Text copyright © 2015 by Lisa McGuinness.
Cover photograph copyright © 2015 by Maria Carr.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-0-9905370-5-2
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data available upon request.
Design by Elysse Ricci.
This book has been set in Adobe Garamond Pro & Bodoni Old Face.
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Bonhomie Press is an imprint of Yellow Pear Press, LLC.
Distributed by Publishers Group West
DEDICATION:
To the women in my family who have worn the ring: Beginning with Maria Nina Pensebene, who took the risk to leave Italy and marry a stranger; to my grandmother Odessa Savelli who wore the ring next; to my beloved mother, Monica Duncan who passed the ring to me, and finally to my wonderful daughter, Natasha, who will wear it one day.
Contents
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Acknowledgements
CATARINA IN PERDIFUMO: A PICTURESQUE-BUT-IMPOVERISHED SOUTHERN ITALIAN TOWN, 1913
“Catarina,” Mateo called.
Catarina Pensebene opened the heavy, black wooden door and squinted against the bright sun. She shook her head and laughed when she spied her brother Mateo, leaning against the crumbling wall of a stone house across the narrow cobblestone street and waiting for her to emerge at the usual time, on shopping day. Just seeing him brightened her mood. She hooked the straw market basket over her left arm and approached her rakishly handsome, mischievous brother while patting her side pocket to make sure the grocery list was safely tucked inside.
The two made a striking pair. Even in her faded brown dress and dingy apron, Catarina’s vivid sky-blue eyes and dark brown, wavy hair attracted looks of admiration.
Going to the market stalls was a task she enjoyed—especially when her brother accompanied her. It was nice to be out from under the eye of Signora Carlucci, her employer, and Signor Carlucci, her employer’s plump, balding, sweaty-palmed husband.
“Come stai?” she asked Mateo, deeply inhaling the fresh spring air. It was late morning but the sun already warmed the day and gave a hint of the heat to come as spring sashayed its way to summer.
“Bene,” he said, his eyes crinkling with humor as he fell into step beside her. His face was the first pleasant thing she’d seen since she arrived at the dimly lit, very formal Carlucci home early that morning. It felt good to be back outside, walking instead of soaking and scrubbing heavy clothes in scalding water since the break of dawn. She looked down at her red, chapped hands and sighed.
“Come on then,” she nudged her shoulder against his as they headed towards the vegetable and fruit stalls. “Where do Mama and Babbo think you are this time?” she asked. Her eighteen-year-old brother should have been helping their papa with the olives, but he somehow managed to get out of more work than she and her sisters ever could.
“They both think I’m out on an errand for the other,” Mateo said with a smirk.
Catarina cuffed him lightly on the side of the head. “Impossible,” she laughed. “How is it that you never get caught?”
Catarina longed for the life Mateo led, but instead of being the favored son, she was the youngest of five sisters. Her family was struggling to put food on the table and couldn’t afford to formally educate her, although she was proud that she could at least read, write and work simple sums. She was lucky to be only one year younger than Mateo, because when they were growing up, she sometimes got to sit at the table when her babbo was teaching her brother, whereas her older sisters were already busy doing farm work and barely knew how to read or write their own names.
When there was time in the evening, Mateo taught her more of what he was learning. She knew she should be pleased to know anything at all, considering how few grown men from the region were even partially literate. Good men who were busy trying to put food on the table each day, doling a percentage of their crops to the land owners, leaving little time to worry about education. Her family was fortunate to own the acres they farmed. They had their own grapes and olives to sell, and a kitchen garden to work, but Babbo kept saying changes were coming. Catarina wasn’t sure what he meant exactly, and felt a vague sense of unease when she let her mind linger.
When she turned sixteen, her mama had announced that she was old enough for a job and informed her that she would begin working as a maid. Catarina was devastated. She loved working on the land with her family, but her protests were quickly silenced when her sisters whispered that the family needed the money Catarina would