La Famiglia (38 page)

“No.” Armando said. “Things have changed.” The news his father gave him on his legacy had him seething with rage. To make matters worse he’s been unable to reach Carmella and call off the hit on Mirabella. If she dies or her brats die his father would surely believe it to be him.

Armando groaned. Even in death the old man threatened to have control. He had to be smart about this. Turn it around to his favor. He just didn’t know how.

“What has changed?” Ignazio asked.

“I can’t say right now. We need to appease the old man. He wants Isabella dead and right now I don’t give a shit if she lives. Find her. Put more money into the search. Do you understand?” Armando asked.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Ignazio sighed. “But I trust you, Armando. Whatever it is between you and your father you will figure it out.”

“I will.” Armando nodded in agreement. “I’ll figure it out.”

Mancini stepped back from his son’s office door. He had heard enough. On his cane he started slowly back up the hall. He had little time to rethink his decisions. And he carried no guilt over it. After learning that Mirabella suffered the way Melissa did when she carried twins he knew his actions were justified. Before he died he had to reunite his children. Make this family the way it should have been all along. He failed Melissa. But he would keep his promise to protect their daughters. And maybe the saints will grant him a pardon and let him into heaven to see his darling Melissa once more.

Philadelphia –

“You fucking piece of shit, I will fucking rip off your head and shit down your neck!” Mancini growled with spittle spraying through his mouth and his hands clenching tighter than a vice around Capriccio’s neck. He slammed Capriccio’s head down on the concrete floor. Her refused to let go of his stranglehold. Capriccio spit up blood and thrashed about. Mancini choked him. He put all his might into choking him. Several of the Gallucci men acted. It took three of them to save Capriccios life. The hospital nurse entered the room just as they dragged Mancini cursing and shouting death threats to them all as he was dragged out of the door. Capriccio lay as still as a corpse as the nurse rushed to aid him. He had better be dead or Mancini vowed to make sure of it.

“Calm yourself, Sicilian,” Gallucci said. “Calmare!”

“Che due palle!” Mancini spat. He shook off the men holding him back.

Donato Gallucci was short and plump in the waist. His arms and legs however belonged to a skinny man. Making his suit jacket difficult to button. “You are in America you crazy fuck! This shit will not fly here. You nearly killed him.” Galluci looked around. Mancini never took his eyes off the door they dragged him through. If he had his gun he’d shoot every motherfucker in his path to put the kill bullet in Capriccio. When Gallucci looked at him again he let go a deep sigh. “The people will call the police and haul you out of here. Do you understand?”

Donato looked to one of his men and signaled for him to go find the nurse and make sure she didn’t report what she’d seen. Mancini wiped his hand down his face and saw his bloody bruised knuckles. The Don stepped close. “We found the negro woman. We found her in time. The babies were born and she lives. This hospital doesn’t let coloreds in. I pulled some strings for you. Show some gratitude. Eh?”

Humility was not in Mancini’s DNA. The blood. There was so much blood when they found Melissa in that roach infested apartment. She was near death. The fact that she lived and the children did too was a miracle. And all of the blame should be laid at Capriccio’s feet.

The Don patted his arm. “Be reasonable. Capriccio’s death solves nothing,” he said. “I won’t wack a capo over your nigger goumada. It’s not done. You know this.”

Mancini switched his glare to the old Don. “Fuck your laws. He is dead.” Mancini drew a line across his throat to signify the slicing of Capriccio’s throat.

The Don closed the distance between them. His eyes went dark as a serpent’s. His voice was as hard as steel. “You lay a hand on him and your father won’t be able to save you.
Mi capisci adesso?
”

Mancini glowered.

“Answer me!” The Don shouted.

“Si, capisco,” Mancini nodded that he understood. He couldn’t speak further. The bloodlust within him was too great. 

“Boss?” Another of the Gallucci men entered. “The nurse is handled. The doctors want to meet with you and him.”

The Don removed a handkerchief from his pocket. He passed it to Mancini to wipe the blood from his knuckles. “I don’t understand your obsession with the nigger. But I respect it, Manny. Now you respect my reputation and authority here. We go out and speak to these doctors and you keep your temper cool and your mouth shut. You listen to them. And then we decide what is best. Capice?”

Mancini nodded.

Together they walked out. With every step Mancini took, his vision continued to narrow. As if he were in a dark tunnel with light and sight at the end. He blinked through his fear, his heartache, his panicked state because she needed him. His sweet Lisa could be dying at that very moment. He had to get it together.

“Donato!” The doctor greeted Gallucci with a handshake and then kisses to both cheeks. “Please if you both can come in here we can have privacy.”

The doctor ushered them to a room and closed the door. Gallucci sat but Mancini chose to remain standing. The doctor looked at Mancini’s blood stained shirt and then averted his gaze. “She’s in a coma.” The doctor said. “She had a stroke during the delivery.”

Mancini felt his gut clench.

“It’s not uncommon considering the condition she arrived in. It’s a miracle. I have to say so. You saved her life, and the twins. She’s lost a lot of blood. We had to perform a hysterectomy. She won’t be able to have any more children.”

“The babies?” Mancini asked in a strained voice. “Are they still alive?”

“Yes, they are. And the odds are in their favor. Premature babies have it tough but the best success rate in healthy preemies is in favor of those of colored girls. We aren’t sure medically why, but it’s good news. Already they show signs of breathing on their own.”

“I want to see her. Lisa. I want to see her and my… and those babies,” Mancini said.

“Gentlemen. This is a private hospital. We can’t keep them here… it’s causing some upset with the nurses, the other patients.”

“You will keep them here.” Mancini took a threatening step forward.

The Don put up his hand to silence him. Again Mancini had to summon strength beyond his ability, and he did so. The Don smiled at the doctor when he spoke. “What my friend means to say is let’s work out the best way to accommodate them and keep them separate from the other patients. I’m willing to compensate the hospital for the trouble.”

The doctor met Mancini’s glare and dropped his eyes away immediately. “Okay. Yes. We can do that.” The doctor exhaled. “Right now it’s a waiting game. We have to see if she wakes. As for the babies, they are in the neonatal ward. We are doing what we can.”

“I want to see her,” Mancini said to both men. “Now!”

“Of course.” The doctor pushed up from his desk. He walked out and Mancini followed. He glanced back to see the Don and two of his men watching him in the hall. He was taken to another wing and then showed a door.

“We must keep the visit short, please.” The doctor asked humbly. Mancini ignored him and entered. The curtain was drawn around Melissa’s bed, maybe to keep her identity from shocking others who might stumble in. He snatched it back nearly yanking half of the curtain off its rings. Melissa lay still with a breathing apparatus in her mouth. Mancini felt his knees go weak. Why did she run? If what Capriccio said was true she left the apartment he paid for and ran from him. If he had found her an hour later than he did she would be dead. Why did she do that? What was she afraid of?

“Cara, bella mia, what has become of you?” he asked taking a seat at the side of her bed. He took her hand into his and kissed it. “We have daughters. Our daughters. I’m here now. But they need a mother. They need you, sweetheart.”

She didn’t stir, she didn’t move. He sat at her side searching for the words. He had none. This was his fault. He remembered her, who she was before he laid a hand on her. How lovely and full of innocence she once was. Now she was a junkie, a mistress, a mother to illegitimate twins. This is what he had turned her life into.

When a nurse entered he asked to be taken to his daughters. In order to visit them they put a gown over his clothes and a cloth mask on the lower part of his face. But he was granted the privilege. In his pocket he carried gifts. Two bracelets made by Del Stavio for his angels. He had envisioned his reunion with Lisa differently. He had hoped for much more for his girls.

Mancini walked closer. There was tape over their eyes. Each baby was small enough to fit in his hand. He could see their little chests move with each draw of breath. One was ghostly white and the other just a few shades darker towards brown. And for the first time Mancini believed in miracles. He said a prayer taught to him in Sicilian by his madre.

Three Weeks Later

Mancini looked at the flowers in his hands and then to the door. After taking in a deep breath he pushed the door open to the hospital room. Melissa looked up as soon as he entered. “Buongiorno bella mia,” he said with a smile.

She cast her gaze away, back toward the windows. In the room were several vases with flowers in bloom. He put the one he carried down on the desk near the wall. “Today is a good day. The doctors say we can leave.”

“Manny, please,” Melissa began and he could hear the quiver in her voice. “Please let me go. Let me take my babies and return to Virginia. I think I can convince my mother to talk to my father to let me return home. They wouldn’t turn away their granddaughters.”

Mancini could not believe his ears. He nearly lost them all, and she thought he’d let her and his daughters go now? He cast his gaze toward her. “The little ones need care. You were in a coma for several days. We’ve discussed this. I’ve forgiven you, Lisa, for running away from me. I’ve forgiven you for putting my daughters’ lives at risk. And none of that was easy for me.”

“Manny—”

“Madonne!” he shouted. She flinched. He sucked down a slow breath to calm his anger. “Why can’t you forgive and trust me?” he asked.

“Because you are death,” she said in a detached tone. “And if I stay with you, I’ll die. I know it. I believe it. I even accept it, Manny. What am I now but your whore? If I am anything I’m a mother. And I have to protect my babies.”

“Never my whore. I will protect you. I swear it. And our daughters.” Mancini reasoned.

“Then take us to Sicily with you. Don’t leave us here,” Melissa begged.

He walked over to the bed. “I have something to show you. A surprise I wanted to keep for the day we take them home. He reached in his pocket and withdrew both small velvet boxes. “I’ve chosen their names.”

Melissa accepted the jewelry boxes and opened each. “Mirabella. She is the one that we almost lost, the brown baby. I talked to her every day when you were in the coma. Told her to fight, and she did. Mirabella means my beautiful Mary, a blessing from God. A blessed name. I want her christened under this name.” He pointed to the other bracelet. “And this is for Marietta. She is the fighter. She is strong. She weighed more. She will keep them both strong.”

“They’re beautiful,” Melissa said.

“I am taking you to New York. Gemma will go with you. We’ll get an apartment, a nurse, and I will stay this time. I promise. Gemma will help you with the babies. And I swear when I return…”

“Wait? You’re leaving me again?” Melissa asked in disbelief.

He pinched her chin. “It is the final time we will be separated. I will return for you. I have to tend to my… there are family matters that require my attention. But you will be okay. Trust and believe me this time.”

Melissa nodded. “I love the names. Our daughters. They are all I have.”

“Not true, Bella, you have me. I swear it on my life. You have me.” He turned her chin up and kissed her. She softened and returned his kiss. He felt stronger if she believed him. Once more. All he asked is for her to trust him once more.

Mancini entered his room. He closed the door with a heavy sigh. What if he had let her go? What if she left that day and returned to Virginia with his daughters? Would she have lived? He dragged himself to the bed and sat on the edge of it. Reaching for his oxygen mask with his arthritic hand he saw the tremors of his grief in it. He closed his hand into a fist. The simple act of breathing had now become a chore. Each day that passed he grew weaker and weaker. Time was gaining on him.

He could not change the past. The abandonment of his beloved that cost her life is his burden. But he would not go to his grave before he held his daughters.

He would not.

11.

Every man had a weakness. For a long time Lorenzo believed his weakness to be his pride. No longer. Lorenzo was stunned over the depth of his feelings for Marietta. He had showered with his cock buried deep in her, made love to her again against the sink, and then the bed before his heart could release enough of his passion to let her go. The silent admission of these feelings in his head was dredged from a place in him beyond logic and reason. For her safety and his sanity, love should have never been on the menu. In his life he had enjoyed women. Even lowered his guard to develop feelings for them. But Marietta, and what he felt for her, was far different.

In a hurried pace back and forth beyond the bathroom door she packed and unpacked his things. He watched her reflection in the bathroom mirror while he dressed. He studied her beauty, her curves in the cut off t-shirt that barely covered her breasts and a pair of his boxer shorts she had pulled on. He put every inch of her body to his memory. It should sustain him before he dealt with what awaited with the Armenians.

She packed a small duffle bag for him to ensure his early return. And she asked questions on whether he would be in danger and where he would travel to. None of the questions deserved an answer. What he did in this life, for
la famiglia
, would
never
be something they would
ever
discuss. Though he hated the idea of leaving her so soon. But he felt charged over the responsibility of being a husband. Giovanni was coming around. Santo had been put in his place—a step behind Lorenzo. The plan had worked. And if he got with the Armenians and stopped Mottola then all would be resolved between he and his cousin.

It would surely follow with the reward to be
able to stand up as his own man again. And he’d shower Marietta with all the privileges she deserved. Lorenzo smiled. He had played a bad hand and came up aces.

He couldn’t be happier.

“Why are you smiling? I’m about to freak out.” She put her hands on his back. “Will you call me when you get there?” Marietta asked. She had come into the bathroom. She peeked around him as he slapped his face with aftershave. There were scrapes and scratches on his face and he hissed because of the after burn. Marietta wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face against the middle of his spine. “Call me every hour until you can come home to me. So I know you are okay.”

He chuckled.

“And bring me something. Diamonds. Bring me diamonds,” she grinned bouncing on her feet making her nipples brush up and down his back.

“I’ll try. It’s a quick trip, Marie.”

“Make time,” she demanded. “I want something to show that you were thinking of me,” she said. And he could hear the plea in her voice. A vulnerable pitch he rarely heard. It sounded like fear. He turned and she stepped back. Lorenzo leaned against the sink and drew her closer to him by her hips.

“
Tutto va bene.
Why are you upset?”

“I got this feeling, Lo. A very bad feeling. I get it sometimes. When I was sixteen the first boy I loved was killed after school in some random gang violence. I had that feeling like something would happen all day. And I got it now. I got it the moment you brought me here.”

He lifted her chin. “It’s a false feeling. I’m in no danger.”

“That’s not true. My stomach hurts. It feels like a weight is on my chest,” she said.

“Marie—”

“I don’t want you to go. I’ve never had good luck with this… men… love. Stay. Send someone else. Please.”

“Nothing bad will happen,” he said.

“Stop saying that! Bad stuff happens to good people all the time. And we aren’t good people.”

Lorenzo chuckled. “Maybe not. Still, I control my destiny and now yours. Bad stuff only happens when I make it happen.” He brushed his lips over her brow. “I’ll return before you miss me.
Tutto a posto
?”

She nodded yes.

“This is what you do. Today you take money and go to Carini. I’ll have one of the boys drive you. Spend my money. How does that sound?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child. I took care of myself just fine before I met you. Without your money!”

“You’re my wife. I want you protected. Relax,
cara
. Life is falling into place—yours and mine. We are going to have it all, you and me.
Va bene
.”

She nodded that she would do as he wished. He cupped her face in his hands. “Keep it warm and sexy for me?” he said, softly.

“You know it.” She kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and locked him in for her deep tongue kiss. Lorenzo chuckled and lifted her the way she liked. Immediately she crossed her legs around his waist. He felt like he could conquer the world with her by his side.

* B
*

“Ugh,” Mira gasped.

She gripped her side again. The baby had kicked her hard. A monstrous bolt of pain slammed up against her right side. Her vision began to swim and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Relief never came easily, only measures of it when she practiced her breathing and massaged her side. She rubbed the sore spot. The noise from his shower could be heard through the closed bathroom door. Giovanni took his showers alone since she could barely stand for long periods of time.

At some point in the night he returned to bed. And of course he rose early. She pushed back against her pillows and breathed slow and easy out of her mouth. How does one spend days, weeks, confined to a bed and not go crazy? Already she felt restrained.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened. Carmella appeared with a tray of her breakfast food. The young Sicilian beauty wore jean shorts and a grey t-shirt tied into a knot under her breasts. Her long legs were shapely and evenly tanned. Her breasts perked and bounced with each step and her nipples peaked.
Of course this hefa would go braless.
Her tiny waist made Mira lower her gaze and look away with envy.

“
Buongiorno
. I thought you might be ready for breakfast,
Donna
. Ma-ma left me your dietary needs,” she said with a smile. “She made sure to tell me you were allergic to mushrooms. And that you didn’t like melons of any kind.”

Mira didn’t answer. She watched as Carmella placed the tray of fruit and poached eggs with some shaved ham on the table next to her. “
Come sta, Donna
?”

“Not hungry,” Mira answered.

“Maybe some tea then. I made you a fresh pot. I can pour some.”

“No thank you,” Mira said. “I’ll fix it myself.”

The door opened and Giovanni walked out with a towel tied around his waist and another in his hand drying his hair. He paused when he saw Carmella. The look of disapproval hardened his features. “What the hell are you doing in here?” he asked.

“Buongiorno, Gio,”
Carmella replied.

Mira looked into the woman’s face and saw the flush of desire redden her cheeks. Mira then looked to Giovanni’s muscular form, beaded with moisture from the steamy shower. Even after weeks of staying by her side his body was packed tight with muscles. Mira rolled her eyes. They both made her sick.

“
Allora…
Madre
had to see to her sister in Bagheria. She asked me to come and fulfill her duties. The
Donna
approved.”

Giovanni’s gaze switched to Mira. She didn’t answer. She felt like an idiot for bringing the woman back into her home. But what choice did she have? She could barely bathe herself. They would need the help.

“
Se ne vada Carmella
!” he ordered.

Carmella turned and picked up the teapot and the mug to take with her. Mirabella thought that odd since she was trying to push the tea on her just minutes earlier. More surprising was the nasty way in which Giovanni dismissed Carmella. Still Mira didn’t care. She wanted her gone. She watched as the woman left and Giovanni closed the door. He turned on her with angry eyes. “Why did you bring her back here? If she upsets you, why would you okay her return? Do you want to be stressed?”

Mirabella burst into tears. Giovanni threw the towel in frustration. When she wept harder he walked around the bed and went to her. He pulled her upright into his arms and she cried out her frustration. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. But I’m so damn frustrated.”

“Because of Carmella?” he asked.

“No. No of course not. I don’t care about her, not really. I agreed for her to come because… Cecilia is busy with Eve and I know you and your men won’t live off of sandwiches. What else was I to do?” she sighed. “I don’t know. I feel so miserable. I’m trying but some days it’s hard. Some days I feel fat and miserable, and trapped in a body I can’t control. I’m a terrible mother.”

Although she considered her twins to be the final round of pregnancy for her the idea that she couldn’t conceive after this pregnancy tore at her heart. “I know you want more children, Giovanni. Don’t lie to me.”

“I want you, Bella. I always have. Always. And nothing within my power will ever take you from me. Not even the birth of our
bambinis
. Do you understand?”

Mira stared into his eyes and read the truth there. He meant every word. She nodded that she understood.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together. I’ll find a place for us in a few days and we will leave Mondello. We’ll stay in Palermo next to the
ospedale.
I’ve called Zia. She’s returning to Sicily to be of help to you. Anything you want, Bella. Name it.”

“
Ti amo, Giovanni
,” she said through a smile.

He kissed her lids, her face, and her mouth. He kissed her cheeks. She felt better.

“Hungry?” he asked after letting her go.

“I am,” she replied.

He picked up her plate and a fork. Mira settled back against her pillows and wiped her tears. She opened her mouth and he fed her. She studied him as he did so. “So many people don’t know the real you. Not the way I do.”

“Of course they don’t. No one other than my wife has that privilege.”

“You came to Sicily at a great risk to your business didn’t you?”

Giovanni stopped feeding her. “Why do you say that?”

“I hear the calls, I see the whispers. We could have stayed in Sorrento but you love
Sicilia
. You brought us here and even from this bed I see why. This is where family is. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, Bella. This is where family begins and ends for us. Sicily.” He winked and for the moment everything felt right in the world. So she ignored the dreaded feeling of doom she woke with. It was just her anxiety. There was nothing to fear. Nothing bad could happen with them now.

* B
*

Marietta waved bye to Lorenzo and Carlo as they backed out of the drive. The car turned and sped away from Villa Mare Blu, and then was gone.

Alone so soon?
A cynical inner voice cut through her courage.

“He’ll be back,” she said softly to herself.

Marietta’s gaze lifted to the sky. The entire eastern arc of the horizon just beyond the mountainous cliffs was bright and vivid with sunlight. Not a cloud to be seen. Thankfully the moisture in the air from the sea tempered the morning heat. She felt like a swim, or some time to lie and relax in the sun. Even though she was a black woman her skin was fair enough to bring her ethnicity into question. Often she purposefully tanned to a deep shade of brown if she stayed in the sun. She preferred her darker skin tone.

Alone again?
Her inner voice whispered.

With the cross of her arms she ignored her anxiety. She turned and walked back inside determined to start the day free of her insecurities. Where should she begin? She loved to cook. Over the past few months Marietta had gotten in the habit of feeding Lorenzo her special recipes. Maybe she could cook herself a nice omelet before she ventured out to the beach to go for a swim. She used to have a terrifying fear of water. But an ex-boyfriend helped her get over it. She never drowned or anything, but she could recall dreams as a little girl of drowning that left her screaming in the night.

When Marietta turned the corner she heard a woman weeping. She paused. The woman spoke in a hushed tone on the phone to someone in Italian.

Armando, per favore, I couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t even drink the tea. Yes. Yes. I understand, but… really? Oh God bless.  Thank you so much for changing your mind. If I had gone through with it I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I trust you, I do, but I can no longer be your weapon, your spy. Of course. I will call you everyday with an update on her condition. Thank you.

Marietta peeked inside. The woman hung up the phone. She wore jean shorts and a grey shirt. She had a short haircut with thick brown curls, and looked to be in her mid-twenties or a bit older. Marietta observed her as she dumped a powdery substance in the sink and ran water to wash it away. She then poured out the tea she had in a teapot.