Chapter 19

NINETEEN

OCTOBER 1943

One night as Emilia and Corinna were hurrying down a narrow, quiet street, baskets in hand, Emilia spotted a small group of people huddling beside a building. As they drew closer, it became clear that it was a family—a mother and father with a little boy and baby girl, the girl in the mother's arms. Emilia didn't know how, maybe because of their drawn, tired faces—but she could tell immediately that this was a Jewish family looking for shelter.

She tugged on Corinna's elbow, and the two of them approached the family. Emilia reached into her basket and gave a chunk of bread to the little boy. He glanced at his mother, then accepted it and took a bite.

"Are you lost?" Corinna whispered. "Can we help you?"

The parents looked at each other as if they didn't know whether to say anything, whether Corinna's kind words were a trap.

"It's okay, we are working with the Resistance," Corinna said softly. Emilia startled at Corinna's words. They were not supposed to say that anywhere in public. And yet, there seemed no doubt that this was a family who needed their help.

"We are trying to find the Abbates' house," the father said softly, evidently deciding to return the trust. "They are expecting us." It seemed he was wary to give much information. But Corinna looked at Emilia and nodded. The Abbates were on this evening's schedule.

"Yes, of course," Emilia said. "We are headed that way. Come with us. This food is for you."

"But we have to move fast," Corinna added. "It's not safe to stand out here all together like this."

They hurried down the street and soon reached the home of the Abbate family. Emilia knocked, and Corinna touched the man's elbow. "Where have you come from?" she whispered as they waited for Signora Abbate to answer the door.

"Rome," he told her.

"And how are things there? The same?"

The father shook his head. "We thought all the Nazis wanted was our money. But they started coming for the Jews last night."

"They were storming the houses, dragging them out of their homes," the mother said. "Women and men in nightclothes, no one with a coat. We were able to get to a church, and we hid in the basement before they reached our house. But we fled early this morning. It was too dangerous to stay longer."

"We're hoping to keep going south," the man said. "I have cousins in Argentina. We need to find a way to get on a ship to South America."

"You're safe tonight," Corinna told him. "And there are others who can help you tomorrow. See?" She lifted the menu card Emilia had made. "It's written in red, that means go to the train station tomorrow. Signor and Signora Abbate will tell you how to get there. Don't worry, there'll be people who will help you."

The door opened and Signora Abbate was there, surveying the group. She motioned the family in, then took the basket from Emilia, and with a quick wave, shut the door.

Emilia looked at Corinna, unable to figure out the meaning of what this couple had told them. Was Caccipulia still safe? Were they still safe?

"What do we do?" she asked.

Corinna didn't answer.

By late that week, the news had grown even more grim. Coming back from one of her secret meetings and sitting down in the kitchen, Signora Jorelini reported that the Nazi roundups of Jews had intensified. And there were Italians rounding up Jews, too, to hand over to the Nazis. More and more towns were being stormed, more and more houses were being raided, more and more Jews were being taken away. There were reports of Resistance fighters orchestrating targeted attacks on Nazi soldiers, and Nazis retaliating with more arrests and killings. And reports, too, that earlier Nazi demands for money from the Jews of Rome had only been a ploy to learn where the Jews lived and how much cash they had.

Emilia thought of her father: What would Papa do if the Nazis had demanded money from him? How could he possibly put together enough to satisfy the Nazis? She thought of the ruby earrings that her mother had owned, which were upstairs in Giulia's dresser in the home that was no longer her own, at least not now. Would Papa have sold those earrings? Would he have asked friends for help? Would he have been able to swallow his pride enough to do that? It seemed the war was making enemies of people who used to care for each other. How could people who ordinarily would be so kind suddenly turn so evil?

She sighed, thinking of the people in town, neighbors, who used to bring casseroles over to help her father, the poor widower with three young daughters. Did they blame her, with her Jewish father, for their trouble, their lack of food, their bleak life? How did people turn on people so quickly and so forcefully? One afternoon when she was little, she was running down the street with friends when she tripped and badly skinned her knee. Three women who lived nearby came running out of their homes with iodine and warm compresses and bandages. Would they do that now? Or would they let her limp back home, the trail of blood staining the cobblestone walkway?

Could she trust Corinna? Could she trust Signora Jorelini? She trusted them now. Signora Jorelini had made up that hidden bed in the attic just for her, if she needed to hide. But could she change her mind, too? Emilia had always thought trust was permanent, fixed; but was it actually fragile like a pencil, a piece of chalk, a crayon? At school, she and the other girls had promised one another that they'd be friends for life. And yet where were those friends now? She hadn't seen any of them in months. Did they hate her because her father was Jewish? Or were they just afraid to show that they still liked her? Did fear make you act differently toward people you used to love? Or did fear change your feelings?

"It's like we're just waiting for the worst to happen," Corinna said, interrupting Emilia's thoughts, when Signora Jorelini had finished relaying all she'd heard at the meeting. "What do we do?"

"We keep hoping that the Allied forces show up here soon," Signora Jorelini said. "And we take care of each other. And, my loves, we cook."

The next afternoon, after another secret meeting, Signora Jorelini called Corinna and Emilia to the kitchen table. "The Nazis reached the edge of town last night," she said. "They arrested all the Jews beyond the bridge, even some who were being hidden. It seems that people are getting desperate. They are accepting payment for telling the Nazi soldiers where the Jews are."

Emilia breathed in sharply, not knowing what to say. How did this happen? Would somebody tell the Nazis that she was in this house? Would the Nazis take her away? What would happen to her then?

Signora Jorelini took her hand. "Don't worry, piccolina ," she said. "I will protect you. But things have to change around here. You can't go out anymore. You need to stay inside, and if anyone stops by, you need to be in the attic. I will tell people that you ran away and I don't know where you went. They will believe me because they won't see you anymore. You must promise me that you will do what I say. Because if they find you hiding, we will all get in trouble. The three of us will be in very real danger. Do you understand?"

Emilia nodded, thinking about the basket she'd delivered with Corinna yesterday. They'd gone to the Simona house, where a small Jewish family was staying, a couple and a small boy. The woman had a pretty name. Ariella. She'd warned Emilia that things were getting worse. Still, Emilia had never imagined that would be the last food delivery she'd make.

"But what about the supper club?" she asked softly. "Who will take my deliveries?"

"It may be time to end it," Signora Jorelini said.

"What? No!" Emilia cried out.

"Mama, you can't mean that," Corinna said.

"We'll take it day by day," Signora Jorelini told them. "But no matter what, Emilia can no longer deliver the food. It must be only Corinna and the others."

Emilia nodded. Then her thoughts went to the most important concern of all. "And my sisters?" she asked. "What about them? How will they find me if everyone thinks I ran away?"

She saw Signora Jorelini and Corinna exchange glances, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. "No…" she said. "No…" She shook her head and backed up against the wall. Her sisters were fine. They were coming for her, that's what they'd promised. How could it be anything different?

Emilia studied Signora Jorelini and Corinna's faces. There was no avoiding the sadness, the pity in their eyes. She sank onto her knees, shaking her head. Corinna came over to comfort her, sitting down next to her and holding out her arms. Emilia recoiled from the embrace. Yes, this was Corinna, who'd been so good to her. But she couldn't accept her hugs. Because that would mean that she believed what Corinna's sad eyes were trying to tell her.

Instead she rose and went upstairs. In the bedroom, she sat on the bed, holding tightly to the numbness she felt. She couldn't allow herself to feel any other way, because she was sure it would come out as screaming, as she faced the horror and fury now contained deep in her belly. And she couldn't scream, she couldn't shout here in this house that wasn't hers. How was she to handle all this? She was only a child.

She looked on the desk in Corinna's room. There were the drawings of the stars in the sky that her father had made for her. Go forth, the message had been. Persevere. But where was her courage now? She remembered the Abraham story, the one about the man who had to leave his home, the one with the message that wonderful things happen when you bravely move forward into the unknown. Go forth. She'd never clearly known what it meant. But now she understood. It was a battle cry, a command to remember that there are bigger concerns in the world than yourself.

"Papa," she whispered. "What would you expect of me now? How can I be the brave daughter you wanted me to be?"

A moment later, Corinna entered the room. She shut the door and pressed her back against it.

"My sweet Emilia, I can't put you and my mother in extra danger any longer," she said. "By being here, Tomas and I put you at risk. So you must write one last code for Tomas, and I'll get Signora De Luca to deliver the basket. We have to tell him to pack up all his things and come here tomorrow night. So he and I can leave for Switzerland."