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November 4, 1943
It is done, and I am more afraid than ever. Roberto and I will take tonight’s train from my beloved home. It is safest that way. Nobody else knows what happened last night.... We will take the secret to our graves. Whether that be sooner or later, it is in God’s hands.
May He bless this land and my mother. May she forgive me for running and never discover what we have done. And may God forgive us for the sin we have committed.
Standing on the little bench, Isa carefully put the worn, leather-bound journal back in its hiding place high in the rafters of the barn’s loft and climbed down the ladder. With her satchel in hand, she walked to their meeting place, the olive tree near the west field. When Roberto arrived in silence, she turned back to take one more look at the house, the barn, and the fields of grape vines. She knelt by the fresh pile of dirt and wept for her loss. She knew that once she left, she would never return. She prayed that her mother would forgive her for leaving and that she and Roberto would depart from Italy alive.