Chapter 9

NINE

SEPTEMBER 1943

Emilia resolved to settle in at the Jorelini house while she waited for her sisters, and before she knew it, more than a week had passed. She did the schoolwork Corinna assigned her, helped Signora Jorelini clean and fix meals, and wrote to her sisters nearly every night, leaving the envelopes on the bedroom desk for Corinna to take the next morning to the post office. As often as she could, she walked down the street to check on her family's house. Although the strange couple who'd bought it—the De Lucas—were still there, Emilia was relieved that they seemed to have made no changes other than the tailor sign they'd installed to replace her father's.

All in all, she felt comfortable and safe. But then everything changed.

It started one night when the sound of the front door opening woke her with a start. The house was dark, and she had no idea who would be entering at this hour. She shot up in bed and held her breath, thinking of the couple that was occupying her own home. Was somebody now trying to take over the Jorelini house, too—because she was living there, the daughter of a Jew? If Signora Jorelini's house was seized, where would she go? And what hope did she have of keeping her own house safe, if she could no longer live here, just down the street, to keep an eye on things?

Frantic with fright, she tiptoed past the bed where Corinna slept, and peeked out the window. With dawn approaching, she could see down to the front step. She was relieved to see that no stranger was breaking in. No, it was Signora Jorelini who had opened the door, and was now hurrying down the walk, dressed in trousers and a thick jacket, her shawl covering her head against the wind.

Draped over her elbow was the handle of a large, covered basket—the same type she'd seen Signora De Luca carrying that first night she'd spent in the Jorelini house. Emilia wondered where she was going so early in the morning. It was way too early to shop for food, if anything worthwhile was available. Or for anything else. The shops in town wouldn't be open for hours.

She had just finished washing her face and getting dressed when she heard activity in the kitchen. She tiptoed downstairs and peeked around the corner, and saw Signora Jorelini by the table, emptying her basket, now overflowing with tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, eggplants, some greens and bunches of herb, and a packet wrapped in paper that could have been meat or fish. And there was a green-tinted glass jar with what looked like oil and several small cloth bags filled with sugar or flour or rice, maybe. These were the ingredients that were always on the counter when Emilia came downstairs.

Emilia had known all her life that Signora Jorelini was a wonderful cook. Her restaurant in town had been a small, sun-filled place that served the most savory meats, flavorful soups, and rich, buttery cakes. Now that the restaurant was closed, Emilia was able to see close up how Signora Jorelini worked her magic, as her kitchen became her substitute. Emilia appreciated so much how her dishes were steeped in Caccipulia tradition, flavored with olives and fennel and fresh, local tomatoes. Thick, red sauces bubbled in deep iron pots starting early in the afternoon. Good food was almost magical, Emilia would think as she sat down at the table each evening with Signora Jorelini and Corinna for dinner. It made the bad thoughts go away, if only for a while. She looked forward to lunch from the moment she finished breakfast, and to dinner soon after finishing lunch. She craved mealtimes, and the transforming effects they had.

Still, the availability of all these ingredients was puzzling. Signora Jorelini had told Corinna that with the war raging on, food was becoming scarce. As she'd hidden behind the kitchen wall, Emilia had heard her utter those very words. So how was Signora Jorelini able to keep her refrigerator and pantry stocked? There were always fresh vegetables and grains and eggs and cheese. And often there was chicken or duck, simmered to perfection so the meat slid right off the bone. Now Emilia understood that it was no accident or stroke of luck that Signora Jorelini was able to get her hands on all this food. No—Signora Jorelini was actively going out to fetch it. Early in the morning, when no one was watching. Who was supplying her with this bounty?

Still curious, Emilia tiptoed back to the bedroom. Corinna was awake, sitting up in bed. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"Why are you up so early?" she said. "Where did you go?"

"Nothing, nothing," Emilia said. She didn't want to reveal what she'd seen, because she didn't want to admit that she'd been spying. Still, she couldn't help wondering where all that food had come from. And why Signora Jorelini had had to go out before dawn to get it.

That afternoon, Emilia went to help Signora Jorelini cook dinner. It was her favorite part of the day. She loved watching Signora Jorelini study her ingredients, like an artist surveying her tools before getting started on her newest masterpiece. The woman never measured the flour or scraped the rim of the cup to make sure the sugar was level. No, she tossed and sprinkled and let ingredients rain down from her fingertips into ceramic mixing bowls. She adjusted and readjusted the flames under the pots and pans, making the tiniest of changes every few minutes, and she dipped her wooden spoon into her sauces and soups repeatedly for a taste. She frequently incorporated unexpected ingredients into her recipes when the more traditional options were unavailable—rice instead of flour in desserts, polenta instead of meat covered in tomato sauce. And through it all, she made cooking look easy. She never looked surprised at how good her dishes tasted; she seemed to expect nothing less.

When all the work in the kitchen was done, and the ingredients had been left to simmer, Emilia went upstairs to compose a letter to her sisters. She still didn't know what was taking them so long to find her. They'd promised they'd leave for home shortly after she did, and yet here it was, nearly two weeks since she'd arrived back in town. She decided that today she'd write about Signora Jorelini's meals. She hoped they would be a further incentive for her sisters to hurry up and return:

Each meal starts off with an aroma, often both sweet and tangy, that tickles your nose and gets your stomach rumbling. I watch Signora Jorelini so closely, trying to figure it all out, narrating the steps in my head so I will be able to recreate it for you when you finally come home. But it's hard to make sense of. Now she's adding something brown from a small glass cylinder, now something from the garden I don't even recognize. She worries about shortages of eggs, butter, meat, and flour, but somehow she always has what she needs.

And then it arrives at the table—what joy for all your senses! Your eyes drink in the colors, your ears hear the meats sizzle, your tongue savors the taste so much that you hate to let yourself swallow. But then you do, and your stomach gets its chance to be delighted.

When you get here, you are in for a treat! Giulia, don't worry about your waistline! You can slim down after we leave for America. Corinna had some friends in Rome who were leaving Italy, and they said that the food on the ships going across the ocean is terrible. We will have to fill up with all this good food before we make that journey together.

I'm waiting for you to arrive every single day. What is holding you back? Please be safe, but please come as soon as you can. There's too much going on here, and I can't stay much longer by myself. I need you. I need my family.

Your sister,

Emilia

She hoped this note would do the trick. She didn't want to say much else. She knew it would be better to tell them more about Papa once they returned home, so Signora Jorelini and Corinna could help comfort them. She also didn't want to include anything additional about the De Lucas living in their house or the way Papa had been forced to sell it. But she never stopped thinking about it all. Never stopped hoping she could go inside her own home and see what changes had been made, what condition it was in. She had no idea of how the De Lucas were treating all their possessions, and she wanted them to be in good shape for her sisters, once they returned. She desperately wanted to begin packing up the clothes and keepsakes she and her sisters would want to bring to America with them. Her sisters would be happy if she got that task started. And her papa would be proud. Go forth, he'd said, imploring her to be brave and resolute like Abraham in his story. She wanted to live up to those words.

She was putting the letter into an envelope for Corinna to post the next morning when a figure outside the window caught her eye. Standing up to get a closer look as the evening darkness began to take hold, she realized that it was Corinna walking briskly down the street. The sight wouldn't have been unusual, except that Corinna was carrying a large, covered basket with a long handle, the same kind of basket Signora De Luca had been carrying, the same kind Signora Jorelini had used when she'd snuck out of the house and come back with all the food and ingredients. Now Emilia was determined to learn what was going on. Did it involve her father's shop? Did the baskets have some meaning that she should know about?

She hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where Signora Jorelini was checking the flame under a steaming pot. She noticed that there now seemed to be only enough food for the three of them. Where were all the vegetables and ingredients that had covered the counters this morning when Signora Jorelini returned home?

"Something wrong?" Signora Jorelini asked.

Emilia ignored the question. "Where did Corinna go?" she asked.

"To the school. She has taken on some students to tutor."

Emilia shook her head. The school building was in the opposite direction. "She didn't go back to school," she said.

Signora Jorelini kept her gaze fixed on the flame beneath the pot. "It's no matter to you where she went," she said. "She'll be back soon. Now if you've finished the reading Corinna assigned, you can set the table for dinner."

Emilia did as she was told. But she knew there was something the two were keeping from her. Something important. Something involving Signora De Luca as well.

What was going on?