Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop (36 page)

Madre knew no words in the world would persuade Sorella Agata to leave her mother's side for even one second. After all, she was probably still in disbelief that her mother was actually standing here before her after twenty-five years. Poor Sorella Agata. She probably feared if she let her mother out of her sight, she might lose her again.

“I believe there's a free cot in the chapel. I can have a few of the lay workers bring it over. This way you won't put out your back by sleeping on the floor.”

“
Grazie,
Madre.
Buona notte.
”

“
Buon Natale,
Sorella Agata. God has given you a wonderful gift this year.”

Sorella Agata glanced at her wristwatch. It was five past midnight. In the excitement of finding her mother, she had almost forgotten it was Christmas Eve. And now it was officially Christmas.

“
Buon Natale,
Madre. I nearly forgot it was Christmas. I think I am still in shock.”

Madre Carmela went over and embraced her once again, whispering in her ear. “You never gave up hope. And God has rewarded you for your patience.”

Sorella Agata blinked back tears. She glanced at her mother, who was talking to Teresa and Sorella Lucia. Though she still looked quite weak, she managed to smile at them and answer their questions.

Keeping her voice low so it wouldn't reach her mother, Sorella Agata said, “I was beginning to lose hope, Madre, I'm sorry to say. And I still don't know what fate the rest of my family members met with. Something tells me I will have more heartache once my mother tells me what happened to Papà, Luca, and Cecilia.”

Madre Carmela took Sorella Agata's hands in hers and squeezed tightly. “You are much stronger than the young woman I rescued all those years ago. You will be fine whatever you learn about your family. And now, you will be even stronger with your mother by your side. Remember that.”

“I pray you are right, Madre. I pray I can continue to be strong. But I suppose I must be. I have no other choice now that my mother is back in my life. I must be strong for her.”

29

Torta al Limone di Mamma

MAMMA'S LEMON CAKE

 

 

 

 

T
hough all the desserts for Christmas had been made and the shop was closed today, Sorella Agata had still woken up shortly before dawn to bake one of her favorite desserts—
Torta al Limone
. It would be a special gift for her mother.

As she stirred the batter, memories came back to Sorella Agata of when she was a child and Mamma would make the lemon cake for her and Luca. As she had told Madre Carmela when they were on their way to her hometown of Terme Vigliatore, when Rosalia had thought she would be reunited with her family, her mother would make the lemon cake for the children's birthdays and their namesake saint's day and sometimes for Easter. It was one of the simple desserts her mother made. But to little Rosalia and Luca, the dessert had felt decadent with its citrus aroma and flavor and its intensely sweet lemon glaze that was drizzled over the cake once it was done baking.

As Sorella Agata stirred the batter, she cried profusely. Usually, she made an attempt not to cry when she felt sad, but her emotions always got the better of her. And it seemed like when she was making her pastries, there was no control, and the tears insisted on coming out. Today, however, she didn't try to stop them; she let them flow freely. With one hand, she expertly beat her batter, and with her other, she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

But today, she cried because she still could not believe her mamma was here with her. She had found Mamma. Her elation had kept her up most of the night. Once her mother was sound asleep, Sorella Agata had sat up in the cot that had been set up for her in her room, and she had stared at her mother. The moonlight that came in through the sheer window panels that hung from Sorella Agata's window cast an almost angelic light over her mother's tired face. Sorella Agata wanted to stroke her mother's cheek, but she was afraid of disturbing her. She was even tempted to crawl into the bed and lie beside her, but she knew how much her mother needed her rest if she was going to fully recuperate from her recent bout of pneumonia. Sorella Agata was almost afraid to leave Mamma out of her sight, but sense finally came to her, and she knew Mamma wasn't going to vanish into thin air—even if it did seem like she had materialized out of nowhere when Sorella Agata had found herself suddenly face-to-face with her at the hospital. Then, the idea had come to her to make Mamma's
Torta al Limone
. After all, it was Christmas, and she wanted to give her mother a small gift.

An hour later when the cake was done, Sorella Agata poked holes throughout the top of the cake with a wooden skewer. She smiled as she did so, remembering how Mamma used to let her and Luca perform this task. Then when they were done, she poured the lemon glaze—which simply consisted of lemon juice, sugar, and water that was heated on the stove—over the cake. The final touch was to sprinkle a few strands of lemon zest over the cake.

“
Buongiorno,
Sorella Agata. Look whom I found strolling around the corridor upstairs.”

Madre Carmela entered the kitchen with none other than Mamma. Though she held onto Madre's arm, she looked better than she had last night. Her eyes held a glow, and she didn't seem as shy of Madre Carmela anymore.

Sorella Agata rushed to her mother's side and embraced her. “Mamma, you are already looking much better this morning. Did you sleep well?”

Signora DiSanta patted her daughter's cheek. “I did, Rosalia. But I must admit, when I woke up, it took a moment for me to realize where I was and that I hadn't been dreaming last night that I'd finally found you.”

“It's all right, Mamma. I barely got any sleep. I kept staring at you throughout the night to make sure I hadn't been dreaming as well.” Sorella Agata laughed.

“Ah, I'm sorry you did not sleep well because of me.”

“Don't be silly. I am fine. Look, I even baked something special for you. This is my small Christmas gift for you, Mamma. Naturally, I had no idea I would be seeing you for Christmas this year, so I could not get you something more.”

Sorella Agata picked up the plate with the cake. Her mother placed a hand over her mouth and smiled as she looked at her daughter. She had remembered, as Sorella Agata had known she would. But a tiny part of Sorella Agata had feared that perhaps her mother might have forgotten.

“My
Torta al Limone!
Rosalia, you remembered how to make it?”

“Of course. Since you last saw me, Mamma, I have become an expert pastry chef under the guidance of Madre Carmela. The convent operates a pastry shop, and we do quite well.”

Sorella Agata rarely boasted about her work since she was accustomed to remaining humble as a servant of Christ. But she couldn't help displaying her talent and passion for pastry making to her mother. Overnight, she had reverted to the young girl she once was, seeking her mother's approval and praise.

“She's an extraordinary pastry chef, Signora DiSanta. Her pastries are talked about all over our village.”

“It makes me happy to see you have done so well, Rosalia, in spite . . . in spite of everything that's happened to you.”

Signora DiSanta began to cry.

“Mamma, please don't be sad. Not today. It's Christmas, and we have so much to be grateful for, now that we're together.”

Madre Carmela handed a handkerchief to Signora DiSanta and rubbed her back. Sorella Agata could see tears in Madre's eyes.

“I know what will make you feel better. A slice of your
Torta al Limone
. You can go sit down with Madre at the dining table while I cut the cake.”

“It is your
Torta al Limone
now, Rosalia, since you made it.” Signora DiSanta smiled.

“Mamma, it will always be your cake. Do you remember how you used to let Luca and me poke holes throughout the cake with toothpicks?” Sorella Agata laughed.

But instead of her mother's joining in her laughter, she looked once more like she was going to cry.

“What is it, Mamma?”

“Let us eat the cake and relax for a bit, and then we will have the talk we promised each other last night.”

“
Si.
You must be hungry, Signora DiSanta. Let's go wait for Rosalia in the dining room.”

Madre Carmela led her out of the kitchen. Sorella Agata noticed how Madre had called her Rosalia instead of Sorella Agata. It was strange to hear Madre call her that after all these years, but she knew the mother superior was doing her best to make her mother feel as comfortable as possible. Dread began to fill her heart. She didn't know if she was ready to find out what fate had befallen the rest of her family since she last saw them.

Sighing deeply, she cut three thick slices of cake for herself, Madre Carmela, and Mamma. She placed the plates of cake on a tray and then poured a pot of freshly brewed espresso into three cups. As she poured the espresso, she glanced out the kitchen window and was startled to see a bluethroat perched on the ledge. But this couldn't be the same bluethroat who had visited her for so many years. She hadn't seen her friend in so long. Sorella Agata wasn't quite sure when she had last seen the bird. But then a memory returned to her. It had been the morning when she was about to take her vows to become a nun. Not only had the bird stood outside her window as she got ready for the ceremony, but she remembered seeing it flying nearby as she left the convent grounds to make her way to the church where she would be taking her vows. With the distractions her new life had presented to her after she became Sorella Agata, she hadn't realized until many months later that the bird had stopped visiting her. She had assumed it must have died, or perhaps it had finally flown to another home. She had felt sad not to see the bird that had become a welcome sight ever since that day she first saw it sitting on the tree branch that hung outside her window; that day, it had been almost as if it were urging her to leave her room and live again. And that was exactly what she'd done. Sorella Agata had also felt some guilt that she hadn't even noticed the bird's absence for months. But then she'd felt foolish for feeling that way. Now, the bird glanced at her. She was about to open the window to feed it a few crumbs that had fallen off the lemon cake, but it flew away. Opening the window anyway, she looked out, hoping to see where the bluethroat had flown to, but it was nowhere in sight.

After Sorella Agata, Madre, and Signora DiSanta had eaten their lemon cake, Madre Carmela excused herself. Sorella Agata felt the same dread she had felt earlier when her mother had told her they would have the talk they'd promised each other. Perhaps they should wait until tomorrow? It was, after all, Christmas. But she knew her mother was anxious to tell her what she needed to.

“Mamma, perhaps we can put off until tomorrow your telling me everything that has happened since I last saw you and our family. Let's just enjoy the holiday.”

Sorella Agata reached for her mother's hand and held it. Her mother placed her own hand over her daughter's.

“Rosalia, telling you what I have to tell you tomorrow won't make it any easier.
Si,
today is Christmas, but I don't think I can wait any longer. Once you know everything, we can move forward and try to be as happy as we can for the time God has decided we will be together.”

“
Va bene,
Mamma. It is your story to tell after all.”

“As you told me, Rosalia, you know already about how we were forced to leave Terme Vigliatore once your father began losing patrons at his tailor shop. And you know we went as far as Marsala, and Papà went to America temporarily to make some extra money.”

“
Si,
Mamma. L'ispettore Franco told me once Papà returned, the vineyard owners could no longer afford to keep you on as laborers and provide room and board, so you headed east. I hoped you were returning to Messina, and we would soon be reunited.”

“As did I, my daughter. I will get to that soon. I thought perhaps you might've known more, since L'ispettore Franco had learned we were in Marsala as well as that your father had gone to America. But I could see from what you said last night, the inspector had no knowledge of what I'm about to tell you.”

Signora DiSanta paused, taking a sip of her espresso. She then squeezed Sorella Agata's hand tightly.

“Rosalia, Luca is no longer with us. He caught the flu shortly after we moved to Marsala and died.”

Even though her mother's grip on her hand was very warm, Sorella Agata felt herself go cold all over. Tears silently dropped from her eyes into her espresso cup. She had known it. She had known Mamma had bad news to relay. Naturally, Sorella Agata had suspected that perhaps her father was no longer alive. He was the oldest of them, after all. But to hear her dear brother Luca was the one who had passed away, and at such a young age. It was just too cruel. He had such high dreams. Worthy dreams of serving the Lord and living by His example, as Sorella Agata was now doing. She shook her head as she began to sob uncontrollably. Her mother stood up and went to her side, cradling her daughter.

“Oh, Mamma! It is so unfair! Why? Why has everything that's happened to our family happened? Though I am a woman of faith, I still struggle to this day to understand it all. And while I feel God had a purpose for me with the work I have done here at the convent and in our village, I still grapple with the pain and suffering we all went through. And now I will never see my brother again!”

“Rosalia, I'm sorry to be delivering this pain to you. We all grieved terribly for Luca, especially your father. I think that was also why he decided to go to America. He needed some time to be alone and get away from all that had happened to our family in such a short amount of time. And I know exactly how you are feeling. My faith has been tested many times, especially when I thought I had lost you forever and then when I lost Luca. But somehow I continued to pray to God and place my trust in Him that I would at least get news someday of what had happened to you. Rosalia, can you ever forgive me for having left Terme Vigliatore without waiting longer to see if you would return home? I never should have left with your father. You don't know how much I have hated myself for that decision. And I have felt that it was my fault as well that Luca died. I felt that if we had remained in Terme Vigliatore, he never would have gotten sick.”

“You don't know that, Mamma. People get the flu everywhere.”

“True. But that was how I felt. A mother strives to protect her children, and when something terrible happens to one of them, she feels she has failed.”

Sorella Agata pulled herself out of her mother's embrace. Madre Carmela's words from the previous night came back to her. She needed to be strong for Mamma. While Sorella Agata was stunned to learn of Luca's death and to realize she truly would never see him again, she couldn't completely collapse. Her mother needed her. She noticed her mother wiping her brow with a linen napkin. She seemed to be sweating profusely.

“Has your fever returned?”

Sorella Agata quickly placed the back of her hand against her mother's forehead. While it was warm, it wasn't burning.

“It's just the anxiety over having to tell you about your brother's death. I'm fine, Rosalia. Please, don't worry.”

Sorella Agata went over to the windows and opened one to let in some air. A bird flew through the window and landed on the chair where Sorella Agata had been sitting a moment ago. It was the bluethroat she'd seen earlier.

“
Dio mio!
” Signora DiSanta cried out.