Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

SEPTEMBER, 1943

That evening after sunset, Emilia found herself hurrying down the main road of town, following closely behind Corinna, her tense fingers grasping the handle of a basket. She watched how Corinna tried to keep close to the buildings, staying in the shadows formed by the flickering streetlamps and the tall umbrella pines and narrow cypress trees along the way. Emilia didn't know what to think. This was her town, after all. It was familiar. She'd traveled these streets for her whole life.

And yet, she could tell from Corinna's behavior, her bowed head and hurried steps, that there was danger in what they were doing. Even though there were no German soldiers here in town—at least not yet, as Corinna had emphasized—there were neighbors to be wary of. People in town who would disapprove of feeding Jewish refugees. Especially foreign-born Jews, who were not even allowed to be in Italy anymore, Emilia had learned. Corinna hadn't been specific about what might happen to them if their activities were discovered by the wrong people. Emilia didn't know what the consequences might be. Prison? Something worse? She didn't want to imagine.

She followed Corinna along a bend and onto a connecting street, and then up to the front door of a narrow, tan house. Corinna knocked and a moment later a young woman with a toddler on her hip opened the door.

"Signorina Jorelini," the woman said. "How nice of you to come."

"We heard your husband wasn't feeling well," Corinna said. "My mother thought it might be hard for you to take care of him and the children. She made you a dinner to help you out." She offered the basket.

"My, how kind," the woman said as she took it. Emilia was shocked at how easily the lie had flowed off of Corinna's lips. She remembered now how Signora Jorelini had insisted there was always the danger of being overheard. It was hard to know who to trust these days, she'd said, so there could be no mention whatsoever of the true purpose of the delivery unless it was behind closed doors.

"We hope he feels better," Corinna said. "We will come again tomorrow, and however long he's feeling ill."

The woman thanked her and started to close the door, but not before Emilia caught sight of two teenage boys she didn't recognize peeking out from an inner room. Corinna pulled the door shut and gave Emilia a quick nod. "Now your basket," she murmured.

She followed Corinna back toward the center of town. This area was busier than the other neighborhood had been, with people walking from or toward the train station.

"Corinna!" someone called, and Emilia saw Corinna stiffen as she turned. Emilia turned, too. She didn't recognize the man who was waving and crossing the street to approach them. And he didn't seem to know her either.

"Good evening, Signor Kapuletti," Corinna said. "How are you? Sofia," she said, looking at Emilia. "This is the father of one of my old classmates from school, Marco. Signor Kapuletti, this is my cousin visiting from Trento, Sofia."

"We thought you were studying in Rome," the man said.

"I had been, but I came back to be with my mother," Corinna answered.

"And what are you two doing out on such a brisk night?" he asked.

"Taking some food to the Hinna house." Corinna pointed to the basket on Emilia's arm. "They have many mouths to feed."

"Your mother has so much extra food?" the man said, prolonging the syllables, as though he didn't believe her. It was clear to Emilia that he was one of the bad ones , the people who would disapprove of the supper club if he knew about it. Think it was too risky. Try to stop it.

"Well, we do what we can. For people we care about. You know…" Corinna said, and Emilia was again impressed with how sly Corinna could be. "Excuse us, Signor Kapuletti. It is kind of chilly tonight. I don't want to keep my cousin out late. Please say hello to Marco for me."

The man nodded and continued on his way. Emilia looked up at Corinna, her breath jagged. Suddenly she felt danger in a way she never had before.

"It's okay," Corinna said. "He's a troublemaker, but he trusts me. Come on, let's finish up."

Before too long, they had made the second delivery and were back home. Emilia was glad to see that the other baskets she'd noticed before they left were gone, evidently picked up by other neighborhood women doing what she and Corinna had done. She was relieved that they didn't have to go out again tonight. As she washed her hands for dinner, she heard Corinna tell her mother about their evening. Signora Jorelini was less concerned about Signor Kapuletti—she knew Corinna had handled the situation well—than she was about the teenage boys who had been visible from the doorway of the first house.

"They mustn't do that," she said. "We'll have to make sure someone tells them so."

Corinna nodded as she set the table for the three of them. "Did you speak to Signora Possano?" she asked. "Any new arrivals?"

"Three more families are showing up later this week. And we're supposed to start using codes to tell people where to go next for travel documents and directions. A color system—red for the train station, green for the woods, brown for the church. It's become too risky to have these conversations aloud. Too many ears listening, too many chances for mistakes. Now I just have to figure out how to include the codes in our deliveries…"

She sighed, putting the matter aside, and then walked to the sink and put her arms around Emilia. "I'm proud of you," she said. "Your father would be, too."

Emilia smiled and sat down at the table. It was perilous, what she'd just done. And it was scary, listening to Signora Jorelini talk about codes and instructions that could be overheard. Her hands were trembling. But she felt something else, too. Something positive. She knew Signora Jorelini was right, that her papa would be proud of her. She thought of the paper with the stars and the Abraham story. Tonight she'd been brave. Tonight she'd gone forth.

Then she thought of her sisters who might still be far away. She could only hope that if they were in some strange town, there would be people with baskets, too.

From then on, Emilia looked at Signora Jorelini and Corinna in a new way. She'd already been more grateful than she could express, that Signora Jorelini had cared for her sick father and then taken her in when she had no home. When Emilia now watched Signora Jorelini bending over a pot on the stove, the steam causing her cheeks to perspire and the gray hairs around her forehead to form into tight, tense curls, she thought about what Corinna had said, how it was important to build the kind of world you wanted to live in once the war was over. The sadness and the fear and the deprivation that had bypassed her little town for so long had now overtaken it, as it had overtaken all of Italy. What couldn't be lost, Corinna had said, was people's humanity. And there was no better sign of humanity than nourishing those in need.

And no better feeling than having good, warm food to fill your belly. Emilia knew all about that. It was Signora Jorelini's cooking that had helped her adjust to life these last few weeks without her family. Good food made a person feel safe. It made you feel you were home. And here was Signora Jorelini, making delicious meals out of ingredients she was able to cobble together each morning. It was more than an art. It was almost as though by doing good, she was able to make a kind of miracle occur.

"How did you learn to cook like this, Signora Jorelini?" Emilia asked one afternoon as she rinsed eggplants and tomatoes, and Corinna sliced them up.

"From my mother," Signora Jorelini said. "I used to help her in the restaurant when I was a little girl."

"Do you miss your restaurant?"

The woman sighed and shook her head, resting a hand on her hip. "I miss it very much. The way ingredients were so plentiful and fresh, and the dishes were truly something to be proud of. How beautiful it all looked on the plates—the colors, the way the sauces looked as we brought the food out from the kitchen. Oh, how I loved it. Everything about it. Even setting the tables. Choosing the table linens. Selecting wines. I used to love watching from the kitchen as people ate. But, oh…"

She laughed softly and lowered her gaze. "Oh, maybe this will sound silly to you. It sounds silly to my own ears. But one of the best parts was the menus. I loved crafting beautiful descriptions of our dishes, seeing how they looked printed out on the page."

"She loved putting those menus into each person's hands," Corinna added.

Emilia continued to rinse the vegetables as she listened to Signora Jorelini reminisce. The last time she'd been at Signora Jorelini's restaurant was in the spring, to celebrate Annalisa's graduation. Annalisa had planned to continue her studies and become a botanist. Or was it a biologist? Emilia didn't remember. All she remembered was how proud Papa looked of his eldest daughter. And how much fun they'd all had, eating Signora Jorelini's specialty, cacio e pepe , with its creamy cheese-and-pepper sauce over spaghetti.

Emilia was sorry the restaurant had closed. It was so sad that this kind woman—who'd lost her husband when Emilia was young and had lost her parents long before that—had had to close the one thing she loved after Corinna. Such a beautiful restaurant. And yet, Emilia realized, the supper club was helping to bring the restaurant back to life. Her dishes wouldn't be forgotten. They were now going to people who desperately needed the comfort of good, warm food.

Then, as she watched Signora Jorelini start to boil potatoes for gnocchi , she had an idea. Something she thought would give them a smile. She took a card and a fine-tipped pen from one of the cabinets in the kitchen. These were the cards Signora Jorelini had used to list the daily specials, back when her restaurant was still open. Sitting at the table, Emilia began to play around with creating a menu for today's meal, using words she remembered from the castle's menus. She worked slowly, hoping to make her handwriting look as close to calligraphy as possible:

The Caccipulia Supper Club

This Evening's Menu

Hearty meatballs made with eggplant and cheese

Savory gnocchi with tomato topping

Wilted greens

Fresh-baked bread

When she was finished, she held the card up. Corinna smiled and Signora Jorelini looked like she was about to cry.

"Oh, Emilia," she said. "Oh, how lovely. Of course, I think this is a bit too fancy. Savory? Hearty? It's more accurate to say it's cooked and be done."

"I wanted to make something nice for you," Emilia said. "Something for you to hang up. Or keep. Or just look at."

Signora Jorelini shook her head. "Oh, piccolina , this is so sweet. And you take me back. How I miss the way things used to be. Today we are worried about hiding and codes and being overheard…I still don't know how to write the codes…"

"Wait! Codes!" Emilia exclaimed. "You mean the colors that tell the people where to go next? Red, yellow, brown?—"

Signora Jorelini nodded.

"What if we add it to the menu?" she said. "Like my father used to do for me, with the code words he put into his drawings. What if I use colored pencils for the menu—and change the color depending on where the people are supposed to go?"

"So you'd write it in red if they're to go to the train station, green for the woods, brown for the church…?"

"And regular black ink if they are just to stay put," Corinna said. "That's…that's brilliant."

"We have six families sheltering people now," Signora Jorelini said. "Can you make six supper club cards? Black for tonight."

"Of course," Emilia said. "And whatever color you need tomorrow."

"That's fine," Corinna said. "We can include one in each basket of food."

"Oh, Emilia," Signora Jorelini said. "I know how much you miss your sisters. And I know you want to leave with them. But if you can't be with them, I'm glad you're here to help us."

That night after the deliveries were made and Corinna was asleep, Emilia wrote another letter to her sisters, using the full moon for light. She knew she couldn't tell them everything. But she wanted them to know she was okay.

Dear Annalisa and Giulia,

I know it must be hard for you to travel, with the war getting worse and the Nazis now in Italy. Please be careful, be safe. You don't need to worry about me. I am doing well here. This is a good place for me to be for now. I look for you out of my window every day.

Your sister,

Emilia

She sealed the letter in an envelope, addressed it to the castle, and left it on Corinna's desk, where she had left the others she'd written. She was always relieved to find them gone in the mornings.

Corinna began working more often as a tutor after school to try to earn extra money, so sometimes Emilia made deliveries alone. She usually could carry only two baskets at a time, but there were always neighborhood women who came for the other baskets. Signora Jorelini would stop by the Possano house each afternoon and come back with the color code for the day, and Emilia would prepare the menu cards accordingly and tuck one into each basket. The routine had started to give her confidence, so that after a week, she was not nearly as anxious going out each evening as she had been that first night with Corinna when they'd run into Signor Kapuletti.

Still, Emilia could tell from Signora Jorelini's increasingly tense manner as she cooked that the Nazi threat was growing.

One afternoon, Signora Jorelini came back from the Possano house looking distressed. Corinna took her coat and Emilia brought over a cup of tea.

"What is it, Mama?" Corinna said.

Signora Jorelini took a sip. "It seems the Possanos have taken in another Jew."

"So?" Corinna said. "They have done so before."

"Yes, but this young man has been very active in the Resistance. He was helping to transfer grenades and weapons. His family was arrested, and the Nazis were waiting for him at his home. Some in his group got wind of this and sent him here."

"And that's very different?" Emilia asked.

"He's the first person in town who is wanted for Resistance activities," Signora Jorelini said. "He has a target on his back. Some worry this will make the Nazis become aware of our little town. That they'll come here in search of him and others."

"So what's there to do?" Emilia said. She felt more curious than scared. To her, the Nazis still felt unreal. She'd gotten used to not going to school, and while she still hated seeing others running her father's shop, it helped to know that Signora De Luca was involved in the supper club. The actual war still seemed far away. "Will he leave with the others?"

"No, he's a special case," Signora Jorelini said. "He may be here for a bit. At some point the Resistance group in Milan will send word for him to make his way into the woods, where there will be people who can keep him safe and help him travel to Switzerland. For now, we will feed him and make sure no one knows he's here. You two will be the only ones bringing food to him. No one else. Yes?"

"Of course, Signora Jorelini," Emilia said. She was humbled to be included in this secret. And she felt very strongly her responsibility to secrecy. She wanted to help this young Jewish man. She hoped that there would be people who would protect her sisters if they were in any danger as they made their way back to town.

"Corinna? Do you understand?" Signora Jorelini was asking.

Emilia looked at Corinna. She looked ill. The color had drained from her face. Her hands were trembling, and Emilia saw her clasp them together, as if trying to make them still. She hadn't said a word since Signora Jorelini had started her story.

"Is he okay, this boy?" Corinna asked. "He's not hurt, is he?"

"No, not at all. But the Nazis are looking for him. So upsetting, he's quite a sweet young man. I met him just now. Very handsome, very tall. Dark hair and eyes."

"What's his name?" Corinna said, her voice soft and hesitant.

"Tomas Sachsel." Signora Jorelini got up from her chair. "Okay, girls, we need to put the food into bowls. We must feed this boy especially well to help him build up his strength. He will need it. Emilia, please get the supper cards ready. Brown tonight."

"Right away," Emilia said and went to the table to get to work. Corinna was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, still clasping her hands. Emilia looked at her questioningly, but Corinna shook her head and waved her off. Emilia didn't understand. What had Signora Jorelini said that bothered her so? Was she worried about the danger this Jewish boy would bring to the neighborhood? She hoped not. If Corinna and Signora Jorelini started to worry about hosting Jewish people, what would that mean for her? What if they wanted her to leave? Where would she go, if her sisters were still not back?

Emilia finished with the cards and placed them in the baskets, as Signora Jorelini prepared the bowls for transport. "Okay, now, Corinna, why don't you help…" She looked around. "Corinna? Where did she go?"

Emilia looked at the hallway. It was empty. She hadn't seen Corinna go upstairs. She hadn't seen her go anywhere.

"Well, let's get started, you and I," Signora Jorelini said. "Here, you can take this basket, and I'll fix the others, and hopefully Corinna will come back down so she can help deliver the rest. Why don't you go to the Possano house first? I put a little extra into his bowl and added some more bread, too. And use the back door. With Tomas there, the family doesn't want to attract any attention. It's best if there's not a lot of activity in front of the house right now."

Emilia nodded, put on her jacket, looped her arm under the handle of the basket, and headed out. She hoped this boy, Tomas, would be comforted by Signora Jorelini's food. They had something in common, she and Tomas. They were both Jews living in a changed world. She thought she might like to talk to him. With her sisters still gone, it would be nice to talk to someone who knew what it was like to be Jewish now. But she knew that would be impossible. She hadn't been allowed past the threshold of any of the homes they delivered to so far. And Signora Jorelini had specifically said to leave the food by the Possanos' back door and not to linger.

Emilia walked around the path to the back of the Possano house. Starting up the stone stairway to the door, she paused when she heard sounds coming from the thicket behind the yard. Small moans, whimpers. She looked over, and thought she could see movement. She wondered if the family's poor little kitten had gotten tangled in some vines, as she had last week. Silly kitten, to go back to where she'd gotten stuck and hurt before.

She put the basket on the ground and walked toward the thicket, then crouched down and crawled underneath. But she didn't spy the kitten. She crawled back out and took a few steps away to brush off her skirt. And that was when she noticed the source of the noise and the movement.

Beyond the thicket and beneath the branches of a maple tree, its leaves gold and orange, was a tall young man with deep-black curls. This, she knew, had to be Tomas. And he was embracing a young woman, with golden hair flowing free behind her neck. They moved, swayed, and now she could see that their lips were pressed together, that her hands were stroking the back of his neck, as he moved his hands to her jaw, his fingers weaving through her hair.

It took her just a second to realize it. The girl in Tomas's arms was Corinna.