Francesca's Kitchen (27 page)

W
ill and Penny were waiting on the porch, giddy with excitement, when Francesca came to the house the next morning. At seeing her pull into the driveway, the two sprang to their feet and ran to greet her with cries of “Hi, Mrs. C!” It gladdened Francesca to no end to once again feel their openness and unabashed affection, the strained evasiveness of the past few weeks gone without a trace. The two took her by the hand and walked her inside, both of them chattering nonstop.

When she stepped inside, Francesca found Loretta standing in the front hall, staring down with worrisome eyes at Will and Penny's backpacks, the ones they ordinarily used for school. Emptied of their books and papers, Loretta was using them as suitcases, and the two packs were astonishingly overstuffed. This being the first time in long memory that she would be spending an entire day and night apart from her children, and considering the changeable New England weather, Loretta had been in a tizzy all morning, completely unable to make up her mind as to what clothes she should pack for them. In the end, she decided it was easier to just cram as much as she could into each backpack and hope it would suffice. The result was that, to all appearances, Will and Penny were now prepared for a month long sojourn.

“I just don't want them to forget anything,” the young woman fretted.

A word of assurance from Francesca that she was taking the children only to her house, and not the far side of the moon, was enough to put Loretta's mind at rest. By this time, of course, Will and Penny were clamoring to leave, and so there ensued a flurry of hugs and kisses, and admonitions from their mother to be on their absolutely best behavior, and, of course, profuse thanks to Francesca, and before long, the three were off.

“How long will it take us to get there?” asked an excited Will as he and his sister buckled themselves into the backseat of Francesca's car.

“And what are we going to do?” Penny chimed in.

“Do?” jested Francesca. “We're going to work, that's what we're going to do.”

“
Work?
” they exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

“Don't worry. We're going to have fun,” Francesca told them. “Just wave good-bye to your mother, and we'll be there in a few minutes.”

As they drove across the city, Will and Penny stared out the windows at the unfamiliar neighborhoods they passed. Now and then, to make them feel at ease, Francesca would point out different places that she knew well: a storefront that had once belonged to her cousin, a house where her aunt and uncle had once lived, and the little shop, now a hair salon, where she used to go to buy candy long ago, when she was just a little girl. Before long, as they were driving down the main street toward Francesca's neighborhood, they came to a red light, where she brought the car to a stop. Nearby on the street corner, a group of teenaged boys wearing uniform dark jackets were roughhousing with one another.

“Who are those guys?” said Will.

“Yeah,” said Penny, a bit apprehensively. “They look like a gang.”

Francesca glanced in the rearview mirror at the nervous pair and gave a little smile before tooting the horn to get the young toughs's attention. They all turned and, to Penny and Will's stunned disbelief, the old woman beckoned for one of them to come over to the car. The two gulped as the apparent leader, a lanky Asian boy, came to the passenger's side window and leaned his head in, smiling from ear to ear.

“How are you, Phoung?” said Francesca amiably, not the least bit afraid.

“Hello, Mrs. C,” he said with great respect.

“Are you boys behaving?” she chided him.

“Yes, yes, we're being good,” he assured her.

“Good,” said Francesca. Then she gestured with her thumb to the backseat, saying, “Now I want you to do me a favor. If you ever find either of these two children wandering around the neighborhood without me, I want you to bring them straight home to my house. Okay?”

“Of course, Mrs. C,” said the young man, giving Will and Penny a nod. “We always look out for the old folks and little kids around here. This is a
good
neighborhood. They don't have to worry.”

To Will and Penny's visible relief, the light turned green and, with a wave to the young man and his friends, Francesca had the three once again on their way. It wasn't long before she turned off the main road and drove up the hill to her house.

“Here we are,” Francesca announced when she turned into the driveway. “Okay, you two, grab your bags—that is, if you can lift them—and bring them inside.”

When she opened the front door and ushered the two children in, they were immediately greeted by the pleasant aroma of a pot of freshly cooked tomato sauce in the kitchen. Francesca had arisen early that morning to make it so that it would be ready when the children arrived.

“Mmm, it smells like food in your house,” noted Will as he stood there in the front hall with his sister, looking about at their new surroundings.

“That's what houses are supposed to smell like,” replied Francesca, patting the lad's head. “Come on now. Leave your bags here and have a look around, if you like, while I get your lunch started.”

Will and Penny followed her lead into the kitchen, quietly taking in the house's high ceilings, its gleaming hardwood floors, and the beautiful old woodwork throughout. Francesca's kitchen was, in truth, much the same size as their own back home, but its glass-door cupboards and cabinets, brightly tiled countertops, and lovely back window with its braid of garlic to one side made it seem bigger and airier. Feeling a bit timid, the two children lingered close to Francesca while she filled a pan of water and put it on the stove next to the pot of tomato sauce. It warmed Francesca's heart to have them near, but she wanted the two to feel at home in her house, so after a time, she shooed them off, to let them explore some of the other rooms. It wasn't long before they found their way into the den, where they looked with keen interest at the family photographs she had displayed on the wall. They were most fascinated by those of Joey when he was just a boy, and they giggled to see how young he looked.

“Hey look, it's us!” a delighted Penny suddenly cried out. She had spied the photograph Loretta had taken of them with Francesca that chilly afternoon in Providence.

“I was hoping you'd see that one,” Francesca called to them, smiling, as she poured some pastina into the now-boiling pan of water. She gave it a stir with a spoon and left the stove for a minute to join them in the den.

“And who are these other kids?” asked Will. “Your grandkids?”

“Yes,” Francesca replied. “Those are my granddaughters, Dana and Sara, and that's their brother, Frankie. They all live in Florida. And those two are my other grandsons, Charlie and Will. They live out in Oregon.”

“That's right,” chuckled Will. “I remember when you first came to our house and you said he and I had the same first name.”

“I remember that day too,” said Francesca.

“What do your grandchildren call you?” asked Penny. “Grandma?”

“No,” replied Francesca. “They call me Nonna.”

With that, she gave them both a smile and walked back into the kitchen. The two children, though, fell strangely silent, and without another word followed her. While Francesca went to the stove to check the pastina, the siblings stood there in the middle of the floor, exchanging questioning glances.

“What is it?” Francesca asked over her shoulder, her back turned to them as she gave the pan another stir. “Is there something wrong? Tell me.”

“No, there's nothing wrong,” said Penny.

“Go on, ask her,” Francesca heard Will whisper. She turned back around and beheld the two children standing there meek as could be.

“What's the matter?” asked Francesca, now deeply concerned that something was troubling them.

Will gave his sister a nudge.

“Nothing's the matter, really,” said Penny. “It's just that…well, we were wondering something.”

“What?”

Penny looked down at her feet and took a deep breath to find her courage. “Well,” she said at last, looking back up with the sweetest expression Francesca had ever seen, “we were just wondering if maybe—I mean, just while we're here—if it would be all right if we called you Nonna too.”

No words could possibly have expressed the old woman's complete and utter jubilation at hearing that request. Her heart bursting with joy, the tears flowing freely from her eyes, Francesca gathered the two children into her arms and squeezed them close, like she was never going to let them go.

“Yes, my sweets,” she wept, kissing them on their heads, “of course you can call me Nonna, any time you like.”

“Nonna?” whimpered Will, who like most boys could tolerate being hugged for only so long. He looked up at Francesca, his eyeglasses all askew. “Could we have lunch now?”

Francesca let out a laugh and released the two from her embrace. “Yes,” she said, wiping her eyes dry, “lunch will be ready in just a minute. And after, we get to work!”

“Work” consisted of preparing the lasagna Francesca wanted to serve for Sunday dinner the next day. When they were done eating their lunch, and the lasagna noodles were boiling, Francesca showed Penny and Will how to make the filling, letting them mix the eggs and the ricotta, the parsley and the other spices, but particularly the cinnamon, which was her special trick. Next, under Francesca's watchful eye, they took the long, wide noodles, once they were cooked, and laid them across the bottom of the pan, spooning the ricotta filling on top, before adding each successive layer of noodles, until the pan was filled. Finally, they laid strips of mozzarella all along the top, and poured some tomato sauce over the whole thing. Then, Francesca covered it all in foil and stowed it away in the refrigerator, explaining, to their disappointment, that they would have to wait until the following day to bake it.

“What else can we make?” asked Penny eagerly.

“Next, I thought, we'd make a nice ricotta pie,” answered Francesca. She had considered baking a rice pie as well, but there was only so much time. Francesca decided that it would have to wait until Easter, still a few weeks away. “The best part is, we get to eat it today,” she told them to their great approbation.

Will and Penny thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and the afternoon passed quickly. As the day grew later, and the freshly baked pies were cooling on the counter, Francesca made them wash their hands and faces, while she straightened up the kitchen. When the two were presentable once more, she directed them to put on their jackets, and the three went out to the car.

“Where are we going? Out for supper?” asked Will.

“Well, in a way,” said Francesca as she backed the car out of the driveway. A few minutes later, they arrived at church, just in time for five-thirty mass. Francesca got them all out of the car, and the three walked up to the front entrance.

“Are we going in?” said Penny, looking at Will.

“Yes, I thought we would,” answered Francesca.

She had expected them to protest, and had been ready to turn around and go back if they did, but in fact, the two seemed rather intrigued by the prospect, and so she led them in. Once through the outer doors and into the vestibule, Francesca quickly brought them over to the holy water, dipped her fingers in and, whispering some hurried prayers, blessed the children, making the sign of the cross on each one's forehead.

“What's that for?” asked Will with great curiosity.

“Maybe it's not official,” replied Francesca, “but God knows His own.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” she said, shepherding them toward the entrance to the interior of the church, as the organist was just starting to play the opening hymn. Before they could step inside, however, Will released her hand and ran over to the poor box on the wall. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a quarter and dropped it in the slot.

“For Saint Anthony,” he whispered. Then he hurried back to Francesca's side.

After mass, an exultant Francesca led her two charges back to the car, explaining to them, as they went along, the significance of the different prayers and rituals they had observed for the first time. Most mysterious to them was the bread she had received from the priest at communion.

“That's going to take a little while to explain,” Francesca told them as they settled into the car. “Speaking of bread, though, gives me an idea for tomorrow. But we have to hurry.”

Wasting no time, Francesca started the car and drove straight to the market.

Tony was at the register, ringing up the day's receipts, when Francesca walked into the store. With Will and Penny at her side, she quickly picked out a packet of yeast and two bags of flour.

“Good evening, Mrs. Campanile,” Tony said cordially when she brought them up to the counter. “You got here just in time before we closed.”

“I know,” she said. “I decided at the last minute to bake some bread tomorrow morning.”

“Can we help?” Penny and Will asked.

“Of course,” Francesca told them.

As he rung up her purchases, Tony smiled at the boy and girl before giving Francesca a nod.

“Cooking for the family tomorrow, Mrs. Campanile?” he asked.

Francesca looked at the children and beamed.

“You know something, Tony,” she said. “This time, I think I am.”

N
ight had fallen.

Loretta and Joey were walking arm in arm along a downtown sidewalk toward his car, parked a little way down the street. The two had just come from dinner at a little restaurant Joey knew and were now pondering where they should go next. It was a pleasant evening, with just the hint of a warm breeze sauntering in from the south. It was the kind of gentle night that put everyone in a good mood after a long hard winter, and people were out and about all over the city. The clubs and bars were busy, with people already lined up waiting to get into many of the more popular nightspots. Meanwhile, carloads of teenagers rolled along the streets, their radios thumping like bass drums, while motorcycle riders rumbled in and out of Kennedy Plaza.

All in all, it was a typical Saturday night.

As they strolled along, Loretta rested her head against Joey's shoulder. She was as happy as she could ever remember, and content to just be with him, no matter where they went next. It had been a lovely day, she reflected. It was curious, but when Joey first came to the house to pick her up that morning, she had not been able to stop thinking about Will and Penny. She wondered aloud about what they were doing with Francesca, and if they would be all right sleeping in a strange house for the first time, and if she packed them enough clothes.

Joey had listened patiently, never once trying to change the subject. He simply smiled and nodded from time to time, letting her vent all her anxieties, as he drove along out of the city. The farther they went, the more distant her cares had seemed to drift away from her mind. It was less than an hour's journey, but by the time they had driven through South County and across the bay to Newport, where they had planned to spend the afternoon, Loretta had already found herself letting go of her worries and beginning to just enjoy the moment.

Now, though it was really just a handful of hours later, it felt to Loretta as though she and Joey had been alone together on vacation far away for a very long time. She felt renewed inside. It was a blissful, peaceful feeling, the kind that two people in love experience when they're finally truly alone together for the first time, and she wanted to hold on to it for as long as she possibly could.

When they came to the car and climbed inside, the two sat there for a few moments, neither one speaking.

“Any place in particular you'd like to go next?” said Joey, taking her hand in his.

“You know, there are lots of places I'd like for us to go sometime,” she told him, bringing his hand to her lips. “But tonight, the only place I really want to go is home.”

“I think that can be arranged,” said Joey, giving her a knowing smile as he started the engine.

Later that night, as she was standing in the darkness by her bedroom window, Loretta looked out at the full moon beaming down through the cloudless night sky. She marveled at how its soft light slipped easily through her fingers and across her limbs, like beads of translucent marble that cascaded to the floor and gathered in an iridescent pool about her feet. Joey came up from behind her and joined her in the light, wrapping his strong arms about her and kissing the back of her neck.

Though she loved the sensation, Loretta gave in to a little laugh, for she realized in that moment how very much it all reminded her of one of her silly romantic dreams. True, she was not off in some exotic locale, standing on some romantic balcony overlooking a shimmering moonlit bay. The only thing her bedroom window overlooked was her tiny backyard down below. Just the same, her heart was pounding with anticipation, just as it always had in her most vivid dreams. The reason, she well understood, was because, unlike in her dreams, the man for whom she was burning was no longer some nameless stranger whose face she could not see. This man was real, and his love for her was real, and his touch thrilled her to her soul. There was no place on earth she would rather have been if it wasn't with him.

Loretta turned to face Joey, entwining her arms around his neck. He drew her close to kiss her, but Loretta held back. She stood there in his embrace, the two of them bathed in the moonlight so that they looked like beautiful works of sculpture. As she gazed into his questioning eyes and caressed his cheek, Loretta thought back over the long years to all the bitter experiences of her past, which she knew in her heart were now coming to an end.

Hope had finally triumphed once and for all, just as she had always dreamed it would. There was only one thing left now to make it all complete, and at long last she would be his.

Letting him draw her closer, Loretta arched up and brought her lips to his ear.

“Tell me you'll stay…” she whispered.