The Shoemaker's Wife by Adriana Trigiani Read Free Book Online Page A

job, and I have mine.”
    Ciro bowed his head respectfully. He hoisted the empty wooden dowel to his shoulder like a rifle, took the bundle of linens to be washed and pressed, and went. Don Gregorio heard Ciro whistle as he went down the path that would soon be planted with yellow flowers, just as he had ordered.
    Ciro pushed open the door to the room he and Eduardo shared in the garden workhouse. At first the boys had lived in the main convent, in a cell on the main floor. The room was small and noisy; the constant shuffle of the nuns in transit from the convent to the chapel kept the boys awake, while the gusts of winter from the entrance door opening and closing made the room drafty. They were happy when the nuns decided to give them a permanent space away from the main convent.
    The sisters had moved the boys out to the garden workhouse in a large room with good light, knowing that growing boys needed privacy and a quiet place to study. Sister Teresa and Sister Anna Isabelle had done their best to make the room cozy. They cleared the cluttered storage room of flowerpots, cutting bins, and old-fashioned garden tools that hung on the walls like sculptures. The nuns installed two neat cots with a wool blanket for each boy and pillows as flat as the communion wafers. There was a desk and an oil lamp, a ceramic pitcher and bowl on a stand near the desk. As it goes with the ranks of the working religious, their basic needs were met, and nothing more.
    Eduardo was studying when Ciro came in and fell onto his cot.
    “I prepped every fireplace.”
    “Thanks.” Eduardo didn’t look up from his book.
    “I caught a glimpse of Sister Anna Isabelle in her robe.” Ciro rolled over on his back and unsnapped the key ring from his belt loop.
    “I hope you looked away.”
    “Had to. I can’t be unfaithful.”
    “To God?”
    “Hell, no. I’m in love with Sister Teresa,” Ciro teased.
    “You’re in love with her chestnut ravioli.”
    “That too. Any woman who can make eating chestnuts bearable through a long winter is the woman for me.”
    “It’s the herbs. A lot of sage and cinnamon.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I watch when she cooks.”
    “If you’d ever get your head out a book, you might be able to get a girl.”
    “Only two things interest you. Girls and your next meal.” Eduardo smiled.
    “What’s wrong with that?”
    “You have a good mind, Ciro.”
    “I use it!”
    “You could use it more.”
    “I’d rather get by on my looks, like Don Gregorio.”
    “He’s more than his appearance. He’s an educated man. A consecrated man. You need to respect him.”
    “And you shouldn’t be afraid of him.”
    “I’m not afraid of him. I honor him.”
    “Ugh. The Holy Roman Church is of no interest to me.” Ciro kicked off his shoes. “Bells, candles, men in dresses. Did you see Concetta Martocci on the colonnade?”
    “Yes.”
    “What a beauty. That blond hair. That face.” Ciro looked off, remembering her. “And that figure.” Ciro whistled.
    “She’s been in the same class at Santa Maria Assunta for three years. She’s not very bright.”
    “Maybe she doesn’t want to sit around and read all the time. Maybe she wants to see the world. Maybe she wants me to take her for a ride.”
    “Take her on your bicycle.”
    “You really don’t know anything about girls. You have to offer them the best and nothing less.”
    “Who’s teaching you the ways of women? Iggy?”
    “Sister Teresa. She told me that women deserve respect.”
    “She’s correct.”
    “I don’t know about all of that.” It seemed to Ciro that respect wasn’t something to spread around like hay on the icy walkways in winter. Maybe it should be earned.
    “If you showed a little spiritual initiative, if you bothered to go to mass once in a while, maybe Don Gregorio would loan you the cart,” Eduardo said.
    “You’re on good terms with him. Ask him if I can borrow it.”
    “You’ll have to walk, then. I’m not asking