Santa Monica, 1953
“How did you find us?” Celina was shocked at Lauro’s presence at the Sunset Poppy Inn. She could hardly believe he was here, and she kept running her hands over his face and shoulders just to make sure.
“You’re not the only detective,” he said, kissing her cheek.
Sara appeared behind her son. “We came as soon as we could. I insisted on coming, too.”
Soon they were talking excitedly over each other in English and Italian, and Celina could hardly follow their story. She stood listening, drinking in their presence with gratitude.
Lauro took her hand and brushed his lips over her fingertips, never letting go of her gaze. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach, and we’ll tell you everything.” He looked past her into the room and called out. “Where’s Marco?”
At the sound of Lauro’s voice, Marco raced to the door and hurled himself into Lauro’s arms. “Zio!”
Hugging him, Lauro laughed. “My big boy, how I missed you. Come sta?”
Marco held onto Lauro as if for dear life. Then, when he saw Sara, he screamed with joy and hugged her, too. “Nonna!”
If Celina needed any proof about how Marco felt about the Savoia family, this was it. Her son was hurting as much as she was.
Watching Lauro’s and Sara’s excitement, Celina recalled the telegram she’d sent. They all had hope again—hope that could light their path on the dark journey ahead. Even if they were successful, could she fully make amends? Carmine was the head of the family, and they all respected and abided by his word. Would locating Nino be enough to erase the damage she’d done?
Watching Sara hold Marco in her arms, Celina knew she must try to find Nino for her, even more than for herself or Lauro or Marco.
The four of them strolled toward the beach.
Marco broke loose and ran toward the waves, laughing and dodging the water. Shorebirds squawked overhead, chastising him for getting too close to their young, spindly-legged offspring. Sara trotted after him, waving the large birds away.
“You can’t imagine how happy I was to read your telegram.” Lauro put his arm around Celina as they walked. “As soon as we read the package you sent, I booked a flight.”
Catching her breath, Sara joined them again. “The photo in the military file. That was our Nino. Carmine cried when he saw it.”
Lauro squeezed Celina to his side. “You promised you would help us find Nino, and you are. At the train station, I told you I would help, so here I am.”
“And I couldn’t let him go alone.” Sara’s face shimmered with her faith in their mission.
Looking from one to another, Celina felt the intensity of their hope. They’d been traveling for more than a day, and they looked tired but optimistic. She prayed she wouldn’t disappoint them.
“I haven’t found much,” Celina said. “But I’m hopeful.”
“That’s all we can ask for.” Sara tented her eyes with her hand. “You mentioned Peru in your telegram. When I read that, I just knew.” She pressed her hands against her heart.
“Wait, Mamma,” Lauro said. “There’s a lot more we need to know.”
“You have no idea how much he loved visiting Peru,” Sara said to Celina. “He always said, ‘Mamma, I fell in love with the people there.’ You read his entry in his journal.”
Celina turned her face up to Lauro’s. “And your father? What did he think?”
“Papa is going through a lot right now,” Lauro said quietly.
Walking beside them with Marco, Sara nodded. “Carmine thinks it’s too dangerous, but with Lauro, I’ll feel safe enough.”
“Mamma, stay with Celina while I look for Nino. Stay here, or in San Francisco.” He turned to Celina. “But you have tenants in your flat. You could all stay in a hotel, no?”
Celina waved her hands. This was happening too fast. “Wait, how do you know that, how did you find us?”
Lauro chuckled. “First, I tried to call, but I spoke to your sublet tenants. They said you were staying next door, and they tried to find you, but you weren’t home. I had your address in San Francisco from our first correspondence when I sent you tickets to visit us. So we went there. Didn’t you get our telegram that we were coming?”
Celina shook her head, remembering the run-in she’d had with the telegraph boy. Maybe he’d had their telegram for her. Still, she didn’t have much to go on and hoped they hadn’t made this trip for nothing.
Lauro went on. “When we knocked on the door, we met two women who said they were subletting your flat. They introduced us to Lizzie, who remembered the inn you were checking into in Santa Monica. So we booked a private flight this morning, and here we are.”
“I don’t know how long we’ve been awake,” Sara said. “But we couldn’t wait. We are so close to finding our dear Nino.”
Celina wished she could feel as certain as they did. She had only the story of an angry, drunk old man to go on. And Carmine had a point about the dangers in a remote area. Even if Art’s story were true, what were the chances that Nino was still there, or still alive?
Although she was determined, she hated for Lauro and Sara to pin their hopes on such a weak lead.
Lauro must have read the doubt in her eyes. He turned to his mother. “Mamma, I know you believe we can find him, but I have to warn you, just like Papa did. The Andean highlands are a treacherous area. Anything could have happened. He probably moved on from there. I’ll have to track him, and it will be an arduous journey. You know how restless Nino was. He could be anywhere.”
“You can do this, Lauro, I know you can.” Sara’s eyes glistened with a mixture of steadfast love and courage. “Bring Nino home to us. One way or another. Your father needs this closure. It’s been too long. Celina made us realize that.”
At her words, Lauro was overcome with emotion. Hugging his mother, he said, “I’ll do my best.”
Celina had more to share with them, but she noted the fatigue in Sara’s face. “Have you had anything to eat?”
“I don’t remember when,” Lauro said.”
“There are several restaurants nearby. Nothing fancy, I’m afraid.”
Marco threw sand in the air. “Then we can have ice cream.”
Lauro laughed and threw Marco over his shoulder. “Why not? Let’s go, sport.” Turning serious, he said to Celina, “We have a lot to discuss.”
“Four burgers with French fries and malts,” Celina said to the waitress who was taking their order. Although she had suggested other restaurants, Lauro and Sara were determined to have American hamburgers, so she brought them to the diner on the pier. They exclaimed over the black-and-white checkerboard linoleum squares, the red vinyl booths, and the round, chrome-plated stools at the soda bar. A soda jerk was adding dollops of whipped cream to a pair of chocolate malts.
Marco swung his legs happily. “And two scoops of strawberry ice cream.”
“After we eat. And if you still have room.” Celina glanced outside at the balloon peddlers and jugglers. An upbeat, Rosemary Clooney song, Botch-a-Me, played on the jukebox, and Lauro and Sara started laughing at the silly lyrics.
This seemed like an odd place for a serious conversation, but Marco was entertained, and Lauro and Sara were having an authentic American experience. Well, sort of.
Despite all the activity, Sara stifled a yawn. “We’ll sleep well after this. Won’t we, Marco?”
“Can I sleep in Nonna’s room?” Marco asked.
“Another time, your nonna—she’s awfully tired.” Celina stopped herself. Could she still call Sara that?
“I’ll always be his nonna.” Sara smiled at the boy’s use of the word. “Let’s keep positive thoughts about our future.”
A clown sauntered into the dining area, and Marco bounced in his seat. When the clown began to twist colorful balloons into animal shapes, children gathered around him.
“Go on.” Celina knew that would keep Marco busy so they could talk and make plans.
Marco jumped out and joined the other children.
Lauro laughed. “He’ll be busy for a while.” He leaned across the patterned Formica tabletop, searching Celina’s face. “Now, please tell us everything you know.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t much.” Celina told them about Tony’s uncle and what he’d said about Nino traveling to Peru. She told them about how the identity mix-up had occurred, too, holding nothing back, even though it didn’t cast Tony in a particularly good light. “This story aligns with Nino’s journal. Now with what you’ve told me about him, I think it’s a lead that should be examined. I only wish it were more specific or current.”
“It’s more than we’ve ever had.” Lauro laced his fingers together.
“If we had his journal,” Celina said. “We might find more clues.”
Sara smiled. “I brought it with me. It’s in my cosmetic carry-on in my room. I hand-carried it all the way from home.” Sara’s attention was drawn toward Marco, and as she watched him, a smile wreathed her face.
“We’re prepared to find answers this time,” Lauro said.
“So am I,” Celina said. She saw Sara wiggle her fingers in a little wave at Marco, and he did the same. “I’m as committed as you are to finding Nino. I’m going, too.”
Sara turned back to her. “What about Marco?”
“I’ll take him with me.” Although she felt bad enough about taking him into Art’s house.
Lauro shook his head. “The trip is far too rough for him. He’s only a little boy. Shouldn’t he be in school?”
“I have to go.”
“Amore mio, I—”
“It’s critical that I do this. For all of you.” Celina set her jaw, determined to go. Though her heart beat like crazy, it was the right thing to do.
Gazing at her with renewed respect, Lauro gripped her hands and nodded with a combination of reluctance and admiration.
Celina turned to Sara. “If I went with Lauro, would you look after Marco?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Frowning, Sara looked from one to another.
Celina understood her dilemma. “I’m not asking you to choose between Nino and Marco. But we should all consider who is best for this trip.”
“I’ve never been, but Papa says it’s rough land.” Lauro gestured toward them. “That can be an unforgiving environment for either one of you.”
Celina glared at him. “For anyone, I imagine. Not just women.”
“I stand corrected,” Lauro said, holding up his hands.
“Of course you should go,” Celina replied to him. “But how will you get around?”
“I’ll get a guide.”
“Do you speak Spanish?”
Lauro shrugged. “Italian is close. I can make myself understood.”
“It’s not the same when you’re trying to negotiate, which is what we’ll have to do,” Celina said. “Few people give up information willingly. What if Nino is gone, or doesn’t want to be found? Being able to speak their language will be an advantage. My Italian might be poor, but I grew up speaking Spanish here in California. You’ll need me.”
“Good point.” Lauro’s eyes conveyed a mixture of acceptance, admiration, and love.
Sara studied her, then after a long moment, she nodded her assent. “I’ll stay with Marco. Or take him back to Amalfi with me. You don’t know how long you’ll be gone, do you?”
Amalfi. Celina started to argue, but instead, she sat back, assessing the situation. As Sara would look after her son, she would search for Sara’s son—and look out for Lauro. They were two mothers, each trusting the other with their most precious treasure. This was a dangerous undertaking. And if, God forbid, the worst happened, and she didn’t return, Marco would have a loving home. She couldn’t ask for anything more than that.
Gravely, Celina sought Sara’s eyes. “I think Marco would like to go back to Amalfi with you.”
Sara grasped her hands with a strength that surprised Celina. “We understand each other,” Sara said, measuring her words. “Mille grazie. Having Marco around will help Carmine, too.”
“Thank you. You do me a great favor.” Celina appreciated Sara’s reasoning. If they couldn’t find Nino, or discovered his remains, then having Marco there would give Carmine a reason to live. Next to love, hope for the future was among the most powerful of emotions. Celina was well aware of how dispiriting and futile it was to merely exist without hope.
“And you do me a great service,” Sara replied.
Looking deep into Sara’s eyes, Celina saw that she still held out hope that Carmine would acquiesce in his decree against her. Sara had welcomed her into the family, championed her and supported her, even after she’d discovered that Celina’s husband was not her son.
Celina loved and trusted this woman. Bowing her head, she kissed their clasped hands. “We’ll look after each other’s sons, won’t we?”
Smiling at her through tear-misted eyes, Sara nodded. “With our lives.”
“Then we have a decision,” Lauro said, understanding the enormity of their choice. “Now, is there any reason we can’t fly out of Los Angeles?”
Celina was already anxious to leave. “The sooner, the better.”