It was not unlike every other morning in Amalfi: a warm sun blanketedthe town's craggy cliffs; the azure-blue waters of the Mediterraneangently lapped its rocky shoreline; stalls and food shops along its mainshopping street readied their wares for another busy day of commerce;and high above the square in the majestic Sant'Andrea Cathedral asmattering of the town's faithful gathered for early morning Mass.

But in the seven-member dwelling of Antonio and Maria Landiniit was anything but a typical Amalfi morning: a layer of sadness, thickas fog after an all-night rain, shrouded the once-happy household—theyoungest member of the family was leaving.

On the night before the journey that would completely change herlife, Giuliana Landini went to bed earlier than usual. But sleep wouldnot come. In its place a steady stream of conflicting emotions and gut-wrenchingquestions wreaked havoc on her peace of mind:

Am I going to be happy living in a strange new land with anuncle and aunt I hardly know? Are Mama and Papa going to beall right without me? And what about my friends ... will theystill be my friends even though I'll be five thousand miles away?

Other painful reminders—of who would be missed and what wouldbe lost—left her even more anxious and sleep deprived.

Dear Father Di Pina ... not having him around anymore isgoing to be hard for me to deal with. He's been my inspiration.He taught me so much about art. How many times did he sayto me that an artist was as close as one could get to beingGod-like?

And Maddalena Vertucci ... I'm going to miss her so much.When I think of all the wonderful times I spent in her churchrectory kitchen, I want to cry. She gave me my passion forfood ... most of all, her creative approach to preparing it.

But my biggest regret is leaving Nonna Dona. She's been atmy side from the day she came to live with us after Nonno diedwhen I was a little girl. She taught me more than anyone else.God only knows, will I ever see her again? Am I doing the rightthing?

The adrenalin rush from reflecting on these and other disturbingthoughts flooded Giuliana's head and sat her bolt upright. She got out ofbed, and in the dense silence and darkness of early morning made herway to the kitchen. There she found her grandmother at the table, rosaryin hand, her vacant hazel eyes staring into space.

Nonna lit a candle when she heard footsteps. Its flickering flamescast a soft glow, illuminating Giuliana's face and the swollen red eyesshe couldn't keep from rubbing. "Please sit, my child," she said softly.She then rose from her chair and went over to the ice box and pouredmilk from a bottle into a small pan and placed it on the stove. "A warmglass of milk will help make you sleep."

Giuliana was grateful to have found her grandmother up. A littleconversation, even at this hour, might help lessen the anxiety thatengulfed her as the fast-approaching time to leave everything she helddear grew nearer. While Giuliana sipped her milk, Nonna Dona went tothe alcove off the pantry. She brought out a hanger covered in a whitesheet and handed it to her granddaughter.

"I made this dress especially for your trip," Nonna Dona said asGiuliana ran her hands over its soft surface. "I want you to look nicewhile you're traveling on the boat ... you can wear it all summer longwhen you get to America." The dress was a colorful print that perfectlycomplemented Giuliana's slightly tinted olive complexion and dark hair.The next morning, everyone remarked how grown up and lovely shelooked. While on the boat, whenever she appeared in her new dress,other girls her age and some older ones as well couldn't take their eyesoff the stylish, beautiful young girl.

Giuliana couldn't stop kissing her grandmother, the one personeveryone said she most resembled, not only in looks but in temperamentand outlook. Reluctantly, but ever so gently, Nonna Dona eased hergranddaughter away. "Now please go back to bed and try to get somesleep ... you have an exhausting day ahead of you."

Giuliana, with heavy heart, glanced over her shoulder as she startedto walk away. Nonna Dona rose from her chair and came over to thechild and took her hand. "I know you've heard me say it a thousandtimes, Giuliana, but I'm going to say it once again ... hold onto yourdreams and don't let go of them. And don't be afraid to take chances orlet anybody try to talk you out of doing what you want to do. Live yourown life." She paused and let out a sigh. "Remember one other thing:life is full of surprises, it can change in a heartbeat."

* * *

With these cautionary yet not unhopeful words indelibly etched inmemory—they were the last ones she'd ever hear her grandmother sayto her—Giuliana Landini, four months past her eleventh birthday, goton a boat the next day and sailed for America, leaving behind, in Juneof 1941, hearth, home and the bella Italia of her youth.

Conspicuously missing from the small party to see her off at theNaples pier was her grandmother, Donatella Teresa Fassano. She feignedover-exertion from too much excitement the last few days as reason fornot accompanying her daughter, son-in-law and three grandsons on thelong and uncomfortable bus ride from Amalfi to Naples when in factshe could not bear to bid Giuliana goodbye in the presence of others,including her own family. She officially performed that bitter-sweet taskwhile they were alone picnicking on the beach in nearby Atrani, justthe two of them, on the next to the last day before Giuliana was set todepart. They spent the better part of the afternoon reminiscing, mostlyabout Donatella's youth, of which Giuliana never tired of hearing, anddiscussing in general what life might be like in America. Just beforeleaving the beach, Donatella handed her granddaughter a brightlywrapped package. She had thought long and hard about what sort ofgoing-away present she should give Giuliana and had discussed thematter with her daughter Maria on a number of occasions.

"Since Giuliana is starting a whole new life, she needn't carryanything with her but her ambitions," Maria told her mother, her voicecracking when she said it. "Let her start out totally fresh. So whateveryou give her, make it small but memorable."

Giuliana excitedly unwrapped the package. Resting between nicelystarched tissue paper was a shiny black leather-bound diary with gold-platedclasp and lock. Engraved on the front were Giuliana's name andthe date, June 15, 1941, embossed in gold letters. "Keep this diary closeto you, and write something in it every day," Donatella said. "When youfill this one start another, and then another. Who knows, by the timeyou're a grown woman you might have written a book or two. At thevery least, you'll have a record of your life and adventures in the newworld."

Giuliana was enormously pleased. She had trouble fighting backtears, but having inherited her grandmother's stoic disposition inaddition to her other attributes, she was able to suppress the impulse.

After all other farewells had been dispensed with, Giuliana the nextday—the last one she would spend in Amalfi—went with Nonna Donato Santa Croce Church to have lunch with the pastor, Father MarcoDi Pina, and his housekeeper/cook, Maddalena Vertucci, next to hergrandmother and parents, the two people she most admired.

Maddalena's sadness over Giuliana's imminent departure did notprevent her from preparing a magnificent lunch for her young friend.With the serving of the main course—veal shank osso buco withsaffron infused porcini mushroom risotto with flecks of black trufflesin a rich flavored ragu—Father Di Pina poured a glass of his finestBrunello di Montalcino. "While the dish looks beautiful on the plate,"he proclaimed, smacking his lips, "I promise it will taste even better onthe palate." As a bow to the august occasion he insisted, over the not-too-strenuousobjections of Donatella, "that Giuliana should be allowedto partake of this splendid potable." (Later on in life, as she perfectedher culinary skills, Giuliana became a bona fide oenophile, owing muchof her knowledge in the proper pairing of wine and food to what shehad learned at the dining table in the rectory of Santa Croce Church inAmalfi, lorded over by the courtly, and portly, priest, Father Marco DiPina.)

While coffee and desert were being served, the pastor announcedthat it was time for gift giving, and excused himself. When he wassafely out of the dining room, Maddalena reached for a parcel sitting onthe floor under her chair and handed it to Giuliana, who opened it withchild-like anticipation. Inside the box was a beautiful hand crochetedshawl. "You'll need it on those cold nights in America," Maddalenasaid. Nestled among its folds was a cloth-bound booklet containing asheaf of papers neatly tied together. On its frontispiece was written inperfectly formed letters: For My Lovely Young Friend Giuliana Landini,Maddalena Vertucci's Favorite Recipes, June 12, 1941.

Giuliana bolted from her chair into Maddalena's waiting arms."This is the best gift you could have given me, Maddalena," Giulianaexclaimed with glee, hugging the housekeeper and not wanting to letgo. "I will cherish these pages forever." Holding up the booklet, sheadded: "You can be sure I will be making every one of these recipes.When I do, I will be thinking of you. And when I put on this lovelyshawl, it will be as though I have your loving arms wrapped around myshoulders."

Father Di Pina entered the room carrying a large rectangularcardboard box. He was delighted to see how happy Giuliana was withthe going-away presents Maddalena had given her. Unlike Maddalena'sbrightly wrapped gifts, his present was drab in comparison. He placed itupright against the corner of the table, at the head where he customarilysat. While still standing, he asked Giuliana to open it from the top andgently lay the box flat on the floor.

"I'm afraid I didn't have time to wrap it," he said. Then as carefullyas he could without hurting himself, he got down gingerly on all foursand in both hands secured the unopened end of the box. While pullingdelicately at his end, he asked Giuliana to place her dainty hands intothe other end and slide out its contents. When she saw what it was shewas so overtaken that she remained on the floor, on her knees, for sometime.

"Could this possibly be for me?" she asked.

"Yes it is," said Father Di Pina.

It was the St. Lucy painting hanging in the upstairs hallway; she fellin love with it the first time she saw it. Giuliana began to cry. The portlypriest had by now pulled himself up from his kneeling position andlifted the girl gently off the floor. He took both her hands in his, and didnot wait for Giuliana to say what she very much wished to say if onlyshe had been able to speak. Donatella and Maddalena sat motionless, intears.

"From the moment you first laid eyes on this picture, and yourreaction to it as told to me by Maddalena," Father Di Pina proclaimed,"and after all the visits you've made here over the years without everonce failing to go upstairs to bask in the beauty of this exquisite work ofart, I knew in my heart this painting one day would be rightfully yours.Well, Giuliana, that day has come."

That first night on the boat, as it sailed serenely out to sea, theprotectively packed St. Lucy painting resting upright next to her bunk,Giuliana lay deep in thought, trying to recapture the circumstances ofhow, at the age of six, she had first come in contact with the painting,the most cherished possession she would ever own. This brought intofocus, in the most loving way, the two extraordinary people responsiblefor her now having it in her possession: Father Marco Di Pina, for thegift itself; Maddalena Vertucci, for exposing it to her in the first place.

* * *

It was late morning on a warm, sun-drenched August day whenGiuliana stepped out of her bedroom onto the shaded patio that ledto the cantilevered gardens that ran a full seventy-five feet along thehighest point of the Landini property. There she met up with NonnaDona who was inspecting the plum tomato plants staked all across thestone wall that sat at the top level of the gardens separating the Landiniproperty from that of the Giordanos, which rested above. Just below theplum tomatoes was a long row of cherry tomato plants and, interspersedamong the plants, fresh basil and oregano. On the third level were themost amazing cucumbers and small gourds, tiny orange chili peppers(sinfully hot) plus larger green and red chili peppers, and on the nextor fourth level Giuliana's favorite vegetables—eggplant, zucchini, redand yellow sweet peppers and green beans. A variety of herbs grew likeprotected little offspring among the vegetables.

On ground level several feet adjacent to the gardens was a cave-likeopening that had been fashioned out of the natural rock formation ofthe mountain from which the Landini house and all the other housesin that area of Amalfi had been carved. Running along both sides ofthe interior thick stone walls were heavy wooden shelves on which satDonatella's canning treasures in different size mason jars—stewedtomatoes, pickled eggplant, string beans and beets. In one corner next tothe shelves was a two-burner stove used for preparing the tomatoes andvegetables for the canning that took place every year in late summer. Inthe farthest corner was the rustic wine-pressing equipment Antonio andhis sons used for making, in the fall, a year's supply of their home madewine. Dozens of erect, moss-covered bottles stood perfectly aligned,soldier-like and proudly, on the shelves above it.

Since coming to live with the Landinis after her husband died,Donatella Fassano, much to the delight of everyone in the family, had,in just over a year, completely revived the vegetable gardens as well as asmall patch several feet from the entrance to the storage and preparationarea where the most beautiful wildflowers and other indigenous plantsembroidered the ground and grew in fragrant, colorful abundance.She tended her gardens at least an hour or two each day, explaining toher granddaughter in precise detail what she was doing and why shewas doing it. Giuliana's parents and brothers were nowhere in sight todisturb her daily lesson in horticulture. Such precious moments wouldall but disappear in a few weeks when Giuliana would be startingelementary school.

But on this particular Saturday morning there would be nogardening lessons. After bidding Giuliana a warm good morning,Nonna Dona took her granddaughter by the hand and while descendingthe ancient stone staircase leading to the road in front of the house, toldher that they'd be going off to La Chiesa di Santa Croce, a five-minutewalk away, to meet with the pastor and several other guests in thechurch rectory.

When they arrived at noon, Donatella and Giuliana were usheredby Maddalena to the shaded arbor located between the church and therectory, an exquisite setting for the wonderful meal she would soonbe serving to the group. In the center of the arbor, seated at a largecommunal dining table that appeared to have weathered many yearsof liturgical as well as other gustatory feasts, were Father Di Pina;Armando Gallardo, Amalfi's much loved physician, and his wife,Matilda; and Francesco Montone, town solicitor, and his wife, Beatrice.A place had not been set for Giuliana, who was to remain in thekitchen with the housekeeper/cook while Father Di Pina and his guests,including Donatella, lunched and tended to the business for which thecleric had invited them: to discuss fund raising plans for the parishschool.

Preparations for the elaborate lunch were well underway whenthe priest, after greeting his guests, brought Giuliana into the kitchenwhere Maddalena was busy at the stove stirring with a long ladle, thentasting with the delicate touch of one practiced and discerning finger,the delectable contents of several pots. The smell of simmering saucemingled with the pungent aroma of beef braising in perfectly seasonedjuices set off little Giuliana's salivary glands, and after an affectionategreeting from Maddalena she was seated at the end of the long kitchentable where she immediately began sampling each of the dishesMaddalena would be serving to Father Di Pina's guests: an antipastiof grilled vegetables, porcini mushrooms and fresh buffalo mozzarella;chicken consommé with tiny tortellini stuffed with ricotta, parsley andbasil; homemade wide, flat fettuccini coated in just the right amountof ragu; and stuffed veal roast accompanied by long, thin string beansthat had been marinated in olive oil, a touch of wine vinegar, a sliverof garlic and fresh mint. Dessert consisted of fresh seasonal berries ina mascarpone-based zabaglione cream, and thumb-sized just-bakedbiscotti.