Rapture's Rendezvous

She and Alberto had never ceased to surprise the Lazzaro family—first to be born only seconds apart, and then to grow to such a height. All their other blood relations were short and squatty, and none too pleasant to look at.

Maria smiled smugly to herself. She had liked being different, but was glad that her brother was the same. And their love for one another kept them even more apart from the rest of the family. No harm would come to either of them … ever … as long as they had one another. She just knew it.

Alberto cleared his throat nervously. “Nothing much,” he stammered.

“Want to know what I'm thinking, Alberto?”

“Sure. What?”

“I'm hungry. I'm. starved,” she answered quickly. “My stomach is growling and my lips are parched. It's always such a long walk from Gran-mama's house.”

Peering into the distance, Alberto was glad to finally be able to see that the houses were growing more visible. Some people of the village paid by milk and hot bread. Sometimes that was even more welcome than money. But Maria was hungry now and Alberto usually tried to please her whenever she showed signs of needing something. He was dedicated t.o her. Fully.

His gaze traveled to the large fields of grapevines that now stretched out on both sides of them. The grapes that had been ignored by the pickers were so ripe, most had burst open, with their juices dripping down their thin, browned stems. And the air! It was filled with the sweet aroma.

“I'm hungry, Alberto,” Maria whined further, hardly able to contain herself any longer.

Alberto looked around, then from side to side. “No one will miss a few of those grapes, Maria,” he said. “It seems those that have been left will even soon be gone because it's almost time for the grower to prune the vines for the winter. Come on. Let's have our fill before heading on into the village. It's going to be a long day for us.”

Following her brother's movements, Maria thrust first one grape then another into her mouth, savoring the sweetness as it seeped between her teeth and swirled around her tongue. And after she stuffed her pockets full with more of the delicacies, she fell into step beside Alberto, hurrying on toward Pordenone.

“You know, Alberto, the one thing Til miss most about this old country will be the grapes,” Maria said, licking her lips of the still clinging sweet juices.

“I'm sure there are grapes in America,” Alberto said, laughing.

Maria's eyes widened. “Really? Do you think so?”

Alberto stood more erect, suddenly feeling more knowledgeable than his sister. “Sure,” he said. “America has everything. Just wait. You'll see.”

As they finally entered the village, their pace became slower as their gazes traveled from house to house. Only the rich people lived in such big stone houses. The houses all appeared to have been built alike with their red-tiled roofs and fancy balconies leading from the upper-story rooms. And the yards. It almost took Maria's breath away, seeing the freshly trimmed green grass and the many varieties of flowers in the yards, as well as in window boxes . .. nothing like her Gran-mama's house, which was surrounded by dried, cracked earth, with cows, goats and sheep running free. •

Maria's eyes shifted upward, the chimneys reaching into the sky drawing her full attention. “Which house do we go to first, Alberto?” she asked, stopping.

“Does it really matter?” Alberto mumbled, walking on ahead of her toward a house, eyeing the chimney with distaste. Maybe today the tickets for passage will arrive from America, he thought sadly to himself. Yes. Maybe today.

It had grown dusk, but the fireplace was burning brightly, lighting the room around Maria, keeping her awake. The bed of leaves she was lying on felt good to her. But she rubbed her elbows gently. They throbbed from her having used them to climb up the steep insides of the many chimneys that she and Alberto had cleaned this long, hard day. She looked toward Alberto, eyeing his elbows. But even though his elbows looked raw and red, there was a lazy smile on his face.

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?”