Her only child, Susan, bossed her younger cousins into constructing a sandcastle to her exacting specifications. Belladonna didn’t remember giving birth to Susan Ava Castillo on the day of the German surrender. Everything from that dark time seemed a blur. Now, ten years on, her life before becoming an American matron seemed like a movie, something that happened to someone else in another life. Nonna Lucia handed out the picnic supplies, serving her only son, Tony, first. Susan accepted her peanut butter sandwich and reached for a Coke. Belladonna picked at the antipasti they’d packed. The enticing scent of frying clams wafted on the breeze from the fish shack as a group of rowdy boys settled next to her. One bore the shiny skin of burn scars over his shoulders. Though he looked young, Bella wondered if he’d been injured in the war. He bit into an enormous roast beef sandwich. Bella glanced away, her mouth watering, before she could ask him for a bite.
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