Aunt Clara waited impatiently for Beatrice and Maria Grazia to arrive, as quite a few years have passed since she last met them. They left Rome in the morning when traffic was at its peak. The bypass road of Rome at the entrance to the Autostrada del sole north was under construction. In certain areas, the traffic crawled and, at times, even came to a complete standstill.
"Mamma, perhaps you can tell me what we are looking for, exactly? Does Aunt Clara have answers to your questions?"
"I cannot tell you anything. But, I'm curious what surprises are waiting for us."
"And let's say you find that we are of Jewish descent. Does that change anything about us?"
"No, not at all, but one wants to know his past, does he not? So why do archaeologists search for antiquities, and every little urn with an Etruscan or Latin inscription makes them happy?"
Beatrice knew how far from the truth the answer she had given her daughter was.
For Beatrice and her daughter, it was the first time in several years that they had been alone together, and Maria Grazia suddenly felt the need to indulge a little in the company of her beloved mother. The relationship between the two was open and good. There were no secrets on both sides until last week when Beatrice's behavior changed. For the first time, she hid from her daughter what she was going through. Now that they were alone, she tried to tell her a little but made sure not to cause unnecessary confusion and thus disguised the storm in her heart under the pretense of simple interest in the subject.
After about two hours of driving, as they crossed the border into the province of Tuscany, they decided to stop for a short rest at a roadside bar located near the exit to the Chiana Valley.
"Shall we eat lunch or settle for coffee and a croissant?" Beatrice asked.
"Whatever you decide, I'm not that hungry."
"Then grab a seat, and I'll bring something."
Beatrice took a tray and loaded it with two plates of green leafy salad with some slices of mozzarella, two crispy croissants that had just come out of the oven, and two cups of sugar-free long espresso.
"That is exactly what I wanted, but a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice would complete the color fantasy on the tray, and perhaps I might see it as a typical Tuscan welcome."
Beatrice placed the tray on the table and went back to the counter.
"Now I know you love me," Maria Grazia said in a sweet voice.
"I loved you from the moment you were born and looked at me with your big black eyes. I will never forget that most exciting moment of my life."
"You make me cry; stop the descriptions. I gave birth too, and it is still fresh in my mind. All I thought about was my torn and sore limbs and asked them to feed my baby first before they showed him to me."
"You see, this is the difference between you and me. For me, it is sentimental and a burst of emotion, and for you, it is rationally supervised and under constant control."
"I probably took the best of both of you; from Dad the composure and perfectionism, and from you the beauty, and fortunately, it did not come out backward as with my sister."
"Enough chatting, finish your drink, and we'll keep going; we have a few more hours of driving,"
"Tell me, Mamma, are you really going to Aunt Clara to rummage through the garbage?"
"I am going because after your grandfather and grandmother died, I never saw their personal belongings that were kept in the basement of Grandpa Michele's parents' house. As children, we lived with his sister Clara until we left for Rome, and everything from the past was left there. So it never occurred to me to go back and rummage through the cases."
"And what do you think you'll find there? Valuable jewelry? Photos? Money?"
"I do not know, and it does not matter. If Aunt Clara dies, all the stuff will be thrown out, and I will not find anything anymore."
"Strange, but be it as you wish. If it satisfies you, then I will be happy for you."
This is not Maria Grazia's first visit to Livorno, but she does not remember much. As children, Beatrice would come from time to time to visit her aunt and take the girls along.
Most of the houses on the street where Aunt Clara lives are single-family homes. Old and neglected. One can still see the old-fashioned designs in the crumbling facade hidden behind ancient Chestnut trees with formidable trunks whose roots protruded from the ground and lifted the sidewalk tiles. At the end of the street stood a small house with a faded sign at the entrance that read "The Palumbo Family."
Aunt Clara is single. When Beatrice's parents Michele and Sonia got married, they lived in Michele's parents' house with his sister Clara. Beatrice and her brother Davide were born in that house. When Michele got a job in Rome as an engineer for the National Electrical Company, the family moved to Rome while Clara remained in the house alone.
"I hope she is still lucid; after all, she recently turned eighty," Beatrice whispered to her daughter as they stood at the front door.
Aunt Clara opened the door. "What a joy to see my little niece." She squeezed Beatrice and kissed her on each cheek several times. "What a surprise you brought me; I know the little one only from pictures. I barely remember; you brought her once or twice when she was a year or two old."
"Aunt Clara, the little one already has a son. Have you forgotten?"
Aunt Clara approached Maria Grazia, "May I kiss you?" Before she could answer, she put her arms around her neck and poured wet kisses on her until she had to push her away and wipe her face with her palm.
"Come in, come in; I am so glad you came. You must be tired and hungry from the long journey. I prepared a delicious lasagna that you must taste. Oh, how much I missed you. I thought I would never see you again before I close my eyes forever."
As they entered the dark house, Maria Grazia whispered to her mother, "This place looks like a horror show taken from Hitchcock movies."
"Shhh, she has always been like that. Make sure she doesn't hear you."
"I'm not even touching a glass of water here," she said in a whisper.
"Do you want a glass of water?" Clara shouted from the kitchen.
"She has the hearing of a bat, beware."
"No, thank you, Aunt Clara, we drank on our way here," she replied, shouting.
"I'm not deaf, do not shout."
They sat down at the heavy table, and Beatrice got up, went to the buffet, and picked up a framed photo.
"Look at that lovely couple," she said as she showed her parents' photo to her daughter.
"They were as beautiful as movie actors, and I've never seen that photo."
Aunt Clara's voice could be heard from the kitchen, saying, "There are many other things you do not know or have not seen.".
Suddenly Aunt Clara came in holding a tray with the lasagna dish that had just come out of the oven. The aroma spread throughout the house.
"Sit at the table. I'm already bringing plates and cutlery," Aunt Clara proclaimed.
The thin older woman rushed back and forth like a ghost. On her slender feet, she wore half-heeled shoes, which squeaked as she moved.
"She must have taken them out of the closet before we arrived. They must have been there for forty years," Maria Grazia giggled in a meager voice.
She cut a nice-sized portion of lasagna for each of them and poured red wine from an already open bottle into glasses, each different from the other.
"It is a fine wine. It is a Vino Rosso di Montepulciano. However, it is a bit cold because I kept it in the refrigerator."
"You don't put red wine in the refrigerator," Maria Grazia said.
Clara ignored the comment and said, "Eat before it gets cold; we have all the time in the world to talk."
After they finished their meal, Beatrice got up and insisted on washing the dishes. Aunt Clara did not object and sat down in her armchair as her cat leaped onto her lap.
Maria Grazia helped her mother clear the table and went into the kitchen with her.
"I have to say the lasagna was beyond expectation, and the wine, although too cold, did not turn into vinegar."
"Shhh, I told you, she has the hearing of a bat."
"What did I say? I only gave her compliments," she responded aloud.
When they got back to the living room, Aunt Clara and the cat were in seventh heaven. Beatrice removed her glasses and placed them on the table.
"Maybe we go for a walk around town?" Maria Grazia suggested.
"I am tired and would like to take a short nap. If you want, go by yourself. It is a ten-minute walk to the center of town."
Evening fell, and Beatrice, who had fallen asleep in the armchair in the living room, suddenly woke up. The house was dark and quiet, so she turned on a light and looked out the living room window facing the backyard; Aunt Clara was standing there with a rake in her hand, trying to pick pears high up in the tree.
Beatrice came out and asked, "Do you need help? Come inside as it soon will be very dark here."
"Yes, I am coming in right away. I picked a full basket of fruits; some figs, apples, pears, and even a bunch of delicious Muscat grapes that your late father loved so much."
Beatrice took the heavy basket from Clara's hands and said, "Aunt Clara, you are strong as a bull; you will have a long life." Clara hurried and knocked her hand on the back entrance's wooden lintel, then crossed herself twice. She then responded, "From your mouth to God's ears."
As they reclined in the armchairs, Clara looked around and shouted, "Where is Maria Grazia?"
"Calm down, Auntie; she went out to the shopping center to walk around as she wants to get to know the city a bit."
Clara brought plates and knives, "Eat my fruits; they are organically grown. I use no pesticides."
"Organic, full of birds and fly shit. We must wash the fruit before eating."
After returning from the kitchen, she turned to Clara and said," Tell me, Auntie, were there any Jews in our family? Do you know of any such rumors?"
Clara looked at her as if struck by lightning. "Where do you get this nonsense from? My late brother Michele and I attended church every Sunday, and we received all the Catholic rites. So what nonsense got into you?"
"Where does our last name come from? Do you have any idea of its origin?
"Palumbo? It's a family name that comes from the Maghreb countries origin from Spain and Portugal, that's as far as I know, but it's been here a few hundred years."
"Thank you very much, dear aunt, you answered my question. Have you ever thought for a moment who these people were? And why did they choose to emigrate from North Africa to Italy? "
"No, I never gave it any thought."
"They were martyred Jews called the 'New Christians,' who survived torture and even death because they agreed to convert to Christianity, but they zealously and secretly kept their faith at great risk. At the end of the fifteenth century, their deportation from Spain and Portugal began. They passed through Gibraltar to Morocco. Some remained in North Africa, and some even continued to Israel. Some did not want to live among the Muslims and came to Italy and the Netherlands, for they believed that it would be easier for them to practice Judaism in enlightened countries. "
"I see you have become an expert on the subject."
"I'm a librarian and read a lot. The material came to me at random, and it interested me." Beatrice did not tell her aunt the whole truth, for she felt there was no point in revealing to her aunt her inner thoughts.
Suddenly the door opened, and Maria Grazia came in all excited. "You will not believe, but there is... what happened? Why do you have such serious looks on your faces?"
Beatrice turned to her. "What did you want to say, my dear?" "Nothing, really nothing, we will talk about it later."