Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

OCTOBER 2019

Friday

The drive back to the parking lot behind the train station was quiet, and Callie was grateful for that. She knew that Oliver was staying silent intentionally. She knew he thought she needed time to work through all she had discovered at Meg's house. It was a shock, to finally learn the connection between her family and Emilia. Her grandmother, along with her great-grandmother, had helped care for Emilia when she had no one. And Emilia had helped nourish her grandfather while he was hiding at the neighbor's house.

The connection between them all was so close. And it gave her a deep sense of contentment. She'd grown fond of Emilia over these last few days, and loved that her grandmother had taken care of Emilia. But at the same time, she was so confused. Why had they all never reconnected? Why had her grandparents never gone back to Italy to try to find Emilia? And why had Emilia never searched for Callie's grandparents? What had happened to keep them apart when they could have been reunited? Was there more tension, a misunderstanding that Callie hadn't yet discovered? Emilia was still so angry, so hurt, that her grandmother had never returned. Why hadn't she come back once the war was over?

It all led Callie back to the original question she'd had on the day of Pam's funeral. How had Pam come to collect the objects in the box? Why had she left them there, locked with a code only Callie knew, in the drawer where they kept all their mutual secrets? Why had this story never been explored until now?

It frustrated her, because this wasn't just Pam's story. It was her story, too. She had a right to have been involved when Pam was alive and could have explained everything. And could have included her. Callie thought about how ashamed she'd been these last several months—too ashamed to come home, too ashamed to tell Pam the truth. She'd sent herself to Philadelphia, believing she needed to reclaim her life, to start a new life she could be proud of, before ever returning home to see her sister again. She'd spent her life being the troubled sister, the wild sister, trying to be good and always failing. And Pam had been the golden girl. Everyone at the funeral had talked about how selfless Pam was, how giving, how nurturing, how devoted to others. What a wonderful mother, what a wonderful wife. But if that was so—if she was such a good person—why had she shut out her own sister from this family secret? She and Pam had promised to discover the truth together.

They arrived at the parking lot. Oliver turned off the motor, and they climbed out of the car and walked to the cobblestone street. Callie knew that Oliver was walking her back to the hotel, and she again marveled at how sweet and decent he was. And here she was, lying to him, so that he didn't even know her real name.

She wondered if she'd ever deserve a guy as nice as Oliver. Maybe she'd end up alone. That would be fine, if that was how she wanted to live her life. But she didn't want to be alone. She wondered if Emilia had decided she was too independent to connect with another person. Or if she'd been so damaged by the war, so disappointed by the people she'd loved who'd abandoned her—people like her sisters and Callie's grandmother. She wondered if that had left her unable to trust anyone fully.

The streetlamps were lit, the golden and orange flames dancing in their glass cases. The weather was still warm for late fall, especially by New York standards. But there was a chill in the air, in the breeze that kicked up and shuffled the leaves on the walkway. The sky was a deep indigo, seeming to go on forever and ever. It was the kind of night that could make you hope it would never, ever end. They passed the coffee bar and went through the archway, then up the steep staircase that had nearly sent her turning back around a few days ago. It was hard to believe all that had happened to her since then—all the people she'd met and the things she'd discovered. She wondered if this was the end, and if she'd go back home with some answers but plenty of questions still left.

"Want to talk about any of this?" Oliver said softly as the hotel came into view.

Callie shrugged.

Oliver sighed. "I feel terrible," he said. "I invited you over for a nice dinner with my family. I never meant for you to go home feeling so…actually, I don't know what you're feeling. Shouldn't you be feeling good, knowing that your grandmother saved Emilia?"

She stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

"At any rate," he added. "I'm sorry to have caused you to wrestle with all these deep, hard thoughts."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong," she said. "I told you that I came here looking for answers. You were right to bring that up with your family. I'm glad you did. I mean, I could have gone home with nothing. You did me a favor. Gustavo was wonderful, pulling out that book. I'm glad."

Oliver chuckled. "Yeah, you look very glad."

"No, I am. It's just…" She paused. How could she explain what she was feeling? She had come here like gangbusters, determined to bully her way into the town, get the information she needed, and then go home, satisfied that despite Pam's secrets, she'd gotten to the truth on her own. And yet being here, she'd met the most wonderful people. People who were giving and kind. Even Emilia, bitter old Emilia—Emilia who made food to bring to the church three times a week. It was eye-opening, how you never really knew what people were going through, you never really knew their suffering. Because lots of times people don't talk about suffering. They keep it to themselves. And those who love them never know why. Even she had kept secrets from those she loved. She'd kept her secret because she was embarrassed.

She had come here thinking that she and Emilia were alike. And she'd discovered they were even more alike than she'd suspected. Too proud to open up. But alone. And suffering in silence because of it.

She and Oliver continued in silence to the hotel's entrance. "I wish there was something I could say to get you to smile," Oliver said. "Or talk to me. Or confront me, the way you did when you first got here, when I demanded that you not confront Emilia." He smiled.

She smiled. "I'm sorry. I have a lot to think about."

"Then I should let you go."

He turned, and she grabbed his arm. "Wait," she said. "The least I could do is show you that supper club menu. If you'd like to see it."

He nodded. "Yeah. I really would."

They went into the hotel, and she led him up to her room. She unlocked the door and they stepped inside. The moon sent a shaft of gleaming white light across the room. She turned on a lamp, while he sat on one of the two armchairs. She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and took out the box, then lifted the lid and removed the menu card. It had the Italian dishes she'd translated back home.

"Wow," Oliver said as he took it and ran his fingertips over the words. " Caccipulia Club Della Cena . The Caccipulia Supper Club." She knew what he was feeling. It was so strange to be touching history like this.

"So sad," she said. "This little piece of good they were trying to do. Feeding others. As Emilia waited for her sisters to come back."

Oliver nodded. "It's hard to think of Emilia as a young girl. Yet there's that piece of her personality that was there even then. Trying to do something to have control. Through food. This is the one thing that spelled…sanity to her. This is the one thing that gave some meaning to a world falling apart."

"No wonder she cares so much about cooking," Callie said. "I found out yesterday that she makes meals for the church three times a week, to distribute to anyone in need. And she sends sweets, too, for the children."

He nodded and lifted the card to read it again, and that's when she saw the handwritten note. She hadn't thought about it all that much since the day she found the box in Pam's room.

"There's something you don't know," she said. She turned the card over so he could see it. "I translated it before I came. I didn't know for sure who wrote it, or if it was to my grandmother. Now I think I understand."

He took the card and read the meaning aloud in English. "‘You must return this to me. I will be waiting for you.'"

"It has to be from Emilia," Callie said. "It's clear to me now that she wrote it to my grandmother. She knew my grandmother was leaving, and she wanted her to promise to come back. But my grandmother never did. She's just one of a whole list of people who left Emilia behind. No wonder she's so mad. She must have hated my grandmother."

He smiled and shook his head. "She didn't hate your grandmother. She loved her."

"Why would you say that?"

"Didn't you see the memorial to her and her mother? Your great-grandmother?"

"Yes, but?—"

"Come on," he said. "You need to see it again, to really absorb what's there. Get your jacket, we're going back."

He took her hand and led her back down the stairs, out of the hotel, and past the coffee bar to Memorial Square. She couldn't believe how quickly they got there. He was a man on a mission, and she was happy to trust him. They passed a few people who were standing around, until they were directly in front of the plaque. He pointed toward the bottom.

"Did you see the inscription? Did you translate it?"

Callie shook her head. She hadn't noticed that the inscription was embedded in the engraved vines at the bottom of the memorial. It looked as if someone had tried to hide the words. Like a secret message, a code.

" Nei ricordi amorosi degli angeli che mi hanno preso ," Oliver said. "‘In memory of the angels who took me in.'"

Callie caught her breath. It was overwhelming. So giving. So much love. "But that doesn't make sense," Callie said when she started to breathe again. "She didn't think of my grandmother as an angel. She's furious with her."

"So?" Oliver said. "People aren't machines. They don't need to be consistent. They rarely are. I'm in the restaurant business, and before that, I was a teacher. I'm around people all the time, so I see this. Emilia could have been angry, she could have been disappointed, she could have been downright mad. She clearly was. But she also could have recognized that your grandmother saved her life. In fact, I suspect she felt so angry especially because she loved your grandmother so much."

"But my grandmother never came back," Callie said. "I can't get that out of my head. Why didn't they ever return here?"

"Who's to know?" Oliver said. "Maybe they had a good reason. Maybe they still intended to, someday. Or maybe the memories were too painful. Maybe Emilia knows the reason. Maybe that's a piece of the puzzle she'll tell you before you leave. But she loved your grandmother, Pam. Corinna saved her. With food. Maybe that's one of the reasons Emilia became a cook. And why she cooks for others. That's probably also why she came back herself, and she rebuilt the town. She felt anger, but more than that, she felt love. That's why she commissioned this memorial."

Callie sighed. It suddenly seemed as though Oliver had explained not only Emilia to her, but herself to her as well. Yes, she'd been angry at Pam for judging her so harshly, for looking down on her choices—but she'd always loved Pam. Oliver was right; people were complicated. And it was possible for her to feel both. Being angry with Pam didn't mean she didn't love Pam. She adored Pam. Pam was her sister.

She only wished she had learned all this while Pam was still around.

She looked up at Oliver, with the moon and the vast sky framing him like a beautiful piece of art. "Thank you. For saying that. I don't know if I can explain it, but you just handed me a gift, your words."

He took her hand and squeezed it. "I think it's great that you came all the way here to discover this," he said. "That you went to such lengths to learn about your family. Not everyone would upend their lives to do that.

"I'm sorry you're leaving in a few days," he said. "I've enjoyed getting to know you."

"You've been a real friend this week," she told him. "I'm going to miss you."

"Yeah. Well." He dropped her hand and looked down. "I'll bet you'll be glad to get back to your husband and daughter. My sister misses her boys so much when she and Gustavo go away even just overnight."

Callie looked at him, then shook her head and went to sit down on the stone bench. She knew she couldn't go home without telling him the truth. And it gave her a little reassurance, thinking about what he'd just said. Yes, he'd be angry. But maybe he could still remember that he liked her, too.

He sat down next to her. "What is it?"

She sighed. "Oliver…there is no husband and daughter. Well, there is, but it's my sister's family. She's the one with the baby. I'm not Pam, I'm Callie." She went on to explain how she'd come home when she'd gotten the awful news that Pam had died, and how she'd found the box in Pam's desk drawer with the two boarding passes.

"I hadn't been home in a long time," she said. "And so when I got there, I found out that Pam had this whole trip planned that I knew nothing about. That she'd planned to travel with me, assuming I'd just up and go when I found out what she wanted to do. She was right, I would have. I wanted to know what my grandparents had hidden from us. There was something about our family we were always trying to unravel, something that made us always a little insecure, I think. But I waited too long to come home.

"So I came myself. I owed that to her. I had to find out what our grandparents had been keeping from us. And then that first day, you told me that the only reason Emilia let Pam into the cooking class was because of the nice letter she wrote. I thought that if I wanted to connect with Emilia, I'd have to pretend to be Pam. And once I said it…I had to keep the lie going."

"Oh. Well." He looked stunned. She knew this was so unexpected. "Wow," he said. "That's a little crazy."

"I know. But I didn't realize…it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I didn't expect to…I mean, can you possibly understand?"

He sighed. "I guess. I mean, sure. And I'm sorry about your sister. I only wish you'd told me sooner. We were becoming friends, you know?"

"I know," she said. "And I'm sorry. But it was more than just wanting to trick Emilia. It's hard for me to talk about Pam. I still don't fully believe she's gone. I guess I've been thinking a lot about her lately. Being here, it was almost as if I could pretend that she wasn't gone. Not for good. And that I could come back and patch things up with her. Like I said, I hadn't been home for a while."

"And why is that?" he asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

She sighed again. "Ugh," she groaned. "Here's the really terrible thing I did. I…" She took a breath and continued. "I was…well, I was involved with a married man from my work. I met him on a business trip to New Orleans last winter. It lasted for way too long. He didn't tell me he was married, but there were clues, and I should have known. I don't know why I did it. It's just I'd spent so many years growing up being the wild girl, the undisciplined girl, and Pam was the golden one. And it was such a tough childhood—Pam was mainly the one who raised me. She was ten years older than I was and gave up everything to take care of me. Maybe I was finally embracing that bad girl reputation I'd fought for so long. Or maybe it was because he was older and wealthy and made me feel secure. That was a feeling I never had before.

"Anyway, I caught sight of him in New York one afternoon when I thought he was out of town," she added. "They were on Columbus Avenue, going to the circus at Lincoln Center. He was with his wife and their three little kids, and she looked so happy to be with him, and I just felt horrible. I felt ashamed. That week I left my apartment, quit my job, and moved to Philadelphia to try to start over. I honestly didn't feel I could ever face my sister until I had a life I could be proud of."

Oliver breathed in deeply, as though he needed to make a physical effort to take in all she'd said. "Well, lots of people fall in love with the wrong person," he said. "I did. And honestly, I don't think you were the only one at fault. I mean, he's the one who was married."

"But I'm not responsible for him," she said. "I'm responsible for me. I should have known better. Sometimes I think that if I had come home like Pam wanted me to instead of hiding out in Philadelphia, things would be so different now. She wanted me to come home because she had this trip planned. I know she thought it could make us close again. Maybe I could have saved her when she fell."

They were silent for a moment. Then Oliver took her hand in his. "Callie…it's Callie, right?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Callie, I don't know you very well," he said. "We only met a few days ago. But what I've seen…I like. You're kind and warm, and smart. Funny. You care about people. You…you seem to me to be a very loving person. I mean, you fell in love with Emilia. Very quickly. You saw her for who she is, and you loved her, warts and all. And truly, anyone can make a mistake. You made a mistake with that guy. It's not the end of the world. You broke it off. And you punished yourself. Harshly. Banished yourself from your own home.

"So I have one question," he said. "Don't you think it's time to forgive yourself?"

She considered this, then shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. For not being there for Pam. For the night she died, and also for all the months that came before. For not appreciating how much she sacrificed for me."

"You didn't know Pam was going to fall. You would have been there if you'd known. And as for raising you—she did it because she loved you. You were her sister. Families don't come with scorecards. Or at least, they shouldn't."

"She was so mad at me. For never coming home. And I was so mad at her for making me think I didn't deserve to."

"And the tragedy is that you didn't have enough time to talk it out," he said. "But the love—that's never going away. Just like with Emilia and your grandmother."

She looked at him. "Thank you," she said. "This was, I think, the most valuable conversation of my life." She held his gaze for a moment, looking into his dark eyes.

"Oh, and wait a minute," Oliver said. "I have one more question." He rose and pulled her to her feet.

"Yes?"

"Just to be clear," he said, still holding her hands. "You don't have a husband and a daughter? You're not married?"

She shook her head. "Joe is my brother-in-law. Chloe is my niece."

He stayed still for a moment, then lifted his chin and rolled his eyes. "Thank God," he said.

She started to laugh. But then she stopped herself. Because that would have delayed the kiss she wanted so much.

She felt him take her shoulders, and she moved in toward him, until her lips touched his. They were soft, and the kiss was tender and sweet. And when she ran her hands up his shirt and around his neck, she felt something she'd been missing for a long time.

In a strange but real way, it felt like she'd finally come home.