Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop by Rosanna Chiofalo

Rosalia. She did remember the nuns rescuing her by the cave and how weak and sore she had felt. Her body had ached terribly. She remembered Madre Carmela and the wonderful sweets she brought her every day. Suddenly, visions of the nuns sitting at her bedside, sponging her body, and feeding her spoonfuls of minestrone came back to her. They had talked to Rosalia, but their words were a jumble. She even remembered they had prayed aloud for her. Their prayers would often wake her, and at night their prayers would lull her to sleep as she watched the nuns fingering each bead of their rosaries.
    â€œRosalia, if you remember now your surname and where your family lives, I can let them know right away you are safe.” Madre Carmela looked at Rosalia, concern filling her large, almond-shaped eyes.
    Rosalia liked the nun’s face. She felt immediately comforted when she saw her, much as she had whenever her mother greeted her every morning. At the memory of her mother, a stab of pain pierced her heart. She had to return home right away. Her family must be worried sick about her.
    â€œI live in . . .” Rosalia’s mind went blank. Of course she knew where she lived. She had known no other home since she was a baby. It was the home she had dreamed of returning to every day since . . . No! She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let her mind go back to that horrible place. She tried once more. “I live in the town of . . .” Nothing.
    â€œThat is all right, my child. It will come to you. Don’t worry.”
    â€œHow long have I been here now?”
    â€œA month.”
    â€œA month? I need to go home. My family must think the worst has happened to me.” Rosalia pressed her fingers to her forehead as if willing herself to remember her name and her family’s town. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Madre Carmela reached into her pocket and took out a handkerchief. She patted the tears dry, then sat down on the bed. Taking Rosalia’s chin in her hand, she gently lifted it, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes.
    â€œPlease, don’t pressure yourself. You have had a horrible ordeal. Your mind is just tired. Allow it to get more rest. Your memory will return.”
    â€œHow can you be so sure, Madre Carmela?”
    The mother superior pursed her lips. She began to speak, but then paused. Since that first day when she had found Rosalia, a fierce protectiveness had taken hold of her. But she knew the day would come when she couldn’t shield Rosalia from everything.
    â€œRosalia, when we brought you back to the convent, our first priority was feeding you since you looked so malnourished. I also wanted you to feel safe here, and I did not want to do anything that would cause you alarm. But by the end of the first week, I knew I had to have a doctor examine you, especially when Sorella Giovanna found a large bump on your scalp while she was washing your hair. Upon closer inspection, I saw your scalp was swollen, and it was badly bruised. So I asked the local doctor to come and examine you. Do you remember that?”
    Rosalia shook her head.
    Madre Carmela wasn’t surprised that Rosalia had forgotten the doctor. At first, she had refused to let the doctor anywhere near her, though Madre Carmela and the other nuns had repeatedly assured the young woman he would not hurt her. But she had become like a wild beast, shrieking and trying to evade capture by its predators. She had run from one corner of the room to the next, looking for an escape. The doctor had been forced to tranquilize her with a sedative. Once she was unconscious, he had examined her. Madre Carmela had remained in the room, but had asked the other nuns to leave. Though she had already seen the bruises and cuts that covered Rosalia’s entire body, she had still winced when the doctor removed her nightgown so that he could fully examine her.
    The doctor had confirmed Madre Carmela’s suspicions. Rosalia had been severely