Rapture's Rendezvous (2 page)

Then Maria's gaze settled on the tickets being held tightly in Alberto's hands. Maria also had to smile. It was such a gratifying sensation to know that her Papa had remembered and had finally sent tickets for her and Alberto to join him in America.

Yes. What a pleasant surprise it had been when Maria and Alberto had discovered the tickets for the boat trip waiting in the mail when they had returned to their ■Gran-mama's house earlier in the evening.

“When can we go?” Maria asked, suddenly rising up to lean on an elbow, to face Alberto. She spoke softly, not wanting to wake her Gran-mama, who was asleep only a few feet away, on her own bed of leaves.

Alberto reached up and touched a lock of Maria's long, dark hair. “In the next few days, Maria. We'll have to help Gran-mama get things settled around here first.”

Maria sighed heavily, her eyes seeking the sleeping figure of her Gran-mama. “I wish Gran-mama could go with us.”

“Papa wanted her to go. But she refused. She doesn't want to leave Mama's and Gran-papa's graves. It would make her too sad.”

“But won't she be terribly lonely?”

“Maria, we are not the only members left of the
Lazzaro family. You must remember Aunt Helena and many, many more. No. Gran-mama won't be lonesome. She'll miss us. But she won't be lonesome.”

Maria turned over and stretched out on her stomach. It still felt warm and good from the huge bowl of
polenta
that she had eaten for supper. And the chestnut soup and fresh goat's milk had completed the feast.

“Alberto?”

“Yes, Maria?”

“I wonder what type of house Papa lives in?” “I don't know. But you needn't worry about that. I'm sure it will be nice.” “Alberto?”

“Yes, Maria.” Alberto said impatiently, suddenly feeling the need of sleep. He had many days of responsibility for Maria's safety stretched out before him.

“I wonder if the house will have a place where we can take a bath and real beds to sleep on,” Maria said quietly.

“I'm sure all houses in America have bathing facilities and beds,” Alberto answered. “Now, will you please get to sleep?”

There was a short pause. The only sound that could be heard was from the scratching of the dog that lay stretched out in front of the hearth.

Maria squirmed uneasily, her gown having worked up above her knees. “I wonder what type of work Papa found?” she whispered again.

“Hmm. It's funny. He never wrote of that,” Alberto said.

“And, isn't it just awful, Alberto?” she said even more softly. “Isn't what awful?”

“Oh, you know. Father warned us of the cruelties of a man named Nathan Hawkins and how terribly mean he is to the Italians who have settled in the same town Papa has.”

“Aren't you even a bit afraid, Maria?”

A burning anger made her dark eyes flash, trying to envision such a man. The Italians had planned to find a better life in America.
Not
a life of slavery. “No. I'm not afraid,” she hissed. “I am anxious to meet this evil man.”

“What?” he gasped loudly.

“Yes. I want to meet this man who is treating Papa and our people so poorly.”

“Why the hell would you want to meet him? He'll try to be just as cruel to us.”

Maria had never been given cause yet in her life to hate. . . and was now feeling the difference it made inside herself as this hate continued to build, causing her to even suddenly feel like an entirely different person. She frowned deeply. “Why? Because there must be a way to make him pay for treating people so badly.”

“Maria,” Alberto sighed heavily. “Sometimes your sense of adventure gets in the way of logic.”

“But there does have to be a way, Alberto,” she said, sighing deeply. “There just has to be a way.”

“Get to sleep, Maria,” Alberto grumbled. “We've much to do in the next day or so.”

“Okay, Alberto. Good night.”

Maria felt a warmth next to her body, and welcomed her brother's arm thrown across her back. . . .

One week at sea, and Maria and Alberto feared the worst. . . that possibly they wouldn't even have the opportunity to see the great expanse of rich land called America.

Huddled together in a corner, beneath a water-soaked blanket, they trembled in unison.

“I'm so afraid, Alberto,” Maria whispered, feeling a fresh, wild spray of sea water washing over the flooring of the ship, settling around her. “If only we could have afforded a cabin. What if we're even washed over-board?”

The ship continued to heave and pitch, and the wailing of the wind matched that of the many others who were also seeking a new way of life in America. Alberto lifted a corner of the blanket, to search his eyes around him, seeing once again the jammed upper deck of the crude ship called the
Dolphin.
As far as the eyes could see through the blur of the rain and the seawater's haze, bunks were lined up, filling the empty spaces of the upper deck, and on these bunks were members of families, huddled, sharing what had suddenly become a nightmare for all.

Feeling a sick ache at the pit of his stomach, Alberto pulled the blanket back down, a barrier being used to
separate him and his sister from what mounting fear that he could … a fear that seemed to increase with each added lurch of the ship. He placed his arm around Maria and pulled her closer to him.

“It'll be all right, Maria,” he said thickly. “You'll see. It'll be all right.”

Maria reached for her violin case and placed it on her lap. “My poor violin,” she cried. “It will be warped for sure. Then how can I pull beautiful notes from it? How, Alberto?”

“If anything happens to your violin, we shall purchase you another one when we reach America. I promise you that.”

“But I only want this one.”

“We shall take care of it as best as we can,” Alberto said, helping to hold the case, pulling it to rest partially on his lap.

“And the animals on this ship stink so,” Maria blurted, wrinkling her nose. “I thought the rains would at least wash the decks free of that stench. But it only seems to have worsened.”

“I sure hadn't expected to share our boat trip with horses, mules and sheep,” Alberto grumbled. “But we do have to, and the smell is one thing you'll have to learn to tolerate, Maria.”

The ship rose, fell and rolled some more, making the timbers creak in an almost weary-sounding fashion.

“When ever shall it end?” Maria sobbed. Her stomach ached both from the tossing of the ship and the lack of food, and her feet and fingers had grown numb from the continuing wet, cold dampness.

“Please quit fretting so, Maria,” Alberto said. “That won't make things any better.”

Maria chewed her lower lip. “Alberto?” she said softly. “Yes?”

“When the storm is over, can I please take these wet clothes off and put on a dress?”

He answered immediately and gruffly. “No. You cannot wear a dress,” he argued. “You know the dangers of that.”

“I still don't understand.”

“To wear a dress would be to show this ship's crew that you are a woman. You
do
know the dangers of that.”

“No, I do not,” she said angrily.

“I've told you. Over and over again.”

“I think you are wrong, Alberto,” she persisted. “I am not beautiful. No man would .. . did you call it… seduce me. You are funny, Alberto.”

Tensing, Alberto glared at Maria. “Maria, if you flaunt your .. . shall I say . . . your curves to these women-hungry seamen, you are asking for trouble. And, yes, my sister, you arc quite beautiful. Even a brother knows the beauty of a sister.”

“But to wear this ugly chimney sweep outfit for even another day almost breaks my heart,” she moaned. “I thought that once we left Italy behind, it would also mean to leave dingy ways of dressing behind. I so long to wear long, pretty dresses. The one Aunt Helena gave me is so lovely with its lace and bows. Please let me wear it?”

“No, Maria,” Alberto stormed. “I am to see to your safety and, damn it, you shall wear what I say. And please be sure to keep your hair hidden beneath that hat. That alone would give away the fact that you are
not my brother.”

“Oh, all right,” Maria grumbled, then grew silent, listening. “Has the storm stopped?” she whispered. “The sea seems to be a bit calmer and I hear no more close thunder. Only occasional slight rumblings.”

Alberto quickly raised the blanket and searched the sky. There were still many gray, low-rolling clouds racing along overhead, but a rainbow filled another part of the sky in misty multicolors.

“Look, Maria,” Alberto exclaimed, tossing the blanket aside. “Isn't it so beautiful?”

Maria's eyes sparkled as she stood and straightened her back, looking upward. “They say that a pot of gold can be found at the rainbow's end,” she whispered. “Do you even think the one end of this rainbow stops where America lies waiting for us?”

“Maybe so,” Alberto said, looking slowly around him, stomping his feet alternately, sending small showers of water from his clothes. Since the storm's abatement, the activity on the ship had taken on a different note. The rain-soaked people began to move from their bunks, coughing, sneezing, wringing the water from their clothes and hair, and checking the welfare of their belongings.

The ship's crew scurried around, clearing the outer deck of fallen debris and shouting crude obscenities as they pushed their way through the throngs of people milling about.

Alberto leaned into Maria's face. “Now you remember what I said,” he whispered. “You keep that hat pulled down to hide your eyes and walk a bit stooped so no sailor will see your … uh … the size of your breasts.”

Feeling a blush rising, Maria cast her eyes downward. “All right,” she said. “I will.” She clung to her violin case as she watched Alberto reposition their trunks further up the deck, then scoot their bunks closer together.

“There. That's better,” he said. “If the sun ever shines again, at least we'll be where it can reach and warm us.”

Maria placed her violin case on one of the bunks. “Will it be as cold for the whole trip, Alberto?” she asked, shivering. She wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself.

“It is the month of October,” he said, walking to the ship's rail, to look far into the horizon, seeing gray meeting blue. Would he ever see land again? Had his Papa had such doubts when he had traveled from Italy to America? Setting his jaw firmly, he swung around on a heel to clasp onto Maria's shoulders. “Yes, it is the month of October,” he blurted. “And cold as it is, you must remember that in November even, we shall be sitting comfortably in front of a cozy fire in Papa's house. By God we will. Just you wait and see.”

Having suddenly pulled courage from Alberto, Maria lunged into his arms and hugged him to her, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “You always make me feel so confident of things in life,” she murmured. “Alberto, whatever would I do without you?”

Alberto hugged her tightly. “I will always be here for you, Maria.” But his gaze had traveled further up the deck, seeing a cluster of men taking their usual positions next to the ship's round, soot-covered smokestack. The storm had sent them fleeing for whatever protective covering they could find, but now they had returned, squatting, playing their same card games and
smoking long, thick cigars.

Maria had heard a different tone in Alberto's voice and she had sensed his body grow tense. She pulled from him, searching his face, then turned to follow his gaze. Yes, it was the same men. Alberto had been almost mesmerized by the silly card games they were playing since the ship's moving out into the open sea. “Alberto?” she whispered, tugging on his sleeve. “Alberto!” she persisted, when he ignored her. She looked toward the men again, then downward at the money being shoved back and forth between them. She understood that this thing they were doing held a fascination for Alberto mainly due to the stacks of green bills being exchanged from one hand to another.

Maria reached up to touch Alberto's cheek, suddenly afraid, seeing a strangeness in his eyes … a look of need … a look almost the same as lust as he licked his lips feverishly. “Alberto, come and sit with me,” she pleaded.

“I've got to see how they play that game,” Alberto said, jerking away from her, then gazed at her with his wide, dark eyes. “Now you sit down on your bunk and I'll only be a minute.”

Maria clutched at his arm. “You don't want to even get near those men,” she whispered harshly. Her own dark eyes widened, pleading. “Can't you see they are evil men?” She shuddered visibly, seeing the thick black whiskers of most of them, and the filthiness of their shabby clothes. “And they're so dirty. Even dirtier than the clothes we have had to wear.”

“They might be all those things,” Alberto said. “But don't you see the money in their possession? God. They must be rich.”

Maria scoffed. “Rich? How could they be and dress n such a way? Bank robbers would probably be a more ippropriate way to describe them. Please, Alberto, stay away from them.”

“It looks too exciting, Maria. You know how boring life has been up to now for both of us.”

“But I'm afraid to be left alone.”

“I will only be footsteps away. Didn't I promise to always be here to look after you?”

“And I'm hungry, Alberto,” she whined, gathering the bottom of her shirt in her fingers to twist it.

“The women folk will soon be cooking. You'll see.”

“If I could show that I'm a woman, I could help with the cooking,” she further pouted. “I've noticed that the ones who do the cooking sneak extra food beneath their skirts. I could even do that for us, Alberto.”

Alberto frowned, busying himself, removing from his inner pockets most of his money and already purchased train tickets for the long trip from New York to Illinois, then quickly thrust this into Maria's hands. “Here. Hide this,” he said. “Maybe the men are wicked as you say. No need in taking a chance of getting our money and tickets taken from me.”