by L. D. Davis
She bit her lip again and didn’t answer.
I used a tone of voice I’d never used with her before, commanding, mean. “What did you say, Celia?”
She straightened her shoulders and met my eyes. “I told her I was a better match for you. I did not say anything that was not true.”
I laughed. “Are you a better match for me, or for my brother? Or are you a better match for Paolo? His wife might have something to say about that.”
She swiped at a tear but gave no response to my jab. Her chin trembled. It struck me then as her tears began to fall, that all the tears she’d cried over the past several weeks had been fake. She was a spider caught in her own web, so she had real reason to cry this time. I couldn’t believe that I’d not realized how phony she’d been before. Lydia had known it from the start, and I hadn’t believed her.
“I’m angry and hurt by all I have heard today, Celia. A part of me is still hoping that my brother had some of it—any of it—wrong. That part of me is the young, stupid boy who used to love a young, stupid girl. I am going to give you one opportunity to tell me the truth, to be entirely honest with me. If you lie, or if I discover you’ve lied again, there will be no mercy for you from this family, Celia. None.”
Her mouth opened, as if my words shocked her. She’d become accustomed to me bending at her will. No more.
“What…what do you want to know?” she asked with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
“First tell me about Paolo.”
She swallowed and crossed her arms protectively across her chest. “You have to understand. My parents had very strict guidelines for my future—what I was supposed to be, who I was to be with. They had always intended for me to be with you or your brother. As we grew older, and Massimo’s philandering became blatantly obvious to everyone, that shifted to you. You were my best friend, and I loved you, so that was not such a bad thing. I thought when the time came, that I could love you romantically. During the summer of my fifteenth year, while you were in Sicily visiting your grandparents, that was when Paolo first really took notice of me, even though he had known me since I was a little girl. I guess puberty had been very good to me,” she added cynically.
I scowled and folded my hand into a fist. Paolo was twelve years her senior, which meant when she was barely fifteen, a twenty-seven-year old man pursued her.
“I brushed him off in the beginning. He was much older than me, and besides that, I knew there was already a plan laid out for me. For weeks, he pursued me and attempted to sway me with small gifts, money, and compliments.
“My parents—Mamma in particular—had a very tight hold on me. I wanted to go away to school with Francesca. I hoped to gain some independence that way, but after I had begged most of the summer, my mother slapped me across the face, told me I was ungrateful and spoiled, and that I was to do what I was told and nothing more. So, in a rebellious streak at the end of summer, I stopped resisting Paolo.”
I was angry with Celia, but her mother had been hard on her. I didn’t know she had been in the habit of slapping her, though. That was not pleasant to hear, but I had to stay focused.
“So, when I thought I was your first sexual partner almost two years later, that was not true?”
Her head shook slowly. “No.”
“So, your deception began earlier than we thought,” I said coldly. “Continue.”
She swallowed. “My mother found out about Paolo after my dad died and Paolo sent flowers. They were just flowers with a simple card, but there must have been other hints. My father was still warm in his grave when she confronted me. She punished me by restricting the little bit of freedom I had, and even locked me in my room at night for more than two months.”
I couldn’t say if Carmela had done the right thing. If a full-grown man pursued my teenage daughter, I’d go to great lengths to keep her safe. I was not sure about Carmela’s motives, however.
“For a little while, I stayed away from Paolo, but I had fallen in love with him. When you and I started to get serious, which is what my mother wanted, I told him I would give up everything if he wanted to be with me, but he said he was not ready to settle down. He was not ready for a relationship with me, but he was always ready to take me to his bed and treat me like a possession,” she said darkly. Her gaze turned thoughtful. “Sometimes he was very cruel to me—not physically, but with his words. We fought all the time, but there was something about him… I was obsessed. I could not him alone, and he seemed unable or unwilling to leave me alone.”
My jaw clenched. “So, why did you stay with me? You should have ended our relationship before it ever began.”
“I told you. My mother was very strict, very controlling. She wanted me to marry you.”
“And you didn’t want to marry me?”
She shrugged. “Yes, and no. Marrying you was safe. You were familiar. You loved me, treated me well, and I would have had anything I wanted and everything I needed.”
“You wanted to marry me because I was safe,” I repeated blandly. “Not because you loved me or wanted to be with me.”
“I adored you, Marcello. I loved you as much as I could, but not that way.”
“Instead, you loved a man who you admitted was cruel and possessive. So, let us skip ahead to the part where you slept with my brother. It was not enough to have one man on the side, you needed a second?”
Celia flinched and eyed me carefully. “That night with Massimo was a mistake. It was not something I had intended to do. I was confused and overwhelmed about our upcoming wedding. Paolo and I had just fought…I just wanted to unwind and stop thinking for a little bit.”
“It seems you turned your brain off entirely,” I muttered. “And your dignity and self-respect and consideration for others. Massimo thinks you broke up with me because you thought Paolo was going to marry you. Is that true?”
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “He knew I was pregnant. At the time he did not know about Massimo, so as far as he was concerned, the baby was his. When he announced his engagement at the table that day, I really believed he meant he was going to marry me. I thought he didn’t say who it was because of my engagement to you and my age, but after you attacked Massimo, news got to Paolo. When I asked him if he would still marry me, he laughed and told me he had never intended to marry me. He really thought it was funny. I reminded him of my pregnancy, and he asked me why I had not gotten ‘rid of that thing yet.’” Her lips smashed together in a tight line. “He dropped some money in my lap and told me to ‘take care of it.’ I was alone and scared, and my mother was impossible to live with. I had ruined her precious plans for me. She told me if I did not find a husband before I began to show, she would strip me of everything but my name and leave me on the streets with the other whores.”
I grew less fond of Celia with every word out of her mouth, but to hear how her mother had spoken to her made me inwardly cringe. Yes, she had done awful things, but the person who should have supported her the most was her mother.
“So, you went to Massimo,” I concluded. “And you married him. Fortunately, Roberto was his baby. You could have turned everything around right then and there. My family, though dismayed and disappointed, was supportive and loved you. Even Massimo learned to love you in time, and you and I were able to be friends again, but none of that was enough for you. You went back to Paolo eventually. How long after you were married did you wait before you started to screw around with him again? A few weeks? A few months? A few days?”
She wiped her eyes again, and her voice came out raspy. “Maybe about six weeks. I just…I could not stay away from him. I could not resist him. I was still obsessed and in love with him despite everything.”
“And what about now? What is it you are trying to get out of me because you cannot have Paolo? Are you pregnant again? Need a daddy for your baby?”
“No! I have not been with Paolo in a long time. It has been almost three years.”
“So, what do you
want from me, Celia?”
She sighed. “For the record, I really did try to make things work with Massimo. I stopped seeing Paolo for good, and I tried really hard to repair our relationship even though our divorce was pending. When I found out he was sick, I thought I could prove to him that I cared about him and take care of him, but your brother was not receptive. And I knew once Tessa came back with her little boy who looked so much like Massimo, that eventually, our farce would come to an end and he would move on with her.
“When I started to spend time with you again, I realized how much I missed you. I regretted a lot of things, but one of my biggest regrets was giving you up. Even all these years later, after I’d hurt you, you still tried to love me and take care of me in your own way. I began to develop feelings for you—feelings I didn’t even have for you when we were together. It was different. I think…I think you were beginning to feel something for me, too.”
“You were wrong,” I said, my voice icy. “I loved you because of our history, and because you were my brother’s wife and a good mother to my nieces and nephews. I was happy we were friends again. How could you possibly believe that I would be okay with you saying the things you did to Lydia? Or hell, with any of the shit you’ve done over the last twenty-plus years? Or did you hope to hide that from me as well? You didn’t think my brother would tell me what you did? You have disrespected me, him, our family—your own children. Did you think you could use me to save yourself from ridicule? To save yourself from the consequences of your careless, heartless actions? Just trade one brother in for the other one, right? Well, you did that already. You broke my fucking heart!” I shouted, making her jump. “It took me almost twenty years to learn to trust anyone again, and you did everything you could to tear that apart. I know I am responsible, too, but I thought I was doing it for a good reason. I thought you were that good reason, but now I know all you’ve done is hurt people. The only person you’ve really cared about is yourself. Everything—every damn thing—I ever knew about you is a lie. You better get on your knees and pray. Thank God that my brother still respects you as the mother of his children. As for me, I have no respect for you. I have nothing for you.”
As I turned to leave, Laura entered the kitchen with tears in her eyes.
“I heard everything,” she whispered on a sob as she glared at her mother. “Everything.”
She ran from the room. Judging by her direction and the slamming of doors, she was headed to the main part of the house, probably to the comfort of Maria, her favorite aunt. I looked at Celia, who stood in the middle of the room with tears running down her face like a river. I knew they were real, but I did not care. My shirt would remain dry tonight.
Chapter Twenty
Lydia
Earlier That Day
“Lydia, what’s wrong?” Salina asked, her voice suddenly alert. “Is it your baby?”
“Last night I slapped her, but he won’t listen to me. I can’t be here.”
I knew I wasn’t making sense, but the few words I said must’ve been just enough. Without faltering, Salina gave clear instruction.
“Pack your bags. Come stay here. I’ll have someone pick you up in an hour.”
Sofia and Elena stood in the doorway, watching me warily as I hung up the phone and went into action, throwing my suitcase onto the bed and opening it up. I was crying so hard I had to pause for a moment and cover my mouth so I wouldn’t wake up my kids. I would have to get them up eventually, but I didn’t want them to see me like this.
“Lydia, what are you doing?” Elena asked. She had to ask twice before I was able to catch her words. It seemed the more emotional I became, the harder it was to follow the language.
“I’m leaving.”
She rushed forward and blocked my path to the closet. Her hands grasped mine and held them firmly, her gaze imploring. “Please don’t go. Please. I know you are upset, but I beg you not to go. Not like this.”
I shook my head, sobbing softly. “I left my home, Elena. My kids are missing school. I lost my job so I could be here with him. I came here even though I had my reservations. I’m far away from everyone I know and everything I’m familiar with, making me the most vulnerable I’ve ever been in my life. I had to trust Marco more than ever, trust him to do the right thing and not shatter me.” I pulled a hand from her and covered my heart as my voice shook with anguish. “I. Am. Shattered.”
I turned away from her and covered my face. Only then, when I heard Sofia’s soft-spoken words, did I realize I’d spoken in English and she had to translate. I let Elena hold me for a moment as she whispered words that were probably meant to be soothing. They helped, because after a moment, I uncovered my face, took a deep breath, and calmed.
“I’m leaving,” I said again, much quieter this time.
Reluctantly, Elena nodded and backed away.
While I packed, and while she and Sofia got the kids up and dressed, I expected Marco to stride in at any time. I both wished for it and dreaded it, but with every minute that passed, and he didn’t show, it hurt that much deeper.
Sofia insisted on accompanying us to Salina’s. I was grateful for that, because she was able to diffuse the kids’ concerns and keep them preoccupied during the ride there. When we arrived, she and Salina made sure they were fed and calm while I sat in a living room chair staring blankly at the floor.
I had been so out of it that I hadn’t immediately noticed when Giovanni came into the room, or that he and Salina were having a heated, whispered conversation. When I looked over at them, Salina smiled and Gio appeared torn.
My friend sat down across from me on the couch. “You do have options. We’re leaving soon, but you’re welcome to stay here.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled. I was grateful because I didn’t think I could go back, not yet. Not without killing Marco and Celia.
“We can also put you and the children in a hotel if you prefer,” Gio offered, standing in the middle of the room with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Either option is fine with me. My home is yours.”
Salina’s smile tightened. It seemed like she was trying not to say something, but after a few seconds, she gave in and opened her mouth. “There is a third option, Lydia.”
“Salina!” Gio didn’t raise his voice, but her name came out harshly like a reprimand.
She rushed on without ever glancing at him. “We can fly you and the kids back to America.”
“That was not one of the options we agreed upon,” Giovanni snapped at her. To me, in a more polite, but still obviously tense voice, he said, “Marco loves your children like his own, and you are carrying his child. I am not comfortable allowing you to run away with his children this way, especially since we do not know why.”
I didn’t know how he knew I was pregnant. Maybe it was put in some Mangini family memo, but it didn’t matter. I focused on Salina as she calmly folded her hands in her lap and softly responded to Gio’s statement. “It does not matter why she is leaving if she is upset enough that she wants to go home. Not everyone should be held prisoner by their circumstances, Giovanni.”
He stared at her for so long I felt like I needed to exit the room so they could hash out whatever their issues were in private. Instead, I remained seated as he responded in an equally cool and calm voice. “Do you consider yourself a prisoner, Salina?”
“Can I take my daughter and go wherever I want, whenever I want?”
His jaw ticced, but he remained silent, which spoke just as loudly as any words.
“Thank you for so graciously making my point for me, Gio.” She looked away from him and refocused on me. “Would you like to go home, Lydia?”
“Y-yes, but, the cost,” I stammered.
“I will not do it,” Giovanni said firmly and crossed his arms across his chest.
Salina didn’t acknowledge him as she opened a laptop on the coffee table. “I will cover the costs. Don’t even consider denying my offer. I have been in your shoes before, depen
dent on others around me, but there are times when you just need to shut up and accept the gifts given to you. This is one of those times. If you feel very strongly about it, you can pay me back a little at a time, no interest.”
Giovanni made an exasperated sound and yanked the laptop out of her hands. “I will make the arrangements, and you will not pay me back.”
Before he could storm off down the hall toward his office, Sofia spoke up defiantly. Her face was determined and unyielding. She looked so much like Marco in that moment it hurt. “I go too.”
Gio’s face would have been comical under other circumstances. His mouth gaped open, and he looked from his young cousin to me and Salina and back to Sofia. “Sofia, no.”
They began to argue in Italian. My brain was too muddled to follow along, but in the end, after she told him she would just buy her own ticket and go anyway, possibly alone, in a country she didn’t know, Giovanni gave in. He told her if her parents or siblings intervened, however, he would have to comply with their wishes.
He turned to me once more, his expression solemn but firm. “And I am telling Marco you are leaving. I’m sorry, but it is the right thing to do.”
When he was gone, Sofia announced that she was going to go home and pack a few bags. I tried to talk her out of coming with me, but she stubbornly objected and promised to be back in an hour.
I was glad she was coming with us, but I felt guilty for it. Even though she’d already planned to return to America with us, this was last minute, giving her no time to prepare or for a proper goodbye to her family. By leaving so suddenly, she was going to break her parents’ hearts. She was their youngest, only nineteen years old, born after Marco moved to America, and I was taking her away. What a way to thank the Manginis for their hospitality.
After Sofia left, things progressed rather quickly. I gave Salina an abbreviated version of all that had happened. Gio found us a flight to New York, but there wasn’t a connecting flight to Columbus until tomorrow. Salina got on the phone and made arrangements with Celeste, giving her few details. Celeste being Celeste just rolled with it and said she and Adam would be ready for us.