I looked at her and said, “Forget it,” and stuffed the nut into my pocket. That was a mistake because the Missionary Alliance volunteer who had made Mom’s nut had not sanded off the sharp wire handle after he or she was done getting the Good News into her nut. The razor-sharp wire poked through my pocket and stuck deep into my thigh in the tender white flat part where you can see the veins next to your groin. Nothing had hurt so much since I had broken my leg skiing the year before. I jumped and yelled out in pain, and everyone looked surprised. I reached into my pocket and pulled the nut out. The conductor shook his head as if he was saying now he’d seen everything, punched the tickets, and said, “Changez à Milan. “

Dad said, “What are you doing?”

“The Gospel Walnut got me,” I said.

Mom looked sorrowful and sweet and smiled but said nothing. I could figure it out myself that the truth could not be hidden, and so it had poked me. It was a sign.

The Frenchman used this distraction to get back behind his Paris Match. He made sure to hold it close enough to his face so that there was no chance of Mom catching his eye or trying to make him finish repeating the Sinner’s Prayer after her. But at least he didn’t smoke anymore because he couldn’t light his cigarette and hide at the same time.

Chapter 18

AS WE PULLED INTO GENOA we were all shocked because the place where you catch your first glimpse of the sea was filled up with a new gray apartment building. Even Dad stood up and put down his reading material to look as we approached the place where we always had our first glimpse. We were all ready and waiting as the train came out of one of the tunnels you go through in the hills behind the city. If you didn’t see the Mediterranean at that point, you didn’t see it again until after you changed trains in Genoa and were well on your way to Santa Margherita. Then you saw the sea some of the way next to you because the track had been laid hugging the coast. But that wasn’t the first glimpse—it was still exciting but not the same.

“I can’t believe they’d do that,” Rachael said.

Janet answered, “Don’t be stupid. People need a place to live.”

“Oh well, dear,” Mom said, “the sea is still where it’s supposed to be,” and she sat down.

Dad said, “Overdevelopment.”

We all sat down, and Dad started to read a paper on the Scottish revival of the Presbyterian churches. The rest of us sat sort of glumly.

Mom said, “Well. I was going to wait until we got to Santa Margherita to tell you.”

Rachael said, “What?”