"Because I wanted to start a new life in America with my family."

Teresa could see that Giovanna remained unimpressed and decided the best tactic was to keep things moving. "Lorenzo, call the children for dinner. Everything's ready."

Giovanna stood, as did Rocco. She did not need to work at avoiding his eyes because she was a head taller than him. Rocco's hair was wiry and going gray, as was his mustache, and although he was lean, his muscles were thick and gave him a stocky appearance. His laborer's hands looked enormous in proportion to his body. And now these big hands fumbled nervously as he tried to stuff the medal back in his pocket.

The commotion in the hall signaled the children's return. Unlike the adults, they were not having problems socializing, although Domenico was acting the tough guy because Clement was a working boy, and with his calluses came street status.

Even with the children's chatter, the awkwardness didn't go away. Giovanna was silently fuming. If Lorenzo and Teresa wanted her out of the house, why didn't they just tell her?

Teresa was the first to speak. "Rocco, who cares for little Mary?"

"Frances, of course. When Mary is old enough for school, Frances will work."

"I thought all children in America went to school," said Giovanna dryly.

"What does a daughter need to go to school for? America or no America?"

Giovanna wanted to hate him for this comment, but it seemed genuinely ignorant and not mean-spirited.

"And your son?"

"He's a big boy. We're in America to make money."

"Rocco and his family live in that new apartment building at 202 Elizabeth Street," bragged Teresa.

Giovanna knew the building; she had delivered a baby there. It was what they were calling "new law" tenements. They had more light, but the major improvement was that they each had their own toilet instead of a shared toilet in the hall.

Unimpressed, Giovanna changed the subject. "When did your wife, Angelina, pa.s.s, signore?"

"In childbirth, with Mary."

Her professional curiosity piqued, Giovanna only stopped herself from asking further questions when she caught Teresa's scolding look.

It was Lorenzo's turn to try to keep the conversation going. "Isn't it strange, Giovanna, we did not know Rocco in Scilla, but here in America, in this big city, we meet. Luigi and Pasqualina DiFranco introduced us."

With that, Giovanna knew that Teresa and her bosom buddy, Pasqualina, had dreamt up this scheme. Teresa believed in keeping her enemies close, so when she found out that Lorenzo had once loved Pasqualina, she made Pasqualina her friend and confidant.

"We're going back out," Domenico announced, as the children piled their plates in the washtub.

With the children out of the room and more wine in him, Rocco turned his focus to Giovanna. "Lorenzo tells me you are a levatrice," said Rocco.

"S."

"Working with Signora LaManna."

"S."

"She is a good woman."

"S." He was trying so hard, Giovanna softened a little. "Did she deliver your children?"

"Yes, but not Mary. My wife was already too sick by then and was in the hospital."

"Let's have our fruit," said Teresa.

"I have to go. I must visit a patient," interrupted Giovanna.

"You said you only had to see Signora Russo today!" Teresa protested.

"Well, this is sudden," replied Giovanna, grabbing her shawl.

"Signora, before you go," Rocco stepped forward, "can I ask you if next Sunday we can walk together?"

Unable to meet his expectant gaze, Giovanna instead looked over his head to Lorenzo's downcast eyes and Teresa's reddened face. She would have said or done anything to get out of the house at that moment. "Va bene, signore. But only if there are no babies to deliver." signore. But only if there are no babies to deliver."

She flew down the stairs, praying that Signora Russo would go into labor next Sunday, and almost tripped over Mary, who was sitting on the stoop.

"Signora, where are you going?" asked Mary, getting out of her way.

"I must see someone."

"Will you come visit us, signora?"

Giovanna was taken off guard and reached down to pat the child's head.

"Have you calmed down yet?" asked Lucrezia, pouring Giovanna another gla.s.s of wine.

"I have every right to be angry."

"Yes, you do," nodded Lucrezia, who had artfully defused Giovanna's rage by calmly agreeing with everything she said.

"He said you delivered two of the children."

"I did."

"What do you know about this family?"

"She was a good woman. He's a good man, hardworking, simple, but good."

"That doesn't tell me much."

"There isn't much more to tell." There was a pause, before Lucrezia continued. "Are you considering this?"

"Of course not."

"Why not?"

Giovanna looked at Lucrezia in shock.

"You told me you wanted children. You wanted to bring your own babies into this world."

"Yes, but not with just anyone!"

"Giovanna, do you believe you will ever love someone as you loved Nunzio?"

"I will never find another Nunzio. There is not another Nunzio," answered Giovanna indignantly.

"That's my point. If you want children, you only need to find a good man. And I don't need to remind you that at thirty-one, in all probability it will not be a young man without children."

"I don't believe you're encouraging me to do this!"

"I am not. I'm simply reviewing the facts and stripping the situation of your brother and sister-in-law's deceit so you can see it for what it is-an option. You can choose not to take this option, but you should not dismiss it out of anger."

While she recognized the wisdom in Lucrezia's words, she had a fiery confrontation with Lorenzo when she returned home.

"You are too young to be a widow! It is my job to take care of you!" Lorenzo yelled.

"Taking care of me is getting rid of me?"

"I want you to be happy, but you are as stubborn as a mule. If I had told you about this meeting, you would have never agreed to it!"

"Exactly."

"Yes, exactly. Please, Giovanna, you could live with me forever, but will that be living? I heard your promise at Nunzio's grave."

Giovanna looked at Teresa cowering in the back room. She wasn't so sure about the living with him forever part, but at that moment she started to forgive her brother.

FIFTEEN.

Her prayers for Signora Russo were unanswered. The next Sunday, Giovanna dressed for her walk with Rocco. Teresa tried to encourage her not to wear black, and even offered her Sunday feathered hat, but Giovanna dismissed Teresa with an angry look. For an entire week there had been no banging pots or heavy sighs; Teresa practically tiptoed around her sister-in-law. While Giovanna had forgiven her brother, she had not forgiven Teresa. In actuality, Giovanna was grateful that Teresa had given her a solid reason to stop trying to be her friend.

"What do you think of him, Zia?" Domenico asked Giovanna, who was lacing her shoes. Not waiting for her reply, Domenico offered, "I like his son. The little girl is spoiled though."

Giovanna was amused at Domenico's tone of camaraderie and chose to play along. "The children should be in school. And you need not fault the little one. She never had a mother, and people try and make up for that."

"Are you going to marry him?"

"No, Domenico. I am going for a walk."

Giovanna asked Signore Siena if they could walk to the Brooklyn Bridge. It was her way of bringing Nunzio along. She made no attempt to shorten her strides as she often did when walking with other people and was impressed that the signore kept pace. Giovanna asked Rocco what he missed about Scilla. He replied, "L'America is my home." Rocco was in the "love it" group and, having pledged his loyalty to America, he did not allow himself sentimental thoughts of the home he left behind.

With Giovanna's occasional question and Signore Siena's one-word answers, Giovanna had plenty of time to a.s.sess the signore's appearance. His clothes were clean, without holes, and made of good cloth. He was dark, and even the graying of his thick black hair did not soften his rough appearance. While there was no grace to him, he was respectful and politely nodded to people he knew along the way.

When they reached the Brooklyn Bridge, they rested on a bench. Giovanna asked him what he thought.

"What do I think of what?"

"The bridge."

"It's a bridge. It's a big bridge."

Perversely, Giovanna was pleased. There could be no mistaking this man for Nunzio.

Rocco seemed to be trying to say something, because he had taken off his cap and was twisting it in his hands as she had seen him do when they first met. He bit his lip, which caused his sizable mustache to move up and down.

"Signora. I don't ask you to love me. But I will be a good partner if you marry me."

They both stared out at Brooklyn. Giovanna marveled at the irony. Had Rocco Siena proposed by saying that he loved her, saying that he wanted her to love him, she would have dismissed the offer instantly. But this simple man had said exactly the right thing. She watched a tugboat pushing a tanker down the river and felt the breeze on her cheeks.

"I'll think about it."

Ten weeks later, Giovanna had grown marginally fond of Signore Siena, but she was falling in love with the children, particularly Mary. Giovanna had also begun to face up to the truth that in all likelihood she could not have her own children. After all, she was thirty-one, and she and Nunzio had tried to conceive without success. If she married this man, at least she would have a family.

Lorenzo and Teresa had not said a word on the topic, making it easier for her to consider the option. Lorenzo had written of the possibility to their parents, and yesterday she had received a letter, written by her mentor, Signora Scalici, on behalf of her family, a.s.suring her that they would bless whatever decision Giovanna made. Signora Scalici couldn't help but add her two cents at the end of the letter, obliquely endorsing the marriage by writing, "I am told you are working with a woman doctor. A possibility like that would never exist here."

Giovanna didn't need to decide whether to marry Nunzio. It was a given. This, however, was a practical decision-to live her life alone or to create a family with a man she did not love but was beginning to respect. She thought of the lawyer, Signore DeCegli. Even if Signore DeCegli hadn't just got married, she would never have allowed herself to love him. A smart, handsome man threatened Nunzio's place in her heart.

Giovanna told Rocco on their next Sunday excursion that she would marry him. She reminded him of his promise that she did not have to love him. In return for this consideration, she said she would care for his children and treat them as her own. Rocco simply said, "Thank you." The only thing indicating his pleasure was the suggestion that they cut their walk short and go to Lorenzo's apartment, where his family was also gathered, to deliver the news.

Everyone, even the children, seemed to respect the difficulty of the decision and did not make a fuss. Instead they offered quiet congratulations and best wishes with polite kisses. The exception was Mary, who flung herself into Giovanna's arms and nuzzled her head into her neck.

Teresa insisted that everyone stay for supper. Giovanna sat opposite Rocco, taking a hard look at the whole of his face for what seemed like the first time. Panic rose in her chest with the realization that she had promised herself to this stranger. She said fervent, silent prayers that she had not made the wrong decision.