“Italy is beautiful,” he replied cautiously. Then he put his hand to his heart. “But America is . . . it is . . .”

Carter hesitated and frowned, for he could not remember how to translate the word he was thinking of into Italian.

“Patria?” one of the others offered.

“Si, grazie,” Carter nodded in relief. “America è patria. It’s my country, and it’s my home.”

A love of one’s country was something the men all seemed to respect, for they once again looked at one another and nodded their approval.Then to Carter’s surprise, one of them raised a glass.

“A l’America,” he said. “To America.” And everyone joined in the toast.

Giorgio sat down next to Carter and gave him a pat on the knee.

“You know,” he told him with a smile, “I think you’ve made some new friends.”

Later, after they had been there quite some time, Giorgio gave a nod to Carter to let him know that it was time to leave. By then it was growing late.They walked home through the gathering shadows by way of the piazza, where Carter paused and gazed out across the valley. There, framed between the darkening mountains, the light from the setting sun glowed like a chalice of embers.

“Come on,” said Giorgio, giving him a tap on the shoulder. “Antonella will have a little dinner waiting for us.”

“That’s very nice of her,” Carter called after him. “But where will I stay tonight?”

Giorgio turned and gestured for Carter to hurry up and follow.

“Where do you think you will stay?” he laughed. “At Hotel Giorgio!”

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 41

Carter awoke the next day to the discordant sounds of church bells and intermittent gunfire echoing through the valley. It was Sunday morning, which explained the former well enough, but the latter, if not cause for alarm, was something of a puzzlement. Still drowsy, Carter yawned, and stretched his arms over his head. He had slept quite soundly; it had in fact been the best night’s sleep he had enjoyed since he came to Italy.There was something snug and inviting about a home, even one strange to him, that made it far more conducive to repose than even the most agreeable hotel accommodations. Of course, after having slept face down on the piazza the night before in Roccasale, Carter would have found it an improvement if Antonella and Giorgio had made him sleep in the bathtub.