Page 33 of The Singing Trees
Nonna’s shoulders fell. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I keep telling Annalisa how lucky she is to have family like you.” He smiled with closed lips. “Anyway, you guys have a good night. I need to make sure my sister’s okay.”
Annalisa followed him out and took his hand on the porch. “It’s okay,” she assured him, noticing the soft sound of the wind chimes.
He turned to face her, his breath fogging up. “I just wish things were different.”
“Hey,” she said, mustering the courage to take a stance, “nothing your father says affects us. I’m certainly not judging you because of your family.”
“I appreciate that.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? At least we got it over with.”
After he’d left, she sat on the couch next to Nonna. The television showed people paying their respects to Fred Hampton as they walked by his open casket in a packed church.
“His dad is a complete jerk,” Annalisa said. “And please don’t go into an I-told-you-so rant. I don’t need to hear it.”
“I didn’t say a word,” Nonna replied, crossing her ankles.
Annalisa told her about the dinner and how they’d stormed out.
Nonna looked her way. “I’m not sayingI told you so, Annalisa. It’s just the way it is. We, meaning our family, our people, have different values from others. That’s why I want you to find someone more similar. Maybe someone from the church.”
Annalisa rolled her eyes and pointed to the television. “I can’t hide in Payton Mills while all this is going on.”
Nonna raised her voice. “So you want to be in the thick of it? What good will that do? You might get yourself killed.”
Annalisa imagined Nonna had said the same thing to her father when he was her age. “I might find the truth. Or at least hear some other opinions on life.” She was still reeling from watching the draft, thinking that it shouldn’t be right that men should have to go to fight a war with which they disagreed. And if you happened to disagree in some way, like Fred Hampton, the government would kill you.
“It’s a terrible time,” Nonna admitted, crossing her arms. “All I can say is that I pity your children, who will have to grow up in this mess.”
Annalisa sat up, hearing the plastic crackle underneath her. “My children? Let’s hope you’re not counting on me for children.” She was still trying to work her way through the first relationship of her life.
“I want you to be happy,” Nonna said. “That’s all.”
“Then you have to let me be me. I’m not like the other girls at our church or at school. I want different things.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Nonna unfolded her arms. “Why do you think I give you so much slack?”
“If that’s true, then support me. Quit jabbing me about wanting to go to Portland. And let me enjoy dating a guy for the first time in my life, without you shaking your head.” Annalisa pointed at the door. “He’s a nice guy.”
Nonna followed her finger. “It appears that way.”
“Thomas is different,” Annalisa insisted, wanting so badly to believe it. “He’s not like his father. Or mine,” she added.
Nonna looked over with wise eyes. “I hope not.”
Chapter 11
THEBROKENONES
Thomas brought Emma over three days after Christmas. Following a quick exchange among the three of them about the nightmare that was the country club dinner, he left the two girls and took his skates to a local pond for a workout. Annalisa couldn’t deny that his willingness to drive so much out of his way for his sister was terribly attractive. If he wasn’t careful, she might actually fall hard.
Though Emma was growing more comfortable around Annalisa, she was very shy around Nonna when they were introduced. “It’s good to meet you, Mrs.Mancuso.” Her words fell out of her mouth like stones as she pulled at her green sweater.
Nonna surprised Annalisa by warmly approaching Emma, who was a few inches taller, and looking up at her. “And you, too, Emma. I hope you’re hungry.” They were in the kitchen, and for the occasion Nonna had made a batch of Italian pastries calledsfogliatelle, which had filled the house with a delicious candied aroma.
“My brother told me to bring my appetite,” Emma said, looking toward the oven.
Nonna smiled at her and patted the girl’s cheek. “Always when you come here.”
