“I know. I should go look for Uncle.” As he completed shaving, he realized he had hardly considered the suggestion the author he’d met had made, although he had kept the name and address, just in case. A benefactor was a long shot, though. Antonio wasn’t good at imposing himself. If the man had come to him it would be different. He turned to his Bible before heading out the door and read in Psalm 10: “Thou art the helper of the fatherless.” He shut the book. He wasn’t sure what help he had. He didn’t seem to have any, truly. He knew what his gift was, but for some reason God was not guiding the way. He thought a moment. He would do what he could not only for himself, but also for Sofia. And his uncle. Even if he received no help in his endeavors, he could still serve others. He found Nicco eating scrambled eggs with five other men and two boys. He waited at the door while they finished. “Saluti, Signor Baggio,”
