Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop by Rosanna Chiofalo Page A

beaten, and her head injury was most likely the result of being hit with a blunt object. Rosalia had a concussion, and he believed that was the cause of her memory loss. He had assured Madre Carmela that Rosalia’s memory would return.
    â€œRosalia, the doctor confirmed for us that you were badly beaten. Someone hit you in the head, and you suffered a concussion. That is why you are having problems now with your memory. But the doctor believes your memory loss is temporary.”
    â€œSo I will have my memory back?”
    â€œHe believes so.”
    â€œIs that why I have been so dizzy?”
    â€œYou have been dizzy?”
    â€œIt comes and goes.”
    â€œ Si, the concussion must be causing the vertigo as well.”
    â€œWhat will happen to me if I don’t remember where my family lives?”
    â€œYou will. Please, Rosalia. Place your trust in God.”
    â€œBut what will happen to me?”
    â€œYou will live here with the sisters and me.”
    Madre Carmela’s words seemed to calm Rosalia for the moment.
    â€œAll I want you to focus on now is getting stronger. And I think you are ready to leave your room and explore the grounds of our convent. We have a vast library. I’m sure you can find a few books you will enjoy reading. And our courtyard is beautiful. I have been bringing you flowers from our gardens every day.” Madre Carmela gestured to a simple white vase filled with miniature pink rosebuds. “I thought you might like roses since your name begins with Rosa.”
    A memory suddenly returned to Rosalia. Her father brought her roses from her mother’s garden every year for her birthday. He would tie them with a purple ribbon. Purple was her favorite color. That she remembered. And there was something her father used to say when he presented the flowers to her. What was it? “Beautiful roses for my beautiful rose.”
    â€œI remember. My father always gave me roses for my birthday.”
    â€œSee. Your memory is coming back. Now just rest.” Madre Carmela placed a kiss on Rosalia’s forehead and turned to leave.
    â€œ Grazie, Madre Carmela.”
    â€œYou don’t need to thank me, Rosalia.”
    â€œMadre, you mentioned earlier that I might be able to come to the kitchen and watch you bake. If you are not too busy now, I would very much like to see how you make your pastries.”
    Madre Carmela’s face beamed. “Now would be the perfect time.”
    With the help of Madre Carmela, Rosalia carefully stepped out of bed. It felt strange to have her bare feet touch the cold floor. She had been lying in that bed for so many weeks now. Letting Madre Carmela wrap her arm protectively around her back, Rosalia slowly stood up. Though her legs felt shaky, she knew she had to push herself to regain her strength, and that wasn’t going to happen if all she continued to do was lie in bed. Her family was waiting for her, and she was not going to let them down.

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    Ossa dei Morti
    BONES OF THE DEAD
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    November 1, 1955
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    R osalia was in the kitchen, helping the nuns and the laywomen who worked at the pastry shop. Since that first day when she decided to live again rather than waste away in her bed, she had come down to the kitchen and helped with whatever the workers needed. Immediately, she became fascinated with the art of pastry making. She had no doubt in her mind that it was an art and marveled at how the workers on a consistent basis could bake and create such beautiful little treasures of sweets. Her favorite part was when it came time to decorate the fancier sweets like the marzipan fruit or the elaborate cakes such as Trionfo di Gola —Triumph of Gluttony.
    She soon learned that the pastry shop operated on a calendar, in particular, the religious calendar. Pastries were made either to honor a saint’s feast day or for a religious holiday like Christmas or Easter. Today was the first of November and