Research for the Accana’s reached at standstill point with Angelina’s disappointment in the monotonous work in the local Newspaper archives reading the chronicles of the early 1900‘s. She thought how easier and time saving it would be if the information were recorded into computers.
Franco had hired a young law’s student to do the monotonous work of reading through the police records, mainly hand-written reports in record books, which were not always written with grammatical correctness.
Over the weeks Franco kept in touch with Angelina to keep her informed and often invited her out to spend the weekends together. They visited the major tourist attractions along the North coast of the island, and scuba dived in the deep blue Tyrrhenian waters.
Normally they spent their evenings having dinner in colorful seafood taverns and osterias representing the rich folkloristic Sicilian life, and serving the delicious traditional dishes. After dinner, they spent time in a disco, giving way to their young exuberance, with fast modern dances so much suited to them.
It was during those evening that Angelina felt how much alike they were and that attraction grew on both sides. Matter of fact she was hoping to hear from him those prophetic words of love and passion, but strangely enough those words were never spoken. She was puzzle from his silence because at the time they danced together Angelina was aware of the well know male hardness rubbing again her crotch. At that contact, she was unable to completely control her feeling, and unconsciously responded to her companion desires, and she found copiously inundated by wetness, a natural reaction to the lover’s invitation. How disturbing, Franco never said a word to disclose his passion and desire.
Angelina came to the conclusion that Franco was attracted to her, but he was using professional respect toward her, and in the meantime, was analyzing her, getting to know her better before words of love could be spoken.
Time passed quickly. Only a couple of weeks were left before Angelina had to return to Miami. She was sad and frustrated.
Three months passed in no time and sadly not a single clue had been found regarding the Accanas. Returning to Florida mean to her she had completely failed in her deepest dream of finding any Accana’s descendants. She also wouldn’t be able to complete the desire to live and form a family and accomplice the aspiration to be also a Sicilian.
“I must do something to delay my return home till some new stepping-stones for my future life are laid.
“I have to ask Franco’s help to get an extension on my visa.”
With that hope in mind she felt calmer. Nevertheless, she thought,
“I need time. I’m in love with that blond handsome man, and my love grows stronger every day. I want him to become the man in my life. I know he likes me also but how can I convey this message to Franco and lead him into the path of my dreams? But what if he only looks at me with the eyes of his work and he doesn’t really desire me as his future wife?”
Finally, a week after, when her hopes were weakening, Franco called,
“I have some good news for you, Angelina. From the archives appear that some Accanas were involved with Salvatore Giuliano, the well-known bandit of Montelepre who became popular around the world immediately after The Second World War.”
He continued, “I have also found that the Accana’s property is located between Montelepre and Partinico. That is the area in which Salvatore operated with his band of renegades.
“Tomorrow we will go there, and with some luck we may solve the many mysteries surrounding the past of your family. What do you think, my dear Angelina?”
In an impulse of happiness Angelina jumped from her chair and gratefully kissed him on the cheeks, saying,
“You are an angel my dear Franco, thank you so much. I don’t have words enough to tell you of my gratitude. I thank you for what you are doing for me.”
Franco arranged to call in the morning, and arrived with an Alfa, an ex-army four-wheel-drive vehicle, the most suitable vehicle to climb up the stiff unsealed mountain roads.
Franco took with him a large case of provisions as goodwill present and expected in the tradition of those people.
The box contained fresh baby mackerel, ropes of Sicilian sausages, lamb intestines knotted with rosemary, and chickens, the best that any good Sicilian would desire.
Montelepre is relatively close to Palermo, not more then an hour drive from the city but the contrast of the country is enormous as soon as the fertile ‘Conca d’Oro’ in the plain has been left behind.
Immediately after the first twenty kilometers on the gentle hillside, the road ascended rapidly above the sea. This Sicilian hinterland appeared arid, with scarce vegetation, presenting a mountainous rocky soil almost inaccessible to normal vehicles. In this way it had created through time the ideal refuge for bandits and other traffickers in unlawful merchandise and drugs.
Within twenty minutes the Alfa had raised high above the city, crossing into a deserted wild country, scattered with boulders and dead grass.
“How can it be possible?” Angelina exclaimed “I could never imagine such ruggedness could exist. This sort of desolation leaves me full of consternation; it’s like fronting an ancient wild giant world of violence.”
The air had become cold and stagnant. In the countryside there was a visible sense of abandonment with only a few wrecked barns scattered around. After they passed through those few deserted properties, the road descended into the Montelepre Altopiano, where the richer Mafioso’s town of Partinico was.
Half way between the two towns was an old mill, possibly a thousand years old. For centuries it had grounded flour for the local inhabitants, but the creek’s water that operated the mechanism of the mill had been diverted a long time ago, and ran in the meadow below. The property was scattered with boulders and the remains of an old crooked barn still miserably standing. It was still used at night to shelter those sheep grazing further down in the valley. At the bottom of this inhospitable place a dilapidated stone house was visible. This property had belonged to the Accana’s for several centuries, and longer than any human memories could recall.
The desolation around was discouraging and without good promise. Angelina was passionate and losing hopes about the Accanas,
“Would it be possible that my family had lived in such a miserable place?” she questioned herself.
Franco read her mind and reassured her, “It is most likely your family’s descendents are living somewhere in Palermo. But this is the only good lead we have. Whoever lives here could have the right information leading to your family.”
“God, I hope so. I couldn’t stand thinking I have to live in a place like this.” Angelina replied.
End part 4