Sofia's Tune (14 page)

A whining sound came from under the table. She bent to look. “Oh, this is your dog?” She patted the white fur on his nose and he licked her hand.

“Miss Falcone, meet Luigi.”

She laughed. He was a well-behaved, charming pet with brown eyes that focused on hers, melting her heart.

Antonio cleared his throat. “I have come to find out what the people in this neighborhood knew about my father.”

“I understand you have questions, and I wish I could help you.” She glanced to her aunt. “We cannot. I am sorry. The people here, they are not like those at Hawkins House,
signore
. You will not find what you seek.” She stood. “I am happy to see you again, but I am afraid I must go.”

“Not yet.” Stefania gripped Sofia’s arm a bit too hard. “I want you both to stay.”

“I really must. It was delightful to meet your dog, signore.”

Antonio’s face softened as though by admiring his dog she was welcoming his attention. She broke from his gaze, reminding herself she had studies to catch up on, things she had missed during the process of her move. She bit her lip. There was something about this handsome man, something mysterious, that she knew nothing about. She should be mindful. Joey might not know why he was following Antonio, but there could be something she was not aware of. Pausing to take another look at the man, she hoped she was wrong.

Stefania relented and let her go. She shouted at Sofia’s back. “All God’s children. Doesn’t matter who you are or what your circumstances may be. Even if the
padrone
steals from you, the Church will be here.”

Sofia closed her eyes as she ascended the steps to the street. That woman could embarrass her without warning, and now in front of Antonio.

She inhaled the night air, which seemed to smell less of burning coal once the sun set. The smell of Italian suppers being prepared around the neighborhood wafted to her senses and her soul. Being away had been enlightening and exciting, but she did miss her people. Even Stefania, the enigmatic, quirky, but sensitive nun. She was surely the key, the one who would be most willing to share the details surrounding Sofia’s sister’s death. But Sofia would have to be alone with her to get the information she was somewhat afraid to hear but needed in order to reach Mamma.

Chapter 15

“I do not understand.” Antonio thought the nun had a purpose in mentioning a
padrone
, but it made no sense. Even Lu whimpered from his spot under the table.

Sister Stefania rose to putter about the kitchen, putting away items, wiping off the counters. “When people do not understand, which is almost always how it is, they should pray. Ask God for wisdom.”

“Yes, sister. Perhaps you will help me understand what you meant just now when you said something about a
padrone
stealing. Was that for your niece or for me?”

“Hmm.” She shifted her shoulders. “Both.”

“But I’m afraid I have no personal dealings with any
padrone
. Are you saying an Italian boss sent me these notes?”

“No, I do not think so. No dealings? I am happy for you. Usually, when there is trouble, it is because of labor, a lack of jobs and money. Who controls these things?”

“The
padrone
?”

She nodded and toasted with an empty coffee cup.

“Where can I meet such a person, in case he can shed light on the circumstances of my father’s death?”

“
Banca Stabile
, of course.”

“The Italian bank?”

“
Sì
.”

“But it’s closed until tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

A bell tolled and the woman scurried away for prayers. Antonio scratched his head. The woman was simple, kind. A nun wouldn’t lie to him, surely. What had her warning to Sofia been about? Was
she
in some kind of danger? He wondered if perhaps that was why her father had sent her away, to protect her. All kinds of fanciful scenarios came to mind, but of one thing he was sure. He felt affection for the girl and an overwhelming sense that she needed his help. Certainly that’s what the sister was suggesting.

He decided to take Luigi on a stroll around the neighborhood until Sofia’s school ended. He would look out for the note writer in case he tried to drop another message his way. Two messages had come while he was in Little Italy. The other was delivered at St. Anthony’s. And then there were the men who had come to the theater. Someone obviously knew where to find him.

A glance at his pocket watch told him Sofia would be no longer than three-quarters of an hour. Even though most of the students lived nearby, many had to rise early for their jobs and would be headed to their beds directly.

Luigi tugged slightly on his leash. He wasn’t used to it. “It’s okay, boy. Just for looks. Wouldn’t want anyone mistaking you for a stray.”

Luigi paused and looked back at him, his ears raised at alert.

“Sorry. No insult intended.”

They rounded a corner, where music came from a basement window. Accordions, tambourines. Antonio was curious. He stopped a man who was about to enter the building. “What kind of music is that?”

The man frowned beneath his heavy black mustache. “
Musica
? No, no.
Ristorante
.” He slapped Antonio on the arm. “
Maccheroni
!” Then he descended the steps and went inside.

Antonio and his dog exchanged glances. “That rice didn’t fill us up, did it?” He tied his dog’s leash to the railing in front of the window. “Wait, Lu.”  He trotted down the steps and let himself in the door the way he’d seen the man do.

When he stepped inside most of the chatter ceased, although the musicians kept playing. Those who had glanced up at him turned back to their plates and their conversations, but in a hushed manner that made Antonio feel unwelcome. He even wondered for a moment if he’d mistakenly wandered into a private home but dismissed the thought because there were diners seated at several tables and no parlor. A young man approached him. “Do not mind us. We do not get many newcomers at Giovanni’s. Would you like pasta
e
fagioli
? Macaroni?” He waved a woman over as he directed Antonio to a table just a few steps away.

“Thank you,
grazie
.” Antonio nodded toward the woman. “Whatever you are serving will be fine.” He turned back to the young man. “I am Antonio.” He decided it best to leave off his last name.

“
Sì
, I know.”

Antonio was confused. “We’ve met?”

“Uh, no. The children. They said you come with your dog.”

“That’s right.”

“I am Joey.”

Antonio pointed to the chair across from him.

“
Grazie
, no. I am washing dishes here tonight and as little work as I get, I cannot afford to lose it. Enjoy,
signore
.” He left, weaving through the tables of male diners—Antonio noted no females save the one who had waited on him. The diners still spoke in hushed voices, and in Italian, which Antonio understood little of so they needn’t have bothered. He gave them sideways glances, wondering if they knew his father, knew what mysterious thing he had done.

Moments later the woman placed a large platter in front of him. It smelled of rich tomato sauce and spices, much more appetizing than what Antonio had back in his apartment. He smiled up at her and spoke one of the few Italian words he knew. “
Delizioso
!”

One corner of the woman’s mouth curled up. She reached behind her and snagged a basket of bread from another table. A few moments later, she returned with a narrow bottle of olive oil and placed it beside the bread. Then she turned to the men at the table who were now without their bread and nodded firmly. They waved their hands as though they hadn’t wanted any anyway.

Antonio ate and watched the musicians who were assembled in one corner. They were quite talented in their cultural manner and he was thoroughly enjoying himself, and sure he had found a way to fit in, when he heard a clatter coming from outside. The aproned woman appeared again from the kitchen and scurried up to the window, flapping her apron to and fro. She turned to Antonio and said in broken English, “The children, they should be…night…in bed!”

He realized they were playing with his dog so he paid his check quickly and left, but not before putting a roll into his pocket for Lu.

As he was freeing his dog from the entanglement of children, he heard his name called. Sofia was waving to him as she approached from up the street. “Let’s go see the lady, Lu.” He headed toward her.

The leash slipped from his hand and Lu dashed away, as eager to see Sofia as he was. She ordered him to sit and then patted his nose. “He’s such a good dog, Antonio.”

“He is. Would you like us to walk you home?”

“Oh, I don’t know about the dog on the trolley.” She glanced down the street. “I must hurry, though. I am not certain when the last one runs.”

He offered his arm. “You have time still, and the conductors always allow Luigi to ride. I know most of them working at this hour.”

She slipped her small hand into the crook of his arm. “How is that you are riding the trolley at night?”

“I am a musician. Most theater is in the evenings, when working folks are out and about.”

“Ah, that explains why you were in Giovanni’s. To hear the music.” She arched a dark brow.

“At first, yes, but the food was exceptional.”

She laughed. “I can make better. Tell me, did my aunt help you with your business?”

“No, not really.”

Sofia flung her free arm above her head and then back down. “She is…uh, flibbertigibbet? Is that what you Americans say?”

He chuckled. “Well, she may be a little distracted. She had to go off to prayers.”

“It was not the prayers. She is always like that. I have been trying to talk to her myself and cannot talk…uh, converse very well with her. There are rumors in the neighborhood about you. Do you know what it is about?”

“I would like you to tell me.”

“I do not know why the people are curious about you. That is why I asked. You do not know?”

“Before God I tell you I do not, but I came here hoping to find out.”

“Just talk, then. Nothing to listen to,” she suggested. “I am sure they are fond of your dog.”

Whether it was the night air or being in the company of a woman he found charming, Antonio didn’t know, but something compelled him to confide in her about his father’s death and how the priest had insinuated that he prove his father had been an innocent bystander when he was killed. He even told her it was Uncle Nicco who had suggested men from Benevento might have the answers.

After they were seated on the trolley, he noted Sofia’s eyes glimmering in the light of the gas lamps. He had upset her. He bit his lip and allowed silence to open up a space between them.

The trolley bumped along the shadowy avenue as the riders shifted in unison. Not everyone has to deal with a family tragedy. He hoped sharing his hadn’t made her shy away from him. Sofia was the one Benevento native he knew best, however she had made it clear she could not help him.

Finally, she spoke. “I am so sorry to hear about your papà. That is a terrible thing to happen.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You must miss him very much.”

“I do.” No one had ever suggested that Antonio might feel pain over the incident, not even the priest. It was as though feeling anything would be unmanly and weak. He blinked back his own tears. “I have had to adjust to being alone.” He felt Luigi nudge his ankle. “I have my dog, of course.”

“And he is a good companion.” She invited Lu onto her lap and nuzzled him under her chin.

“He likes you.” And he had a way of lifting spirits, as he had just done for her.

The stop closest to Hawkins House was approaching. If he were going to ask, he needed to do so now. “Sofia, your aunt. She seemed to be warning you about something. Is there anything I can do, because I’m more than willing.”

Sofia drew in a deep breath and then allowed Luigi to jump down where he sat at Antonio’s feet. “Thank you. Very much thank you. But there is nothing.”

“Are you in any kind of danger? I mean, she mentioned a
padrone
, perhaps a troublesome one.”

“My aunt. She is a bit…” Sofia patted her forehead with the heel of her palm.

“I understand, but—“

“My troubles are many, but there is no danger. Thank you for being concerned.”

“May I ask then, have you any idea who might be passing me notes about my father?” He explained the best he could.

“That is indeed odd. I have never heard your father’s name before I met you. Perhaps someone is…how do you say it?”

“Playing a cruel joke on me?” Being unwelcome in Little Italy, it was possible. “Why would they come looking for me at the theater, though, if they only wanted to run me out? It seems they drew me to your streets.” His throat tightened. Perhaps his father had also been lured.

She covered her head with her scarf. “I wish I knew the answers.”

After they stepped off, Antonio gently took her arm. “You must call on me, Sofia, if you encounter something threatening. I am happy to help.”

She nodded and paraded down the walk toward the boarding house with the swinging sign out front, marching on those outrageous shoes of hers. He didn’t care if her troubles did not involve personal danger. They were causing her grief and he wanted to help her resolve whatever it was. A woman this beautiful should not be so weighed down with life that her smile stayed forever hidden. He didn’t care anymore about the priest’s meddling. He knew his father had been an upstanding, hardworking moral man. There were people in the world who really needed help, who needed joy in their lives. That was why Antonio took pleasure in playing his music for them. He should invite Sofia to the theater to hear him play. Perhaps then she would forget her troubles and smile again.

He looked again at the note the nun read to him. What money? If he went to the bank and asked, perhaps he could help both Sofia and himself.