To Find a Mountain

Chapter Two

When I was excused, I flew up the stairs two at a time. I rushed into our room and Iole and Emidio were rolling on the bed, wrestling and giggling. The look on my face must have terrified them, because Emidio’s lower lip started to tremble, like he always does just before bursting into tears.

“Iole,” I said to my sister. “Put Mama’s crucifix behind the dresser, and get her jewelry box — put it under the loose floorboard in the closet. You know the one?”

She nodded but stood still. They both looked at me, eyes wide and then a big tear slowly slid down Emidio’s cheek.

I forced myself to relax, then went and got Mama’s jewelry box, lifted up the floorboard in the closet and slid the box inside.

“I’m sorry about that, you two.”

Just then, I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. I hugged my brother and sister to my chest and listened.

Papa stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

I tried desperately, but my lower lip was determined to tremble like Emidio’s. And when Iole saw me, she started, too.

“Shush, you three,” my father said. He knelt in front of us and his face was calm, his big brown eyes warm and smiling. My heart burst with love at the sight of his gentle face, reassuring us as always.

“Listen, the Germans are not here to hurt us,” he said. “They have chosen our house because of its position on the hill. They can watch people coming through the valley. Most of the soldiers will be on Mt. Cassino. They will only use Casalveri as a place to bring wounded. They will probably set up a makeshift hospital at the Ingrelli house. Colonel Wolff, Lieutenant Becher and a few men will stay with us. They’re going to be staying in the rooms downstairs.”

“For how long?” Iole asked.

“Until they win the war,” I answered.

From outside, we heard the sound of a vehicle start up.

Papa went to the window and looked out, then came back and knelt in front of us again.

“They say that if we help them, they will help us. And I believe them. They have food and more importantly, good medical supplies.”

I immediately thought of Mama, and I could tell that Papa did, too.

“We just have to be careful.” He fixed his eyes on my younger brother and sister.

“Iole. Emidio. I want this room spotless before you come downstairs,” he said. “Benedetta, come with me.”

We went next door to his room. It smelled of Papa; a mixture of wine, garlic and a man who works hard every day. Every once in a while, though, when a soft breeze made its way through the house, usually in the springtime, I could smell my mother. I often came into Papa’s room on those kinds of days, just to see if I could detect her scent.

I sat on his bed and Papa pulled an old wooden chair over and sat in front of me.

“Benedetta, you have to be strong.”

He took my hands in his. “They are scared of us. The people who live here, all Italians. They don’t know who are ribellí and who aren’t.” The ribellí were the rebels, young Italian men and a few women who opposed Mussolini and vowed to do everything they could to kill Germans.

His eyes clouded over. “But it is not a good thing that they fear us. With fear, comes danger. You know how a wild animal attacks viciously when backed into a corner? That’s what these Germanesí will do — if we fight them. Colonel Wolff said that if one of his men dies, ten of us will die.”

My heart skipped a beat, but my father’s grip on my hands tightened.

“If we feed them, wash their clothes, their bedding, help them find their way around, they will treat us right,” he said.

“But Papa,” I said. “Will they make you go to the front line? That’s what I heard they do.”

His smile was different this time, not relaxed like always, and because of that, I knew he was feeling fear.

“Benny,” he said, “listen to me. I am not going to the front line. The Germans need me to help them with the people of the village. They consider me the leader of the village and as soon as I’m done talking with you, I need to go around and start collecting food for them until their supplies arrive.”

“What happens then?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What happens when they are organized, the village is giving them what they want, they won’t need you anymore. What then?”

Now he made no attempt to smile.

“Once they are here and are organized, it is true they may not need me as much. When that time comes,” he shrugged his shoulders. “We shall see. I may have to find a mountain.”

Fear struck at my stomach like I’d been kicked by a mule.

“Papa, if you go, who will take care of us?” I asked, gesturing at the room next door where Iole and Emidio were probably wrestling.

Papa rose to his feet and looked down at me. His brown eyes revealed nothing.

He answered matter-of-factly.

“You.”