by Sienna Mynx
“You’re thinking about your mother?” Mirabella asked without casting her gaze his way.
“How do you know my thoughts?”
“I don’t. But I learned a long time ago what Sicily and family means to you.”
He pointed to the cliffs over the beach that leaned over the sea. Mirabella cupped her hand to her brow and shielded her eyes from the sun. “The cliffs?”
“Not those cliffs but those in Mondello. Remember when I told you my father made me jump into the ocean.”
“From that high? How old were you again?”
“Six.”
“What a cruel bastard.”
“Lorenzo almost drowned. I didn’t. I thought I would. He even had his men down on the shore ready to go into the ocean for me if it happened. He scared my mother so bad she never brought me near the cliffs again.”
“Why would your father ruin a special place for you and your mother? Risk your life?”
“I don’t know why any father would,” he replied. “I think it was done because he needed to control everything, even our sense of happiness and safety.”
“That’s evil.”
“It was life. No matter what Patri did to mold me he could never shake the bond I had with her. Or the bond Lorenzo shared with her.”
“Lorenzo was close to Eve? I guess that would make sense knowing how cruel his mother was.”
“Madre gave as much of her heart as she could to all of us.”
“I was thinking during my swim. I had my mother to keep me human, to make sense of my father’s cruelty. Lorenzo had Isabella. No father. The man who played the role of his father died when he needed him the most. And even when he was alive he never protected him from Zia Isabella’s punishments. I went to America and learned other cultures and experienced nothing new, but different things. Lorenzo didn’t get those lessons. He was forced to live this life. No matter how big or small his failures, he was always reminded he would be second best. He hated my mix blood, but the irony was we were the same. There’s too much irony now. Too many fucking secrets. Too many lies.”
“Lies? We have the truth.”
“Do we?”
“Rocco’s deathbed confession had to be the truth. Lorenzo is your brother.”
“You don’t know my uncle Rocco. The truth is always buried beneath the lie.”
“Gio? Is it too hard to believe that your father had another son?”
Giovanni chuckled.
“I’m funny? Why are you laughing? Answer me? What is so inconceivable about Lorenzo being your brother?”
“The problem with you Bella is you see things through the lens of your American life.”
“I’m not stupid. Hell, I managed to build a life with you in spite of it all and I—.”
“Shhh.” he placed a finger to her lips. “Listen and then be heard.”
Mirabella silenced.
“It’s not that I don’t believe Lorenzo had another mother. Or that she was taken against her will and forced to have a life of servitude to my father or even my uncle. I completely believe it. But a son is a son for a man like Patri. If Lorenzo was my father’s first born his conception would not have mattered. Just like my conception did not matter.”
“Is it possible that your father didn’t know what to believe? Maybe Rocco’s actions made him distrust the truth.”
“Possible. Not likely. All I’m saying Bella is you can never believe what you hear. Not the first time. Not even the second time. I never wanted to be Don. He did. Why would it matter to me years ago if he was my brother not my cousin? There is more to the story.”
“What have your attorneys found? On the woman Rocco and Eve spoke about?”
Giovanni felt himself hollow as the words parted his lips. “Her real name was Aileen Gunney. Her story is similar to my mother’s. She migrated to Italy with her family and went missing at fifteen. There’s a police report filed by her mother and father shortly after she was taken. My father was named a suspect. The authorities said they questioned Patri and the accusation was unfounded. The family never saw her again.”
“Is there a record of her death?”
“No.”
“Are they sure? Rocco said—.”
“She’s still listed as missing,” Giovanni said. “In our world, missing means dead.”
“And Lorenzo? There is no record of Aileen giving birth to Lorenzo?” Mirabella pushed.
“No, there’s nothing. It’s just the story of the girl. The image that the police have on file is the same girl in the photograph. It’s her. Lorenzo’s mother.”
“Do you think she could be alive?”
“No.”
“It’s possible.”
“It’s not. My father would never let her live, Rocco neither. She’s dead.”
“Because in your world there are no loose ends,” Mirabella finished. “Tomosino was a monster.”
“As was Rocco, and so was your father. Monsters, all of them.” Giovanni agreed. He could feel his wife gaze on him. He didn’t have the mental strength to look her in the eye and not conceal his shame. He continued to stare at the sea.
“You are not him. You do believe that. Right?”
“I’m not a rapist. I would never hurt a woman, intentionally. But I have hurt women unintentionally, you, and Catalina... what I did to her—”
“You’re not a monster. To either of us, Gio. I can’t excuse what you’ve done, but I know you could never be them.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I—” she began.
“From here on out I must be the bad man, Bella. It’s over. The truce, the safety net, the power, it all dies if I don’t become the monster.”
“And kill your brother?” she asked.
“Lorenzo is not my brother.”
“Here, Gio! What does he feel like here?” she put her hand to his chest.
“Do you want the truth?”
“Yes, what does he feel like in your heart.”
“He feels like my enemy.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“You can’t ask me a question and then dismiss my answer. I lost you once. I lost the ability to be there when you needed me the most. I almost lost you again with the china man. And Tacchini. Only an enemy would make me hate and regret so much.”
“Deep down you know who Lorenzo is, you’ve always known.”
“I just told you—”
“And yes, I believe you. I’m not asking you to forgive or trust him.”
“Then what are you asking of me?”
“Hate and love are too close of emotions for you not to feel them both. I want you to feel safe enough to feel them both with me.”
“I feel safe with you.”
“Not the way you used too. I... I can tell.”
“Look at me.”
She lifted her gaze to his face.
“You’re mine. You were mine the first night in Bellagio. Nothing has changed.”
She looked away again.
“I’m not talking about me,” she said.
“Yes, you are. You think if I can’t forgive Lorenzo, I won’t forgive you.”
“I don’t need forgiveness. I told you. I did nothing wrong.”
Giovanni smiled. “Do you believe your excuses?”
She nodded instead of answering. Again, she kept her gaze averted. “We just have to stay focused Gio. Finish the story. Find out if Rocco told us the truth. And then... we punish Lorenzo.”
“And after?”
“We bury the past.”
“Not punish.”
“What?”
“We kill him,” Giovanni corrected her plan. “I kill Lorenzo. Do you understand?”
Again, she nodded with her gaze averted. He pinched her chin and forced her to look at him. “Because you and I both know that if Lorenzo ever learns or suspects that he is Tomosino’s son he will take that to my enemies and use it to destroy us all.”
“I understand,” she s
aid.
“Prove it,” he pulled her seductively close and his men observing knew to look away.
She pressed her open lips to his and slipped him some tongue. There was a dreamy soul rendering drain of their shared anxiety of the day in the kiss. The kiss lingered as she held on to him and renewed her commitments.
“I. Am. Convinced.” Between each word he planted a kiss on her brow, nose, and cheek. She smiled when he hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, Bella.”
“I love you too, baby.”
Giovanni let her go. They started toward the motor vehicle waiting for them. “What do you think Lorenzo is going to do now that he knows Carlo has Marietta? How far will he go, Gio?”
“The distance.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Giovanni paused. He looked back. “See that over there.” He pointed west.
“A sea buoy?” she asked.
“A wave buoy, it marks where the sea gets deepest, at least that’s what we thought as boys. It’s about a mile out. The only person who could swim to it and back without needing rescue was Lorenzo. Each and every time he’d make the swim like a fish. Daredevil jumps from the highest cliff was my thing, but endurance and fearlessness was Lorenzo’s.”
“You endure and you’re fearless,” she said.
“Maybe, but in this war endurance and fearlessness is the end game. I’m about to strip Lorenzo of everything and taking everything from a man leaves him with nothing to lose. That makes him more dangerous than any of our enemies. If Armando is dead Lorenzo will need his money and power. I think he’s going to use Catalina to claim it.”
“Catalina can’t give him Armando’s empire.”
“A missing person report has been filed for your brother in Catalina’s name, as his wife. Soon Catalina will be before the courts asking to be recognized as his beneficiary.”
“She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t want that. She knows if she stands before the Mafia as his wife and they recognize her then she will lose Domi. Catalina loves Domi. He’s everything to her.”
“Lorenzo will force her,” Giovanni said. “And once he has the Mafiosi’s backing and Armando declared dead he will wage war against me. You weren’t here when I went to battle with the Calderones. It was a bloody time. For everyone.”
Mirabella struggled to process the news that Catalina would drift even further from them both.
“You haven’t once asked about her, or the baby? Do you need to know what I’ve done to Marietta?” he pressed her.
“I, ah, uhm, needed to bury Rocco first. Maybe when this war between you and Lorenzo is over we’ll have that talk.”
“That will be too late. We’ll have it much sooner Bella. Trust me.”
“All I need now is to take you home and feed you with our children.”
She kissed him one last time and then took his hand. There were so many people at the main house because of the funeral. She wished for a place to escape too. She walked him from the shore across the sand to the waiting four-wheeler. Giovanni was strong, but too much time without the aid of his cane weakened him, she could tell.
“I miss Mondello.”
“Then I’ll take you. Tonight.”
“What? No. We can’t go tonight what about the danger.”
“You’re safe with me. Remember?”
“The kids?”
He pointed from the vehicle. In the distance they saw Eve and the twins running and squealing as they played with their little cousins. Belinda blew bubbles for the kids.
“I want to be alone with you,” he whispered in her ear, so his words wouldn’t be captured by the wind.
Jostled in her seat she looked over at him and smiled.
“Mondello?”
He nodded.
“We’ll miss our flight home.”
“I own the plane.”
“You’re the boss. But first I want you to shower and rest. Let me see to the family.”
“You’re the boss,” Giovanni chuckled.
CHAPTER THREE
La Strada non Presa - The Road Not Taken
Bagheria, Sicily
“I THOUGHT WE SHOULD all go together?” Belinda pleaded.
“We’ll be home tomorrow before you wake. Your mom wants you to travel with her. Leo will see to your safe arrival.” Mirabella accepted a too-tight hug from Belinda. And while locked in her young cousin’s embrace her gaze slipped over the girls’ shoulder to the car where Minnie sat looking forward. Since Marietta’s disappearance Minnie could barely stand to be in the same room with Mirabella without fits of tears and demands for answers to her never-ending questions.
“What about the kids?” Belinda asked as she pulled away. “Cecilia and Nico are off visiting family. Zia is so sad she can’t watch them. Maybe I can be of help to you? Think on it. I stay and play with the kids while you and Giovanni have some time for yourselves? I'd love too. It’s so pretty in Sicily. I always wanted to come here, when I was a kid. You know? I read some books and stuff about this place in our encyclopedia. I always wanted to be here. Did you know Godfather III was filmed here? Leo said—”
Mirabella chuckled. “The children have almost a hundred cousins here today. They will be fine. And it’s just as pretty in Sorrento as it is here. Go, we’ll talk when I return.”
“You promise? Momma wants to leave to go home. She said she wants to go now.”
“You won’t leave before I return. I can promise you that.”
“I... well I’d like to get a work visa... and—”
“Work visa?”
“Kyra and Jamie both said I can apprentice. Maybe even go to Paris. I asked Mama and she said no. I was thinking... maybe you can talk to her?”
“It’s not the right time.”
“Mama really does want to go home,” Belinda whimpered.
“We’ll talk, that’s all I can promise right now.” Mirabella said more firmly.
Belinda ran her hand back through her long braids and moved them from her face. Her white summer halter top and blue jean cut off shorts with thong sandals made her look like a teenager instead of an adult. Maybe it was best she returns to America. Belinda’s troubled nature was a problem to solve for another day.
Today belonged to Rocco and Zia. After seeing Giovanni back to the villa where he changed from the wet soggy clothes he wore on the beach she shifted her focus back to the family. Where it was most needed.
“Okay then. I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.” Belinda sulked. She walked back to the car. Leo wore dark sunglasses, but his head moved slightly, and Mirabella could see him watching her. He stood as still as a statue with his gloved hands clasped before him. The car door was left open for Belinda. She stopped before it. Whatever passed between them felt brief. Belinda got inside the car obediently. She waved. Mirabella did so in return and then she nodded to Leo that he should follow her instructions. She stood there under the shadow of the trees watching the last car drive off the property.
Inside the palazzo there was plenty of family noise, and welcoming chatter to greet her. And the mothers of the family were always present. Today would be the last day the Battaglia women all wore black. The last day Donna Mirabella wore black.
“Where is she?” Mirabella asked.
“Bedroom, she wanted to be alone, to pray,” Zia Saverina said.
Dinner would be served when Mirabella approved, the menu had to be of her choosing, and even the drinks for the family were chosen by her. Mirabella kissed the older woman’s cheek and whispered her wishes into Saverina’s ear. Saverina nodded. Mirabella had to stop several times to answer a question or console someone before she made it to the room where Zia slept. She hesitated before knocking. Her knuckles then did a gentle tap on the surface. When Zia didn’t answer she decided to go in. Inside the barely lit room she found Zia on her knees before a homemade altar. Rocco’s picture was in the center of candles. Above the altar was a crucifix with Christ impaled. The savior looked down sor
rowfully upon her. Zia still wore the black lace veil over her hair but not her face. She prayed.
It was with care and respect that Mirabella closed the bedroom door. She joined Zia before the altar. She closed her eyes and said a prayer for them all. When she prayed she found the compassion in her to ask God for his mercy for her brother Armando’s soul. Prayer allowed herself to feel the remorse over Catalina and Marietta she swore to Giovanni she didn’t carry. Because before God she could hide nothing. And even still she dug deeper with humility to ask God for his grace in protecting her sister and her unborn child. When she was done praying she felt a shift at her side. Mirabella opened her eyes to see Zia dabbing at her own tears.
“How are you?” Mirabella whispered.
Zia did not answer, but she extended her hand for help. Mirabella obliged. Together they managed to stand. Zia’s hand slipped from hers and she went to the bed. She sat with a burdened sigh. Mirabella sat in the chair closest to the bed. For ten minutes they remained that way. Locked in silence. Then Zia’s gaze slipped over to her and she spoke.
“Has everyone eaten? You must eat for the baby.”
“They will eat soon. I want you to join us.”
Zia declined with a deep sigh.
“We are all grieving. And we all want to be there for you, Zia.”
“I need this time alone.”
“I was told you didn’t want to go back to Sorrento with the family. I know you may not want to go Chianti, but Melanzana is home.”
“I will stay here,” Zia said. “My home was here long before I ever stepped foot into Melanzana.”
The news was like a dagger to Mirabella’s heart. Not because it was unexpected, but because she dreaded it. The request sounded final.
“For how long Zia?” Mirabella asked. Her tone meek, almost childlike.
“I don’t know. My sister and I have made peace. She has welcomed me to move in with her and her daughter in Carina. But this war of families has put a target on the back of anyone named Battaglia, even a defenseless old woman like me. I think I will.” Zia voice faded. Mirabella waited for her to say more. This time Zia looked her in the eyes and held her stare. “I will stay in Bagheria, until you find my Catalina and bring her back home to me I will not return to Italy.”
