Nino Vitale leaned on the low wall surrounding the flat rooftop terrazzo. The warm night breeze from the Mediterranean blew lightly across his skin, caressing it with a touch as soft as silk. Here and there, as he gazed out over the town, he spied light from flickering candles in unshuttered windows; obviously others were as unable to sleep as he. He could still feel the power and charisma of Giuseppe Garibaldi when, earlier today, The Hero had arrived from Castellamare del Golfo to greet Guiseppe Medici's volunteers. Along with the other young men in the *piazza*, he had felt the desire to march with Garibaldi's Red Shirts to free Sicily from the Austrian oppressors by going to War Against the *Borbone*.
Tonight, he was troubled by that desire. He knelt and pressed his forehead against the wall. *O, Signore*, dear Lord, forgive me for such a base desire. I promise to suppress and expunge such worldly thoughts. I shall keep Thy commandment: thou shalt not kill. *Mea culpa. Mea culpa*.
He rose. Although he wished to confess himself, the hour was too late to wake Monsignore Evola. He would have to content himself with a self-inflicted penance of two days of fasting.
Nino turned from the wall and walked with quiet steps to the stairway door. He didn't want to wake his mother. His father required constant care and there was no one to help his mother except Rosa, Nino's sister. And at fifteen, smiling, loving, Rosa wasn't as much help as she should be.
Just as he reached the doorway, he heard a groan. It seemed to be coming from the *giardino*. Carefully, so as not to stumble in the dark, he inched his way along the wall to the rear of the house.
Again he heard the groan. How could anyone have gotten into the garden? The gate was always locked. Maybe someone had tried to climb over the garden wall and had fallen and hurt himself. Again a groan, this time louder. He leaned over as far as he could to see down into the garden. He caught a glimpse of something white and smooth.
Again a groan. And words. "Oh, Rosa, *amore*."
Nino jerked back from the wall. He could feel his face burning with embarrassment. Rosa! And Peppino Agrusa! Lord, please don't let Mamma hear. He hurried back to the door. He had to get Rosa into the house before things went too far.
Too late.
As he pulled open the garden door, he heard Mamma scream. She stood glaring at Rosa and brandishing a lit candle in a ceramic candleholder. "Rosa. *Disgraziata*! God have mercy on us." Her screams contracted into moans punctuated by Ave Marias.
Nino put his hand on her shoulder. "Mamma. It's all right. Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right." He stared at Rosa, who clutched her loosened blouse together, her black curls cascading down from the kerchief tied around her hair. Where had the man gone?
Rosa's face was contorted with a look of horror and fright, her huge eyes luminous with tears. "Nino, help me. Don't let her tell *Papa'*." She covered her face with her free hand and sobbed.
Mamma groaned and clutched Nino's arm. "Nino, Nino. What am I to do? She's disgraced herself and her family. When your father finds out it'll kill him."
Nino touched Rosa's cheek. "Where did he go?"
Through her tears, Rosa asked, "Who?"
Nino looked at his mother. "Mamma, please. Do you want the whole town to know? Please stop screaming." He put his hands on Rosa's shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Rosy. I know who it was. I heard you both. I was on the terrace."
"Oh, God." She buried her face in her hands.
"Where did he go?"
"Out the gate," she mumbled.
"*Bene*. Fine. Let's go into the house before the neighbors come out to see what's going on." He hustled both women inside the house and closed the door.
They gathered around the wooden table set in the middle of the kitchen. Mamma still held the candle while bemoaning Rosa's fall from grace.
"Give me the candle, Mamma," Nino said.
She gave it to him and slumped onto one of the chairs. "What are we going to do? She's disgraced the whole family."
Nino put the candle on the table and motioned to Rosa. "Sit."
Rosa sat, her head still bowed, her sobs barely audible.
"Now." Nino looked from Rosa to Mamma. "What are we going to do?"
Mamma's face brightened with hope. "She can get married. But she has to do it right away. She and that boy will just have to marry."
Rosa sobbed louder.
Nino sighed. Lord, help me. But above all, help Rosa. "They can't, Mamma."
Mamma gave Nino a look of defiance. "And why not? They anticipated the wedding night, so they have to get married. The sooner the better."
Nino's tongue burned and twisted around the words. "Because, Mamma, the boy is already married."
Mamma gasped and clutched her hands to her bosom. She reached over and grabbed Rosa's hand away from her face. "Who? Who was it?"
Rosa cried harder, her tears gushing down her cheeks.
Nino could feel his stomach knot up. "It was Peppino Agrusa."
Mamma wailed and Rosa sobbed.
Giovanni and Angelo appeared in the kitchen doorway. "What's going on?" asked Giovanni. At fourteen, he was almost as tall as Nino, with a darkening above his upper lip already apparent.
Angelo rubbed his eyes and blinked in confusion. "Why's everybody up?" He was a slight, frail eleven-year-old with Rosa's delicate features.
Nino turned to them. "Nothing. It's nothing. Just go back to bed, you'll wake *Papa'*."
"It's too late," said Giovanni. "He's already awake."
Mamma jumped up and slapped Rosa across the face. "Oh, no. It's your fault, you *putana*."
Rosa raised her eyes to her mother. "I'm not a whore, Mamma, I love him. He loves me."
Mamma whipped around the table to the kitchen door and stopped. She gave Rosa another look. "*Disgraziata*." With her face set in bitter lines, she hurried out the door.
Giovanni stared at Rosa. "If *Papa'* were able to, he'd fix both you and that *stronzo*." He glanced at Nino. "But there are some in this house who feel they're too good to soil their hands on a piece of shit like Peppino. But I know what has to be done." He pushed out his chest and pulled himself taller. "I will uphold the family honor."
Nino grabbed him by the shoulder. "Oh, no, you won't. There'll be no more revenge taking in this family. There's been enough. Isn't *Papa'* a good example of that?" He shook Giovanni's shoulder. "Isn't he?"
Giovanni jerked his shoulder free from Nino's grasp. With a sneer, he said, "Why don't you go talk to your God, Priest? Maybe he'll show you how to uphold our honor through prayer."
With a heavy feeling in his chest, Nino watched Giovanni and Angelo leave. There had to be another way to solve this. Taking revenge can't be the only way. There must be something, but whatever it was he would have to act quickly before Giovanni decided to do something foolish.
He sat at the table and put his head in his hands. Lord, give me strength. Help me find a way to give Rosa and our family back their honor.
"What are you going to do?" Rosa's voice startled Nino.
He looked at her beautiful, tear-streaked face; the little triangle formed by her delicate chin and cheekbones. His heart overflowed with compassion. Poor, smiling, loving, Rosa, with her wide generous mouth and perfect, even teeth.
He reached out and stroked her tousled hair. Such glorious curls. "I don't know, *picciridda*, I don't know."
"Nino," Mamma called from the other room.
"*Si*, Mamma, I'm coming."
As always when he entered his parents' bedroom, he felt apprehensive. Not just because he was in sanctified territory, but also because this was where his father spent his life. For the past year. Lying in the bed, unable to even take care of even his most personal needs. This was the proof of what revenge brought: unhappiness and disaster.
"*Baciamo le mani, Papa'*." I kiss your hands, *Papa'*, the hands that can no longer move on their own.
"*Papa'* wants to talk to you, Nino," said Mamma, looking at him as though he would be able to set things right.
Nino bent over his father's inert form and kissed him on both cheeks. He pulled a chair over to the edge of the bed, sat and took his father's hand. "Yes, *Papa'*, what is it you wish to say?"
His father's voice grated against his vocal cords. "*L'unuri sava sarvari*." One half of his father's face was set in a granite-like glower, while the other half sagged in a parody of expression. "Our honor must be saved."
How could Nino make his father understand that revenge was useless? There would always be another revenge; always another. Where would it end? Did it end with his father lying here paralyzed? No. But what was he to do? Peppino Agrusa had dishonored not only Rosa, but the whole Vitale family.
Nino's head ached. How could he tell his father that he refused to follow the way of a Man of Honor, that the Church and his vow to join the priesthood were more important? The sight of his once virile father, now dead, except for his brain and beating heart, sickened Nino. If he could, he would give his own life to see his father as he once was. But that was impossible. His father would never be anything other than what he was: a body lying in a bed.
Nino stood. "*Si, Papa'*. I understand."
He kissed his father again. As he left, he could feel his father's eyes following him out of the room.
He found Rosa still sitting at the kitchen table. Her eyes
implored him as he entered. "You're not going to send me
to a convent, are you?" she whispered.
"Please, Nino, please no. I'd die if I were closed up there."
Her voice quavered.
He sat and took her hands in his. "I won't let them send you to a convent, *piccola*."
"You promise?"
"I promise." He smiled at her.
"Bless you, Nino." She leaned down and kissed his hands.
"Rosa, stop." He pulled his hands away. "There's no need for that."
She implored him with eyes full of hope and fear. "And Peppino? You won't hurt him, will you?"
"I'm not going to hurt Peppino, little one."
"Then I will."
Nino jerked around to face Giovanni. The boy's face was set in a fierce scowl. At that moment Nino could see his father in Giovanni. A chill started in his groin and worked its way up through his heart. He could not bear to think of his younger brother lying in a bed, paralyzed for life like his father.
Giovanni started out the door. "I'm going to go see Don Vito." He glared first at Nino, then at Rosa. "Someone in this family has to have some *coglioni*."
Nino stood and grabbed Giovanni. "And I suppose that your balls are the ones?"
"Let me alone." Giovanni twisted away from Nino. "I'm going."
"Wait." Nino could not let Giovanni go to Don Vito Saputo. After a visit such as that, Giovanni would be lost to him -- forever.
Giovanni spun toward the door and out.
Nino stared at the open door. "Rosa, go to bed. You look awful."
"I can't sleep."
"Then go help Mamma." He glanced at her then at the open door. "I'm going to Don Vito's."
###
"*Baciamo le mani, Don Vito*," Nino said as Don Vito invited him into the kitchen where he sat at the table, a glass of wine and a flickering candle before him.
"Come sit beside me, Nino. What can I do for you?" A warm smile lighted up Don Vito's features; the sharp lines of his jawbones softening. "Your younger brother, Giovanni, has come to visit me also." He nodded his head toward Giovanni, who sat ramrod stiff in one of the chairs against the wall in Don Vito's kitchen.
Nino gazed at Giovanni for a moment, then sat on the chair next to Don Vito. "I am confused, Don Vito, and don't know what to do."
"I know --"
Don Vito held up a hand. "Hold, Giovanni. You are a brave *picciottu*. But even though a brave young man, you are still a boy. I will hear what your brother has to say." He turned to Nino. "Your sister has been dishonored. Peppino Agrusa has taken your family name and dragged it in the mud. He did this knowing full well that he could never marry her, never make her an honest woman. Is that not enough to move you?"
Nino's shoulders sagged under the weight of Don Vito's words and what they implied. "Don Vito, I know Peppino did wrong and should pay. But how can I, a man dedicated to the cloth, take revenge on Peppino?"
Sorrow creased Don Vito's brow. "That is for you to decide." He motioned toward Giovanni. "This *picciottu* is ready to save your family's name. Are you going to allow him to do so? Can you enter your priesthood knowing that you allowed your younger brother to do your duty? Can you turn your back on your father? Turiddu Vitale was a fine man, a brave *Omu d'Unuri*."
"Yes," blurted Nino. "And look at him now. Look what being a Man of Honor brought him. A living death."
"That is a very sad thing. But Turiddu Vitale never turned his back on his duty. If you allow Peppino Agrusa to live, it will be obvious that your sister was willing to submit to him. Killing Peppino is the only way to save her."
"But, Don Vito, what of his family? Should I leave his children orphans?"
"Peppino knew the risk he was taking when he set out to seduce your sister."
Nino's throat constricted and he could feel tears gathering. "But, Don Vito, what of my vow? My vow to God?"
"What of your vow to honor and obey your father? *Tu l'hai a sarvari l'unuri di to' soru*." Don Vito stood, bringing the visit to an end. "You have to save the honor of your sister."
###
After leaving Don Vito's, Nino wandered down to the cliffs above the small stretch of sand where the fishermen beached their dories. Thoughts tumbled around in his head, none resting long enough to give him ease. He stood with his feet at the edge of the cliff, staring downward, listening to the waves making little lapping noises against the rocks at the base of the cliff. What was he to do? Would God forgive him if he threw himself onto the boulders below? And could he forgive himself, if by doing so, he became responsible for turning Giovanni into a killer?
He bowed his head and prayed. With a savage oath, he jerked his head up. How could he pray to God to forgive him for what he must do? There was no penance heavy enough to wash away the sin of murder. But if he didn't do what his father and Don Vito insisted that he must, could God forgive him for cowardice? For letting his little brother commit a mortal sin, condemning him to eternal Hell-fire for his, Nino's, refusal to act?
Must he sacrifice himself for Rosa's indiscretion? Would his sacrifice atone for the sin he must commit? He could feel his heart break. But broken things can often be fixed. He would mend his broken heart with a layer of cement. A layer so thick as to be impenetrable. God forgive him.
###
As Nino entered the kitchen, Mamma looked up from kneading the dough for the day's bread. Her thin face seemed to have taken on another ten years of worry.
Her eyes questioned him.
He sat at the table and watched Mamma's hands push and twist the dough. "Where's Rosa?"
Mamma looked up then re-attacked the heap of *pasta*. "She went to bed."
Nino nodded and rose. He went into the *ripostiglio* and removed the shotgun from its wall-holder. He grabbed up a handful of shells, loaded the shotgun then stuffed the others in his pocket.
Mamma looked up as he passed her. "Nino. Where are you going? Nino?"
Nino ignored her and slipped out the door. It was almost daybreak. He had to hurry. With legs that protested each step, he marched toward the vineyard where Peppino would be starting to work soon. He stumbled every now and then on the uneven dirt path that wound through the low hills. He felt nothing but a heavy burning behind his eyes. It was useless to think. Useless to waver. What must be done, must be done.
He nearly ran into Peppino as they came together at the meeting of two paths.
Confusion creased Peppino's brow. "Nino. What are you doing here?"
Like an automaton, Nino raised the shotgun and fired it. Peppino's head disappeared in a cloud of red. Nino didn't allow himself to think or feel. He turned and plodded home.
###
That afternoon, Mamma woke Nino from a deep, deathlike sleep. "Nino. Get up. You have to eat something. You've been sleeping all day."
Nino sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "Yes, Mamma. Where's Giovanni?"
"He's here. In the kitchen."
"Tell him I want him." Nino searched inside himself, surprised that he felt nothing. No remorse about what had happened this morning; all was empty and dead. Better that way. There was no longer any need for feelings.
Giovanni stood defiantly in front of Nino. "You wanted me?"
Nino started to reach out and touch Giovanni, but stopped his hand midway. "Yes. Could you please go tell Salvo Di Maggio that I'd like for him to bring the wagon and the mule around. I'll be needing to take a short trip."
"Where are you going?"
"Not far." Nino waved his hand. "Go along now."
Giovanni scurried off as Nino stood.
When Nino reached the kitchen he heard a wail. Rosa came running in from the street, her hands over her mouth, screaming and crying.
Nino put his arm out and stopped her. "What's the matter? What happened?"
"Peppino! Peppino! Someone killed Peppino!"
"Come here." Nino pulled her over and sat her on a kitchen chair.
Mamma ran in from the garden. "What's happened? Why is Rosa crying?"
"Someone killed Peppino Agrusa," Nino said.
Mamma watched him.
Rosa looked up through grief-ridden eyes. "Did you kill Peppino? Did you do it?"
Nino stroked her lustrous black hair. "No. Of course not, *piccina*. Didn't I promise you that I wouldn't?" He turned to Mamma. "Mamma, go get the shears."
Mamma stared at him, fear shading her eyes to the color of burned wood. "Why? What are you going to do?"
"Do as I say, Mamma."
Nino spoke gently to Rosa. "Do you remember when you were just a little bitty thing and I carried you everywhere with me?"
A tentative smile touched Rosa's lips as she nodded.
"You were so small and Mamma was so sick after the next baby died. And then she was busy with Giovanni and then Angelo. You were like a *bambolina*, a little doll. I loved you so much."
Mamma approached Nino and held out the shears.
"Thank you, Mamma." He held up a lock of Rosa's hair and cut it off at the root.
Mamma and Rosa both screamed.
"Stop, Nino," pleaded Mamma. "Why are you doing this?"
"She'll have no need of it where she's going."
Rosa tried to get up, but Nino held her fast by her hair. "Nino! Why?"
He cut another lock. "Because of your transgressions, you have brought ruin on our family name. For this reason, I can no longer serve God as a priest. So, you must take my place. You shall serve God for the remainder of your days."
"No!" Rosa flailed her arms and flung herself back and forth. "Nino, I trusted you. I always trusted you. You promised. I thought you were a man who kept his word -- a man of honor."
Nino cut off another lock of hair. "*Cosi' sono*. So I
am."
END
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