The Saga, Part 15 -- Lunch, Italian Style

My dreams were troubled that night, and it was a relief when the alarm rang. A whole new day to mess up! Every day is a fresh start , I thought, for the umpteen thousandth time.

I practically ran to the Greek restaurant, carrying a very large package of petits fours from the bakery to the old man and his family. At last, a gift of something besides cigars! Something for everyone! The old man was standing right inside the door, and opened his arms wide when he saw me. He was the antidote to sadness and woe, and I hugged him with all my might. He enveloped me in his dark robe. He held my troubled face in both hands, and stroked my cheek. Then, he kissed my forehead and called to his family, who all called their greetings from the kitchen and the counter. I had brought twelve dozen little cakes, enough for the whole family to have a treatdepending on how many lived at home. Finally, I felt that I was able to make a contribution to my little family away from home.

I brought coffee again to the well field, for Harry and Brendan, and, they were grumpy and tired. I told them, The night shift is the absolute worst. I understand how you feel. About 3 am, it just seems that the night will never end. They harrumphed, and took their coffee with them. Again, I took a cup of coffee up past the monitoring well with the bramble stub, and left it under the tree. No one was there, but when I went back later, the coffee was gone. The bread had hardened into a rock since Saturday, so I broke pieces off and soaked them in the hot coffee to eat them. It wasnt too bad, but I seemed to be permanently hungry.

I was still very troubled by meeting The Fiddler, weighed down by guilt that I knew was not mine. There was nothing to do about itno remedy for it, but logic has never prevented me from worrying. I have no proof, I reasoned. No names, nothing but a vague sense of unease, and veiled threat . Of course, he would be contemptuous of my ignorance, and all that it represented. I dreaded spending yet another day all alone in the well field, contemplating my many sins and wickedness...

Finally, after the morning was half done, a water company truck roared up the lane, and it was Fred VonDyke! Good, dependable, Fred! I was so glad to see a friend that I practically danced to his truck, Fred! Fred! Youre here! Youre here! How was your weekend? I hadnt seen him since Friday morning, and it seemed like forever.

Good, he said, getting out of his truck. He was neatly pressed, dapper as always. No matter what I put on, or how much I steamed my clothes in the shower, they had that suitcase look. He smiled at me, at my exuberance, Ive come to help you! He stopped and took in the lived in appearance of the monster car, my book and the stack of magazines in the front seat, the bottles and bottles of marked water samples in the well house, the pages of data neatly clipped together, and my joy to see him. Did you get the measurements? he asked.

Oh yes! I said. Everything has gone very well! We have a guardian in the forest-- he drinks coffee, and the police stop by every now and then, and Danny came out and visited on Saturday. I have breakfast every day with my Greek family. Sean came out on Friday for a while, and Harry and Brendan have been on the night shifts. It rained all day yesterday and was very cold. Today is a beautiful day! Everything is just wonderful!

He pointed to the gnawed loaf of bread sitting in the front seat of the car, and asked, Hungry? Still?

Fred, I said, you dont understand. I eat constantlyall day, every day. I am digesting my very bones on this trip. I cant find much to eat, but I finally found a bakeryyouve got to tell me where I can go to the grocery!

Fred laughed, and said, Well, you havent much weight to sparewell go and get a nice lunch somewhere. Tell me what has happened, he said. Now, I want all the news. Who is this guardian in the forest?

Fred and I spent the remainder of the morning, catching up, measuring the wells, walking and driving between the sites-- comfortable friends. I told him about the party, the music, and how wonderful everything had been, but I did not mention The Fiddler I told him about my visit with Danny, but not the story of our country and Dannys sadness, or the sadness I felt for him and for my long-dead family. I did not tell him about the pub. I told him about meeting the business-like, but somewhat scary gentleman Tony Cabinerarri, and our friends in the woods. He laughed appreciatively, but he let me go up to the monitoring well where the man watched, by myself. I looked at him in question, and he said, I dont think that our friends need to meet me today. We laughed, and on I went up the hill. I saw no one, but that didnt mean much.

He listened carefully to all I said, nodding at my comments, chuckling here and there, and making a few remarks about my brave new world. He seemed to enjoy my impressions of his city, for he laughed and seemed delighted that I was glad to see him. He agreed with my assessment of Dennis, and laughed at Dannys reaction to his nephew. Fred said Dennis deserved to clean the filter, and it was too good a job for him. Dennis will find a way to mess it up! he laughed.

Finally, he asked, What did you think of The Fiddler?

I looked in Freds eyes, He is a very good entertainer. I said no more, fearful.

Fred watched my eyes for a moment, and then said, Yes. I wouldnt be bothering about him. He wont harm you, Dannys seen to that. Youre safe here-- as safe as we can make it for you.

I thanked him, grateful, but shivered with an unknown dread. Then, I asked, with a devilish grin on my face, Whats for lunch?

Fred called Charlie on the radio to come and watch the wells while we enjoyed a brief break. I looked at him in question, and he said, Danny told me to take you somewhere to eat. He said you had been up here by yourself most of the weekend, and he knew you were starving.

Dont tell him I found a bakery, I told him. He will think I dont need real food, if I know where to find bread! As if kind-hearted Danny would starve me on purpose.

Charlie arrived, his truck clanking and rattling with parts of things rolling around in the backa familiar water company melody. He waved as we left, and called, Have fun!

Fred took me to a darling little Italian restaurant in a part of the city Id not seen before, (which was about every place but around the hotel and the well field). I paid very close attention to the directions, so I could get there later, on my own. The restaurant was tucked in between a book store and a dress shop, and I never found it again, despite my attention to street signs. Getting out of the truck, I lingered over the pretty dresses in the window, marveling at the fashions in New York City. Even the dresses were exciting! (A little extreme for my home town, but very pretty!) Fred grinned, good natured, and said, My sister can never pass a shop without going in!

I laughed, and said, I doubt I could afford it, or that anything would fit, but they sure are pretty! I wonder if shoulder pads are going to get that big in Owensboro? Look-- that one looks like the Empress of Parrot! One of the dresses had football type shoulder pads of bright red feathers. The style at that time was of huge square shoulders and slim hips and legsall the women looked like tin soldiers with giant epaulets on their shoulders. Big hair was in, which was the one thing I could do well. My hair had always had a life of its ownI curled it to give it some shape, otherwise, I looked like a large blond dandelion, gone to seed. Poof!

Reluctantly, I left the world of high fashion, to enter a dark little restaurant, with booths lined up on both sides, and white round light bulbs strung up by the ceiling. The lights and the dark green walls gave the place a festive air, even in the late winter. In the corner, a flag of Italy hung in a place of honor. The daily special was a delicious three-cheese ravioli that I excavated with cries of pleasure.

While Ive had plenty of three-cheese raviolis since, that was the best Ive eaten, anywhere, at any time. I gave my money to Fred to pay for my meal, and told him, Im on an expense account. This isnt coming out of my pocket, but he wouldnt let my pay for his meal, even though I wanted to do so. He seemed embarrassed by it, so I dropped that subject, like a stone, and just enjoyed sitting there for a bit. Nothing beeping at me, I was in no horrid rush to get back; it was just a moment to catch my breath. I savored the moment of rest. While Fred paid for our meal, a man at the back booth, rose, and left to pay. I glanced up at him in surprise. It was one of our guardians! I smiled, and he gave me a bare nod as he put his hat on, and quickly left. Another little piece of the puzzle-- he liked three-cheese ravioli, too! I felt an unexpected kinship with the man in the hat.

Fred and I returned to the well field, and spent the afternoon with the wells, in companionable friendship. I learned that he, too, was making a house payment, buying his mothers home. He lived there with her, and his house payment augmented her income. She was retired, a widow, and in poor health. I knew that Fred was good to her, and I respected him even more for his care of her. But, he had never heard of a grocery store.

What do you mean, grocery store? he asked, here? In Great Neck?

A place where you can buy meat, bread, vegetables, cereal, paper towels, all sorts of things, I tried to explain the concept of a grocery store as it existed in Kentucky. Even then, while our groceries werent the super-centers of today, we had quite a sizable one-stop shop available. I told him of the aisle upon aisle of canned goods, cereals, an entire section devoted to dairy products, another for meat, and yet another for fresh produce. He looked at me in puzzlement. Finally, I asked him, Fred, where do you get the food that you eat?

My mother buys it, he said without hesitation.

But where, Fred? I asked in bewilderment.

Fred thought a moment, and said, I dont know. We live in Mineola, not here in Great Neck. I dont know where she shops. It seemed that I was dangling up a tree without a branch to hang on, so to speak. Where DID these people shop? Obviously, asking a man where to get the homes supplies was an exercise in futility. Maybe Stella would know. I immediately made plans to ask Stella, Charlies wife. Surely, she shopped!

Fred stayed with me until the night crew came, which was, in and of itself, a fabulous gift. Tomorrow, I may be out there by myself again, but today, I had company! He made light of his baby-sitting duties, and drove to the Deli to get our evening meal. It was the closest place to get sandwiches, and, despite the cost, one of the less expensive restaurants in the area. Right before the night crew came; he asked me, Do you like to go to the movies?

Oh yes, I answered. We go to the show all the time, at home. There isnt much else to do, at home.

Well, he said, there is a great place to see the movies not far from here, in Mineola. Well go this weekend.

I was delighted to have plans for an evening out with a friend! That night, as I drove back to the hotel, there was something to anticipate, besides hours and hours of loneliness at the cold well field.

Thanks for coming by!

Links:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14