To Find a Mountain Read Free Page A

careful.”
    Suddenly I felt nauseated and could feel the tears running down my face. I didn’t want to be left alone without my father. I had already lost my mother. I needed help. I needed someone to take care of me.
    “Benny.” Zizi Checcone took me into her arms and patted my back. The cloth of her dress smelled clean. “Benny. I’m sorry if I scared you. But you need to be prepared. We need to be prepared.”
    She released me and gathered up the bundle of extra food for me to take back home, back to the strange men living in my house.
    “I am here for you. Even if your father does go with the men to the mountain, do not feel that you are alone. In fact, I will see if I can come and live with you. If the Germanesí allow it.”
    I thanked her and walked slowly back to my house, my feet like slabs of stone. The sun felt even warmer and there was a hint of dust in the air. Despite what Zizi Checcone said, I felt alone. Completely and wholly alone.

C HAPTER FOUR

    I used to have a lot of friends. After my mother died I began to see less and less of them. Most girls my age were just starting to take over some of the responsibilities their mothers traditionally bore. I had taken over all of them.
    There was no point in complaining about it. What would Papa have said or been able to do about it? In my family, work was not something to be avoided.
    Of all my friends, Lauretta Fandella was the only one who had truly remained so. She was a tall, big-boned girl with a long face and thick features. Pretty, but in a rough way. Her shoulders were broad and her feet were long and wide; it was the kind of body that generations of ancestors working in these fields and mountains had developed, then passed down to their descendants. Lauretta Fandella was already a typical farm woman and she was only sixteen years old. If there had ever been a girl born to work the fields and raise five or six children, working day and night, drinking wine and living life without a care in the world other than pure survival, it was Lauretta.
    The door to the Fandella house was open and I knocked, heard a voice call out, then I went inside.
    Lauretta had three older brothers, all of them tall and lanky like her; they were rumored to be lazzaroni , kept in check only by their father, who was bigger and tougher than all of his sons. At least for now. But when I went inside the house, only Lauretta’s mama was there, sitting at the table sewing a sweater. She nodded her head upstairs and I climbed the rickety staircase, then went down the short hallway to Lauretta’s room. The door was closed and I knocked. She opened the door immediately, able to reach across the small room from her bed and grasp the doorknob without getting up.
    Her room, not much bigger than a closet, was taken up mostly by her bed and, in the corner, a small table upon which sat her clothes. The only other objects were a crucifix over her bed and, on the opposite wall, a poster of the singer Enrico Caruso.
    There was no doubt in my mind that Lauretta was obsessed with boys. She talked about them, thought about them, even, according to her, dreamed about them.
    Lauretta was sitting on the edge of the bed, a mirror propped on the small table in front of her. She was doing her hair, braiding it back in a long ponytail. Lauretta’s beautiful long black hair was probably her best feature.
    “Let me guess,” I said. “You heard about the Germanes í ?”
    She smiled and rolled her eyes at me, continuing to work on her hair. I noticed she had on a short dress that looked like it had been recently pressed.
    “What, are you getting ready for an inspection?” I asked.
    “I just figured the Germans would want to see some of the sights, if you know what I mean.”
    “You’re terrible.”
    “It’s a duty—we need to represent our country properly,” she said, pushing her breasts up higher in her bra.
    “Lauretta, these aren’t the local boys. These are men who have seen much