Bella Mafia

by Sienna Mynx

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Ciao, we’ve met before. My name is Don...”

  “Tacchini," she finished his sentence. “Giovanni calls you Piero,” she said.

  He gave her a curt nod.

  “We’ve met many times before," she said. “I was at your wife’s funeral.”

  The mention of Lora was a dagger to his heart. Piero recovered, but blinked, a bit surprised at the forward way Mirabella spoke to him.

  “Now tell me. Why are you here?”

  “To pay my respects," he said.

  “No. You came to see me. Why?”

  Piero hadn't come to see her. It wasn't their way. Wives and other clan bosses didn't mix. These women were to have a male escort with them at all times, and even in times of distress, they were kept out of reach. He had come for Dominic. But something in him told him he should not say so. She saw herself as worthy of this meeting. And to be truthful, with Giovanni down, she was.

  “Say what you have to say, or I'll have you walked out,” she demanded.

  Over whiskey Giovanni had shared some insight to her torment. Giovanni said his wife was broken, poisoned, and traumatized. Though she still seemed misplaced in their world, and it wasn't just her skin color, she spoke to him in Italian without a hint of an American accent. As if she were born into the language. She turned her gaze left and looked to Leo. The man leaned in and whispered in her ear. She listened for a moment and then her gaze swung back to him.

  “I’m wrong. They tell me you asked to speak to Dominic to discuss business. He’s not here. Thank you for your visit.”

  “Wait!” Piero stepped forward. When he did, every man in the room stepped in front of him. Another put a gun to his back. Like a well- trained army, the men were poised to strike. The Don had forgotten propriety. They were fiercely protective of her.

  Mirabella raised her hand to calm the room. “What is it?”

  “I was here, two years ago. Right here. In this very room,” he began. “My wife had breast cancer. Stage three.”

  Mirabella didn't seem to care.

  “We had hoped she would recover. And for some time she did. But eventually I was standing here, talking to doctors who didn’t know how precious her life was. Listening as they told me I needed to prepare for the worst. I was too blinded by my grief to understand what that truly meant. For my children. And for me. I can help you.”

  “Vattènne—get out.” Mirabella said and turned to leave.

  “Giovanni talks about you often!” Piero called out to her. She paused, but didn’t turn around. “Talks about protecting you. He told me how you saved him. I was with him during the months, years he thought you had died. We were friends, we still are. And that’s why I came to see you. To be the one to tell you that you need to prepare. Not the way the doctors will tell you. Not the way the family will tell you. I came to offer help.”

  Mirabella cast her gaze back over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled beneath a sheen of tears. But she blinked them away before any of them dared to fall. “My husband will recover.”

  “Yes. He will. But not if you keep him here. And not if you don’t let me offer my help.”

  “Help me do what?”

  Don Tacchini reached inside his blazer pocket. He removed a business card, and walked over to hand it to her. “I can walk you through doors Dominic can't. I can get you a seat at the table. But I have a lot at risk myself. Promises your husband made to me. I’ll only negotiate with you. Call me. Soon.”

  Mirabella accepted the card. She fingered the raised lettering. She glanced up to the Don, and he nodded as a show of respect.

  “Maybe I’m wrong and you won’t have to make this call. I am praying for Giovanni.” Piero made the sign of the cross from his forehead to chest, and shoulder to shoulder.

  “Grazie,” she said.

  Mirabella watched the Don leave by the escort of her men. She walked deeper into the waiting room, and sat in the first seat she reached.

  “Donna? Tutto bene?”

  “Yes, Leo. I’m fine. I don’t care if the Pope shows up here. We aren’t seeing any more visitors. No more. Do you understand me?”

  “Sì, Donna. Capisco,” Leo said. “Perdomani. I knew this man. My family knew his family. He is a good man, Donna.”

  “Thank you, Leo.”

  A doctor and a man in a suit, who she assumed was over the hospital doctors and staff, entered. She stood and eased the card Don Tacchini left for her into her pocket.

  “Signora Battaglia, I’m Dr. Pena,” he said.

  She shook his hand. She glanced to Giovanni’s doctor who seemed relaxed. If it were bad news, then he wouldn’t be smiling. Would he?

  “First, I’ll let Dr. Andesi give you an update on your husband’s condition.”

  “He’s stabilizing, Signora. His vitals are strong. We have a long road ahead of us. But, I’m happy to report he is defying the odds.”

  “He’s still in a coma? When will that change?”

  The doctors exchanged a look. Dr. Andesi gestured for her to sit. She did. The other doctor sat next to her. “We induced the coma with an IV sedation. It was needed for his organs to heal. That has changed. Now is the time to wean him off the ventilator. Remove the breathing tube.”

  “Is he ready? What does it mean to wean a patient?”

  “A gradual reduction of ventilatory support. We have been cutting back on the supplemental oxygen, and his vitals remain strong. Next we will do a tracheal decannulation. But before that is done we will stop the sedation. We want him in an aroused state. To remove the tube and wake him will put your husband in a lot of pain. I want to prepare you.”

  Mirabella smiled. She couldn’t help it. Finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. They were preparing her for life with Giovanni. It seemed that everyone else around her kept wanting to prepare her for his death.

  The doctor’s eyes stretched with alarm. “This doesn’t mean he isn’t in danger of many other factors, I don’t want to give you false hope.

  “Having hope is a good thing. I’m just happy to hear that he is improving. He’ll handle it. We’ll manage the pain together, do whatever you said. I intend to get him the best help.”

  Dr. Pena cleared his throat. “Er, Signora, I’ve been briefed on your request to remove him from our facility. To set up home care. I must say this is extremely premature. We must make sure he wakes.”

  “Of course he will wake, you said you induced the coma.”

  “Sì, but bringing him out of it requires certain factors, we aren’t sure of how severe the trauma...”

  “I want to wake him as soon as possible,” she said.

  “Sì. It’s moving him that is even more of a concern to us. We must advise against it. Your husband is not well. His condition could worsen with infection, organ failure, he could even possibly suffer a stroke. He is in need of constant monitoring. He may even need more surgery in the near future.”

  “I don’t think you heard me. I’m taking him home.” Mirabella stood. She walked away from the men. “Name the price. Name it. What do you need? A donation from my family to build a new hospital? What? I don’t care. I’ll make the donations, or payments or whatever. But we are getting him out of here. You know who he is.”

  The doctors both nodded.

  “Good! Then you know it’s only a matter of time before his enemies start arriving at this hospital door. It’s a danger to him and your staff. Helping me, helps you.”

  “Of course, Signora.”

  “I want to hire the doctors. The best. And I will pay for them to live in my home for the next few weeks, or months. I want around the clock care. I need a list of all the equipment we should get. If we can’t get it, then you provide it. Do you understand me?”

  The doctor in the suit who saw dollar signs before patient care, nodded with a polite smile. “I will start working on a plan immediately. We will need you to sign off any responsibility from the hospital once he is put
into your care. Agreed?”

  Mirabella reconsidered the request she made. What if she was wrong? What if she removed him and he deteriorated rapidly? She needed to motivate these doctors to keep her husband alive. “I will sign the agreement. But understand me, gentlemen. In my world that agreement means nothing. If you don’t do your very best to save my husband, I will hold you both and your families, and their future families, personally responsible. Lei capisce?”

  The polite smile on the physician’s face dimmed. He gave her a few words of assurance and the doctors left. In the past she would never threaten to harm a person. And if she tried, it always came off as hollow and insincere. This time was different. And she knew why. This time she meant it.

  She was no fool. When she first arrived in New York, she had to fight hard to get the life she wanted. Fabiana made her a fighter. Black American female designers were never taken seriously. It wasn't Kei's money that steeled her to deal with the snobbery and bigotry. It was her grandmother and her mother’s spirit. She came from strong women. And she was born to be one.

  Mirabella saw the way Tacchini looked at her. She knew her time to heal her husband was growing short. And soon, men like him would come to pick his bones clean. Nothing in life would make her harm another person. Nothing, except her love for Giovanni and her children.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Lemon House

  Salerno, Italy

  Mirabella waited. There were three nurses in the room and two doctors. And there was Dominic. He’d arrived just moments before. She could barely tell him all she’d learned about Giovanni’s condition before the medical staff walked into the room. Now she stood next to Dominic with her hand in his.

  Dominic didn’t look well. He moved stiffly. He had bruising around his throat, a busted lip and swollen shut left eye. But he was sober and freshly showered. He even shaved.

  The doctors did as they promised. They reduced his oxygen and monitored his vitals. They gave her a nod that all looked well.

  “When will they take that tube out of his mouth?” Dominic asked.

  “Six hours, right now they are working to bring him out of his coma,” Dr. Andesi said.

  “So he will be awake,” Dominic sighed.

  “Yes, Domi. He’s going to be awake. And he’s going to get well. I’m telling you, Giovanni is going to beat this!” Mirabella hugged him.

  “It is a matter of waiting. We will keep monitoring,” Dr. Andesi said.

  “Grazie, Doctor,” Mirabella said.

  He nodded, and he and the nurses left.

  She embraced Dominic again. Mirabella was the first to let go. She noticed he arrived with a satchel. She figured it was business talk. And right now she was in no mood. She walked over to Giovanni. He laid still, his chest rising and falling with an unencumbered rhythm.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. We are going to get you out of here. Soon.”

  “Leo tells me Tacchini was here?” Dominic asked. “You met with him? Alone?”

  “Leo was there; didn't he tell you that?” Mirabella kissed Giovanni's brow again. She stroked the side of his face.

  “You are not to meet with any of them without me,” Dominic said. She turned and looked at him again. Was he chastising her? “I don't answer to you, Domi.”

  “It's not that. He’s...”

  “An ally. My husband’s friend,” Mirabella said.

  “Giovanni doesn't have friends. Tacchini may think so but...”

  “I can handle him,” she snapped.

  Dominic sighed. “There's something else you should know.”

  “What? What now for heaven’s sake?”

  “I spoke to Carlo. I know where Lorenzo and Marietta were hiding. It's a villa we call the lemon house. It’s on a lemon grove not far from here.”

  She glanced back to Dominic. He walked over to the bed, but winced and touched his side.

  “You found it?”

  “Yes. I’m going to send some men to check it out. To see what they left behind. It might help us understand their next move.”

  “They’re probably with Armando.”

  “I can’t get a read on it now, but I doubt they would go to Sicily. It’s not safe for Lorenzo.”

  “I want to see this lemon house.” Mirabella walked away from Giovanni. She put her hands to her hips. “Take me.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to see it. I need to know what happened to Giovanni, who shot him.”

  “Nothing there will tell you that.” Dominic said.

  “Are you sure? And why are you questioning me? I don't have to explain myself to you, Domi.”

  “It's just...”

  “I know my sister. She’s been plotting on this with Lorenzo for a long time. I don't know what's in this lemon house, but I guarantee you I can tell if it's important.”

  Dominic wiped his hand down his face.

  “What? What is your objection now?”

  “You’re stretching it Mirabella. You wouldn’t know what they are up too.”

  “I know my sister, better than you.”

  “No argument there. How long before Giovanni wakes up?”

  “They said six hours. We leave now, and then we'll be here for when he wakes.”

  Dominic nodded.

  “We also need to get the attorneys here to the hospital. We need to finalize the transition of Giovanni back home. As soon as he wakes up we move him,” Mirabella said.

  She smiled and glanced back over at her husband.

  ***

  They left the hospital with an escort of two armed cars. So far there had been no trouble in Salerno. But she felt Tacchini's warning loud and clear. Giovanni's life, all of their lives, were in danger. She could not forget that. The place Dominic called the 'lemon house' was situated up a single lane road nestled in a cliff side enclave. Trees were pregnant with bright yellow lemons. In Sorrento she saw plenty, but never this many at once. The car rumbled over a rocky road, all the way to a yellow two story villa, before finally coming to a stop.

  “How did Carlo find them?” Mirabella asked.

  “This place belonged to a friend of Lorenzo's. He used to care for it and the man's mother. He kept it open for her. We would have found them here eventually.” Dominic got out of the car. Mirabella's car door was opened for her. She welcomed the bright sunshine bathing her when she stepped outside. It was indeed a good day. She walked with the men to the door and they found it open. The lemon house was empty, barely furnished. Mirabella looked around. She didn't see her sister’s stuff or things.

  “The bedrooms are upstairs; the kitchen is to the back. I think there might be some other rooms here as well,” Dominic said. He too walked around looking at the meager possessions left behind. Mirabella knew that Marietta loved to cook. She went in the kitchen first. Once she entered she regretted the decision.

  “Dominic!” she yelled.

  The consigliere was soon at her side. Spread out across the counter were guns and bullets. Dominic walked over and inspected them.

  “They were preparing for war.” Mirabella said.

  “Looks that way.”

  “So Lorenzo wanted to kill Giovanni?” Mirabella asked.

  “We don't know that,” Dominic said.

  “We don't? Look at it! Why does he need so many guns and knives?” Mirabella asked.

  “Lorenzo had a hit placed on him. Tacchini had put the word out. Many wanted to be the one to shoot and kill. This looks like survival to me,” Dominic said.

  “Are you defending him?” she asked.

  “No. But we need to see what else is here before we convict.” Dominic advised. She walked out. Mirabella went past the stairs to a side hall. She peeked into a bathroom and found nothing. She kept going. There was another room. It was filled with furniture. She could barely get inside. She checked the last room down the hall and found it to be some kind of reading room, with book shelves and a desk. On the desk was a record player. The old fashioned kind that was
in a suitcase. The small vinyl disc lay on it. And Mirabella saw something surprising. It had her mother's name on the label.

  “Everything okay?” Dominic asked. She’d vaguely remembered Minnie and Marietta meeting outside after she learned the truth about their grandparents and mother.

  “‘Motherless Child’ by Lisa Ellison,” Mirabella said. She flipped the switch on the record player. The disc began to spin. The needle lifted and then went to the edge of the vinyl before lowering once more. A woman's bluesy voice came through the speakers in the case. Mirabella stepped back in shock. She put a hand to her heart because that was where she felt the music the strongest.

  “Mirabella?”

  “Shhh!” Mirabella threw up her hand. She stood there listening to her mother sing to her. A soulful, beautiful voice she'd never heard before. It rocked her to her core. Dominic listened to the song with her. He didn't speak. Then the song ended.

  “How could she keep this from me?”

  “Keep what? Who is that woman?” Dominic asked.

  “My mother... that's my mother.”

  “Scusi Donna, we found the room they were staying in.”

  Mirabella plucked the record from the player and put it in the sleeve.

  “Did you know she had this?” Dominic asked.

  Mirabella didn't answer. She walked out and followed Leo. He led her up the stairs. Her heart raced. Her mind played back every conversation she had with Marietta. She knew her sister was selfish. But this? How could she not share something as meaningful as a recorded song by their mother? How could she be so cruel? Upstairs in the hall she saw two men outside of a room. They looked up when she approached. They both stepped aside. Mirabella entered the room. Everything was left behind. Even her sister’s slippers. She inspected the things while holding her mother's record to her breast. Dominic arrived next. Mirabella went to the counter and picked up what looked like a journal. To her horror there was a taped note on the front side.