

«Good.»

«But we need a little help from you.»

«What do you need?» he asked grudgingly. He picked up his glass of wine and sipped it.

«We need one hundred lire.»

«What!» Don Gregorio placed his wineglass on the table.

«There is usually a waiting period at the workhouse, and they are willing to waive it, but we have to pay them for the privilege. Itold them the matter was urgent, and that you want Ciro off the mountain as soon as possible—»

«I do,» Don Gregorio said defiantly.

«They won’t take him without it. I need the money tonight.»

Don Gregorio eyed her suspiciously.

«Father, you asked me to make the arrangements quickly, and I was not to question you,» Sister Ercolina pressed. «I have done as you have asked.»

«Yes, of course, we must do what’s right for San Nicola.»

Sister Teresa and Sister Domenica entered to clear the plates. Sister Domenica carried a silver tray with a dish of baked custard for dessert.

«If you don’t mind, I am going to skip dessert tonight,» he said. «Sister Teresa, I need to speak to you alone.»

Sister Teresa looked at Sister Ercolina nervously.

The older nuns nodded and retreated into the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

«Did you get the money?» Sister Domenica whispered frantically.

Sister Ercolina nodded. «He said he would give it to me. I hope that Sister Teresa corroborates what I’ve told him.»

«Don’t worry about her. She’s as smooth as custard.» Sister Domenica lifted a spoon and ate Don Gregorio’s dessert.

In the dining room, Sister Teresa stood in front of Don Gregorio. She folded her hands and stared straight ahead.

«Sister Teresa, I would like to know why you went to Signora Martocci about their daughter.»

«I was concerned, Father.»

«You believed the little story that the Lazzari boy was spreading about me?»

«He has been at the convent since he was a boy, Father, and I’ve never known him to be dishonest.»

«He’s a liar,» Don Gregorio said.

«Father, if you’re trying to upset me, or cause me to doubt my own instincts, you won’t succeed.»

«You upset the Martocci family and caused them great distress. The sin of envy has swept through this village. Or perhaps it is you who has embarked upon an inappropriate relationship?»

«I assure you that is not the case. He’s like a son to me.» Sister Teresa raised her voice defensively.

«I would call that an inappropriate relationship. You’re a nun, not his mother. Had I been the priest here when their mother dropped them off, I wouldn’t have allowed them to stay. You’re not running an orphanage over there.»

«We minister to the poor in whatever capacity they need us.»

«You’re here to service the church, Sister Teresa. Now go and send in Sister Ercolina.»

Trembling with rage, Sister Teresa bowed and exited to the kitchen.

In a moment, Sister Ercolina stood at the table, facing Don Gregorio.

«I want you to transfer Sister Teresa from our parish.»

«I’m sorry, Father.» Sister Ercolina was firm and clear – she had done enough horse trading for one night. «Sister Teresa is a good nun, and an excellent cook. I think you might remember when Sister Beatrice was the cook. We practically starved.»

«Have someone else deliver my meals, then.» Don Gregorio checked his watch.

«Of course, Father.» Sister Ercolina was relieved to have saved Teresa. «But first, I need the one hundred lire,» she said placidly.

«Oh, yes.» Don Gregorio didn’t make a move.

«I’ll wait.»

Don Gregorio got up and went out the door to the living room. Sister Ercolina reached down into her habit pocket and gripped her rosary. She bowed her head and prayed. After a few minutes, Don Gregorio returned.

«Here.» He handed Sister Ercolina the money. «But it’s an enormous amount. You’ve been taken advantage of.»

«You gave me an urgent command, Don Gregorio. Perhaps you would prefer that Ciro—»

«No,» he snapped. «It’s a small price to pay to clean up this village.»

Sister Ercolina put the money in her pocket. «Good night, Don Gregorio,» she said, and went.

As Sister Ercolina joined her friends in the kitchen, she placed her fingers over her lips, smiling. The nuns lifted the trays and extinguished the oil lamp. Sister Ercolina opened the door and showed the sisters out.

That night, the sisters of San Nicola filed into their pews in the convent chapel. Ciro and Eduardo joined them, taking seats behind them. Sister Ercolina entered from the sacristy. She closed the door and faced them.

Sister Ercolina began with a heavy heart. «The arrangements have been made. This Saturday, Ignazio is going to take you both down to Bergamo, in the church cart.»

«I’m allowed in Don Gregorio’s cart? I thought he’d make me walk barefoot down the mountain, hauling a giant cross like Jesus on Golgotha.»

«Ciro, I’m going to ask you to hold your tongue until I finish talking.»

«I’m sorry, Sister.» Ciro smiled.

«Eduardo, your train ticket will be waiting for you at the station. You will join four other seminarians. When you reach Rome, you will proceed with them to your new home in the seminary at Sant’Agostino. Ciro, the ticket waiting for you at the train station will take you to Venice. From there, you will sail to Le Havre¹³⁰, France, where you will purchase a one-way ticket to New York on the SS Chicago.»

«Have you secured me a spot as an indentured servant? I only had one lira, and I gave it to Sister Domenica, who may have already squandered it on a bottle of Cuban rum.»

«Ciro!» Sister Domenica laughed. The nuns giggled.

«No, your passage will cost one hundred lire.» The sisters gasped at Sister Ercolina’s defiance.

«Sister Anna Isabelle’s family wired us to let us know that they will meet you in Manhattan at South Port 64 after you have been processed through Ellis Island¹³¹. Take this letter.» She gave it to Ciro. «And this money.» She gave Ciro the lire. «There are two extra lire for you.»

«Thank you,» Ciro said. He held the envelope and the money and looked at his brother. «You’ve all sacrificed for me, and I’m not worthy.»

«You are worthy, Ciro. But, I must ask you something in return. And I must ask you, Eduardo, and all the sisters, to hold a confidence for me. I told Don Gregorio that you were being sent to the work camp in Parma.»

The sisters gasped; they had never known Ercolina to lie.

«I prayed about it, and I must follow my conscience in this matter. I believe you to be an honorable young man, Ciro. It’s ironic that in order to take care of you, I had to lie. But the priest’s power is absolute, and a thousand years of begging him to change his mind would not have turned the result in your favor. You should never have been punished for telling the truth.»

«Thank you, Sister.» Sister Teresa was full of emotion.

«I’m asking you to forgive me, and to pray for Eduardo and Ciro as they leave us to start their new lives. And also, please pray for Don Gregorio, who needs your intercessions on his behalf.»

«You had me until you asked us to pray for the padre,» Ciro muttered.

Sister Ercolina snapped, «Ciro, you realize, had you ever met me halfway¹³², I’d be sending you to the seminary with Eduardo.»

«Better to ship me off on a boat to America. I don’t think the Holy Roman Church and I are a match.»

«That would be my conclusion also, Ciro.» Sister Ercolina smiled.

The rectory carriage was parked outside the entrance of the convent. The sun was not yet up over Vilminore; only the farmers and the town baker were up this early. Sunrise was an hour away.

Ignazio Farino drank a cup of strong coffee and hot milk and dipped a heel of day-old bread into it in the convent kitchen while Sister Teresa prepared eggs on the stove. Ciro and Eduardo joined them in the kitchen.

«It’s the last supper, Sister,» Ciro joked.

«I didn’t know a sense of humor was awake this early.» Eduardo pulled out a work stool and sat. Ciro poured his brother a cup of coffee, and then one for himself.

«Thank you for getting up early to milk the cows,» Sister Teresa said to Ciro.

«I’m going to New York City. I don’t know when I’ll see another cow.»

«That’s a talent that you can use anywhere in the world,» Ignazio assured Ciro. «They drink a lot of milk in America, I hear.»

«I’m going to be a shoemaker, Iggy.»

«I’ve always wanted a pair of black leather boots with blue spats and gray pearl buttons. I’ll tell you what, I’ll have my wife take a pencil and draw my feet on butcher paper. I’ll send you the patterns and you can make the shoes. And you»—Ignazio turned to Eduardo—«You can pray for me and arrange some indulgences, if and when I need them.»

«You’ll always be in my prayers, Iggy,» Eduardo said.

Ignazio finished his coffee and headed outside to prepare the cart for the trip down the mountain. He had agreed to transport several boxes for the Longarettis and deliver a collection of missals to the church in Clusone.

«I’m going to go and pack up my books. Thank you, Sister.» Eduardo took his plate to the sink.

«I’ll be right there,» Ciro said to Eduardo.

Sister Teresa turned away from Ciro and cleaned the frying pan on the griddle.

«The pan is clean, Sister.»

«I can’t look at you, Ciro.»

Ciro looked away, trying not to cry. The only sound was the soft sizzle of the pot of boiling water in the fireplace. Finally, Ciro said, «You knew this day would come. I just hoped to live up the road and visit a lot. Bring my wife over and my children. Maybe stop in and be of some use to you.»

«You’re going so far away.»

«If only Don Gregorio knew how far.»

Sister Teresa smiled, knowing this was the last bit of humor from Ciro that would brighten her mornings. «He’ll never find out, but even if he does, you’ll be safe.»

«Do you know what happened to Concetta?» Ciro asked quietly.

«Her mother didn’t believe me until Concetta admitted the whole thing. The relationship between the Martoccis and the priest has ended. Concetta won’t see the priest any longer. That’s why Don Gregorio is so angry at us. We ruined his happy arrangement.»

«I loved Concetta, you know.»

«I know.»

Ciro tried to lighten the mood, for Sister Teresa’s sake and his own. «I can’t believe Sister Ercolina shook Don Gregorio down for one hundred lire. He didn’t even know what hit him. I wish she would’ve asked for two hundred, and then you could’ve gotten some cows and pigs for the convent.»

«Sister only takes what she needs. It’s the secret to happiness, you know. Only take what you need.»

«I’ll remember that,» Ciro smiled. «I guess I should say good-bye. I will write to you. One day, I promise, I will return to Vilminore. This is my home, and I plan to grow old here.»

«I’ll be so happy to see you when you come back.»

«Thank you for all you’ve done for me.» Ciro embraced Sister Teresa.

Her eyes filled with tears.

Ciro wiped his own tears on his sleeve. «You have been my mother and my friend. You have been on my side from the day I arrived here. Eduardo will always do well because he knows how to follow rules. I never could, but you protected me and made it seem as though I was. I’ll never forget you. It’s only fitting that I leave you with a special gift so you’ll always remember me.»

«Absolutely not, Ciro.»

«Oh, yes, Sister.»

Ciro whistled. «Come on, boy.»

Spruzzo bounded into the kitchen.

«Spruzzo will keep you company. You can feed him bits of salami, just like you fed me. He won’t talk back, and he won’t hound you for seconds. He will be happy with whatever you give him. Promise me you’ll be as good to him as you were to me.»

Sister Teresa’s tears gave way to a hearty laugh. «All right, all right. But when you come back, he’s all yours.»

«Absolutely.» Ciro hugged Sister Teresa one last time, then slowly walked out the door. Ciro did not look back. He wanted to, but he knew that the greatest gift he could give Sister Teresa was to forge ahead and take a bold step into his new life. He knew that she hoped above all he would be brave; courage would keep him from harm.

Spruzzo looked up at Sister Teresa. She sat down on the work stool, lifted her apron to her face, and cried into it. She had vowed to be true only to God, and then to her community, but she hadn’t counted on raising a hungry little boy who had walked into the convent kitchen and won her heart. No mother had ever loved a son more.

The bells in the tower above the convent chapel rang out over the valley as the rectory carriage made the turn on the ridge above Valle di Scalve. Iggy pulled the reins tightly as Eduardo and Ciro looked up the mountain at Vilminore for the last time.

Ciro’s eyes did not linger on the landscape, as he vowed to return quickly. Eduardo knew differently, taking a few moments to commit the green cliffs to memory. He was certain the antiquities of Rome could never be this beautiful.