Annie and Frank did take their time. They meandered through the streets of Chicago while Frank guided the horse. They talked about trivial things to distract themselves from their worry for Sophia. When they arrived at the restaurant, Cody and Mamma met them outside.
Cody had already filled Mamma in with the broad strokes of the situation as he knew them. Mamma fired off some rapid Italian, and one of the waiters jumped as if goosed. He escorted Cody and Frank back to Annie’s regular table.
“You come with Mamma, nipotina. Mamma will take care of you, you’ll see.” She led Annie through the restaurant, into the kitchen, then up a flight of stairs to an apartment. As they passed through the kitchen, she yelled something in Italian to a woman cutting tomatoes. The woman responded, “Sì, Mamma!”
Mamma had Annie sit in a chair in her private kitchen. “Wait here, nipotina. Mamma will be back soon.”
Annie smiled as the petite Italian woman returned with a long skirt. “La mia nipotina can’t be seen wearing a tattered skirt. Stand, stand. Mamma had many daughters. Bella, Mamma’s third daughter, was about your size.” Mamma handed the skirt to Annie and set her sewing kit on the table. “Make yourself decent. Mamma will see what is taking Anita so long with the water.” She went out the door and down the stairs to the restaurant’s kitchen.
Removing her torn skirt, Annie pulled on the skirt Mamma had given her. It was too long, but not horribly so, and a little loose in the waist. With a few quick stitches, she cinched up the waist and hem so the skirt fit almost as well as her own had. Mamma returned carrying a pail of water and a wooden case. She set the case on the table and the bucket on the floor.
From a cabinet, she retrieved a towel, and dipped it into the water. “Hold still and let Mamma work.” As she washed the dried blood from the side of Annie’s face, she asked, “Why are you still bloody? Did they not think to let you wash, those policemen?”
Grinning, Annie replied, “No, Mamma. There was a lot going on.”
No one had mothered her in a long time, and it felt good. As the cloth scraped over the wound, a small hiss of pain escaped Annie’s lips.
“Is bad but could be worse. You trust Mamma. She was nurse in Italia when she was young. She patched many injured soldiers.”
Annie looked at the thin woman in front of her. She tried, and failed, to imagine Mamma as a young woman, or, in fact, as anything other than a restaurateur and cook. After cleaning the wound, Mamma opened the case. As she worked, she spoke in a soothing, nearly hypnotic way. “Mamma kept this kit after war with Austria. Italia helped Prussia beat Austria… nearly thirty years ago, it was. We won, but at the cost of many good men. That war, though, it is forgotten by most of the world.” The woman’s hands moved in a professional manner. It took her only a few moments to dress the minor cut and declare Annie ready to face the world again.
The case closed with a click. “Come, nipotina. We will join your handsome men, and you tell Mamma what happened.” Annie smiled and followed Mamma back down to join Frank and Cody at the table in the restaurant.
#
Frank and Cody talked quietly, each with a mug of Pabst Brewery’s Best Select beer in front of them. The beer, nominated as the best beer at the fair, helped them get a handle on their anger and frustration at the situation. When Mamma and Annie joined them, Frank said, “You look much improved, my dear.”
Mamma cleared her throat to get their attention. “Nipotina, tell Mamma what happened.”
Annie recounted the tale again. In going over the events with Porter, she’d managed a clinical detachment. This telling, though, held much more emotion. She broke down several times, speechless with crying jags, while her tears stained the shoulder of Frank’s jacket as he held her.
Finally, she got through the story. Frank held Annie, tears glistening in his eyes too. Everyone sat silent, absorbing and processing.
After a long, long moment, Cody said in a quiet voice, “I should’ve shot the scurvy son of a bitch when I saw him in the police wagon.”
A chill ran down Annie’s spine. She didn’t blame him a bit for the sentiment. In fact, part of her also wished he’d shot Holmes, but she was glad he hadn’t. “You would have been arrested, Colonel. He’s a vile madman, not worth putting your own neck on the line.”
“I reckon you’re right, Missy, but it doesn’t change how I feel, and I feel like I ought to have shot him.”
After dabbing her eyes with the hem of her apron, Mamma extended her hands. “Come. Mamma will lead a prayer for our Sophia.” The rest joined hands so they formed a complete circle around the table. They all bowed their heads.
“The ninetieth Psalm is good here.” Mamma paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Laus Cantici David. Qui habitat in adiutorio Altissimi, in protectione Dei cæli commorabitur.” She continued slowly, reverently through the passage, finishing with, “Amen.”
The rest of the table echoed, “Amen.”
The group sat in silence, still holding hands and heads still bowed, for several minutes, each thinking his or her own thoughts, saying their own private prayers for Sophia. Gradually, hands separated, and heads raised.
Finally, Mamma looked around. “Is there more we can do now?”
Everyone exchanged glances. Cody shrugged. “I could still go shoot the bastard. It wouldn’t help Sophia, but I’d feel better.” They all shared the same sentiment to some degree, and everyone seemed a little more comfortable once he said it aloud.
Annie shrugged. “I’m afraid not. All we can do at this point is wait and pray.” She paused. “If something dreadful has happened to Sophia, then we might reconsider shooting Holmes.” They all shared a sad grin.
Mamma motioned for a waiter to come to the table. “Tonight you are Mamma’s personal guests. Your strange American money is no good here.”
The waiter brought Annie a glass of water, refreshed Cody and Frank’s beers, then took their orders. Mamma had meant what she said completely. She wasn’t just picking up the bill, the entire staff treated them like family.