The Secret One

by Cardello, Ruth

  He put his tablet aside and stood. “Christof, I wasn’t sure we’d see you this morning.”

  We hugged. The men in my family weren’t afraid to express how much they loved each other. “I figured Mom has a story to tell—after all, didn’t she just meet a queen?”

  “She did.”

  “And you know she wants to hear all about McKenna.”

  My father’s eyes lit with interest. “Your phone date went well?”

  Before I had a chance to answer, my mother appeared at the door of the living room. “Christof, don’t you dare update him without me.”

  In a few strides I was in front of her, receiving a kiss on my forehead. “I would never,” I said with a laugh.

  “Come into the kitchen, you two. I have coffee brewing and three omelets freshly made.”

  My stomach rumbled in anticipation. “How do you always know, Mom? I’ve been craving one. Are you tapping into my home AI?”

  “Sure,” my mother joked as we entered the kitchen. “I’ve moved from barely understanding how to set up mine to hacking into yours. Or, last Saturday you mentioned we haven’t had omelets in a while, and I listen when you speak.”

  I snapped my fingers in the air. “Is that the trick? Listening? Dad, did you hear that?”

  “What?” he said with a smile as he poured coffee for all of us. “Did someone say something?”

  I set the table with silverware and napkins while my mother slid our omelets onto plates. “You picked him, Mom.”

  She shot a warm smile at my father. “Best decision I ever made.”

  After delivering the coffees to the table, my father stopped to give my mother a quick kiss. “What did you say, dear?”

  She was smiling as she handed him a plate and waved him away. “Give this to Christof and quit the nonsense.”

  My father was still smiling when he sat down across from me. “So, Christof, you look happy this morning.”

  “I am happy. I’ve spoken to McKenna for the last three nights, and we really get along.”

  My mother joined us. “So I’m dying to know . . . is she the same woman you named your car after?”

  I cut into my omelet, stalling, just to torture my parents a little. Then I grinned and said, “She is. Once I brought it up, she remembered me. I guess I wasn’t all bad that night, even though I’d definitely had too much to drink.”

  “I didn’t think you would be,” my mother said with confidence. “Drunk just makes a person more of what they are sober. You’ve always been a good boy.”

  My father nodded. “You told her and she’s still talking to you, so that says a lot. Does she know you don’t remember meeting her?”

  “I told her, but I actually do remember a lot of it now. The more we talk about it, the more it comes back to me.”

  “I’m glad you were up front with her.” My father exchanged a look with my mother. “Honesty is the cornerstone of a good relationship.”

  For a brief moment my mother’s expression looked pained. “Your father and I don’t have secrets from each other, but that’s not the case with me and everyone. I was fully prepared to lie to you this morning, Christof, but I can’t. I can’t send you into this situation blind.”

  I laid my fork beside my plate and studied the serious expression on both of my parents’ faces. “Did something happen?”

  My father was the first to speak. “Something is about to. I offered to handle the situation, but Camilla had a plan that sounded like it might work. I agree, though: this way is better.”

  I raised a hand with splayed fingers. “Could one of you please tell me what we’re talking about? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

  My mother took a long sip of her coffee, closed her eyes briefly, then returned the mug to the table before answering. “I shouldn’t involve you at all. None of this mess is your making.”

  There was something that happened within a child when they realized they were becoming the caretaker of their parents. I felt a flash of panic followed by a wave of protectiveness. I leaned forward and put my hand over my mother’s. “That’s not how family works, Mom. Whatever this is, we’re in it together.”

  “I should be able to handle this myself. I shouldn’t let my anger and my fear stop me from doing what’s right.” She blinked back tears, and my heart thudded heavily in my chest. “I’m not as strong as you think I am, Christof. Not as brave or as good of a person.”

  My father put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Camilla Romano, careful how you talk about the woman I love. If you’re not a good person, then the world has never seen one. Good doesn’t mean perfect. Tell Christof what’s happening, and let him decide for himself.”

  “I can’t tell him everything. I can’t.” She trembled like I had never seen her do before.

  He kissed her temple. “Then say what you can.”

  She turned and searched my father’s face. “I love you, Basil Romano. You are not allowed to die before me.”

  He chuckled. “Hey, hey, no one is dying anytime soon. Now, let’s go back to your crazy plan before Christof starts to think this is about something else.”

  “Yes, because the two of you are freaking me out.”

  My mother nodded and turned back to meet my gaze. “I think you should take a fiancée to Montalcino to meet Nona.”

  I sat back in my chair, confused. This talk thankfully didn’t appear to be about anything serious. “I don’t have a fiancée.”

  My mother wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “If you took McKenna there, you might.”

  I laughed at that. “Mom, that’s not how things work.”

  “It could be. I’ve read the storyline a hundred times—two people try to deny how much they want their agreement to be real; then they discover they’re meant for each other.”

  I picked up my utensils and started to eat again. Between bites I said, “Dad, I told you those romances would start to affect her brain.”

  My father shrugged. “Some aren’t that bad. If you haven’t had a woman read you her favorite romance, don’t knock the experience. It really heats things up.”

  Still holding my utensils, I covered my ears with my hands. “No. Must wipe image out of my head.”

  A smile returned to my mother’s face. “You and your father love to torment each other.”

  My father and I exchanged a look. We did. In some ways I was more like my father than my brothers were. He and I understood each other, tended to see things the same way. Even his siding with my mother with this crazy idea: For him it likely wasn’t about believing it would work out the way she said but rather that he would support her—right or wrong. If it worked, he’d be the first to congratulate her. If it failed, he’d be right there with her, sharing the blame.

  God willing, I’d be that kind of partner to someone someday.

  Would that be McKenna? It was too early to know.

  Relief flooded in as the mood lightened. “I have an idea. Why don’t I ask McKenna out on a real date first? We’ll get to know each other. If something serious develops between us, I’ll propose, and then I’ll take her to meet Nona.”

  My parents exchanged another odd look. “The thing is, I’ve already told Nona you were coming, and there’s a situation unfolding over there that needs your assistance.”

  “A situation?”

  After letting out a shaky breath, my mother said, “I don’t even know where to begin. You know I grew up on a small farm just outside of Montalcino.”

  “Yes, Mom—I’ve visited a few times.”

  “Because you connected with your cousins there in a way your brothers didn’t.”

  “Only because I bothered to keep up my Italian. Gian studied it, too, but you never allowed him to go. That’s always been hard on him.”

  “I know,” my mother said in a tight tone. “I wanted to protect him from what he might hear.”

  “And that is?”

  “My sister,
his biological mother, is very much alive, but she’s dead to our family over there. They will never forgive her for bringing so much trouble to our town.”

  “What kind of trouble?” No one had spoken of it to me there, but I’d been much younger the last time I’d visited. Gian’s mother had only been referred to as someone who wasn’t mentally stable enough to raise him. No one had ever said where she was, and Mauricio and I had joked that she was in a witness protection program somewhere. The one thing we’d all known was that no one wanted to talk about her. No one.

  “Start at the beginning,” my father suggested.

  My mother nodded. “My sister, Rosella, was always competitive with me. From the time we were little. If I picked up a doll, she wanted it. If I put it down and picked up a crayon, she wanted that as well. I couldn’t have anything of my own because as soon as I did, she became obsessed with it. When I was a young woman, a man visited our town from Sicily. Antonio Corisi was rich—powerful. I thought he was my Prince Charming coming to rescue me from my small town.” She looked at my father. “I was young and foolish.”

  He raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. “I never saw it that way.”

  She cupped his face for a long moment before continuing. “As soon as I showed interest in him, my sister swooped in. She slept with him and made sure everyone knew about it. In those days, shame followed sex outside of marriage. Our parents were furious. They demanded he marry her. And he did. She moved to the United States with him, where they had two children, Dominic and Nicole.”

  “Wait, Dominic Corisi. The Dominic Corisi?” Arguably one of the richest, most powerful men in the world. People said he was as close to American royalty as we had. “He’s my cousin?” None of it sounded plausible.

  In a voice just above a whisper, my mother said, “Yes.”

  “Why have you never said anything? Why don’t we know him?”

  “Rosella is also Gian’s mother.”

  “Yes, we know that. Oh, shit,” I said as all the dots connected, but into a picture that still made no sense. I covered my mouth at my accidental swearing, but they didn’t seem to have noticed. “Gian has other siblings.” My gut clenched as I thought about how cheated he’d feel that he’d never been told. “You have to tell him. Is Antonio his father as well?”

  “It’s complicated. Antonio was not the man I thought he was. My sister suffered great abuse at his hands. When he threatened to kill her, she asked our family in Montalcino to hide her. To do that, they had to fake her death. It was messy and wrong in so many ways. She left her children with the man she feared and assumed a new identity in Italy.”

  “Dad, this is a joke, right? This kind of stuff doesn’t really happen.”

  “There’s more you need to hear, Christof.”

  My mother continued, “I would never joke about anything so tragic. For many years Dominic and Nicole thought their father had killed their mother. As a young man, Dominic needed proof, so he went to Montalcino looking for her. His father followed him. He told our family that if Rosella was still alive, she wouldn’t be for long. So when Dominic asked for his mother, the family lied to him and told him she was dead.”

  “But she wasn’t.”

  “No, she was very much alive. Under an assumed name, she’d remarried. This time to a vineyard owner. They had one son—Gian. When Rosella’s second husband died suddenly soon after Gian was born, Rosella became convinced Antonio had found them and killed him. There was no proof, but Rosella has never been stable. She said she had to go deeper into hiding and she couldn’t take Gian with her, so she gave him to me. She made me promise to never connect him to her because if I did, he wouldn’t be safe. We moved to the United States and started over.”

  It was a wild story to absorb. I sat back and simply listened.

  “Antonio visited our town in Italy afterward. Each time he was turned away, he found a way to make our family suffer. Businesses were ruined. My family lost their farm. Your father and I have sent money back to help them over the years, but speaking the Corisi name in that town is considered summoning the devil himself. My sister’s name elicits a similar reaction.”

  “Which is why you never sent Gian.”

  “Yes. Our family blames Rosella for bringing the devil’s wrath down upon them.” She clasped her hands on the table. “Antonio Corisi is no longer a danger to anyone. He’s long dead. My sister reunited with Dominic and Nicole. I had hoped that would be the end of this.”

  Although these were all important things to know, I didn’t understand why my mother was revealing them now. “But it’s not?”

  “A few months ago Dominic Corisi went to Italy to meet Nona. Our family turned him away. He claims to not be his father, but people don’t say no to a man like Dominic. Not twice anyway. He purchased the land our family leases and intends to return sometime soon to—”

  “To what?”

  “Possibly to demand to see Nona. If so, it won’t go well. Even though I haven’t been back to Montalcino in a long time, I speak to my mother every week. She thinks the devil is circling her. She won’t know the difference between Dominic and his father. And if Dominic is angry with our family, I fear what he’ll do if he’s turned away again.”

  “Couldn’t we call him and explain all of this to him?”

  “There’s too much at risk for a phone conversation. You don’t understand who you’re dealing with. He won’t stop this time until he meets Nona. You could go there, though, and smooth things over with the family. I’ve seen you go into volatile situations and calm everyone down . . . somehow bring them all to a common ground. That’s what’s needed here.”

  I digested what my mother had shared while I finished my omelet. “Your voice would carry more weight with the family than mine would.”

  She looked heavenward as if for strength. “There’s too much pain and anger waiting for me back in Montalcino. I’m not strong enough to return and deal with it. I’m still so angry with my sister for so many things. I don’t want her or Dominic in our lives if they’re only coming to take more from us.”

  “What would they take? The leased land? Is that what you want to make sure we don’t lose?” I saw a greater fear in her eyes and suddenly understood. “Gian. Mom, he loves us. Do you honestly think meeting his biological mother could change that?”

  My mother pushed back her chair and stood. “My sister ruins everything she touches. She hurts everyone she loves. I thought I could protect my family from her, but she’s returning with a younger, stronger devil, and yes, I’m afraid. I’m sorry. I need a moment.” With that, my mother left the kitchen.

  I sat across from my father for several long moments without speaking. I’d never seen my mother so upset—or was it scared? Either way it left me with a sick pit in my stomach. “What do you need from me, Dad? How do I make this better for all involved?”

  “Even the devil?” my father asked in light challenge.

  “I don’t believe Dominic is one. I could be wrong, but it sounds like his father left a lot of devastation in his wake.”

  “He certainly did.”

  “I can’t imagine being told Mom was dead and thinking you did it.”

  “Only to later have her reappear in your life.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  My father didn’t appear bothered by my slipup, perhaps because he knew I was shaken by the thought of so much evil having been a part of my family. “I’m sure it does something ugly to a man’s head. In ways you can’t understand, your mother sees him as a danger to our family.”

  “He’s Gian’s brother. My cousin. Your nephew. There doesn’t have to be any animosity between us. Has he hurt anyone in the family?”

  “Not yet.”

  “‘Not yet’ is still a no.”

  “Then no, he hasn’t hurt anyone in the family.”

  “Why does he want to see Nona?”

  My father shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I need to as
k Dominic that question myself, to tell him about Gian and give him a chance to be a true brother to him.”

  “Then I suggest you fly to Montalcino and meet him.”

  “How does Mom know he plans to go?”

  “A source close to Dominic reached out to your mother. Together they hatched the whole fiancée scenario.”

  “I can’t believe you thought that was a good idea.”

  “Your mother has always been on my side. I could give her no less.”

  “Can you imagine how that would have gone over? ‘McKenna, I know we haven’t so much as gone on a real date yet, but would you like to go to Italy with me for a few weeks? Just a little international family drama. I should warn you that this will either be fun or full-out war, and we need to pretend to be engaged.’”

  “It would definitely give you something to bond over.”

  I whipped my head around to look my father in the eye. “Don’t even try to make it sound like it is a good idea.”

  “Imagine the story it would be for your children.”

  I stood. “Children? Dad, McKenna and I get along on the phone, but I don’t know anything about her really. I couldn’t tell you what her favorite song is, if she brushes her teeth twice or ten times a day, or if she even wants children.”

  “You’d know all of that if you spent a couple of weeks at Nona’s with her.”

  I wagged a finger at my father. “Senility is setting in early.”

  My father stood and pocketed his hands. “All I’m saying is the idea has potential. Nona’s excited about your visit. Your cousins are too. Nothing like an impending wedding to put people in a good mood.”

  “This is insane. You realize that.”

  “It might be an opportunity to quickly see if McKenna has what it takes to be a Romano.”

  “Or to scare her off. There’s no way I’d ask her to do this. First, there are too many unknowns. Second, I’d have to tell her everything because I won’t lie to her. Third . . .” I wondered what McKenna would think of Nona and my Italian relatives. Did she speak any Italian? Was she good at role play? Zero to two weeks together. The whole idea was crazy. “Dad, you said Dominic could be dangerous. I won’t risk McKenna’s safety.”