An Italian Wife by Ann Hood Page A

and kissed her on both cheeks.
    â€œLook,” she told her, “look who’s come to rescue you.”
    Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and anisette, was Father Leone. And grinning beside him was her little sister Clara.
    â€œRescue me?” Betsy said.
    â€œI told him that you were supposed to be a scientist but Papa left us broke—” Clara began.
    â€œShh, Chiara,” her mother scolded. “Let Father explain.”
    â€œHe’s going to help you get a scholarship!” Clara blurted.
    â€œWhat?” Betsy said. She dropped onto the floor at the priest’s feet.
    His strong hands grasped her forearms and lifted her so that they were eye to eye.
    â€œAfter your sister here explained what was happening, I called the school. They told me you maintain a straight A average,” Father Leone said in his smooth voice.
    â€œI do!” Betsy said, in case he needed more evidence.
    â€œI offered to tutor you, in Latin and mathematics, two nights a week. If you continue getting straight A’s, it can be arranged for you to get a scholarship to study at Salve Regina College.”
    â€œCollege?” Betsy said. She needed to be certain she understood what she was hearing.
    â€œOf course,” the priest said, “in addition to your studies I’ll expect you to do some work at the church. Filing, typing. That sort of thing. Nothing is free, child. You must earn what you get.”
    Betsy was nodding.
    Her mother said sharply, “But surely I could do the church work for her, Father?”
    â€œI’ll do it, Mama!” Betsy said. It would be just like her mother to ruin this one opportunity for her.
    The priest glanced up at her mother, almost dismissively. “You won’t have to take care of anything, Mrs. Rimaldi,” he said.
    â€œBut I will,” her mother said evenly. “So she can work on her studies.”
    Silently, Betsy willed her mother to shut up.
    Father Leone rose. He was such a tall man; Betsy had never noticed this when he stood at the pulpit in his flowing purple robes.
    â€œYou have enough to do holding a family together alone,” he said, patting her mother’s hand. Then he helped Betsy to her feet. “We will begin studying Latin next week then, Elisabetta?”
    â€œBetsy,” she said, deciding right then that she was going to marry Father Leone.
    â€œBetsy?” he said, laughing. “So you are American through and through,” he continued in English.
    Later, in bed with her sister, she whispered her plans to Clara.
    â€œYou can’t marry a priest,” Clara said. “It’s against the law.”
    â€œNo, it’s not,” Betsy said.
    â€œIt’s against God’s law,” Clara said.
    Betsy closed her eyes but she couldn’t sleep. She felt as if her life was finally beginning.
    THE THIRD THING THAT HAPPENED, and Betsy believed this was the thing that really changed her life, was that her brother, Carmine, came home from the war. His best friend, Angelo Mazzonni, had been killed in action; Carmine, the Army notified them, was shell-shocked. He had been in an Army hospital for months and months, but there was no more they could do for him. None of them knew what to expect, although Belle said someone at the mill said it only meant he would be afraid of loud noises, and maybe he would tremble a little. This did not seem so bad.
    But although those problems may have existed, clearly something very bad had happened to Carmine. He looked confused and said crazy things. It was like his brain had been injured, even though the Army assured them he had not suffered any wounds at all. In fact, he had medals, lots of them, for trying to save Angelo and others during battle. When they asked him about his bravery, he looked even more confused.
    â€œBattle?” he said. “France?”
    In bed that night they whispered together. How could they tell