LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

back-breaking drudgery of grape picking, which she preferred to scrubbing other people’s laundry.

      Day after day, she was stuck inside washing floors, ironing sheets, and cooking. She knew she should be proud to help her family, but the money she earned didn’t stave off the tedium of her days or the clammy hands of her employer’s husband.

      Signora Carlucci was kind and lovely to Catarina, but was demure and kowtowed to the thick-lipped, hairy-knuckled Signor Carlucci, who was gradually becoming impossible by making untoward advances to Catarina and leering when his wife’s back was turned.

      Things were fine when she had begun working in the Carlucci house, but changed in an instant after an unexpected request. Signora Carlucci had left home for the day to take a meal to a sick friend and Catarina found herself alone with Signor Carlucci for the first time.

      “Catarina,” he told her, “la Signora has asked me to instruct you to change the sheets on our bed before she returns.”

      Catarina stopped sweeping the floor and looked up at him. There was something odd about the way he was gazing at her and her chest inexplicably tightened with anxiety. It was an unusual request. Signor Carlucci rarely spoke to her, and had never given her any type of work instructions, which he left to his wife. Signora Carlucci had her change the bed linens on Fridays, yet it was only Tuesday.

      “It’s not the usual day, Signor.”

      “It is not your place to question, Catarina.”

      “Certamente, Signor. I’m sorry,” Catarina responded, even as the sense of unease further stole into her mind. She climbed the stairs to their bedroom and opened the door to the heavy, wooden armoire that held their sheets. The scent of the lavender water she used when she ironed calmed her nerves and she shook off the sense of disquiet. She appreciated the fine feeling of the fabric, which was much smoother than the coarse sheets they had at home. As she spread the bottom sheet across the mattress, she ran her hands over the material.

      When she turned to reach for the second sheet, he was there, standing beside her. She gasped.

      “Signor Carlucci, you startled me!”

      “There’s no reason to be frightened,” he said. The look on his face was rapt—drinking in every detail of her. She froze with her arms still reaching for the top sheet, not sure what to do. And then he reached over, took a stray lock of her dark hair, gently twirled it around his finger, then let it drop.

      “You have the most startling eyes,” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper. He ran his hand gently along her arm and looked at her. “I’ll watch you, to make sure you’re doing it correctly.”

      “I assure you, Signor,” she stammered, “there’s no need. Your wife has taught me well.”

      But still, he stood against the wall and watched her while she continued. Finally, after the sheets were snugly tucked in, he turned, and without another word walked out of the room.

      “Oh, mio Dio!” Catarina exhaled the breath that had been stuck in her chest, not daring to turn to make sure he was gone.

      No men in her village would ever touch a young woman. It would dishonor them both. And she had never had a man stare at her like that—as if he were ravenous. She shivered, then grabbed the bedroom door with a shaking hand and quietly closed it behind him. She wanted to latch the lock, too, but thought he might hear the solid click and she wanted to call no more attention to herself. She leaned against the door’s solid wood to give herself a sense of safety. She didn’t want him to know she was afraid.

      “Cosa dovrei fare?” she muttered. “What should I do?” she asked herself. Her instincts told her to turn and run home: to leave and never come back. But her family needed the lire she earned from this job, and Signor Carlucci was a respected man. What could she do? Speak out against him? She knew she couldn’t tell Signora Carlucci. It would be too disgraceful.

      Why would he do such a thing? she wondered. I’ve given him no reason to think he could approach me in this manner. He knows I come from a respectable family—that I am an honorable girl.

      She sank down to the floor to think, but found no solution.

      After a few minutes she stood back up and dropped her arms, which had been wrapped protectively around herself, back to her sides. She silently turned the doorknob and slowly slid the door open. She went to the armoire and closed the doors. With still-shaking hands, she put the linen-covered down comforter on top of the sheets, and fluffed the pillows to complete her task.

      “Mama?” Catarina called when she opened the front door later that evening.

      “In here, mia cara,” she called.

      Catarina walked into the tantalizing smells coming from the stove and the comforting embrace of her mother. Catarina held onto her tightly, drinking in the feeling of safety.

      “What’s this?” her mother asked, surprised by the intensity of her daughter’s embrace. She leaned back and looked at her daughter’s stricken face. “What happened today?”

      Catarina could hardly look at her. She didn’t want her to think she had done something to encourage Signor Carlucci’s actions.

      “Something strange happened today, Mama.”

      She told her about Signor Carlucci’s request that she change the sheets and his appearance by her side, but she left out the part when he touched her. Even her father hardly ever touched her now that she was no longer a little girl, but something stopped her from including that detail when she spoke to her mother about Signor Carlucci’s disturbing actions.

      “He said I have startling eyes,” she shivered.

      “Mia cara. That’s nothing, my darling. You had me worried. If I had a lira for every compliment we got about the beauty of your eyes we would be a rich family. It’s nothing. You should not be worrying yourself or me with such things. Signor Carlucci is a respected man. A married man. He probably just got confused about what his wife asked him to tell you. And we need you to keep this job, cara. Do you think it’s easy to feed the mouths of this family? Even having your sisters’ husbands help in the field barely makes up for all the food they swallow.” She clicked her tongue, shook her head, and went back to rolling gnocchi.

      “But Mama, I don’t think it was just a compliment. It was odd.”

      “Catarina, you need to ignore this and put it to rest. Capisci? He said you have nice eyes. Don’t make nothing into something. I don’t want to hear such complaints.” She gave her daughter a little squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Now put your apron in your room and go help your sisters with the garden. The sage and rosemary are taking over along the south wall and need to be cut back.”

      Catarina slowly climbed the wooden steps up to the loft room she used to share with her sisters. They had gotten married one-by-one, so she now had the space to herself. She thought she would like it because the bed had always been crowded and her sisters snored, but instead she found herself lonely.

      She couldn’t believe her mother thought it was nothing. She had expected her to be enraged; to stomp her foot and rant against him. Her mother had always believed Catarina. She knew Catarina wouldn’t make something up to stir trouble. She had expected her to march right over to the Carlucci’s—dragging Catarina along by the arm—to give Signor Carlucci a scolding and have a thing or two to say to Signora Carlucci about how to run a household. But to tell Catarina to ignore it instead? She couldn’t understand that.

      Then it occurred to her that perhaps her mother was right.

      “Sono fessa,” she told herself as she slipped off her maid’s apron to join her sisters in the garden. “Maybe it was nothing.”

      On Wednesday and Thursday, Signor Carlucci barely even glanced at her. He kept his head down, reading over a ledger. Accounting numbers from his tailoring store, Catarina noticed. He ate his meals and spent most of his time out of the house at

Скачать книгу