La Dolce Vita: Romantic Suspense (Battaglia Mafia Series Book 7)

by Sienna Mynx

  What she expected to find was a closet of some kind. Instead, she found a narrow stairwell that went up. It was dark and dank. She kept a hand on the wall and tested each narrow step with her weight as she slowly climbed them to the next door. It too was unlocked. She opened the door and the air that hadn't been released or breathed for years rushed in and over her. She sneezed and coughed. She waved away invisible dust. She covered her mouth and nose with her forearm.

  "Jesus!" she said. There was a lot of clutter. It was hard to make out most shapes without the assistance of light. She waved her hand above her as she moved in between boxes and found the string to the single light bulb. It blinked on. The cobwebs dangling from the bright orb almost made her run from the attic space screaming. She hated spiders. Still, she faced that fear and a few others and began to look around. Marietta smiled. There were dress mannequins. She counted six of them. Two had half finished pieces on them, and another had a pattern tacked down on it by pins. Was this her grandmother’s work? She moved carefully. Her eyes scanned the mannequins, the hat boxes, and several chests. There was furniture stacked. There was also an elegant birdcage that had to be considered an antique. She didn't know where to begin. And then she saw it. She saw it and couldn't believe it. She stood frozen with disbelief. To the far left under two other boxes was one with the simple word wrote across it. The box said, Lisa.

  Marietta went over and lifted boxes she shouldn't have to get to her mother’s things. And she opened it and wanted to cry. Empty picture frames were stacked inside. There had to be close to seventy or eighty. And every picture was ripped from it. "No, no, there has to be something here," she said and scrambled to dig deeper.

  There wasn't. She was on her knees pulling out the frames and glass. And from nowhere the longing in her that had been with her since she was a baby exploded. She broke down in tears. To be so close to her mother and grandmother and be denied the simplest thing like a photograph broke her heart. She wept hard.

  ***

  “Ever have any regrets?” Mirabella asked.

  Giovanni drove through the dark streets of a town locked behind their doors for the night. The few cars he did see were of people hurrying to end their day. He glanced over to his wife when she spoke. It wasn’t the question, but the soft sound of sadness in her voice that caused him worry. “Regrets?”

  “Yes, ever have any?”

  “I have many Bella. Some of them I’ve told you. Some I don’t like to think about.”

  "Not talking about us. I'm talking about life. The one we had before we met. Do you have regrets?" she asked. This time, her gaze turned away from the passenger window to him. He felt her staring. He shrugged and kept his eyes trained on the road. He didn’t dwell too much on those regrets. Especially the one’s concerning his parents.

  “Tell me one, please. Something you regret from your childhood.”

  “I’ve told you,” he mumbled.

  She placed a hand on his thigh. He glanced over to her and saw tears brimming in her eyes. He'd tell her anything to make her smile instead.

  “I regret betraying my mother. In Ireland. Sending for my father.”

  “If you hadn’t Catalina would not have been born,” Mirabella said.

  “Yes, but what did it cost my mother to have us both? Who would she have been if my father had never laid eyes on her? She was a good woman, a lot like you. A good person and she had to compromise early in her life for her children and for my father.”

  “So, you regret being born?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I guess, in a way, sometimes I do.”

  “Me too. Not being born, but having my mother lose so much of herself because of my conception. The thing is Gio, motherhood is the purest gift from God. After Eve was born, when she was put in my arms, I felt such inner peace. It was like I finally knew my purpose in life, to bring that special little girl into the world. Does that make sense?”

  “It’s different for women. You carry life.”

  “Yes. But you create life too. And you felt it when you met her. Didn’t you?”

  He nodded in agreement.

  “I think that’s what it was for our mothers. And if you were to ask either yours or mine the one thing in life they don’t regret, it would be giving birth to you and me,” she said.

  Giovanni pondered it for a moment. He remembered many good times with his mother. Especially as a young boy. The way she would sing to him and hold him. The nights he was allowed to crawl into her bed when Patri was away. He had deep, cherished memories of their love.

  Mirabella sighed. She looked back to the window instead of him. "I'm not a good person. A good person wouldn't have done what I did," she murmured.

  “Don’t say that Bella. You made a mistake.”

  “A mistake is forgetting to turn off the stove, or leaving your car lights on. What I did wasn’t a mistake. It was worse. And I have been so afraid to talk to you about it.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Haven’t I proved to you that I love you.”

  "Yes, Gio. Still..."

  “What is it?”

  She didn't answer. He knew the answer, but she needed to tell him. The entire story. Why would a woman like her, the girl in her he never met, why would she ever have an abortion?

  “Don’t you have a cousin in America?” Mirabella asked.

  Giovanni drove with one hand and nearly swerved from the lane when she switched gears on him. His wife had picked up on his skill. It was the ability to slip in and out of a conversation to control the narrative. It was her narrative, and she was in complete control. Being a man of power who shouldered the burden of using it on everything and everyone in his world it felt good to let his wife take the lead. Especially on a matter so sensitive to her and him, like the one regarding the past she never shared. He smiled the way a proud mentor would.

  “Yes. His name is Henry. In the states, they call him the Wolf."

  “Wolf? Really?” she asked. “Why?”

  “A nickname. He lives in Pennsylvania now.”

  “Really? That’s not too far. Maybe you should call him. He could come down and meet the kids?” she asked.

  “I was thinking of doing that,” he said.

  “Oh,” she mumbled. “Turn left up here. We’re going to take the highway.”

  He sped through several lane changes to get them to the unknown. The radio played soft tunes to listen too. His looked relaxed but contemplative.

  “You are a good wife Bella, a good mother, a good friend... and...”

  “Gio? Can we make a deal?” she asked.

  The strange thing was she did so while looking out of the passenger window and not him.

  "Yes, Bella?"

  “Tonight, we will talk, about everything, including my past. No more secrets.”

  “Okay?” he said with a deep frown. “What’s the deal?”

  “We go at my pace. We talk when I want to talk. You don’t push me. Can we make that deal?”

  “We can make that deal.”

  It was darker on the stretch of highway they traveled than the winding roads than on a stormy night in Chianti. After a ten-minute drive with Mirabella pointing out her old schools and houses of friends and family in the shadows beyond their window seats Giovanni grew tired of the little of tour. One thing was for certain he needed some relief to get the edgy, restless energy building up in him. And then the highway brought them directly onto a street. He had to reduce speed not to run the first street light. Many stores had lit signage, but were closed except for a McDonalds, and a Dairy Queen.

  “Hey, That’s Heather’s Kitchen. Right there. Pull in,” she said. “Pull in!”

  “Heather’s Kitchen?” Giovanni slowed the van and made the turn. He parked among other cars in front of a café that faced a busy road.

  “I’m going to get us some dinners. Best roasted chicken in the world,” she proclaimed with her brown eyes rounding. She was winging it. She had no plans for them. He glanced to the café a
nd frowned.

  “You’re hungry?” he asked. “After all the food we had today?”

  “Yeah, and you will be later on. Trust me.”

  "Wait here, I'll be right back," she said and got out of the van. Giovanni almost objected, but she was out the door and gone before he could. So he waited. The family had gorged on food all day. His sons had spent a full day being stuffed on everything from burgers to chicken with sauce, and macaroni prepared in a way Giovanni had never tasted pasta. The sweets alone should have had them all in a sugar coma.

  “Got it!” she said and returned ten minutes later. She had dinners in styrofoam containers and a plastic bag. “Let’s go.”

  “Where too?” he asked.

  Mirabella pointed across the street.

  “The Red Roof Inn? A hotel?” he asked.

  “It’s a motel.”

  “What’s the difference?” Giovanni asked.

  “Ah, I’m not sure. A motel has exterior rooms. Like those, see. We can park right outside of the room and go inside. A hotel is indoor and can be fancier. I guess a motel is more like a hostel since it's not for luxury, I suppose?"

  Giovanni stared at her and then the place. “You want to go there?”

  "C'mon, it's our night. We just need a room, alone. You and me. How is that a bad thing?”

  He smiled. He started the engine and drove them across the street. He parked in front of the reception area.

  “Go get us a room, go on,” she said.

  Giovanni shook his head. He got out of the van and walked around it. His wife stared at him from inside. He pulled up on the door and went inside. The lobby was empty. There was a kid no more than twenty behind the counter. He approached, and the young man pushed up the glasses perched at the tip of his nose.

  “Hi, do you have a reservation?” the young man asked.

  “No. I need a room for the night. Have any vacancies?”

  “From out of town?” the kid asked. “I can tell by your accent.”

  “How much for a room?” Giovanni asked.

  “Ah, sixty-five dollars a night, sir,” the kid answered.

  “Then give me one.” Giovanni removed his passport from his back pocket and tossed it on top of the counter. He put a hundred-dollar American bill on top. The young man nodded and began to tap away at the little keyboard behind the counter. Giovanni glanced around. The place was definitely like the hostels he owned in Napoli. Not a place he thought worthy of his wife.

  “Welcome to Apple Grove. Your room is around the corner. It’s 172.”

  Two cards were put on the counter for him. He picked them up.

  “Ah, sir, you have to sign,” the young man called after him. He glanced back at the boy and then the paper and pen. He walked over and gave his signature.

  "Check out is at noon if you can return the key card it's appreciated."

  “Grazie,” Giovanni said.

  The young man nodded and smiled as if Giovanni were a celebrity. He suspected they didn’t get many visitors in Apple Grove. So, who were the people that stayed at a ‘motel’? He wondered. And then he walked outside to the van and received his answer. A car pulled up behind his van. A black man in some kind of workman’s cap and boots got out. A young black woman in a tiny mini skirt, a bra for her shirt and too much makeup got out from the passenger side. The two started for the doors. The young woman gave him a passing wink. Giovanni frowned. He glanced to Mirabella who smiled at him from inside of the van. He marched around and got back inside with her.

  “Do you know what this place is?”

  “The Red Roof Inn. A...”

  “Motel.... Yes, yes, but that’s not what this place is for. Do you understand Bella? We are not staying here.”

  “Giovanni. It's a small town. This is the only motel in Apple Grove close to te farm and expressway. All kinds of people visit here. Truckers, transient's, people passing through. I need to be alone with you. So, can we do this?"

  He sighed and drove around the building and looked for the number on the door. And just as his Bella said he parked directly in front of their door. He sat there with her. She held their dinners in her lap and stared at the door of their room.

  "Not much to do in Apple Grove,” she began. “You either bowl, drink, have sex or do all three when you’re a teenager. This is the place I lost my virginity.”

  “Cutter?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen. Too young to know what I was doing.”

  He frowned. Mirabella opened her door and got out. Giovanni again eyed the motel and digested what she said. He wasn’t sure how to take the news. How to digest it. And she hasn't given him a chance to keep up. He got out of the van and walked over to her.

  “This is our room?” she asked.

  "Yeah, I guess so," he said and used the key slot on the door. He pushed it open. The lights were off. Mirabella went inside. The motel had two bed and brown carpet. There was a television and a floor refrigerator. It looked relatively clean.

  He closed the door. Mirabella walked over to the table near the window. She set the containers of food down.

  “Bella? I know you have a past sweetheart. We all do. We don’t have to do this.”

  “So, you don’t want to know my reasons? Why I left this town and never came back? Because if we stay a week here, Gio, someone is going to tell their version of the story. I brought you here so I could do it.”

  "And that is what angers me."

  "Huh?"

  "It angers me that after all of these years you want to do it here, this way. Have I not been trusting enough for you to be honest?"

  "I'm sorry." She looked away ashamed. "I know. And I'm sorry."

  He kissed her head. “You’ve been through a lot. More than one woman should go through in a lifetime. And I’m not talking about Apple Grove. I’m talking about our life in Italy. I’m talking about Fabiana, Kei, Me and our kids. Good, bad, and terrible, we survived it all.”

  “And it’s taken a toll. That doctor was right Gio. The best therapy I’ve had lately is facing the terrible. With you. And I feel stronger every day when we hold hands and I can stand up on my own.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. He held her. They stood still for a long moment just holding each other. He patted her on the romp. “Let’s eat. What do we have?”

  "Okay," she said and let him go. She turned to the food, and he took a seat and small round square table in the room. Mirabella handed him a fork. She sat down as if they were served a five-star meal.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I got you the best thing on the menu. Mama’s specialty. Maple quail with cornbread stuffing and macaroni and cheese and mixed vegetables.”

  “Quail, that’s a bird right?”

  “Yep, I got the roasted chicken and macaroni,” she said.

  She forked some in her mouth and winked. Giovanni dug into the food. He sampled it and then savored it. It didn't take long for him to devour the dinner. She passed him a cup of lemonade, and he couldn't stop eating to drink it. They often ate in silence. This time, it felt different. He glanced up at her.

  Why didn't she tell him?

  How could she keep a secret like this from him?

  All she had to do was say the word and the people in this town that caused her so much pain would disappear.

  “I’m sorry Gio. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to you about something that happened over a decade ago.”

  “Why is it hard? I know the story. You were young. You met a guy who didn’t deserve you. And then you got pregnant, and you did something desperate. That’s the story.”

  "Yeah, I did. And this town, the people in this town found out my secret. Because I trusted a friend, I shouldn't have. Cutter found out before I could tell him. He confronted me. My grandfather found us." Mirabella put her face in her hands. "It's horrible. The fight, all of it. And it was my fault.”

  She wiped he
r tears. “It’s the biggest regret in my life. What I did. I can never take back.”

  Giovanni wiped his mouth. He extended his hand across the table. Mirabella placed hers in his. “It doesn’t change anything Bella. Not how I feel about you. Not what I want for us. It changes nothing.”

  Slowly her glittering gaze lifted from her food to him. No tears spilled. “You sure? I know how your faith...”

  “My faith is in you. In us. In our family. I wish you would have told me sooner. But you don’t have to tell men anything more. I know the past hurt you, but I’m your future. And I’ll never stop loving you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Ti amero’ per tutta la mia vita--I will love you my whole life. And when I'm dead I will love you still."

  She got up from the seat. There were no more tears. There was no need to cry. This wasn't about the past anymore. This was about him. And he could see something in her. A deeper inner peace was present. It had been missing from her brown eyes. She pulled him from the table. They hadn't finished dinner. He didn't mind. He saw her smile for the first time since they visited her family's grave. Giovanni's hand left hers. He lifted her chin with his index finger and leaned in to taste her. Their tongues made tentative forays, touching tips, then stroking and sliding over each other.

  Mirabella’s fear of rejection hadn’t lessened at all until now. When their lips met, this heat swept through her, and she felt the pure release of his forgiveness. Though she didn’t ask for it and he didn’t offer, she knew it came from him free of conditions. Giovanni's arms went around her, and hers lifted to circle his neck. The crisp spice of his cologne drifted over her. It mingled with the earthy smell of his sweat. The fast hummingbird flutter of her beating heart left her panting.

  Less than five minutes had passed since she went into his arms. It was strange, the feeling that came over her. Whether fighting with him or making up with him, it was never enough, the stolen moments when he reminded her what it meant to be his woman. She feared his judgment. He was a man that passed judgment on everyone and everything daily. It saved his life, and protected them, but it also hardened him, and it made it difficult for him to accept the weaknesses in the people he loved.