That was fate. It was inescapable, as certain as the blue dome of the sky over the Earth. Going to America wasn’t going to change that.

“Why are we going to America?” Salvatore had asked, as they sat in the cart, on their way from the family’s little farm into Naples.

“Because there is money in America, Toto,” his father had answered. “A heap of dollars to send to your grandmother and your aunts, so they can keep the farm.”

“We can’t get dollars in Naples?”

“In Naples? No.” His father had smiled. “You will like America. Your Uncle Francesco is there, and all your cousins that you have never met, and all waiting to greet you.”

“Is it true,” Salvatore had asked, “that everyone in America is happy, and you can do whatever you want?”

But before his father could reply, his mother had cut in.

“It is not for you to think of being happy, Salvatore,” she said firmly. “God will decide if you deserve to be happy. Be grateful that you are alive.”

“Yes, Concetta, of course,” his father began. He was not so religious. But Concetta was implacable.

“Only bandits do what they want, Salvatore. Camorristi. And God will punish them. Obey your parents, work hard, look after your family. It is enough.”

“There are still choices,” Uncle Luigi had said gently.

“No,” Concetta had flared up, “there is no choice.” She’d gazed down at her little son. “You are a good boy, Salvatore,” she said in a softer voice, “but you must not hope for too much, or God will punish you. Always remember that.”

“Yes, Mama,” he’d said.

Next to his mother, holding little Maria’s other hand, was Uncle Luigi.

Uncle Luigi was small. He had a round head, and the strands of hair he plastered across it could not conceal the fact that he was bald. He was not powerful like Salvatore’s father, who only tolerated him. He had worked in a store; he could also read and write, and liked to go to church with his sister, neither of which impressed the other men in the family. “Reading and writing is a waste of time,” Salvatore’s father would say. “And the priests are all rogues.” Uncle Luigi was a little strange. Sometimes he would hum to himself, and gaze out into space, as though in a dream. But the children all loved him, and Concetta protected him.

Salvatore had been put between Anna and Paolo. Anna was slim and serious. Though she was only nine, she was the eldest daughter, and she helped her mother in all things. She and Paolo didn’t always get along, but Salvatore liked Anna, because she used to take him out for walks into the woods when he was little, and give him chocolate.