The Coming of Fabrizze: A Novel (Black Squirrel Books) Read Free Page A

initials in a shovel and would sulk all day if someone took it by mistake.
    â€œA man made sick,” he said.
    He failed to recover until his return to Rivisondoli. Friends were waiting to celebrate his arrival. They marched him up the mountain and danced him through the streets into his home. On the way up Augustine was made well, and made so dangerously well it was a kind of affliction. Certain it is that he was instantly alert to the wonder surrounding his adventures in the New World.
    â€œI discovered America when I came home,” he said.
    Serenity came to his spirit. He took to strolling round the town and lounging in the cool clean square. Villagers came out of their way to listen to him. Children followed him.
    â€œTell us something,” they would say.
    Augustine sipped red wine under the chestnut trees and for a time he was speaking almost in parables. It took him half the morning to walk one block to the square. Sporting a cane he tapped his idling way through the narrow cobbled streets. Windows were opened. Women leaned on sills and called down to him with restlessness and longing in their voices.
    â€œAugustine, Augustine,” said Filomena. “Is it true what you say about this America? You’re making it up, eh? Come now, tell the truth for once.”
    â€œSay my name,” said Augustine, leaning on his cane. “Say it again, Filomena.”
    â€œAugustine?”
    â€œYou make a question and my answer is yes.”
    â€œO, Augustine.”
    â€œA revelation,” said Augustine. “Yes, my dear, most of it is true about America. Except some things. But most of it is true.”
    â€œExcept some things,” said Filomena. “Come and have a bit of coffee then. Arturo is in the fields.”
    â€œAnd he is smiling,” said Augustine, going in. “A rare one, Arturo. A provider. Work is the bread of the soul.”
    â€œI’ll tell Arturo when he comes,” said Filomena. “But how is it you brought no woman from America? Are they good to look at?”
    â€œThere are no women like the women of Abruzzi. You are born on the heights and it’s where you belong. Listen then. Do you know that everyone used to ask why Arturo had the little smile at the corner of the mouth?”
    â€œHe has that smile,” said Filomena.
    â€œHe was smiling at the funerals, too,” said Augustine. “And then he grew the moustache to hide it. But we knew he was still smiling. Now I know why he smiles and smiles. I guessed it when you looked at me with those blue eyes. Tell me what you see in mine. Look closer.”
    Augustine sipped the hot black winy coffee. Presently he was reaching over to pinch her cheek and chin and thigh.
    â€œYou mustn’t, Augustine, you mustn’t.”
    â€œI was a fool,” said Augustine. “I thought the mountains shut the world out. Now I see they may shut a world in.”
    â€œAugustine!”
    â€œA little fun,” said Augustine.
    â€œIt isn’t right.”
    â€œA little play,” said Augustine.
    â€œBut we’re getting beyond that age.”
    â€œWhere do you get this information?” said Augustine. “Come down the mountain later. I’ll be hiding in the forest. Hunt me down, my dear…. Tell Arturo I was asking after him.”
    Augustine paid several more calls and then he drifted into the quiet little square. He sat in the brilliant sun and watched Umberto putting up, brick by brick, the first hotel in the village.
    â€œCome and take a glass of wine,” said Augustine.
    â€œNo time, my friend. Each brick is a brick less.”
    â€œOr more,” said Augustine. “Do you never rest?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œListen a moment. What if someone came to tell you that you were going on a journey? A far long journey, you understand, from which you’d never return.”
    â€œI’d make ready.”
    â€œDo it then,” said