The man took her arm and pulled her into the seat with a forced smile on his face. He said through gritted teeth, "Stay in this seat." His voice was tough, his grip firm, and his droopy eye looked even more frightening from below.

Angelina began to cry, and when the doors to the train closed at the stop, her cry turned into a wail.

The two other pa.s.sengers stared once again, and the man smiled and shrugged, trying to communicate, "What's a father to do?" This time the pa.s.sengers didn't smile back but turned away.

"Look, stop crying. We'll get off soon and I'll get you the d.a.m.n banana."

"I don't want a banana. I want to go home!"

With the pa.s.senger's eyes upon them, the man turned to Angelina and, using a sweet tone of voice, said, "If you say another word, or cry again, you'll never go home."

The table was piled with meatb.a.l.l.s, lasagna, stuffed calamari, eggplant parmigiana, olives, and artichokes. A large number four cut from paper hung from the ceiling. The adults sat around the table, silent. Giovanna stormed out and went upstairs to bang on Limonata's door. Rocco called to her, "Giovanna, you knocked ten minutes ago. We would hear them come home!" Giovanna, wringing her hands on her ap.r.o.n, walked back downstairs into the apartment. Rocco looked at his wife and said, "Okay, everyone, let's eat. Call the children. When she gets home, she'll eat."

Lorenzo quietly obeyed, taking a plate and filling it with food. Soon the apartment was noisy again as the children bounded up the stairs and hungrily dove on the table. Teresa helped them fix their plates while Giovanna remained in the hall watching the door.

"We're getting off," growled the man, grabbing Angelina's hand. He no longer pretended to be nice-the other two pa.s.sengers had left the train, and they were alone. She noticed they were leaving the train before she could see Coney Island, but after they had pa.s.sed most of the houses. Angelina bit her lip. She was trying so hard not to cry; she wanted to go home.

"Where are we going?"

The man didn't even bother to answer her anymore.

"I can't walk so fast," she pleaded, wiping her eyes on her shoulders so he wouldn't see the tears.

"Are the signora and Carmela going to be here?"

"Yeah. Keep walking."

At the base of the stairs to the El there was open s.p.a.ce in every direction. The man pulled her down the one paved street. Every few hundred feet, a house or store faced the road. That road led to another with even fewer buildings. Two buildings faced each other-a ramshackle wooden house and a small brick office with a sign in the window. The man led her to the door of the house and knocked. A short man answered and hurried them into a small room with a black stove in the middle of the floor. Two women and four children, all smaller than Angelina, stared at her.

"What are we doing here? Who are these people?" asked Angelina, with the tears she couldn't control streaming down her face again.

The short man ignored her and talked to Limonata's brother. "Bravo. Any problems, Leo?"

"Idiot!" spat Leo, slapping the man's face. "What did I tell you about names?"

Angelina became even more frightened. "I want to go home. Take me home," she screamed, turning her plea to the woman.

The tall man named Leo grabbed her arm. "What I told you on the train is the same here. If you cry, or scream, or don't listen, you'll never go home again. You be quiet, forget everything you hear and see, and you'll go home."

"Get her in the room," the short guy growled to one of the women, still angry and embarra.s.sed by Leo's rebuke.

The men and older boys were out searching the streets. Before they left, Rocco's last words were, "Talk to no one, and if anyone goes to the police, I'll kill you with my own hands."

Giovanna had already tried to get into Limonata's apartment via the fire escape, but the window was locked and so dirty she couldn't see anything inside. Finally, she heard the sound of the super opening his door, and she flew down the steps.

"Limonata borrowed my beer pitcher. She's not home. Can you open the door?"

"You know I don't like to do that. Can't you wait?"

"How am I supposed to get beer for this crowd?"

"Alright, I'll be up in a minute."

Giovanna paced in front of Limonata's door until she heard the super's heavy footsteps and keys jangling on his way up the stairs.

"I'll wait here," mumbled the super at the threshold to the apartment.

Giovanna was trying extremely hard to act as if nothing was wrong as she walked into Limonata's apartment. But even in the late afternoon light she could sense that something was not right. Limonata had little in her two rooms, but now there was even less. Giovanna glanced around the kitchen. The shelves were empty, there was no cloth on the table, and the pot was missing. But it was the bedroom that confirmed her worst fears-the clothes rack was empty. She had been breathing deeply to calm herself, and her breath turned into an inhaled scream.

The super came in and looked around. "Puttana!" "Puttana!" He kicked the table and turned to Giovanna. "You're screaming because she took your beer pitcher! I have to tell the big man she left without paying last month's rent!" He kicked the table and turned to Giovanna. "You're screaming because she took your beer pitcher! I have to tell the big man she left without paying last month's rent!"

The woman led Angelina into a small room with a little window. Quickly, she pulled a thick piece of dark muslin over it, blocking the view of the brick office across the street.

"Why did he take me here?" Angelina openly sobbed now that she was out of sight of the men.

"I know nothing. But you listen to them and stop your crying. I'll get you something to eat."

"I can eat at home. Here, see, I stopped crying. He said if I didn't cry I would go home," a.s.serted Angelina, pushing past the woman to the door. The woman grabbed Angelina's arm, flung her back in the room, and quickly closed the door behind her. Angelina heard the lock click as she lunged for the doork.n.o.b.

The sound of Rocco and the men returning reached the kitchen before they did. Giovanna knew they hadn't found Angelina and not only because their trudging footsteps told her so.

"She's gone. Limonata's gone, Rocco!" The door was not even fully opened when Giovanna began shouting. "Nothing is left in the apartment. I know what this means. Did they come to you again, Rocco? Did they? Did you not tell me? Did you not pay them?"

"Giovanna, stop it. People will hear!"

"What people, Rocco? My brother? Your children? You're a fool, Rocco! A stupid, stubborn fool! You should have paid them the money!"

"Be quiet!"

"I will not be quiet! They have my daughter!" shouted Giovanna, collapsing into a chair and desperately trying to get her breath.

"Send one of the boys for Lucrezia," instructed Teresa.

"No! No, don't get her. Don't get anyone. We'll take care of this!" growled Rocco. "Listen to me. I want everyone in this room now," he commanded with a ferocity even his children hadn't seen before. The children in the other rooms squeezed into the kitchen. "Angelina is fine. She has gone visiting. Do you hear me? She is visiting. That is all you know. And if anyone," he looked straight at Teresa, "says anything different to anyone outside of this room, they will have blood on their hands. Now, go home and remember-Angelina is visiting relatives!"

THIRTY-FOUR.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1909.

Hollow-eyed and silent, Giovanna and Rocco sat at the kitchen table. Neither had changed nor slept. Rocco had spent most of the night walking the streets looking for the square-headed man who had come to his cart. The children, bleary-eyed themselves, woke up slowly. Mary filled the coffeepot, and Frances lit the stove to toast the bread.

Clement slid into a chair next to his father. "Papa, what do we do now?"

"You put on your clothes and go to work. Even you, Frances. See if you can get sewing work from the signora down the street. Or ask Zia Teresa about factory jobs."

Mary stood at attention, waiting for her a.s.signment. When her father didn't address her, she asked, "Papa?"

"You go to school. People will be suspicious if we take you out of school, but Frances should have been out long ago."

Rocco had heard from Teresa that Giovanna hadn't spoken for many months after her husband's death; he wondered if it was going to happen again. Giovanna hadn't said anything since last night, and she didn't protest when Rocco ordered Frances to work. He was thinking it might not be a bad thing for Giovanna to lose her speech-but then she spoke.

"Mary, I'll get piecework for you to do after school."

Rocco a.s.sumed this was Giovanna's way of saying she approved of what he was doing. He was grateful for this little bit of recognition.

Rocco got up. "Let's go. I'll take Mary across the street and tell the princ.i.p.al it is time for Frances to go to work."

Giovanna remained seated as the family bustled around her. While her body and lips were motionless, her mind was reeling. Her husband's solution to everything was to work. While she was grateful he at least took action, did he really believe that the money the children brought in would make a difference? She wanted him and everyone else out of the apartment so that she could leave before Teresa showed up.

Last night, Rocco described the big man who had come to his cart, and Clement said that he was the same man he saw in the Star of Italy and that his name was Tommaso. Giovanna was anxious to walk through the neighborhood. There had to be something she could find that Rocco didn't.

The moment that everyone was gone, Giovanna removed the clothes she had been wearing since the day before, washed her face, and dressed. In the hall she heard the calls and burdened footsteps of the iceman. The doors on the second floor were opening and closing. Looping string through the b.u.t.tonholes on her skirt to accommodate her belly, she was knotting it together when outside her own door the man called, "Issaman!" "Issaman!"

"I need no ice," answered Giovanna, opening the door a crack. But instead of a block of ice on his shoulder, the iceman held out an envelope.

"Signora, a man downstairs asked me to bring this to you since I was coming up."

Giovanna did not move to take the envelope from the iceman's outstretched hand.

"Who gave you this?"

"I told you, a man outside."

"What man? Show him to me?" pleaded Giovanna, flinging open the door and running to the window.

The iceman reluctantly went to the window and looked. "I don't see him. I made two deliveries before I came to your door. Signora, are you going to take this?" he asked once again, stretching out his hand.

"S, s." Giovanna glanced at the envelope. "What did he look like? Big chest and square head?"

"No, short, a mustache." The man got frustrated. "I don't know, signora. You put two hundred pounds on your shoulder, and the only thing you notice is that your back hurts."

The frantic expression on Giovanna's face finally caught his attention. "Signora, what's wrong?"

His question stopped Giovanna's mind from racing, and she tried to cover, "No, no, nothing." Walking him to the door, she said, "I was hoping it might have been word from a woman whose child I must deliver. Thank you." She closed the door. The sweat from Giovanna's hand had already stained the envelope. Lifting the flap, she removed a coa.r.s.e piece of brown paper.

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Giovanna steadied herself against the wall at the confirmation of what she already knew. She moved in fruitless circles from the window to the table. Reading about the earthquake had given her experience at feeling powerless, but this was worse. Her child was frightened, maybe hurt, or worse, and there wasn't anyone running to rescue her. It was like the type of nightmare where you try to move but nothing happens. Both she and Angelina were imprisoned.

When she caught her breath she took in the words of the note. Four thousand dollars! Disgraziati! What made these thieves think that they had such money? What could she possibly put in the envelope to satisfy them?

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1909.

Angelina awoke from her second night spent on the floor. She was able to figure out that there were two women, two men, and two sets of children in the little house. One of the women, the younger one, had brought her rags and hay that she had used to cover the cold floor tile. The hay was the only thing she had to amuse herself with when she was locked back into the room before the men came home for supper. Doll-like shapes that she had braided and twisted from the straw the night before were lined up against the wall.

She could hear them eating breakfast. She didn't understand all the words because they spoke in a thick dialect that sounded like the Sicilian neighbors on her block. Picking up and braiding more straw, she had nearly tuned them out when one of the men thundered, "What do you mean you went together to the market!"

"There was too much to carry!"

"Merda!" Angelina heard a hard slap. Angelina heard a hard slap.

"What if she screamed and someone had heard her?"

"She didn't scream."

"How would you know, you weren't here! Only one of you goes shopping and the other stays here with the children. Capisci?" Capisci?"

Angelina's silent tears began to flow, although this time it was not because she was frightened but because she was mad at herself. She hadn't thought to scream. Why hadn't she screamed? What a stupid girl she was! She wasn't smart like the princ.i.p.al said! If she had screamed, someone in that office across the street with the blue shade could have heard her. She pinched herself in anger and frustration. She had lost her chance to get away.