Home to Italy (5 page)

One night at the hospital when visiting hours were nearly over, Peppi tucked the blankets in around his wife to make sure that she would be comfortable. When he finished, Anna reached out to him.

“You're a good husband,” she told him, kissing his hand. “I'll owe you a nice dinner when I get home.”

“I can't wait,” Peppi said, caressing her face. He gave her a kiss and began to head toward the door. He turned and waved.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he told her.

Anna smiled.
“Ciao,
Peppi,” she said. Then she blew him a kiss.

That night, after Peppi had gone home, Anna passed away.

Now, sitting on the train with the mountains looming all about them, Peppi still wondered about that final night. “I don't know why she called me Peppi,” he said. “She never did that. But whatever the reason, God decided to take her that night.” He paused and looked down at his hands. “After that, the light went out of the world for me and I knew it was time for me to finally come back home to Italy.”

He looked back up at the two young people and shrugged. “So that's all there is to tell, I guess,” he said. “I left for America all alone and now I'm coming home all alone.”

By this time, Loredana and Claudio were both in tears.

“Dio mio,”
sniffled Loredana, “how sad—but how beautiful too.”

“What a life you've had,” Claudio added, wiping his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve.

“Eh, not so different from anyone else's life,” said Peppi, “not so different at all.” He gazed out the window and spoke no more for a very long time.

When the train finally pulled into Sulmona, Loredana and Claudio hurried to help Peppi with his luggage. It was late afternoon and a chilly wind greeted them when they all stepped out onto the station platform. Peppi had pulled on a heavy sweater and jacket just before they arrived, but Loredana and Claudio had left theirs on the train. They stood there shivering, unsure of how to say farewell.

“There's no one here to meet you,” observed Loredana.

“No one knows I'm coming,” Peppi replied.

“Are you sure you'll be all right?” said Claudio. “Do you need help finding a place to stay for the night?”

“I could come with you and help you find a hotel,” offered Loredana. “There's another train for Pescara later on.”

“I'm
going to Pescara too,” said Claudio. To his disappointment, Loredana gave no discernible response at learning of the happy coincidence.

“I'll be fine,” Peppi assured them. “Thank you for offering. Now please, hurry back to your seats on the train before you both catch cold.”

Loredana opened her purse and pulled out a small card. “Here,” she said, pressing it into Peppi's hand, “my address in Pescara is on this. If you ever get lonely, call and you can come stay with my family for a while.”

“Yes, that's a good idea,” said Claudio, quickly producing a business card of his own. “Please, Signor Peppi, call me anytime. Let me know how you're doing.”

“I'll tell you what,” said Peppi. “Claudio, you give Loredana one of your cards, and Loredana, you give Claudio one of yours. This way if I ever contact one of you, you'll be able to let the other one know. How does that sound?”

“I think it's a great idea,” said Claudio, holding up another business card. Loredana eyed him slyly before taking it.

“I'll
call
you,”
she said, not bothering to offer her own card in return.
“If
I ever need to.”

Claudio sighed. “Well, at least that's a start.”

Just then the conductor blew his whistle, calling for everyone to get on board. Loredana rushed to Peppi and gave him a hug and a kiss on each cheek.

“Buona fortuna, Signor Peppi,”
she said before pulling away.

Claudio took her hand and helped her up onto the train. The two hurried to their compartment and lowered the window as the train began to pull away from the station.

“Ciao, Signor Peppi!”
they called.
“Arriverderci!”

“Arriverderci!”
Peppi called back as he waved them out of sight. Alone once more, he collected his bags and headed out of the station to find a room for the night.

Luca groaned
when he heard the cock crowing out in the yard. He had been up late the night before and the bird's shrill cry pierced through his skull like the bit of an electric drill. He rolled over and tried to pull the covers up over his shoulders, but Filomena had already snatched them from him. To all appearances his wife was sound asleep, but when he tried to wrest a larger section of blanket from her grasp she held on with such tenacity that he was afraid the blanket might rip in two.

“Get out of bed, old man,” she warned him. “It's Sunday morning. Leave me alone and go for your ride.”

“I don't want to ride,” moaned Luca. “The train to Milano is running through the middle of my head. I think I'm dying.”

“That's what you get for drinking so much wine,” she snipped. “You'd think that a man your age would know better by now.”

“And one would think that you would have more compassion for your husband,” he griped. The cock crowed again and Luca grimaced. He buried his face in the pillow to escape the agony. “If that animal makes another noise,” he vowed, “I swear that we'll be having him for Sunday dinner this afternoon.”

“Don't blame the bird for your foolishness,” said Filomena, consolidating her grasp on the blanket. “Now go and let me sleep. Hurry, or they'll leave without you.”

With another groan, Luca rolled over and let his legs drop off the edge of the bed. He sat up and set his feet on the floor. For a long time he simply sat there, holding his head in his hands. At last, though, he mustered the energy to stand. He trudged over to the dresser, pulled open a drawer, and began to dress.

When he had finished putting on his cycling shorts and jersey, Luca paused to assess himself in the mirror. If one ignored the wrinkled face and the thin crop of silver hair on his head, it would be easy to mistake him for a much younger man, he told himself. Yes, his stomach had taken on slightly more girth since the beginning of winter, but he still stood tall and straight, his shoulders and arms as strong as ever. But most gratifying to Luca were his legs. Even now they were just as lean and sinewy as when he raced his bicycle back in the old days. He liked the hard contours of his thighs and bulging calves. His were powerful legs, power built by untold thousands of kilometers of pedalling a bike, day after day, year after year. Luca loved his family and friends, his town and country; he loved his work, but it was cycling that kept him alive. It was as essential to him as breathing.

“You look wonderful,” Filomena chided him from beneath the bed covers. “Now stop admiring yourself and finish dressing before you miss the group.”

“My head hurts too much to be admiring myself,” he replied. “But thanks for noticing me.”

“Don't mention it.”

Luca went downstairs and into the kitchen. It was chilly there. Even with his socks on he could feel the cold of the marble floor against the soles of his feet. He made coffee and sat down at the table to drink a cup while he nibbled on some biscotti. It was important to have at least a little something in his stomach, else he would never make it through the whole ride. Little by little, as he sipped his coffee and ate his biscotti, the banging in his head began to fade away. Before long he was feeling reinvigorated enough to entertain the thought of pedalling hard again. Luca took a last sip from his cup before leaving the kitchen to put on his bicycle shoes.

It was a brisk morning, but the Abruzzo sun shone warmly on Luca as he pedalled away from the house. He zipped up his jacket as he coasted down the drive past the modest two-story building that stood near the road at the end of the property. The building housed the factory in which his company made confetti, the delicious hard-shelled candy that was sold all over Italy. The company, a family business started generations ago, had been handed down to Luca when his father passed away. The business had given Luca everything he had: the clothes he wore, the roof over his head, the food on his table. Most important of all, it gave him the money to buy a new bicycle whenever he wanted, as well as the time to ride it. He was eternally grateful for that, and as he always did whenever he passed by the factory's front door, he made the sign of the cross and blew a kiss up to heaven as a gesture of thanks for his good fortune.

The group was assembled by the fountain when he finally rode onto the piazza. Years ago when he was young, Luca would have been the first one there, waiting for all the others instead of the other way around. But Luca had long ago relinquished his role as leader of the group. Still, he was greatly respected by all for the racing exploits of his youth. As always, he was greeted warmly by the younger riders when he rolled up alongside them. He soon joined in the idle chatter while they waited for the rest of the stragglers to appear before they headed off out of the village.

The first murmurings of
“Andiamo!”
were being made when someone recommended that they wait for one last rider that could be seen approaching from far down the road. Luca turned and gazed off into the distance to guess who it might be. Whoever it was, he was pedalling hard to get there on time. They decided to wait. Before long the rider had pedalled up the steep little hill that led into the piazza and up to the fountain where all the others immediately began to click their shoes onto their pedals.

Luca, however, paused and gazed through his dark sunglasses at the newcomer. He was an older rider, he saw, perhaps as old as himself, but he looked fit and trim. The jersey he wore was unfamiliar to Luca, but there was something vaguely familiar about the way the rider had climbed up the little hill before the piazza, something about his posture as he rolled up to the group.

For his part, the new rider sat on his bike, returning Luca's gaze, the side of his mouth curled up in the slightest hint of a smile. It was then that it dawned on Luca and he returned the half smile.

“Buon giorno,
Peppi,” he said nonchalantly.

“Buon giorno,
Luca,” Peppi replied.

“You know, I'm going to make you suffer today.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

Then they pedalled off together to catch up to the group.

“Let them go,”
said Luca. “They'll wait up for us on the other side.”

They were pedalling up a steep section of road, struggling to keep pace with the lithe younger riders ahead who danced along effortlessly on the pedals. It had been weeks since Peppi last rode his bike with any regularity and months since he trained on any hills. His legs and lungs were on fire. His only comfort was the knowledge that Luca, judging by his labored breathing, was suffering just as much.

The ride had started out pleasantly enough. As they rode along out of town, Luca had introduced Peppi to the rest of the group. From their reaction, Peppi could tell that his name had been mentioned before. “That's Peppi,” he had heard the younger riders whispering respectfully. “Luca's old teammate. He won a sack of races in his day.” That he had been so well remembered gave Peppi a warm feeling inside.

Now, however, that comfortable feeling of warmth in Peppi's heart and soul had turned into the acute discomfort of his aching leg muscles as the road grew steeper still. He and Luca slowed to a crawl, so much so that the two were almost in danger of falling over sideways. It was only pride and sheer determination that spared them both from the humiliation of having to dismount and walk the last few meters to the top; they would have preferred to drop dead on that very spot. Mercifully, the road leveled out as they reached the summit of the climb. They pedalled over the top and were greeted by the view of a long, gloriously flat road winding its way through the valley below.

“I think…you've suffered…enough…for today,” declared Luca between gulps of air.

“There's…always…tomorrow,” Peppi puffed in reply.

They coasted down the hill and gradually caught up to the other riders. By then the group had settled into a moderate tempo, allowing Peppi and Luca to cling to the back with a reasonable amount of effort. Soon they had recovered enough to join in the paceline. Peppi stayed behind Luca, letting him lead the way up to the front as he had done so often years ago when the two raced together. Luca had just reached the front of the line and was taking his pull into the wind when Peppi happened to look down for the first time at the rear derailleur of his friend's bicycle.

“Luca!” exclaimed Peppi. “You're using Shimano?”

“So what?” called Luca over his shoulder. He pulled off to the side to allow Peppi to pass to the front of the line.

“A nice Italian boy like you, using Japanese components instead of Campagnolo,” said Peppi, clicking his tongue as he went by. “I don't believe it.”

“Hey, welcome to the global economy,” replied Luca with a shrug. “I would have thought a nice American boy like you would understand.”

At that the two of them laughed. The others in the group smiled and laughed with them for it was good to see two old friends reunited after so many years. The whole crew pedalled on, jabbering all the while about little else but racing and riding, about derailleurs and pedals and gear sets and wheel hubs and about who was going to win the Giro that year. Those were the things most important to them at the moment; little else matters when you are riding a bike.

When they all finally returned to Villa San Giuseppe, it was nearing midday and the bright sun warmed the piazza as the riders rolled in. They gathered once more around the fountain and chatted a while longer before heading their separate ways for Sunday dinner. Before long only Peppi and Luca remained. They got off their bikes and sat on the steps by the fountain.

Peppi looked about the piazza, trying to reconcile his memories of the place with the scene now presented to his eyes.

“Things have changed,” he said.

Luca looked about the piazza with him. “Everything changes,” he replied. “But you know, at the same time, everything stays the same. Sometimes it all just looks different to you.”

“But where did all these cars come from?” said Peppi. “When I left there were maybe one or two in the whole town. Now it looks like everyone has one.”

“Ayyy, that was after the war when you left,” said Luca with a wave of his hand. “No one had anything back then. Life is easier these days. If you'd stuck around, you might have a car or two of your own by now.”

“I'd still prefer my bike,” said Peppi.

Luca grinned and nodded in agreement. “Your Italian is still very good, by the way,” he told Peppi. “I'm surprised you haven't forgotten it after all these years.”

“You can take the boy out of Villa San Giuseppe, but it's hard to get Villa San Giuseppe out of the boy,” said Peppi.

“Bravo,”
said Luca. Then he paused and gazed at his friend for a time. He nodded his head toward Peppi's hand.

“I see a ring on your finger, Peppi,” he said, “but I don't hear you mention a wife.”

Peppi looked down at his hand and shrugged. “I can't bring myself to take it off,” he replied.

“I understand,” said Luca. “Children?”

Peppi shook his head. “How about you?”

“Two,” said Luca, unable to suppress a smile at the thought of his children. “A son and daughter, and two grandchildren! Who would have imagined, eh?”

“That's wonderful,” said Peppi. “When do I get to meet them all?”

“Soon,” said Luca, “but first,
amico mio,
tell me what finally brings you all the way back to visit Villa San Giuseppe after all these years?”

“I haven't come to visit,” said Peppi. “I've come to stay.”

“To
stay?”
said Luca, surprised but clearly delighted by the news. “But where, here in town?”

“I thought I'd live in the mulino,” Peppi answered. “In the house where I grew up. It's still mine by right.”

“Il mulino?”
said Luca thoughtfully.

“Yes,” said Peppi. “I want to go see it right now before I go back to Sulmona for my things. Why don't you come along, just in case I've forgotten the way.”

“Well—yes, of course,” said Luca, his brow furrowed. “But first, why don't we go to my house. My wife is making dinner. I can give you some dry clothes to put on, we can eat and talk, and later on I'll drive you back to Sulmona. Then we can go see the mulino.”

“Okay,” said Peppi. “A nice home-cooked meal sounds very good to me right now.”

“Va bene,”
said Luca, patting him on the back.
“Andiamo.”

“I hope your wife won't mind having an unexpected guest.”

“Don't worry,” Luca assured him as they pedalled off. “You'll like my wife. She's the best cook in all Abruzzo!”