Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop (31 page)

“Sorella Agata, I know it's been painful for you to tell me about your past. But I still have so many questions. If you don't mind, I'd like to hear the rest of your story. Tell me more about how you came to found the women's shelter.”

“Very well. But first let me make more espresso. We're going to be up late. It's quite a long story.”

25

Krapfen

CREAM-FILLED DOUGHNUTS

 

 

 

 

J
ust as Rosalia had been eager to learn the art of pastry making, now, as Sorella Agata, she was eager to find ways to serve God and those in need. She accompanied Madre Carmela in her visits to the local hospitals, orphanages, and sanitariums. While Sorella Agata found the work rewarding and she felt compassion for all those she came into contact with, she couldn't help feeling there was something else waiting for her. And she discovered what that was one day when she was in the village, shopping for supplies, and took a wrong turn down an alleyway.

“Excuse me, Sorella. Can you spare some change?”

An old bedraggled woman came out of the shadows, startling Sorella Agata. The woman wore a tattered sundress and held a crumpled-up straw hat to her chest. Her eyes looked vacant and sad.

“Of course.” Sorella Agata reached into the pockets of her habit and gave the woman two
lire
.

Though Sorella Agata had been warned about beggars and pickpockets, and she did feel her heart skip a beat walking down this quiet alleyway, she couldn't refuse someone in need, especially an old woman. The woman nodded her head and turned around, shuffling away. She limped, and Sorella Agata noticed she wore only one sandal.

“Please wait,
signora!
” Sorella Agata called out to her.

The woman turned around, surprise etched across her hollow expression.

“What did you call me, Sorella?”

“
Signora.
I wanted to give you something else that you might like.” Sorella Agata reached into her pocket once again, and this time produced two small watermelon-shaped marzipan fruit.

Like Madre Carmela, Sorella Agata had now taken to carrying sweets in the pockets of her habit. She couldn't resist the custom since she'd always enjoyed it when Madre had surprised her with a treat. Besides marzipan fruit, Sorella Agata also carried cookies. She loved to surprise children with the sweets whenever she ran into a group of them playing on the street. The little girls always made her think about her younger sister, Cecilia.

The old lady's eyes lit up when she saw the marzipan. She reached out to take them, but before doing so looked at Sorella Agata as if asking her if she were really certain she wanted to give these treasures away. Sorella Agata nodded her head, imploring the woman to take the marzipan.

“
Grazie,
Sorella. You are too kind.”

The lady took a bite of the marzipan and closed her eyes, chewing the pastry slowly. Looking at the emaciated body of the woman, Sorella Agata thought she would have wolfed down both of the marzipan fruit in an instant.

“
Delizioso!
I remember when my husband used to treat me to these for my birthday every year.”

Tears filled the woman's eyes. Instead of eating the second watermelon marzipan fruit, she placed it in her straw hat. Then, she looked over her shoulder, ensuring no one had seen.

“May I ask you,
signora,
where your husband is?”

“You keep calling me
signora.
No one has called me that in quite some time. My husband died ten years ago. After that, my life died along with him. I've been living on the streets since.”

“You have no children?”

“No. God never blessed me with those, I'm afraid. But I don't want you feeling sorry for me, Sorella. Feel sorry for the young women who were forced to run away from home because of abuse they suffered by their own parents or for the women who were forced to leave their husbands who beat them. Their lives are still ahead of them, but they are wasting away on these streets. I, on the other hand, had my life, and I'm grateful to God I had some happiness when I was younger. My husband was a good man. But after he died, I couldn't find any work.”

“I'm so sorry,
signora
. May I ask what your name is?”

“Giuseppina, but everyone calls me Peppina.”

“I am Sorella Agata. I am with the Carmelite order of nuns. I will keep you in my prayers, and perhaps I can come again and visit you?”

“That would be nice, Sorella, although I don't know if your prayers will do any good for me anymore. It might be better you don't waste them on me, and instead pray for the younger women here.”

Sorella Agata looked down the narrow alleyway, but it was deserted. Where were these other women Peppina talked about?

“I was wondering, Peppina, could you take me to where the other women are?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “If you like. You've been very kind to me. It's the least I can do.”

Sorella Agata followed Peppina, who walked very slowly. She wanted to ask the old woman if it might be easier for her to take off her one sandal so her gait would be even when she walked, but she was afraid of offending her. The convent collected clothes from the villagers every month. When she returned home, she would have to see if there were shoes in the collection that might fit Peppina.

Peppina turned right, down an even narrower alleyway than the one they had come from. The glow from a lantern could be seen in the distance. Sorella Agata noticed the sky was getting darker. She should have taken her leave of Peppina and hurried back to the convent before it got dark. Madre Carmela would be worried about her. But her curiosity about the other homeless women was too great to ignore. She needed to see with her own eyes how these women were living.

Soon, one by one, women came out from the shadows. Each of them stopped when they saw Sorella Agata. No doubt her habit had caught their attention. The ages of the women ran from as old as their sixties and seventies to as young as their early teens, maybe even preteens. Sorella Agata was shocked to see that most of the homeless were these younger girls. Suddenly, the image of herself when she crawled outside the cave where Marco had taken her flashed before her eyes. She remembered how her own clothes had been torn and how afraid she had been. These girls' eyes held the same empty stare Peppina's eyes held, but there was something else present in their eyes—utter despair. She could see in their faces they had no hope. To be that young and have no hopes for the future—it was horrible. In that moment, Sorella Agata realized once again how fortunate she had been to have Madre Carmela and the life she'd given her at the convent. True, she had lost her family, but she had gained another one with the sisters and the lay workers at the convent. These young women had no one but one another.

Though the women looked at her, no one approached Sorella Agata. She kept a respectful distance. They seemed to lose interest in her and gathered in a circle by the lantern. An older woman approached the group. She held a loaf of bread. She broke pieces of the bread off and handed them to the women. Peppina left Sorella Agata's side and waited for her piece of bread. She held her straw hat so that the brims were folded in toward each other. Sorella Agata had no doubt she did so to ensure the watermelon marzipan remained hidden from view. She couldn't help noting that Peppina was like a child who didn't want to part with her prize.

Sorella Agata jumped when she felt a hand tap her shoulder.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. Are you lost?”

Sorella Agata turned around and was face-to-face with a striking young woman who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old.

“I was, but I met Peppina, and she told me about all of you. I wanted to come by to see if I could offer some assistance. My name is Sorella Agata.”

“My name is Lucrezia. Did you bring food with you?”

Lucrezia looked at the burlap bags Sorella Agata carried on each of her shoulders. She then realized with embarrassment that she was carrying groceries and baking supplies, and all she had offered Peppina were two small marzipan fruit. Sorella Agata looked at the women, each eating her one small piece of bread and taking turns drinking from a bucket of water that held a ladle. Without hesitation, she took the bags off her shoulders and reached inside, pulling out an apricot from the two dozen she'd bought to make a pie. She handed it to Lucrezia.

“Come. I have more food for you and the others.”

Sorella Agata walked toward the other women. She took out the rest of the apricots as well as several round loaves of bread and various other produce. She even had a large jar of anchovies. Sorella Agata kept unloading the contents of her burlap bags until they were empty. The women gathered around her, talking excitedly. Even the older women had gleeful expressions, as if they were children waiting for La Befana to hand out her gifts for the Feast of the Epiphany.

“I brought her here! Me! I knew she would be good luck.” Peppina spoke loudly above the din, pointing to her chest.

No one seemed to care that Peppina was responsible for bringing Sorella Agata to their group. They were too hungry and dazed from their sudden windfall of having more than a piece of bread for dinner that night.

A few of the women thanked Sorella Agata and shyly told her their names. Her heart swelled upon seeing how grateful they seemed and how for that brief moment their sorrowful faces looked content.

“I promise I will come back,” Sorella Agata said as she began to walk away.

The women followed her down the dark alleyway.

“Be careful, Sister. May God bless you. Thank you for feeding us tonight.” A few of the women called out to her as she finally parted ways with them.

One of the younger girls, who looked to be twelve or thirteen years old, ran up to Sorella Agata. “When will you come back?”

“Tomorrow. I'll come back tomorrow.”

The next day, Sorella Agata returned, but Madre Carmela had insisted on accompanying her. While she had been upset at first that Sorella Agata had given away all of their groceries, she understood why she had done so. When they arrived at the alleyway, no one was in sight. Sorella Agata began to think she had gone down the wrong alley, but then the women slowly came out from their hiding places, one by one as they had done the previous night. Whom were they hiding from? Did anyone else know about their living here, hidden in the shadows?

Madre Carmela began handing out the food they were able to spare from their kitchen. Sorella Agata had a special treat for them. That morning she had fried batches of
Krapfen,
cream-filled doughnuts. While they weren't as elaborate as marzipan, the fried balls of airy dough filled with pastry cream were just as decadent tasting when one bit into them.

“
Che buono!
So good!” many of the women chanted after tasting the
Krapfen.

After handing out their food, Madre Carmela and Sorella Agata were about to take their leave when the women invited them to stay longer.

A few of them opened up about their past lives. The older women had mainly fallen on hard times after their spouses died. But one woman, Gabriella, spat out, “My louse of a husband left me for a younger woman; he moved her into our house and then threw me out. And my son sided with his father out of fear of being disinherited. So much for marrying a wealthy man.”

Everyone laughed at her last statement, but Sorella Agata could see Gabriella was still seething.

“My mother died when I was born. And then my father was killed in an accident at the mill. My uncle took me in, but then he started doing things to me. I ran away from home. I was working on the streets for a few years until Peppina found me and brought me here.”

“And what is your name?” Madre Carmela asked the young woman, who looked to be in her early twenties.

“Donatella.”

“Are you still working on . . . on the streets?” Sorella Agata managed to ask her.

“Sometimes.” Donatella's gaze didn't meet Sorella Agata's. “But at least now I decide when I want the work. Where I was staying before I met Peppina, I had no choice but to work all the time.”

Sorella Agata gathered the young woman had been living in a brothel before. Her heart ached for her lost innocence. Finding her courage once again, she asked, “How many of you are working on the streets like Donatella?”

Of the dozen women who stood before them, half raised their hands—all of them were the younger women, in their teens to twenties.

“And the rest of you?” Madre asked, directing her gaze toward the older women.

“We're ashamed to admit this to women of God such as you, but we steal what we can here and there. But we have rules. No stealing from women and no stealing from families. We mainly steal from stores and restaurants or from men who look like they are rich. They won't notice a few
lire
anyway.” Peppina elbowed Gabriella, and they laughed along with the other women. Even Madre and Sorella Agata laughed.