Chapter 24

TWENTY-FOUR

OCTOBER 1943

The next morning, Emilia came downstairs, where Signora Jorelini was already cooking the day's meal. It smelled heavenly.

"I was able to get some chicken today and some beautiful greens," she said. "We'll be able to feed everyone well tonight. The scallions look tough, but parts of them can be salvaged."

Emilia nodded.

"So don't just stand there, piccolina. Chop up the scallions, throw away the rotten parts, and I'll keep things going here with the sauce."

Emilia nodded again.

"So quiet, today," Signora Jorelini said, studying her.

"I'm okay," Emilia said.

"I know it's a lot for you to take in, about Tomas and about the bed in the attic," she said, returning her attention to the pot. "But let's keep our heads together. This is all precaution. This war can't go on forever, and with any luck, Tomas will be on his way soon and the Nazis will have no interest in our little town."

Emilia kept her gaze down, focused on her chopping. It was a huge betrayal, what she was about to do. This woman, who had been so welcoming to her and so good to her family all these years, was about to lose her daughter. And Emilia was the one who would enable that to happen. She was the key to the whole escape. She didn't know if she'd be able to live with herself after Corinna left. She hated being thrust into this position, hated her role in Corinna and Tomas's plan. As she began to chop the scallions, she composed in her head a new note that she'd put down on paper later today:

Dear Annalisa and Giulia,

I am lost and I am afraid. I don't know what to do. I am more alone than I ever imagined. Where are you? I dream of seeing you both coming around the corner. I hope you come soon enough. I don't know what to do…

Then she shook her head, knife still in hand. No, she wouldn't write this letter down. She was so far removed from them now, she barely remembered what they looked like. She could hardly imagine the sound of their voices. She knew Annalisa's was lower, Giulia's was higher and musical. She knew these things, but that was all she remembered. She couldn't hear them anymore. She could only think about what they used to sound like. And wish she could hear them one more time.

She watched Signora Jorelini stirring the sauce. Yes, she hated herself for what she was about to do to this poor woman. But she couldn't shake the images in her memory of Corinna and Tomas together, planning their future, loving each other, loving the life they envisioned for themselves. That love, their physical expression of love, their courage and faith in the possibilities ahead—it needed to be honored. And heeded. It was the manifestation of her father's beautiful words—Go forth. It was the only way to live.

That afternoon, she took a handful of blank cards from the desk in the kitchen and carried them upstairs.

"Going to make the menus?" Signora Jorelini asked. "The color is red today."

She nodded.

Upstairs in her bedroom, Emilia sat at the desk and took out her red pencil. She sharpened it until there was a tip so pointy that it would surely sting if she were to stab her palm or accidentally insert it beneath her fingernail, touching the delicate skin there. She wrote Caccipulia Supper Club in her best handwriting, erasing the letters that weren't perfect and trying again. She listed the foods Signora Jorelini was cooking. She spent more time than she ever had before on the words. She copied the same words onto five more menu cards, one more than she needed. And then, on Tomas's card, she drew a set of steps against a building with two tall windows and a small flower garden. It was the code Corinna had given her last night, the picture that would tell Tomas to meet Corinna here this evening, on the steps at the side of the house beneath their tall white bedroom windows.

When she was done, she put the extra card in her pocket and brought the others down to the kitchen to place in the baskets. For now, only Tomas would understand the drawing. Even if someone else in the Possano house noticed it, they wouldn't know what it meant. At least not tonight. Maybe in time others would understand. Maybe someone would figure it out. Maybe next week, next month, next year, a million years. But not tonight. Not tonight, when it mattered. Tonight only she, Corinna, and Tomas would know.

" Grazie , my darling," Signora Jorelini said. "Why don't you go upstairs? You look a little pale. Are you feeling okay? I'll finish with the baskets, and I'll make the deliveries with the other women. Then I'll get dinner ready for us, okay? Corinna should be home from tutoring very soon."

She put on her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. "My, it's getting colder, isn't it?" she said, almost to herself. "It's nearly winter. It's darkening early. My, my. The change of the seasons. It tells us that life has some normalcy, doesn't it?"

Emilia closed the door after her, then watched through the window, standing back so no one could see her. She watched Signora Jorelini until the growing darkness enveloped her.

Then she went back inside and upstairs, where she removed the menu card from her pocket, the extra one. She turned it over, and on the blank side, she wrote a new message.

You must return this to me. I will be waiting for you.

She hid it in the suitcase Corinna was planning to take, beneath some clothes she'd already packed.

Dinner was silent that night. Emilia was consumed with her own thoughts, and Corinna and Signora Jorelini seemed to be, too. They finished eating, and the three of them silently cleaned the dishes and then went upstairs to bed. Emilia watched Corinna kiss her mother goodnight, same as always, although maybe her hug was a little tighter, a little longer. But not different enough to make her mother sense that anything was amiss. It must have taken such willpower, she thought, for Corinna to behave so normally, not to cry or tell her mother the truth. But she had her mother's best interests at heart. She knew her mother would try to stop her from leaving. And if she were delayed, Tomas might wait, too. And that could put them all in danger, the whole town in danger, if Tomas were found hiding in the Possano's house. It was safer for everyone this way.

In their bedroom just before midnight, Corinna switched on the small table lamp on the desk. She put some additional clothes into her suitcase, and then tossed in a toothbrush, a hairbrush, some face cream. Emilia sat up in bed and watched.

Then Corinna turned to Emilia. "You should start packing, too," she said. "Not too much. Warm clothes for sure. But you'll need to carry your own suitcase, so don't make it too heavy. I don't know how long we'll be walking each day. Come on, hurry up now. Midnight will be here before we know it."

Emilia looked at her. "What are you saying?"

Corinna paused, a partly folded sweater in her hand. "I couldn't tell you before. I thought it would be too hard for you to keep it from Mama. But Tomas and I—we want you to come with us."

Emilia was sure she'd misunderstood. "Wait…what?"

"You have to come," Corinna said. "It's not safe for you here. Hiding in the attic won't protect you."

"But your mother said I'd be safe."

"I don't think she's right. You are the daughter of a Jew. I love you too much to let you stay. We will start a new life somewhere. You can be part of it."

Emilia looked at her, then shook her head. "I can't," she said. "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are. You have to." Corinna came over and, kneeling in front of her, gripped her shoulders. "It's time to go," she whispered. "Start to pack. Now."

"But I can't."

"And why not?"

"Because of my sisters."

Corinna stared at her. "What?"

Emilia breathed in. "I have to wait for my sisters. I have to be here when they arrive. They will risk everything for me. They would never abandon me. They'll get here when they can. Even if it's months from now. I can't not be here when they arrive. I told them I'd wait. I told them in the letters you sent them."

Corinna paused, then rose and went to the desk. "I didn't want to have to show you this." She opened the desk drawer and pulled out the stack of letters she'd addressed to her sisters at the castle. "I never sent these," Corinna said. "There was nowhere to send them. The castle was invaded and everyone there was killed. They're gone. I'm your sister now. You must come with me."

Emilia looked at the stack, her eyes filling. How was this possible? "You never sent them?"

"There was no one there to receive them. Only Nazi soldiers. Emilia…your sisters?—"

"No, you're wrong!" she cried, and Corinna ran over, putting her hand over Emilia's mouth to quiet her.

"You have to be quiet, you can't wake up Mama?—"

Emilia pushed the hand away. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. "It doesn't matter if they never received them. They know where to find me. They're coming back."

Corinna drew her close for a hug. "Please don't be foolish. You will be found here. They will take you away. Or they will kill you right here. You will die if you stay."

"Your mother has a place for me in the attic?—"

"They will find you there. And when they do, they will arrest her, too. Please come tonight. It's the only way to keep everyone safe…"

There was the sound of footsteps outside, crunching on gravel, just beneath the window.

"That's Tomas," Corinna whispered. "We have to go. Now."

Emilia stayed still.

"Please, Emilia. Please."

Emilia looked up. "I love you, Corinna."

Corinna sat back down on the bed, and Emilia wrapped her arms around Corinna's long neck.

"This is the last chance," Corinna said. "Come with us, Emilia, I beg of you."

Emilia pushed herself away.

"I will come back for you," she said. "And for Mama. Stay safe. Stay hidden. I will be back for you."

Corinna lowered the lid of the suitcase and snapped it shut. Then she went to the bedroom door. She hesitated, and for a fraction of a second Emilia thought she would get her wish. That Corinna would stay. That they would continue as they had been.

Corinna turned to her and took a breath. Emilia held hers. The silence seemed endless. Then finally Corinna spoke. But they weren't the words Emilia wanted to hear.

"Please tell my mother I'm so sorry," she said.

Emilia nodded.

Corinna stepped into the hall and then closed the door behind her. Emilia went to the window to look outside. Below, dimly lit by the moon, she could see the silhouette of a man in a heavy coat waiting on the pathway. She knew it was Tomas and breathed a sigh of relief that he had indeed understood the last code. Although she hadn't seriously doubted that he would, she still felt a tinge of satisfaction that her codes had worked, that they'd kept Corinna and Tomas together and would help them build a future. But that feeling lasted just a moment, and before long, the weight of all that had happened settled down on her again. She saw then Corinna's silhouette appear from around the corner of the house. She placed her suitcase down, and the two silhouettes merged into one. It was an embrace, a beautiful embrace, an embrace full of joy and promise. Then, slowly, the figures retreated from one another. Corinna picked her valise back up with one hand, and Tomas grasped her other hand. They stole away, and soon they were invisible.

Emilia crawled back into her bed but couldn't fall asleep. She kept picturing Tomas and Corinna as they looked from the window, two shadows taking off into total darkness. Sometimes she imagined that she was the one Tomas was running with, that he was holding her hand and leading her away, out of town, far from everything that frightened her. And sometimes she imagined it was Corinna guiding her to safety. A part of her yearned to jump out of bed and run downstairs, even in her nightdress, to run after them and say she'd changed her mind. There was so much uncertainty here, so much terror.

Would the Nazis come to Caccipulia and find her and whatever other Jews were hiding? Would the danger ultimately prove too much for Signora Jorelini? If push came to shove, would she turn Emilia in? What did it even mean to be taken by the Nazis? Where would they take her? And how would it happen? Would those awful soldiers do what she'd heard? Would they come in and take her, at night, from her bed, while she was sleeping even? Would they let her get dressed? Would they let her bring something with her, maybe pictures of her father, her sisters? Would anyone say goodbye? Would Corinna and Tomas ever think about what had happened to her? Would they ever find out? Where would she eventually end up?

I did my best, Papa , she whispered. I thought this was what you'd want. For me to wait for Annalisa and Giulia. To be here when they finally came back. So we can be a family again .

At some point she must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, the sun was up. She climbed out of bed and dressed quickly. Then she sat on the edge of her bed, waiting to hear sounds from downstairs, Signora Jorelini entering the house with the food she'd been able to obtain and starting to prepare breakfast. She wondered how long it would take for Signora Jorelini to notice that Corinna wasn't coming downstairs for breakfast. Maybe she would think Corinna left early for school today. Or maybe she would think Corinna had decided to sleep late. Maybe she'd think Corinna wasn't feeling well. Surely she'd ask Emilia to explain where Corinna was when they didn't come downstairs for breakfast as usual.

What would Emilia say? Had Corinna and Tomas left her with the job of breaking the news of their escape to Signora Jorelini? When Corinna had mentioned her mother last night, all she'd done was ask Emilia to say she was sorry. Had she meant for Emilia to also explain what she was sorry for?

Her questions were suddenly answered—with a loud gut-wrenching wail. "Nooo!" It was Signora Jorelini crying out, her voice harsh and hoarse. " Nooo! "

Emilia threw off her covers and ran downstairs in her bare feet. The kitchen door was ajar. Emilia ran to the window with the pretty sunflower curtains and looked outside. Signora Jorelini was still wailing, holding a sheet of paper in her hands. Signora Possano was nearby, and she and two other women came running over.

"What is it? What is it?" Signora Possano said, waving the others off and pushing her friend back inside.

"She's run off!" Signora Jorelini cried. "She's run off with the boy from your house."

"Tomas?" Signora Possano said. "Our Tomas? All his things are gone. He left last night."

"Did he say goodbye? Did he tell you Corinna was going with him?"

"Corinna is gone too?"

Signora Jorelini crumpled down onto the step. "No…" she wailed. "No. My baby. They are after him. They will find him, and they will take her too."

Emilia continued to watch as Signora Possano put her arm around her friend. The two women swayed and rocked, Signora Jorelini's cries turning into quiet, heartfelt sobs. Emilia stayed still, surprised and yet grateful that Corinna had left the note. She wouldn't have wanted to say the words that would cause Signora Jorelini such anguish. She went to the oven to warm some bread. The least she could do now was make breakfast for the poor woman who had taken her in.

A few moments later, Signora Jorelini walked her friend outside, then came back into the kitchen. Her eyes were sunken and her shoulders were stooped. She looked like she had aged ten years from when Emilia had seen her yesterday morning. She put the note on the table and sat down heavily on a chair, dropping her chin down, her hands clasped between her knees.

Emilia wiped her hands on a towel and went to the table to pick up the note. She unfolded it and read:

Dear Mama,

I am leaving with Tomas to start a new life together. I love him and I must be with him. I am so sorry to leave you, but I don't have a choice. I didn't want to tell you, because I knew you'd try to stop me, and I didn't want our last time together to be filled with fighting and bitter words. I will think of you now in the kitchen, making delicious meals for others, putting such love and care into your food. I will miss you and think of you always. I will be back one day when everything is safe again, and we can all be happy. I am confident I will be back and we will be a bigger, happier family. Please know how much I love you.

Your loving daughter,

Corinna

P.S. Please don't blame Emilia. She didn't know a thing.

Emilia folded the note up again and handed it back to Signora Jorelini. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"You didn't hear her leave?"

Emilia shook her head. She couldn't bring herself to admit that she'd known what was going to happen. Corinna had said in her note that Emilia knew nothing. It was easy to go along with the lie. It seemed somehow the kindest thing to do. "She only said last night to tell you she was very sorry," Emilia said. "I agreed to tell you that this morning. But I…I didn't know why."

Signora Jorelini dropped her head again.

"Can I bring you something, Signora Jorelini? Something to drink? Some warm bread? Cheese?" Without waiting for an answer, she went to take a coffee cup from the cupboard.

"I've lost everything now," Signora Jorelini said. "How do I go on?"

Emilia stood helplessly, not knowing what to say. Tomas had talked about how many people had lost everything. His own family had been taken away. He didn't know their fate, but she'd heard him tell Corinna that he thought they'd likely be killed. And she, too, had lost everything. Her father and her sisters. If Corinna was to be believed, Annalisa and Giulia were dead, too.

Although she didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe it. Her heart wouldn't let her.

But this was different, Corinna's escape. Because Emilia had helped in the escape. She had enabled Tomas and Corinna to leave. With her codes. And that's what had broken Signora Jorelini's heart. She was accountable for that.

"Her note sounds hopeful," Emilia said. "Maybe she's right. Maybe she and Tomas will get to safety. And they will return one day. And everyone will be happy again…"

"Emilia, please," Signora Jorelini said, holding up a hand. She paused for a moment. "Anyway, it's time to start cooking," she said. "We need to get started. It's a green day today for the menu cards. The woods."

Emilia looked up. "The supper club?" she asked. "We aren't ending it?"

Signora Jorelini shook her head. "No. We aren't ending it yet."

Emilia stood in the kitchen for a few moments. She felt horrible. She had betrayed the woman who had cared for her father, who had nursed him when his daughters were gone, who had taken her in and fed her and given her a place to live when she had none. And by not speaking up, she had broken this poor woman's heart.

And yet, if she had the chance to do it all again, she didn't think she'd do anything different. Corinna and Tomas belonged together, even she could see that. What they felt for each other, it was stronger than any other need, it was more important than any other want. They deserved a chance for happiness. The kind of happiness her father had had with her mother.

And that's when she knew that this was part of war, the part that accompanied the killing and the torture. It left you with no good answers. No way forward beyond what was bad and what was worse. Everyone was scared and everyone was alone and everyone was searching for peace and safety. And love. And finding substitutes only in things that didn't last, that weren't yours. A bed that belonged to another. A meal made from ingredients scrounged together, with no guarantee that there'd be another one tomorrow. A home that wasn't your home at all. Because it was missing the people who made it a home.

She was like Tomas. She was Jewish. She was the outsider.

And there was only one thing to do for Signora Jorelini, the woman who'd saved her.

She would save her in return.

That night after Signora Jorelini was asleep, Emilia packed a small bag and tiptoed downstairs. She'd written the menus that day in green, for the woods. Now it was her turn to follow the code. She wished she didn't have to leave. She wished she could stay for her sisters. She didn't want to believe they were dead. But she didn't have the luxury of waiting any longer. She had betrayed Signora Jorelini by keeping Corinna's plans from her. The least she could do was protect her now. Signora Jorelini would be arrested or worse if the Nazis came and found out she'd been hiding Emilia. She had to leave so Signora Jorelini would not suffer that fate.

She stepped outside and took a breath. The way to the woods, to the outskirts of town, led right past the house where she'd grown up. She was glad. She'd stop and look at it for a moment if it felt safe to pause. She would need to hold onto that memory possibly for a very long time.

But she would be back.

She thought of her father's Abraham story, the story about the man who left his home assured by the stars in the sky that he would live on, that there would be generations and generations to come. Go forth , that was the story's entreaty. She stepped outside and looked upward, hoping to see a skyful of stars. But the night sky was gray and overcast. There were no stars above.

Maybe tomorrow , she told herself. At some point, there'd be stars. And she would be happy to see them. And they would spur her on. For now, she thought, she'd have to make do with whatever lighting the members of the Resistance had out there in the woods. A flashlight, maybe? A torch or candles?

Whatever light there was, she would pretend it was a star. And she would follow it and be grateful for it. And wait for the sky to brighten and the real stars to appear once more.