You must forgive Dante for the step backward he took at this shift in Magda.
He wondered at the unpleasantness she wore like a cheap sweater. He was tempted to blame it on her husband’s disappearance, in Thailand of all places! But he actually thought she’d mellowed a bit since then. When she first arrived, she’d been thoroughly insufferable. Now she was just a nuisance. But she might very well be the nuisance that saved the sagra.
Luciano set a cup of camomilla beside Elisa. “Having trouble?”
“I got a little lost,” Elisa answered, tensing.
“Do you need help finding your way?”
Elisa looked up, startled. And then smiled. She should have remembered by now, Luciano didn’t get angry with her when she spaced out in the middle of working or couldn’t remember the next step. This was her first time here without Fatima, and perhaps she felt a little vulnerable without her anchor.
Elisa shook her head. “No, let me just look at the beginning and see if I can retrace my steps.”
“That’s right, Elisa. If you can’t, what’s your strategy?”
“To say it out loud.”
“Good girl. Your words are your riches. Talk yourself through it to streamline your thinking.”
Elisa nodded and chewed the end of her pen while she avoided looking at the russet grapevines whispering across the valley. She stared instead at the problem. Whispering under her breath she ran her pen under the words as Maestro had taught her to keep her focused. A light crept into her mind, and the answer gradually illuminated. Suddenly, Elisa cried, “Oh!” and her pen flew across the page. She held the paper out to Maestro with a smile.
Luciano took the page and nodded as he followed her work. He laughed aloud as he wrote, “10 e lode,” Ten and praise, across the top of the paper. Elisa’s breath caught.
“Davvero, Maestro?”
“Davvero. Nicely done. Now you are all ready for class tomorrow.”
“Grazie, mille grazie!”
“It is my pleasure, Elisa. You are a smart girl, you merely lack faith in yourself.”
“That’s because I can’t do anything right.”
“But Elisa, do you not see? Your brain merely works in a slightly different way. Your teachers at school are too busy, and possibly uninterested, to teach you to how to use your skills. That poor mind of yours has been lying dormant, ready for action. Now look what it can do.”
Elisa blushed and grinned.
Luciano went on, “Did you get your paper back yet? The one on The Great Schism?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Elisa ran her fingers over the grooves in the wooden table. She hesitated before saying, “Maestra read it aloud to the class. She told the class my work was well-reasoned and made good connections.”
“Ah.”
“Yes, I know you said the same thing, Maestro. But it’s hard to believe it. And besides, you helped me with that paper.”
“Just in organizing, Elisa. The ideas were all yours. Next time, you will require even less of my help. Soon you will fly.”
Elisa took a sip of her tea to hide her embarrassment.
Luciano said, “Okay! And now it is my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“I want you to teach me.”
Elisa sputtered. “Teach you what?”
“Art.”
“Art? What do you mean?”
“Elisa,” Luciano continued, gently, “I’ve seen your drawings. On the backs of your schoolwork, and on the sides of your papers when you are thinking. You’ve been hiding a gift from me, and it’s time you share it.”
“What? My doodles? My doodles are nothing special. My art teacher says I’m terrible.”
“Isn’t your art teacher the same as your math teacher?”
“Yes.”
“And haven’t we already established that perhaps he isn’t particularly suited to seeing your strengths?”
“He’s strict, if that’s what you mean.”
“Allora, Elisa. He’s not simply strict. He completely misses your abilities and lacks the skills to bring them forward. From what I’ve seen, your drawings are unusual and I can see that he would dismiss them. But to me they seem unusual in a way that indicates talent and a mind freed from conventional norms and ideas.”
Elisa furrowed her brow in concentration before asking, “What?”
“I’m sorry, I was thinking aloud. He’s wrong, Elisa. I know this. Here, show me a drawing.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I . . . I can’t, Maestro.”
“But why ever not?”
Elisa hung her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we just do math?”
“Absolutely. But I would like to understand this resistance.”
Elisa said nothing.
“Elisa?” Luciano ached at how the child cringed at the sound of her name.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Elisa, this isn’t a test and you aren’t in trouble.”
“But you are angry with me.”
“Do I look angry with you?”
Elisa hesitated before looking up into her teacher’s warm eyes. “No.”
“Elisa, you don’t have to show me your drawings. Of course you don’t. But I want you to remember one thing. I’m your friend. And I’m asking to see your drawings because I think they are important to you, and thus, they are important to me. I hope one day you’ll feel comfortable enough with me, to trust me enough to share them.”
Elisa blinked, unsure of what to say. “You won’t laugh?”
“Not for the wide world.”
“Okay. Maybe I can show you one today. If you promise not to laugh.”
“No promise has been so easily granted.”
“Which one?”
“No matter, any from that stack of papers from your backpack. I see Fatima has not succeeded in getting you to keep your papers organized.”
“It’s Friday! I do well at the beginning of the week, and then . . .”
“Perfectly understandable. Once in a while I enjoy taking the liberty of teasing a bit. Ah, here we are.” Luciano sat back as Elisa pulled out her geography worksheet and flipped it over to reveal the back.
In sure strokes, Elisa had drawn a bird flying high over terraced olive groves. With
