Although she could bend her will, she couldn’t control the tears that silently slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her apron, swinging her feet as she had since she was a little girl, and tried to memorize every detail of what was before her.
As the last few days passed before her departure, she and her mother performed an intricate dance—never mentioning the diminishing time they had left together. Celestina asked her questions about what she had packed and what was left to do, as if she was simply going to visit her aunt in the next village. She didn’t mention marriage or Franco, but instead gently chastised her for not filling the water jug enough for the day, or doing a bad job of sweeping.
But on the morning of her departure, they could no longer ignore the facts. When Catarina came downstairs dressed in her simple gray traveling dress with red-rimmed eyes, Celestina handed her a caffè latte and then immediately took it back, setting it down on the table, and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Catarina could feel her mother’s shoulders shaking as she silently wept. She held her mother tightly and for the first time allowed herself to cry unchecked.
“I’m scared, Mama,” she whispered, so only Celestina could hear.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, mia cara.”
“What if I never see you and Babbo again? How will I live in this world without you? I can’t bear the thought of it.”
“Shhh. Don’t talk like that. I will still be in this world, and you will see me again. That was part of the marriage contract Babbo insisted upon. Franco will bring you home to visit us. And until then, look out at the moon each night, and know that I am looking at the same moon. We won’t be so far apart.”
Catarina let go of her mother and wiped her face. Celestina handed the coffee back to her daughter and sent her back upstairs to drink it and splash water on her tear-stained face.
When she came back down the rest of the family was waiting for her and the tears began again. She hugged each of her sisters and brothers-in-law goodbye. They insisted they would all write constantly, but Catarina knew letters would be a poor substitute for seeing them every day as she had her entire life.
It was a relief that Mateo and her father were both taking her to the ship, so she could postpone those farewells at least for a while.
When Catarina climbed into the cart and sat down on her trunk, it was almost a relief to be underway at last. Mateo jumped onto the cart as well, tucked her suitcase under the bench seat, then sat facing his sister. Catarina’s father stepped up to the driver’s seat and took the reins of the Pensebene’s workhorse before taking a seat on the wooden wagon bench. Celestina handed a basket of food up to Catarina so they could eat breakfast and lunch during the journey to the port. Catarina gave her mother one last hug and then her father clicked his tongue and the horse started off.
She watched her mother’s form recede as the cart and horse picked up speed on the road out of the village, then she yelled one last time, “Ti amo, Mama!” I love you. She stood up and waved both her arms and blew kisses to her mother.
“Finiranno mai queste lacrime?” asked Mateo theatrically, leaning over to their father. Will these tears never cease? This is what it must be like at an opera.”
Then he turned back to his sister and said, “I, for one, am happy to be rid of you.” He smiled at her mischievously. “I intend to take over your room as soon as Babbo and I return. I don’t know how you ended up with the best room in the house, but it will be mine soon enough.”
Catarina burst into laughter through her tears, thankful for her brother’s sense of humor.
“My husband and I will kick you out when we come to visit,” Catarina retorted, as she blew her nose into a handkerchief. But she was happy to think of Mateo in her room.
“When I get married, my wife and I will live in your room and make a baby right in your bed.”
“Mateo!” Babbo cuffed his son on the ear. “There will be no talking like that in front of your sister.”
But Mateo just laughed harder and winked at Catarina, who shook her head at him.
They were hungry, so they ate while they passed the time in the cart. The day was glorious. Sunny, but not too hot because it was early. Mateo and Babbo would be sweltering on the return journey, but for now it was as if Italy were giving Catarina a perfect farewell.
When they arrived at the harbor, it was like nothing Catarina had imagined. There were people everywhere. Carts and horses clogged the streets. The port was crowded with people loading supplies onto the ship, shouting to one another. The whole spectacle overwhelmed her, but the main focus for Catarina was the ship. It took her breath away. It was bigger than the orchard at their house. It was bigger than the town square in their village. It was huge and hulking, but what shocked her even more than the size was that she had expected a wooden ship like she’d seen in paintings. Instead, it was made of steel.
“Babbo, how will it stay afloat?” Catarina asked. “It must weigh so much it will sink to the bottom of the sea.”
Babbo laughed. “Don’t worry, child. It will stay afloat and get you all the way to America. It’s much safer than wood. It’s a steamship. Now, let’s get you aboard and find where you’ll be sleeping.”
Mateo quickly tied up the horse and cart and helped his father with the trunk. He was eager to explore the ship. He, too, was in awe of its enormity and could hardly believe it would only take Catarina nine days to reach New York. She and Mateo looked at each other with matching expressions of wonder etched across their similar features.
They walked up the gangway, Catarina holding the suitcase in the lead and Mateo and her father behind, hefting the trunk between them. When they reached the entrance, they were stopped by a young, uniformed man who asked for their tickets.
Catarina opened the first purse she had ever owned, extracted her ticket, and handed it to him.
“My daughter’s traveling to America to get married,” Babbo told him.
The man looked up and met her eyes.
“Lucky man,” he winked at Catarina and punched a hole in her ticket, then handed it back to her. His accent was from northern Italy and his hair was golden and curly, which made his dark eyes almost confusing. Catarina felt heat rise to her face and looked away.
“Can you tell me where she will be sleeping?” asked Catarina’s father.
“Si, Signore, on level two you’ll find a door with the same number as the ticket. And if you would like, I will keep a special eye on your daughter while she is aboard ship. My name is Gregorio Villa, and I have a sister who must be the same age,” he smiled.
“Grazie mille. I would appreciate it,” said Babbo, and handed him a coin which he casually pocketed.
As they walked away from him, Catarina glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Gregorio was watching her, too, an amused expression on his face. Her sharp intake of breath startled her father. She quickly turned back and acted as if she were simply looking around.
“What is it, Catarina? Did you hurt yourself?”
“No, Babbo. I’m only looking at the ship. What an amazing thing it is!” she said, but in truth, the face of Gregorio Villa was immediately fixed in her mind.
When they got downstairs, they easily located the berth Catarina was to share. Inside was the girl whom Franco had written to her about.
“Buon giorno,” they said in unison and then smiled at each other.
“Il mio nome è Catarina Pensebene.”
“Nice to meet you, Catarina. My name is Maria Crostina.”
Catarina