Free The Girls of Piazza D'Amore by Connie Guzzo-Mcparland

their hands whenever someone passed by them.
    Maria, holding the same child she had carried the first day we saw her, sat next to the man who was selling the donkey. The farmers took a wad of money, counted it, and passed it to the gypsy, who then passed it to Maria. She counted the money and nodded to the farmer. He took the donkey by the reins and walked away, smiling.
    As we approached her, Bettina told Maria, “I want my book.”
    â€œI’ll bring it to you at the fireworks. I told you already.”
    â€œMy brother wants it this morning,” Bettina said.
    â€œI don’t have it. I lent it to my friend.”
    â€œYou told us we could come and get it anytime we wanted.”
    â€œHow can I give it to you if I don’t have it?”
    â€œWhere’s your friend?”
    â€œShe had to go to Amato with her father to buy a donkey. But she’ll be back this afternoon. Wait for me before the fireworks. I told you already.”
    We had no choice but to leave without the book, and to join our mothers at church for High Mass. We didn’t tell them that we had walked all the way to the aqueduct by ourselves.
    After Mass, Comare Rosaria invited Mother and me to her house before lunch to have a drink in celebration of Lucia’s name day. She served us a glass of homemade sweet yellow liqueur, which tasted like Strega, and some almond cookies. Lucia seemed animated but distracted, as though something was on her mind.
    â€œLucia has found a nice boyfriend,” Comare Rosaria said, as though she were making fun of her.
    â€œDon’t you start telling everyone about a boyfriend,” Lucia said, sounding annoyed and leaving the room.
    Comare Rosaria explained that, the previous evening, Lucia had consented to consider an engagement to her guests’ brother from Canada. Comare Rosaria, at first, was not excited about the proposal, because of the age difference, but the brothers convinced them that Pasquale was a serious, hardworking man who had built his own business. He also owned a house and a car. Lucia would live like a lady there, and wouldn’t need to go to work, unlike many women who emigrated. Alfonso had negotiated all the details in favour of his sister. Pasquale would pay all the expenses related to the wedding and the trip. After listening to her brother’s arguments, Lucia agreed to correspond with the man and to send him her picture, but she would make the final decision only after meeting Pasquale in person, in the summer, when he was expected to visit his family.
    â€œIf it’s destined, it will happen,” Mother said.
    â€œHe seems serious and settled, not like these young men around here who don’t know what they want,” Comare Rosaria explained. “In a few years, she can sponsor her brothers in America. There’s nothing for them here.”
    â€œThen maybe we’ll all be in Montreal one day. You too, Comare Rosaria,” Mother said.
    â€œLet’s not put the cart before the horse,” Lucia, who had been listening from the other room, said. “I won’t have an official engagement until I see him.”
    Comare Rosaria whispered, “In the last months she’s become like a ghost. She doesn’t eat or talk to anyone. At least this man will keep his word.”
    â€œDon’t worry. She’s young and has a life ahead of her,” Mother said.
    Then Comare Rosaria held up the picture of a small man sitting on the hood of a big white car, his teeth white and large against his suntanned, bony face.
    When we got home, Mother said, “I can’t imagine Lucia married to that man.”
    At the fireworks, there was no sign of Maria. Bettina was upset and cried. She was expecting a good spanking from her brother.
    Rosaria and Lucia were accompanied by their house guests. People kept congratulating both Lucia and the woman from Serra San Pietro.
    â€œIt’s hard to keep things secret in this