Barresi: Emily Trilogy: A New Orleans Mafia Romance

by Lux Miller

  Luca glances down at his crotch, then back up at me. “Ask him. You know he’s got a mind of his own. I like to pretend I’m in control here, but we both know that when he comes out to play, he hops in the driver’s side and I just become the blubbering, bumbling idiot in the passenger seat.”

  Laughing, I roll my eyes at him. “Loosely translated, it means my lord or my king.”

  Luca stops walking around to look at me, an odd expression on his face. I smile and shake my head, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, Luca. At all. I mean it as in, even though my life has been filled with one spurt of bad luck after another, that I’m humbled and consider myself to be lucky to be yours. It’s a good thing. Besides, you may not be royalty here, but you are a king in New Orleans and New Orleans is my home now. So you are and will forever be, my lord.”

  Smirking, Luca shrugs. “Titles aside… I thought we’d go pick up a few things before we head out the house I rented for us here. It’s not quite as elaborate and fancy as the one back on O’ahu, but I think you’ll like it. It’s got three bedrooms, and it’s kinda set on the edge of some cliffs, so we’ll have plenty of privacy. There’s a lanai that connects everything together, and the views are supposed to be spectacular. Waterfalls or something. It’s also close to town, so we won’t be too far out if we decide we want to be a little bit touristy.”

  Laughing, I nestle my face into his neck, placing a soft kiss there with a sigh. “So, where are we going to pick up supplies?”

  Luca swallows nervously, then looks down at me. He’s silent for a few moments, then he clears his throat and points to a location on the map. My heart leaps in my throat as he explains, “I thought we’d hit up the local farmer’s market. I hear they have some of the best products you can buy on the island, including this liliko’i jam that you can’t find anywhere else…”

  TEN

  The first thought that pops into my head when Luca mentions Liliko’i jam is one of a dozen that keep playing like a Walkman stuck on repeat. Over and over in my head, the pervasive memories flash by in an instant, then start again. I vaguely recognize the feeling of someone lifting me off my feet and carrying me for an unknown distance, and I know instinctively that it’s my husband clutching me to his chest as I zone out completely. I feel him deposit me into a car as the bursts of long-buried images stop. As I snap out of my head, I realize we’re parked at Hilo’s farmer’s market.

  I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands as Mike parks the rental car and steps out. My head feels heavy, like I took a nap but got interrupted in the middle, and now I’m even more tired because of it. Beside me in the backseat, Luca nudges me. “Welcome back. You’ve been so quiet, I was worried, but Mike said you were probably in the grip of a memory. You seemed fine otherwise, so I just assumed you fell asleep with your eyes open. It was kinda freaky, though.”

  I nod absently as I peer out the window at the bustling market. An unexpected warmth fills me as Luca slides his hand into mine and squeezes gently. “Come on, let’s go.”

  As Luca climbs out of the car and practically drags me out behind him, I can feel my heart in my throat. I spent my childhood in this market, running barefoot between the booths as I chased my cousins up and down the aisle of vendors. Between my mom, my two uncles, and my aunt, there were twelve of us cousins ranging in age from two all the way to twenty when I left. I was smack in the middle of the gaggle of kids, and we lived a blessed life on the island.

  I look up at Luca with a slight smile. “You know, my grandma used to bribe my cousins and I to go pick wild passion fruit off the vine and bring them to her. At the rear of the market, there’s a little wild farm that backs right up to the last row of vendor booths. At least there used to be. She didn’t tell us when we were kids, but one day when I was lamenting the loss of my life here on Hawai’i to my father, he told me the truth about that plot of land. It belonged to my grandma all along, and she was just using free labor to get us to harvest the fruit for her. She never cultivated it, just protected the native crops from the elements, and they flourished under her hands.

  “It was sneaky, but brilliant at the same time. We’d be up here at least every Wednesday and Sunday for the mega-market while our parents worked. She knew she had to feed us anyway, so she’d bribe us with these little biscuits she made to go with the condiments she made. They were this mix between a scone and croissant. Light and deliciously flaky on the outside, but as you peeled away layer by layer, they got more and more dense until you were left with this incredibly chewy center that was perfect for dipping in macadamia nut honey she’d trade for at one of the other vendors or one of the sauces and jams she… made…”

  I snap my attention up to Luca’s face, where he looks both attentive and incredibly guilty. “Wait, who told you about the liliko’i jam?”

  Luca shrugs his shoulders. “When I booked the house, I asked about cool things to do and what not to miss. The girl on the phone told me to make sure we arrived in time for the mega-market here in Hilo. That we wouldn’t find a better selection of organic and homegrown, local foods anywhere else. I thought it might be a bit nostalgic for you since you told me you grew up near Hilo.”

  I throw my arms around Luca without warning, jumping into his arms as I plant a wet, sloppy kiss on his lips. “You’re such a man, but such an amazing one. The name… did the girl give you the name of the vendor to seek out for the liliko’i jam? It was my favorite as a kid..”

  Luca nods, supporting me against himself with his hands under my ass. “Let me think. I’m probably going to butcher it something awful, but I think she said the booth was run by an elderly lady and her grandchildren.”

  I nod along with him, dropping my feet down to the ground as my heart starts thudding in my chest at a pace that has my head spinning. “Where is it?”

  Luca pulls out a small map, and I peer over the top edge of it as he runs his finger along the surface. He stops with a soft grunt and taps the paper. “Here, this is it… I can’t even hope to pronounce this correctly, so forgive me if I butcher it. The map says Mele Makele.”

  I know the abhorrent sound that tumbles out of my mouth next is shrill and probably has dogs all over town barking in pain. I snatch Luca’s hand up and take off running through the market, my feet pounding on the natural dirt paths that are carved out of the Earth in between the dozens upon dozens of booths. We turn this way and that, muscle memory guiding me through row after row of tightly jammed booths. We finally skid to a stop in front of a booth that looks unassuming as a young woman sits behind the counter, filing her nails. Laid out on the table before her are a handful of open jars for tasting and nearly another hundred sealed jars on another counter for sale.

  Luca wheezes slightly as he looks over at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What does that mean?”

  I stare straight ahead, beyond the young woman to a beaded curtain where a stooped woman with tanned skin and long, wispy hair steps through, the beads clattering softly around her. The wind picks up the half brown and half grey strands and blows them around her face. I swallow hard and murmur, “Literally? It means ‘Rebellious Woman Market’.”

  My words fade slightly as the woman looks up at me, deep brown eyes boring into mine. Her face twitches slightly as she holds my gaze, and I feel a shiver race through my body as I finish my statement to Luca, “But to me… it just means… home…”

  The young woman’s gaze flicks to Luca, then down to our joined hands, where Luca’s left engulfs my right, his wedding ring on display as the sun reflects off the diamonds in a dazzling display of brightness.

  My heart thunders in my chest as the woman motions to the open jars with hundreds of tiny plastic tasting spoons jammed into a basket together. Her voice is light like a spring breeze as she tells us, “Try one or try all. You’re sure to find a favorite.”

  I nod and step forward, hoping that my furiously beating heart can’t be heard outside my body like I hear it in my ears. I pick up one of the tasting spoons an
d without even asking what is what, dig it into the bright orange viscous sweetness in the jar closest to the woman. I pop the tasting spoon into my mouth and sigh, closing my eyes as the flavor explodes on my tongue. “Just like I remember it…”

  I turn to Luca and point at the jar. “This one… try this one. Trust me. They’re all good, but this one is the best, hands-down.”

  Luca raises an eyebrow and stares at me like I’m crazy. “Luca, quit looking at me like that. Trust me.” I lean over and grab another tasting spoon, scoop up a bit of the jam and jab it into his mouth. He grunts at first, then the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.

  He nods and points at the empty jar. “That’s incredible. How?”

  I shrug my shoulders, “I suppose it’s a… family secret.”

  My eyes meet the pair of soft brown ones whose gaze hasn’t left my face since we approached. Though my attention has been focused on the younger woman and the jellies spread out in front of her, I’ve been keenly aware of the older woman’s silent stare.

  She steps forward slowly, each step almost a burden as she leans heavily on an ornately carved wooden cane. I stand frozen to the spot as Luca and the younger woman’s voices buzz in the background as the overwhelming tension of my own silence weighs on me. The older woman finally reaches the table and narrows her eyes at me. She reaches up with her cane and taps the table noisily beside her.

  Immediately, Luca and the younger woman stop talking. Luca steps behind me, sliding one hand protectively onto my waist and the other discreetly onto the butt of the gun I know he’s stashed in his waistband the minute we were outside of the airport. The younger woman turns sharply to the older woman and scolds her, “Kupuna, you cannot threaten the customers. The man was just saying he’d like to buy numerous jars.”

  The old woman ignores the younger one and puts her knobby hands onto the edge of the table, using it for balance as she leans over it. I stay rooted to the ground where I am as Luca’s fingers dig into my hip. The older woman waves her hand dismissively at the younger one and stares at me for what feels like hours. Finally, her voice crackles through the buzz of the farmer’s market.

  She raises the hand not resting on the cane at me and points, her finger mere inches from touching me. “What’s your name, girl?”

  I swallow nervously, then reply, “Emily.”

  Luca squeezes my hip gently, and I bring my left hand up to rest it over his hand.

  The older woman’s face blanches momentarily as she shakes her head, glancing at Luca behind me. As her gaze drifts back to me, it drops down to my left hand where a flash of recognition dances across her face. She clears her throat. “Your birth name.”

  I swallow, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. I glance up at Luca, but he shrugs slightly. I turn my gaze back to the older woman. “Uhm, Emily Clark.”

  Shaking her head quickly, the older woman impatiently taps her cane on the ground as she murmurs just under her breath. She’s chanting in Hawaiian, but far too fast for me to comprehend, much less translate what she’s saying, but it sounds like a prayer. She’s calling on one of the gods to assist her with something, and suddenly, my nerves sizzle. I jerk back away from the table, turning to go, but she raps her cane loudly on the ground, making a sharp cracking sound that snaps my attention back to her immediately.

  Her voice is drawn and tinny as she clarifies, “Your real name. What’s the name given to you by your mother?”

  I swallow hard and the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them, “K...Kailani Emily…”

  The older woman’s breath hitches in her throat as she loses her grip on the cane. It clatters to the ground beside her, the sound echoing off the wooden planks that have been thrown down on the ground as a makeshift floor. “Ua nalo!”

  I blink, taken aback by the woman’s proclamation. I shake my head quickly, “I’m not lost. I know exactly where I am.”

  The older woman closes her eyes and responds calmly, “But do you remember from where you came? Your mother… was Leia, no?”

  I nod slowly, then glance up at Luca with a confused look on my face. Finally, I look back at the woman whose eyes are now wet with tears. The younger woman who was sitting on the stool springs into action when she sees the cane on the ground. How she didn’t see or hear the commotion before is beyond my understanding, but she’s paying attention now. She picks up the woman’s cane, handing it back to her and shaking her head, “Puna, you should rest. I’ve got this…”

  The older woman shakes her head vehemently, whacking the cane gently into the younger woman’s side. “Lee Lee, you of all people don’t recognize her? Your first best friend? Your cousin?”

  The young woman gasps loudly at the same time I do, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place as I feel my blood run cold at the childhood nickname I had for my mother’s niece. We were born weeks apart and were inseparable growing up. And now, I can’t believe the good fortune to find her standing right in front of me. Hazel eyes meeting blue for the first time in over a decade, but eyes that shared the foundation of childhood. “Aleka?”

  She nods quickly, bringing her hands up to her eyes where she rubs at them furiously. As she draws her hands away, she shakes her head rapidly. “But… how? After Aunt Leia died, your dad and you… vanished…”

  The older woman shakes her head and lifts the cane up over the table, pointing it directly at Luca. “No, not vanished… returned... to the land of her father. But the sins of our fathers have a way of becoming the burden of our legacy.”

  Her gaze bores into Luca as he shifts uncomfortably beside me. The older woman sighs and turns her head to me, her eyes dropping to the wedding ring on my finger and Luca’s as he tugs me against his side. She looks up at me with a mixture of understanding, relief, and sadness on her face as she murmurs, “And sometimes… no matter how far or fast your run, the past always finds a way to catch up to you. And the past always takes its due from the present, and oftentimes, from the future. Isn’t that right? Master Barresi?”

  ELEVEN

  Beside me, Luca tenses, his mouth settling into a thin line. Despite the warm breeze blowing in off Hilo Bay and the fact that the temperature outside is still well above eighty degrees, I shiver as Luca narrows his eyes at my grandmother. His voice is tight, his lips barely moving as his jaw clenches tightly. “What did you say?”

  The older woman laughs gleefully, clapping her hands as s

  he waves one about. “Relax, son. There’s no need for you to draw your weapon. I pose you no danger. I’ve no grievance with you, nor your oversized bodyguard who’s trying so hard to blend in that he is unequivocally standing out. Despite her husband, it was not la famiglia that guided her to her untimely death. That distinction lies with the cancer that ravaged her until only a shell remained.”

  Luca stands rigidly beside me, his eyes narrow as he sizes her up, then takes his hand off his gun and clears his throat. “You knew of my father?”

  She nods her head slightly. “I had the pleasure of meeting him once. Your grandfather too, and I must say that there’s no doubt in my mind what blood runs through your veins. The apple does not fall far from the tree, it seems.”

  She swallows and nods at Luca’s right hand that’s come back into view, his family ring glistening in the sunlight. She bows her head in reverence. “My son-in-law told me of that ring and what it symbolized. My apologies for your loss.”

  Luca looks dumbfounded as his gaze drops to his right hand, where his grandfather’s ring sits upon his right hand. To most of the world, it holds little significance, but to Luca’s men and to anyone familiar with the crime syndicate that my husband now runs, its meaning is very clear. It means that Luca is, without question, the leader… the supreme commander… the Boss. And the fact that my grandmother recognizes it sends my mind into a spiral.

  Luca looks at me as he tears his gaze away from his hand, shaking his head quickly. “Emily, what’s she talking about? How? Why? Who? Emily, who w
as your father?”

  I shrug my shoulders, a feeling of dread settling low in my gut. “I… his name was Gunner Clark… when my mom died, he, we… went to New Orleans. He said he was from there and that staying in Hilo was too painful. That there were too many memories that were haunting him here. He said he had a job back in New Orleans, and that his boss was begging him to come back. I was young and naive and too stupid to call him on his bullshit. But I was ten…”

  Luca wraps an arm around me gently and shakes his head at the woman. “I think you’ve mistaken my wife for someone else. If she says her father’s name was Gunner Clark, then I believe her. I also believe that you’re her family, so I won’t deny her this opportunity, but I cannot allow you to claim that she’s had anything to do with my family business. I’ve been in the business for half my life as a made man, and I assure you, if Emily’s father had been working with mine, I would’ve known about it.”

  The woman smiles. “Before you end up calling me old woman, please use my given name, Mele. Though I have little left, it sounds far more graceful than rotten hag or crazy lady, which I’m sure you’ve considered.”