La Famiglia (2 page)

“Gio! Wait!” Lorenzo insisted.

Fast as the wind, Giovanni began to pedal away. He glanced back once to see Lorenzo and his friends watching in stunned silence. He had only an hour before Del Stavio closed his jewelry shop. Biking through the small village and along the rocky narrowed cobblestone streets that led into Palermo proved to be a bit of a challenge. He, however, managed the excursion against the tailwind of his nemesis, who had made the trip so many times before. Armando knew of the short avenues to bring them there in thirty minutes as opposed to fifty.

Excited and a bit apprehensive, he set the bike against the store once they arrived. He looked over to Armando who cut him a deceptive smile. Giovanni wasn’t sure if his rival would hold up his part of the deal. He half expected to see Armando’s crew descend on him for a savage beating as punishment for traveling out of Mondello and into their territory. But Armando dropped the kickstand on his bike and went for the door of the jewelry store. Giovanni followed.

“Ciao! Armando and Gio! You’re here!” Del Stavio chuckled. “I am ready for you as promised.” He twisted his long mustache at the ends and then wiped his hands down the front of his apron.

“Can I see it?” Giovanni’s gaze bounced around the jewelry display case.

“Of course!” Del Stavio said grandly. “Armando asked that I do this in a hurry. I have it here.” He walked over to the counter and opened a dark purple velvet cloth. “St. William the patron saint of orphaned children. Here he is.”

Giovanni gazed upon a small ¾ inch sterling medallion with a beautifully crafted portrait of the saint stamped in the center of the medal. The medallion rested on a stainless steel chain. He touched the length and lifted it to the sparse light. The small silver disc gleamed and sparkled as it swayed from a length perfect for a boy or young man. Giovanni couldn’t afford gold from his allowance. But he imagined he couldn’t afford this as well. Del Stavio was the best jeweler and friend to men like his father. However, a custom piece could only be requested by one of the Five Dons of Sicily or their progeny. Thus, Armando had to commission it. After paying his allowance as bounty to Armando, the smug bastard agreed. However, a single favor to be asked at any time for this privilege was now expected of Giovanni.

He cut his eyes over to Armando. He understood the full cost of this sacred piece. And then he remembered the little boy who needed it so desperately. He lowered the medallion on the cloth and nodded. “Mille grazie—thank you very much. It’s what I wanted. I’ll take it, Del Stavio,” Giovanni said.

“Prego! Before I let you accept this, you must tell me if you understand the meaning,” the old jeweler chuckled.

Giovanni nodded. “Of course. St. William was orphaned as a child and raised by strangers who became family, who taught him how to survive.”

“And?” Del Stavio asked. His eyes sparkled under an arched bushy brow.

Armando cut in. He smirked at Giovanni sharing the rest of the tale. “At fifteen St. William decided to dedicate his life to God. He built a monastery on Mount Vergine and performed many miracles. He had only a wolf and staff as his protection. With the hand God dealt him he became stronger, became a man of worth, and a helper to those who needed him. Like little orphan boys with a murdered mommy and daddy.”

Del Stavio’s smile dimmed, but brightened as he tried to make light of what Armando insinuated. “Basta. It is yours, Gio. Take it.”

“Grazie, Del Stavio,” Giovanni said. “Tanto grazie.”

Del Stavio waved off the payment offered to him by Armando. “I know of the boy you will give this to. Go with God’s blessing. I hope it brings la piccoletto peace.”

It was of no surprise to Giovanni that many had heard of Dominic. Tomosino was questioned by the local officials the day after he took the abused boy into his home. All Giovanni and Lorenzo were able to discern was that Dominic’s father was dead. Murdered. They heard their mothers whisper that Dominic’s madre was a poor village girl who spent a tortured existence at the hands of her husband, until her death shortly after giving birth to the little boy. Dominic had been an instrument of abuse from the day he entered the world. But the kid was strong, alive, and now his brother. He would take care of him.

“Grazie!” Giovanni accepted the wrapped gift. “Grazie!”

Once outside he dropped the package in the basket on his bike and climbed on.

“Oooh Gioooo?” Armando sang.

“Not now. I must get home.” Giovanni quipped.

“Now,” Armando said, he stepped before Giovanni and blocked his escape. “The favor I want. I intend to collect next week. Meet me tomorrow after prayer behind the rectory to discuss the details.”

“What is this favor?” Giovanni frowned.

“Not a what—a who?” Armando grinned. The request pinched the last nerve Giovanni had on reserve for tolerance. He hated the smug superiority the cowardly young Mancini wielded from being Don Mancini’s son. But a deal was a deal.

“I hear Tomosino killed that kid’s father you have hidden in Villa Mare Blu. I hear he made the boy watch too. Papa told me that our men had to find what was left of Micheli across the fields of his farm. Do you want to know why he did it? No? Because I assure you it wasn’t for any noble reason you may think.”

In Giovanni’s heart he wanted to believe his father had rescued Dominic. That Patri was a hero. But he believed differently after hearing the whispers of the nuns today in school. Nothing Don Tomosino did was without self-reward.

“Out of my way,” Giovanni said.

Armando snickered. “Meet me tomorrow,” he yelled after him. “We have a deal!”

Giovanni pedaled away, fast. He arrived home much later than he hoped. This time the bike ride took him over an hour and his legs felt as if they were made of jelly when he got off. As soon as he approached the front of the villa he could see Dominic grinning from the top window with his hands and face pressed against the pane. Giovanni waved. Dominic waved back.

His mother greeted him at the door.

“Where have you been? Lorenzo arrived two hours ago,” she asked with a stern look of disapproval. Though his father’s men were powerful, they were in Mancini territory and the Mafioso only tolerated the clans of the Camorra. Danger was a way of life. And Giovanni could easily become a target for ransom if his father fell out of Don Mancini’s graces.

“Sorry, Madre. I had to stop and get something. Is Patri home?”

“No. Inside! Now.”

Giovanni started past his mother but she grabbed his arm and delayed him. “Dominic has been in that window since you left for school. He’s been waiting for your return, Gio. Every time I drag him from the room to eat, bathe, do his lesson, he finds a reason to return.”

This Giovanni already knew. Dominic followed him around the house. He mimicked him at every turn. It irked Lorenzo, but Giovanni accepted it as something the kid needed to do. He didn’t mind.

His mother continued. “I want him baptized. That nasty man who was his father never bothered. You talk to Dominic and explain it to him, what the sacrament means.”

“I’ll go see him,” he said. He turned on is heel and stumbled. Dominic had appeared right behind him. He had to hold on to the boy’s small shoulders to keep from tripping. Dominic grinned up at him. Giovanni chuckled. “Come with me, Domi. I have something for you. That’s why I was late today.”

“Get him cleaned up, he’s been out in the gardens with Zia. Dinner is in another hour,” his mother said. She shook her head causing her long scarlet red hair, held from her face by a blue silk ribbon, to sway about her shoulders as she walked away. He glanced back to see her hand to her stomach and the swell that was very prevalent in the dress she wore. He hadn’t believed the rumor when they said she was pregnant again. But the truth was there for all to see. She grew larger every day. Patri was very excited over the promise of a new child. He doted on Eve. And Giovanni had even seen his mother smile a few times when his father was around. It was progress. They were a family again. Their time in Ireland was done.

Dominic was pulled along by Giovanni’s hand. Giovanni took him to the sitting room and closed the door. “Here, sit here.” He led him to the sofa seat and joined him. He reached in his pocket and removed the tiny box that Del Stavio had given him. He opened it for Dominic.

“This here is the patron saint of orphans. St. William. See here, this is the wolf at his side. The one who protects and helps those that can’t help themselves. This will make you stronger. You wear it, and St. William’s wolf will be there to protect you always. No more nightmares. Okay? Do you understand?”

Dominic nodded. “Sí. No more nightmares, Gio.”

Giovanni put the necklace around Dominic’s tiny neck. “This means we are brothers, Dominic. Always.”

“Always,” Dominic said with a nod. He knew the kid took the commitment seriously. He kind of liked having a little brother of his own to mentor. Dominic stared at the medallion then turned it over. “What does this mean?” he asked of Del Stavio’s insignia.

“The jeweler who made this has been blessed by the Pope. He is the private jeweler to the Five Dons of Sicily. Any man, woman or child who wears this insignia is covered by God’s grace.” Giovanni recanted with a smile.

“God has blessed me?” Dominic asked, and for the first time Giovanni sensed that the boy believed him. 

“Sí. No more waiting on me, Dominic, no more worry about tomorrow. You have a family now.”

“Mio famiglia,” Dominic threw his arms around Giovanni’s neck. He hugged the boy and then shoved him off. If Lorenzo caught them embracing he’d tease them both the rest of the night. “Ma-ma is having a baby. She let me touch and I felt it move in her belly.” Dominic smiled. “It will be a girl. That’s what I think,” Dominic grinned wider. “Pretty with red hair like Ma-ma.”

Giovanni’s brows lowered. “Well don’t say that to Patri. He wants a boy I’m sure.” What took Giovanni most by surprise was that Dominic called Eve ‘Ma-ma’. That had to be progress. Giovanni smiled a little. “No matter if it is a boy or a girl you will be a big brother soon, like me. You will have to protect the baby. Can you make this vow to me?”

“Sí. I will.” Dominic nodded. “I will protect the baby always. It will be my baby too.”

“I believe you, Domi,” Giovanni smiled. Despite his ego he embraced the boy again. Silently he vowed to protect Dominic always. “Let’s go find Madre and see what she has on the stove.”

June 16, 1992 – Sorrento, Italy

A shot fired. Like a cannon blast the echo thundered each time Mira pulled the trigger.  Birds took flight from the branches of tall trees. Insects were startled into silence and adrenaline pumped through every chamber of her heart. Mira held tight to the weapon, breathing through her nose. She concentrated on the task before her.

“
Bravissima!
Again.” Giovanni clapped.

Mira raised the gun steady with one hand firm on the trigger and the other on the grip used for support. What Giovanni didn’t acknowledge was the recoil interfered with her aim. She found greater success when she aimed a fraction lower than her intended target. Before her were six cans and two jars lined up. She fired three more times shattering one jar and missing two cans. Giovanni stepped over. He moved his cigar in his jaw, and she frowned when he exhaled smoke that reached around to tickle her nose. She was pregnant for Christ’s sake, and still he wouldn’t let go of his damned cigars.

First his hands went down her hips and next she felt him press into her backside. Not for arousal, though contact this way made her heart flutter faster than the wings of a trapped butterfly. He touched her, oblivious of her excitement, intent on calming her. And then his arms lifted, extended and covered hers. He kept his hands on her wrist to level the direction of the shot.

“I should do it the way I feel comfortable,” she protested.
How was she supposed to concentrate this way?
Giovanni’s presence almost always had an affect on her. And lately it was hormonal. If she wasn’t hungry, or horny, she was a crying bundle of nerves. She needed space. “Giovanni, I’m serious. I want to do this on my own.”

He lifted his hands from her wrist and stepped to her side—granting her wish. She peeked over at him and then quickly returned her gaze to the target.

“Renaldo, remove the cans and put a target for Bella on that tree,” he ordered.

Mira rolled her eyes. She lowered the gun and waited for the target change.
So he’s going to make it harder because I don’t need him babying me?
Once Renaldo completed the task Mira leveled the gun with the most plausible aim. Giovanni too stared straight ahead. Removing the cigar from his mouth he put the burning end out with his thumb. “
Concentrare, Bella
, you empty the clip until there is nothing standing. You kill every time you pull the trigger.”

She nodded. “
Sì
. I know. I know.”

“On my mark,” he said. Again he returned and stepped behind her. He eased his hands around to hold the swell of her round belly and allow her to rest her weight against him.

“Gio—” she began to protest.

“Shh…” he kissed her cheek. “You need me, Bella, for now. And when you don’t I won’t hold on so tight anymore. I promise.”

Mira smiled. There would be no escape from his instruction until he determined it necessary. At six months pregnant she found she was swollen everywhere. People who saw her always guessed her to be eight months at the very least. The twins weighed like bowling balls in her uterus. But she managed. And due to his love and encouragement she made it through many difficult weeks. For Mira, the joy of being the wife of Giovanni Battaglia was rooted in his unwavering devotion. She would need his protection always, no matter what weapon she wielded in her hands.