The Bloody Bride (The Rocchetti Dynasty)

by Bree Porter

  Of course it did, Sophia, I told myself, it’s not 1997.

  “You alright, ma’am?”

  “Huh?” I blinked up at Oscuro.

  He looked down at me. “You’re mumbling to yourself.”

  I laughed, embarrassed. “Just wondering what to make for dinner.”

  Oscuro didn’t look like he believed me.

  I talked his ear off as we went for lunch. As usual, Oscuro was a good sport and grunted when the conversation required him too.

  I wished I had brought Polpetto. He would’ve loved the warm weather. Though I would deeply miss dressing him up in his little winter outfits.

  Next winter you’ll have a baby to dress up, the thought came to me suddenly.

  After eating a sugary muffin, I felt a lot better. If Oscuro noticed my refusal to order a caffeinated drink, he didn’t say anything. Only asked me if my banana milkshake was nice.

  When I caught Oscuro on his phone, I asked, “Are you talking to Alessandro?”

  “Just updating him, ma’am.”

  I twirled my hair. “Did you tell him…our location?”

  Oscuro’s eyes scrutinised me. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I scraped my fork against the empty plate, trying to get up some of the leftover cream. “Tell him not to worry about the doctor’s. I’m fine.” I tried to sound casual but I don’t think I did a very good job at it.

  “I told him we were out for lunch.”

  I met Oscuro’s eyes. We stared at each other for a moment. “Thank you.” I whispered.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  I smiled and licked the rest of the cake off my fork.

  “Oh, and Mrs Rocchetti?” I looked back at Oscuro. He gave me a soft smile. It looked uncomfortable yet nice on his hard face. “Congratulations.”

  I smiled back at him, bright and unabashed.

  The gynaecologist rang me a few hours later. They confirmed that I was pregnant and booked me in for a sonogram. I was five weeks pregnant and my bloods had been good.

  “Everything looks perfect.” Dr Parlatore told me. “We’ll be able to tell you more when we do the sonogram.”

  And so the eve of the worse day of the year didn’t turn out to be so bad. I was both relieved and upset with my pregnancy. It felt selfish to feel any sort of negative feelings towards my pregnancy, especially since some women couldn’t conceive naturally. But I felt ambushed.

  I hardly knew Alessandro. And the parts of him I did know, I didn’t like.

  We had had sex once and now I was pregnant. It felt like a big cosmic joke.

  But on the other hand, it was a relief. To be able to get pregnant was one of my roles as a woman, according to the Outfit. And perhaps being pregnant could help my position in the Rocchetti family.

  After all, a fertile wife was nothing to scoff at.

  I wandered around the penthouse, carrying the news to each room like I was telling the windows and furniture. When I made it to the spare room, I paused.

  This would be the baby’s room.

  The baby.

  The term made me both want to cry and laugh.

  I placed a hand on my abdomen. How strange to think there was a bundle in cells forming in there at the moment. That tiny embryo was making me feel nauseous and bloated and exhausted.

  The spare room was plain, with only a bed and a complimentary chair. The mundaneness of it made me feel slightly uncomfortable, so I grabbed Dolly and Maria Cristina from my bedroom and placed them on the spare chair.

  Hopefully I get a girl, I thought. So she can take care of these dolls that my sister and I loved so much.

  Thinking about my sister made me want to cry.

  Papa had insisted we have dinner tonight, a quiet celebration of her life between the two people who knew her the best. We never actually saw each other on the anniversary, as Papa always made an excuse not to be available.

  I didn’t mind. I liked to be alone on the 1st of March.

  I took one look at the spare bedroom, the two dolls and then left.

  When Papa saw me, he extended his arms and held me to his warm chest. His familiar cologne—the one he had been wearing my entire life—made me want to throw up. But instead I held him back.

  “Ah, bambolina.” Papa pulled back. He blinked fast to hide the mistiness in his eyes. I didn’t mention it. “You look gorgeous, as usual.”

  I disagreed. I wore a black dress, the colour always making me look shades paler. The skirt was a bell design however and flounced with each step I took. But it was appropriate to wear the colours of mourning on such an occasion.

  Papa ushered me into the house. “Dita has left us alone for the night. She made dinner and set it out for us.”

  “That is very kind of her.”

  “Well, she knows what kind of day this is for us.”

  Dita had made a beautiful roast, the grandness of it not matching my mood. I would take leftovers, I thought. So that she thinks I ate more than I am going too. I don’t want her to feel slighted.

  Papa sat at the head of the table, with me beside him. “How have you been?” He asked.

  “Fine.” I patted his arm. “And you? Do you feel okay, despite the robbery?”

  “Don Piero thinks it was an anomaly.” Papa said. “I doubt it will happen again. I’ve updated our security.”

  “That’s good news.”

  We were silent as we filled our plates. Papa offered me wine but I declined. “Only water for tonight, thank you.”

  He scrutinised me. “Are you okay?”

  “Just don’t feel well.”

  Papa’s face softened. “Of course you don’t. It is a terrible day.” Tomorrow was a terrible day but Papa didn’t mention it. “You know I will be busy tomorrow, unfortunately.”

  “I know, Papa.

  A pause then, “How is your husband?”

  “In Columbus.”

  “Salvatore said you’ve been chosen to ensure the circuit gets cleared of any ties with the Outfit.” Papa flickered his whiskey-coloured eyes to me. My eyes.

  I smiled thinly. “It feels nice to be useful to the Outfit.”

  “Of course.” Papa poured himself another glass. I eyed it. Was he on his second one already? “But I do wish they hadn’t given you such a task. I would rather you be safe than useful.”

  “Papa,” I used my calmest voice. “You know they would never put me in harms way.”

  Papa scoffed. “No, I don’t.” He took another gulp.

  Should I take it off him? I had never seen my father so loose with alcohol. But to be fair…he was mourning his firstborn. I let him continue to nurse his wine. “Eat some more, Papa. We don’t want Dita to be upset.” “You’re right.” He put his wine down to eat some potatoes. I piled some more chicken onto his plate. Hopefully that would help him hold his liquor a little better. “Ah, you’re such a good girl. You’ve always been such a good girl.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  Papa looked at me. He was looking for something in my expression. I gave him a comforting smile, but that only made him frown. “Alessandro is good to you, yes? Salvatore couldn’t answer me when I asked him if Alessandro would be good to you.”

  “He has not hit me.” I soothed.

  “Sometimes there are worse things than physical pain.” He muttered. He reached for his wine. Would it be too bold to smack it out his hand? “I wanted you to marry Tommaso’s boy. He’s a nice young man, little stupid but hasn’t got any sort of reputation. He would’ve been good to you.”

  Our conversation from all those months ago came back to me. I had wished to give you to someone softer.

  Softer how, Papa? I wanted to ask. There are no soft men in this world of ours.

  “You did what you thought was best.” I tried.

  Papa laughed harshly. He almost choked on his wine he was laughing so hard.

  I tried to ease the glass from him but he didn’t relent his grip. “Do you want some of my water, Papa?”

  “No.
” He put down the wine. “Have some wine, bambolina. It’s the good stuff. Dita got it out for me.”

  “Not tonight. Maybe next time.”

  Papa frowned at me. He looked at my empty wine glass and then my barely touched food. “Are you okay, bambolina?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He looked up at me, face slightly shock. “You’re pregnant.”

  To lie or tell the truth? I wanted to give my father some good news, especially since he seemed so upset. I smiled at him and gently touched his wrist. “I am. I’m only five weeks. But by October, you will be a grandfather.”

  No joy touched my father’s expression. Instead, Papa gripped my wrist and held tight. “Do not tell anyone.”

  I tugged but he didn’t release me. His grip was painful.

  “Papa—“

  “I’m serious, Sophia.” He never called me by my name.

  “You are not to tell anyone. Not your friends, or Dita. Not the Rocchetti’s and definitely not your godless husband.”

  His expression was so intense, so harsh. I swallowed.

  “Papa…I think you’ve had enough…”

  “I’m not drunk.” Papa squeezed tighter. “Maybe a little but not that much. You need to listen to me. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, but you need to obey me.” He leaned closer to me. Behind all that harshness, there was pure terror. What was he so afraid of? “Please, Sophia…please, promise me you will keep this a secret.”

  “I—“

  “Please, bambolina.”

  I searched his expression. “Why, Papa? Why do I have to hide my pregnancy?”

  Fear gripped his face. “I can’t tell you.” His voice nearly broke. I had never seen my father so emotional. It was terrifying. “But I need you to promise. Promise me, Sophia.”

  “If it’s so important to you…”

  “It is.”

  “I shall keep it a secret. I won’t tell anyone.”

  Papa released my wrist and I snatched it back to me. He took another gulp on his wine. His eyes were glassy. “Oh, God.” He said miserably. “You took my Catherine and now you’ve come for my Sophia. Leave them be…leave my girls be…”

  I rose from my seat. “Come on, Papa,” I coxed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  My father relinquished control to me. He let me take him upstairs, take off his shoes and tuck him into bed. I gave him an Aspirin and a glass of water. Papa was becoming more and more tired, but his mutterings did not stop. He kept praying to God to leave his daughters alone.

  I tried to soothe him to sleep. “God has left us alone, Papa. Cat is safe in Heaven and I’m with you.” I stroked down his thick hair. Papa eye’s fluttered restlessly. “Try to get some rest.”

  “Please spare my girls…” He muttered again.

  I squeezed my eyes tightly. Tears were welling up but I didn’t want to upset my father more. Instead, I sat by him until he fell asleep. Eventually, Papa snored softly.

  On his bedside table, there was a photo of Cat and I as babies. Cat was a little toddler and holding my newborn self. She grinned toothily at the photo, mischief in her eyes.

  That was the photo he kept of us, I thought.

  I traced the outline of Cat’s chubby cheeks. Would the baby take after me? Therefore, looking like Cat. It would be nice to be able to carry my sister into the next generation, to let her live again.

  I kissed my father’s forehead and switched off the lights.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The 1st of March began with rain.

  As I dressed I watched the raindrops slide down the large windows. It made me feel like I was in my own little world. The sound of it hitting the roof spooked Polpetto and he looked for comfort beneath my warm covers.

  “It’ll lighten up in a minute.” I told him. “It’s just Mother Nature clearing away the snow for the flowers.”

  The house was quiet and dark. I went about my morning the same as I did everyday. I made myself a nice breakfast and then threw it up. After that, I opted for some warm tea and crackers.

  When the hour came, I grabbed my umbrella and put Polpetto’s little booties on him. He was usually excited to go on walks, but seemed to sense my mood. He followed by my side, not jumping or trying to pull away like usual.

  Downstairs, Oscuro was waiting. I beelined for the reception and asked for the flowers. I had ordered them earlier to be delivered on the 1st.

  The receptionist handed with over with a sympathetic smile.

  Oscuro was silent as we made our way to the car parked outside. He opened the door for me, trying to shield me from the droplets.

  I fiddled with the bouquet as we made our way to the cemetery. A beautiful bunch of flowers, lavenders and orchids and coneflower. Cat’s favourite colour had been purple. It’s the colour of royalty, I use to tell her. Cat’s answer for liking it is that it was relaxing colour.

  We pulled up outside the cemetery. The rain started again.

  “Mrs Rocchetti, would you like company?” Oscuro asked.

  “No.” I grabbed my umbrella. “Can you please keep Polpetto’s company? He doesn’t like the rain.”

  “Of course.”

  I stepped out of the car and put up my umbrella. I knew this cemetery well. Knew the tracks and graves better than I knew my neighbourhood. Most of the Outfit dead was buried here, and I had been here a few months ago for the funerals of Tony Scaletta, Paola Ossani and Nicola Rizzo.

  But my sister was located off the beaten track, near a big looming tree.

  Despite the sour weather, the silent beauty of her resting place remained.

  Papa hadn’t gotten a statue of an angel to watch over Cat, but rather a statue of Catherine of Alexandria. She was the saint Cat had been named after. The statue wasn’t very big, but the sainted woman commanded attention. She wore a crown and leaned against a sword, dressed in her old robes.

  Rain slid down the statues face, cleaning her of the dust and dirt.

  Beneath St Catherine, there was Cat’s plaque.

  Here lies Catherine Rosa Padovino,

  Beloved daughter and cherished sister.

  November 25, 1991 to March 1, 2013.

  Have faith we’ll meet again.

  I laid down the flowers by the headstone. The rain dampened them immediately.

  “I miss you, Cat.” I whispered. “I miss you everyday. I look for you everywhere I go and ache for your presence all the time. I can still hear your—“ I broke off, choking back a sob. Tears began to fall, matching the rain. “I miss you.” I finished lamely.

  The grass beneath my feet was perfectly cut and bright green. It was strange to think she was all those meters below me, resting in her eternal sleep. I hadn’t wanted to see her in her coffin and the funeral had been closed casket. The car crash had…badly damaged her body.

  I had wanted to do a cremation but that was not our religion’s way.

  I wiped at my tears. I should’ve said goodbye to her properly, should’ve grown up and looked at the body. But I couldn’t bare to see her so still and quiet.

  So…lifeless.

  “A lot has happened since…since the last time I saw you.” I choked out. “I got married. Last time I saw you I was engaged. But now I’m married…” The tears came harder. “I’m pregnant. You’re going to be an aunt.” A strange laugh escaped me. “No, you’re not. Because you’re dead. Have been for two years now.”

  Take a deep breath, said a low voice in my head. Take a deep breath.

  I heaved down air.

  “Sometimes I think it’s better you died.” I told her. “You…you wouldn’t like this life. You didn’t like this life. The marriage, the violence. At least now you’re free.” I lowered my voice. “I know about the diploma and it’s okay, Cat. I’m not mad. Hurt, but not mad.” I rubbed at my eyes. “I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I never got to tell you that.”

  The wind picked up, catching my hair.

  “But law? I never knew you wanted to study law. I thought you
wanted to get your doctorate in History and write posh papers in a stuffy office for the rest of your days.” I smiled slightly. “You’re smart enough to of done both.”

  A chill ran up my back and I rubbed my arms to try and fight it. “I got a dog.” I added. “His name is Polpetto and he’s perfect. He’s a Volpino Italiano and he knows it.” I snorted. “We always wanted a dog, remember? But Papa always said no…” The mention of Papa made me grimace. “Oh, Papa. Papa’s not good, Cat. He was really weird last night…I think he really misses you. I know you fought all the time but you’re still family.”

  Last night’s conversation with Papa kept me up for hours. Why did he not want me to tell people I was pregnant? What had scared him so much that he bruised my wrist from his intensity? How long did he think I could keep it a secret?

  Eventually, it would become pretty obvious.

  “Something’s going on, Cat.” I said, voicing the thought I never dared to admit. “I don’t know what it is…but something is going on. The way people talk, the lies and secrets. I know itsn’t my business.” I sighed. “Maybe things are heating up with the Irish. Maybe war is near.

  Speaking of war, there is talk about Elena marrying the Boss of the Falcone family. They’re in New York. I feel so sorry for her. To be so faraway from her family. I don’t have the world’s easiest marriage but at least I’m near my family, near my friends. Near you.” I shook my head. “They’re thinking she’ll be married by Fall if the talks are successful.”

  I stood with Cat’s grave a bit longer, telling her more about the world around me. The one she was no longer apart of. I found it too comforting to stop, despite the fact I was technically just talking to myself, alone, in a graveyard.

  When the rain began to get worse, I made to turn away. Over the field of headstones, I saw another person weaving to the road. They too wear dressed in black with an umbrella. It looked to be a woman. Something about them was familiar—another Outfit member?

  The rain was thick but I quickened my pace to reach them.

  They spotted me and began to run.