by Sienna Mynx
Tacchini eased his hands into his pockets. He forced himself to go into the gardens and join her.
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe it,” she said repeatedly. She looked back at him with a smile. “I just can’t believe this.”
“Should we have lunch out here? Or inside?”
“Here!” she yelped. “I never want to leave this garden. Ever.”
Tacchini nodded and went back inside. The staff had set up the lunch, but left afterwards. It was his task to move the chairs and table out to the garden and bring the food. He did so without complaint. Mirabella continued to enjoy and inhale the roses. He also brought out a radio with a long extension cord. He turned it on to a very nice classical station. Mirabella glanced up to the sound of music and then looked to the table he’d set for them to dine. The happiness he saw in her face and smile since she discovered the garden dimmed.
“When I was a boy my father made me take violin lessons. To this day I can’t help but itch to please when I hear Niccolò Paganini.”
She walked over to the table and instead of sitting, put her hands to her hips. “You told me to ask myself what motivated Lorenzo to send Marietta home with me.”
“I did,” he said.
“I had to think of my motivations too. And yours. The flowers, thank you. I needed a good memory. Something to remind me of my love for Giovanni and our life together, because it’s been so hard lately. But I know my husband. There will never be a time when he thinks our having lunch while listening to Paganini in a garden of blue roses is appropriate. In fact, it could cost both of us our lives.”
“It’s just lunch, Mirabella. You’re being paranoid.”
“Not to Giovanni. And not to you.”
“You’re accusing me of something?”
“No accusation. I’m only here to protect my family until Giovanni is well. And I have to believe that you are my friend, Piero. But turn off the music. Stop looking at me that way. And tell me what I need to know so I can go home to my children.”
“I don’t have a crystal ball,” he smiled.
“You know how to keep the wolves away from us.”
“What if I’m the wolf?” he asked.
“I’m no lamb, Tacchini.”
“You must make up your mind. Am I Piero, or am I Tacchini. You can’t have it both ways.”
She looked startled. Her mouth opened and closed. She then realized that she called him Piero when she wanted a connection with him. That was her doing not his. And he wanted her to see it for what it was. She too had some kind of fondness for him. And he could tell that scared her.
“It’s okay to find a man other than your husband comforting.”
“It’s not.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Mirabella.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I do. I’m a man too remember.”
“Would you say that if your wife was with Giovanni this way while you lay in a coma?”
The question arrowed his heart, and it burned. Tacchini blinked from her to the lunch he had made sure was prepared to perfection. He wasn’t prone to jealousy. Mostly because he had everything he ever wanted when his beloved was alive. But if the role was reversed he’d gun any man down who desired his wife the way he desired Mirabella.
“You have a point. I’ve taken advantage. I’m sorry.”
Mirabella put her hand to her head. “Me too. I just... it’s all so... I get so...”
“Cara,” Tacchini said. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “No one is here. No one knows anything. We are just friends. And I will make sure to not cross the line.” He went to the radio and turned it off. “Let’s have lunch and talk.”
She nodded and pulled out her own chair. He busied himself and fixed her plate from the trolley of covered dishes he wheeled out.
“You always this jumpy with other men?” he asked as a joke.
“I haven’t had much practice with other men. Only two boyfriends before Giovanni. And both...”
He glanced up when she paused.
“Did Giovanni ever tell you what happened to my ex-boyfriends?”
Tacchini laughed. “The China-man? He didn’t have to give me an update. We all know how that one ended.”
Mirabella smiled and accepted the plate. Tacchini poured her wine, and water. She drank from a glass of merlot and ignored the water.
“How are your kids?” he asked.
“Every day they change. I can’t get over the twins. They’re talking. Mostly Italian.” Mirabella said. “I try to speak to them in English and they answer in Italian. It’s like they prefer it.”
Tacchini sat. “That’s to be expected. All sons want to be their fathers.”
“True, but I want them to speak English too. I’m working on it. I’m not able to spend as much time with them as I did before.”
Mirabella ate the pasta salad and enjoyed it. She wasn’t sure what the medley of herbs and seafood was mixed in. But it was definitely tasty. She broke bread and rubbed it in olive oil. She was famished.
Tacchini ate as well, but he kept looking up at her as he did. She finally caught his stare and held it. “Do you have kids?”
“I have six,” he said.
She nearly choked. She reached for the water this time. Tacchini chuckled. She swallowed. “Six?”
“Four boys and two girls. My youngest is five, my oldest is twenty-two.”
“They live in Naples?” she asked.
“The twenty-two-year-old is on an exchange program in Kenya. He loves Africa. May stay. The other kids stay in Collodi. It’s a small township between Florence and Pisa. My mother, aunts, cousins and sisters are very helpful.”
“I’ve heard of it. But why so far?”
Tacchini sliced into his meat and tasted it before answering. “I don’t mix family with business. And my business is dangerous. I prefer they are safe and away from it.”
“Ah, that’s how Giovanni feels about Melanzana. I never knew the life he has in Napoli or the Campania. In Sorrento, our life is much simpler.” Mirabella agreed.
They ate lunch under the cool breeze and warm sun rays. Mirabella kept looking to the roses as she did. Tacchini kept looking to her. Then her eyes turned to him, and he caught a gleam of distrust in her stare.
“Something wrong, Mirabella?” he asked.
She was nearly done with her lunch. She picked up her wine and drank a bit more. Then she dabbed her mouth before speaking. “My meeting with Arielle. When is it?” she asked.
“May I ask why you insist?”
“It’s between me and her.”
“I already told you that she works for me and Giovanni, and that there was nothing inappropriate between her and him.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“She’s useful to us.”
“I don’t care,” she insisted.
“I don’t want to agitate her. We need her,” Tacchini insisted.
“I want the meeting!” Mirabella insisted.
Tacchini smiled. But his charm didn’t work. He was truly puzzled by her anger, so he tried a different approach. “Then have the meeting. But please, let’s do it after we activate our gem. Let’s see this through.”
“Why are you stalling? What are you hiding?”
“You seem a bit irrational when I mention her.”
Mirabella shook her head. “You don’t understand. My husband is the irrational one. He’s insanely jealous. I spend too much time with the mailman and he sends one of his men after him to teach him a lesson. It’s his way. Yet he had a friendship with another woman? I don’t understand it.”
“A woman he knew before you met.”
“I don’t care! He did this behind my back.”
“We are friends and we...”
“I want the meeting, Tacchini. I have to see the truth for myself.”
She again evoked his name in a manner that was void of friendship. And his attraction grew even stronger. “Je
alousy is contagious... isn’t it?” he asked
“It’s our bargain. I make no more moves until she sits across the table with me and answers my questions.”
“If it is important to you, of course, I will arrange it.”
“Grazie...” Mirabella smiled and then she frowned. Tacchini leaned forward. She opened her mouth to speak, and then her hand flew up to cover it just as she vomited through her fingers. Tacchini shot to his feet. Mirabella was out of her chair. She was in the rose garden retching. He went to help her, but she threw up her hand and gestured for him to stay back. Surprised by how violent her retching was, he couldn’t obey. He reached for her. And when it was done, she wouldn’t face him.
“Bathroom? Is there... a bathroom?”
“Yes. Come with me,”
“No! Tell me where,” she said pushing him away.
“Through the doors into the hall to the left.”
She went in that direction. Tacchini looked behind at the ruined meal and then after her. He chuckled. Even now, he found her to be a helluva woman.
***
Mirabella removed her white shirt. It was soiled red from the wine she threw up. She gagged from the stench. She dropped it in the sink and turned on the tap. Underneath she wore a white, thin strapped tank top. She wanted to take it off too but she couldn’t. It was too snug to her breasts, and her bra could be seen in an outline. But at the very least she had on something. She did her very best to rinse out the shirt, but the red wine stains just soaked into the fabric. Tears sprang to her eyes. She was embarrassed and confused. When her eyes lifted to the mirror, she was shocked at her appearance. She looked grey, her eyes were red and glossy. Something was wrong. Before she could guess what had come over her the compulsion to retch hit her. She turned back to the toilet and did so.
Tacchini could hear her as he came down the hall. He knocked twice on the bathroom door and called her name. He forced the door open. Tacchini found her on the floor. She was too weak to respond. He went to his knees to help her. He cleaned her face and held her up.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I feel...” she gagged. He helped her make it to the toilet. It took several minutes before she was stable. He again cleaned her the best he could. She barely fought off his assistance. “Did you poison me?” she tried to chuckle.
“Can you stand?”
“No,” she said softly. “I’ll try again.”
“I have you, relax.” He scooped her up in his arms. She didn’t resist. And Mirabella was a woman to resist him at every offer of comfort. She felt light in his arms despite her curves, and he tried to remain respectful as he carried her to the nearest room with a sofa. He placed her on top. She groaned.
“What did you eat this morning?”
“Just toast and coffee,” she mumbled and turned away from him toward the sofa cushions. He plucked the blanket from the arm of the chair. There was a knock at the door. A pounding that never stopped. He hated to leave her, but he had no choice. Tacchini walked fast and assuredly to the door. He snatched it open. Both Umberto and Leo stood there. He frowned at their arrival, and looked to see they both had motorbikes behind them. They must have ridden them up the hill. Dammnit.
“We want to see our Donna.”
“She’s not...”
Umberto put a gun between Tacchini’s eyes. “Adesso!”
Tacchini stepped back. Umberto held him there with the gun, and Leo went inside. “Where is she?” Umberto demanded.
Tacchini pointed. His men weren’t there to fight off the Battaglia men. He should have anticipated these young men would not let him have her to himself for long. He heard Leo calling out his boss’s name.
“She became sick. I helped her. That’s it. You can lower the gun.” Tacchini said. “Now.”
Umberto smirked. “No.”
Tacchini wanted to push it further, but then he heard Leo and Mirabella speaking. She told him to go outside. To wait for her outside. That she needed a minute to rest. Umberto heard her too.
“Why is she sick? What did you do?”
“I did nothing, son.”
Umberto released the safety on the gun. Leo returned. He put a hand to Umberto’s shoulder. He whispered in his ear. Umberto seemed to be even more agitated. Then Leo walked out of the door.
“We will be outside. The Donna wished it. She promises us one hour and then she goes with us, but I think you did something. Poison. We should take her now!” Umberto said.
“How is she to go with you? On the back of a bike? Why would I bring her here alone, with you two at the bottom of the mountain to poison her? I am not the enemy! I will bring her down the mountain as soon as she is ready. And you can stay inside and wait for her until she is. How’s that?”
Umberto looked out the open door to Leo. Neither expected the welcome. Especially since Don Tacchini was powerful enough to order the assassination of their families for insulting him. Umberto lowered the gun.
Tacchini lowered his hands. “Wait in there. Have a drink. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”
The men hesitated. He could tell they struggled with agreement. He let the situation settle with them without speaking. Umberto raised the gun again and grimaced like he would pull the trigger. It was Leo that returned and agreed to the bargain.
“Don Tacchini, you are a good man. You helped my father and family once. You helped me. The Donna deserves respect. We will stay inside and close, but do not test us. Neither one of us will hesistate to defend her with our lives. Do you understand?”
Tacchini gave a single nod. Leo glanced to Umberto. The young hot-head spat out a curse at Tacchini and stormed off. Leo gave Tacchini a nod of respect and then followed. The Don returned to Mirabella who lay on her back under the blanket he covered her with. Her arm was over her eyes.
“Is it too bright?” he asked. He went to the window nearest her and closed the shutters.
“I’m sorry. My men... I heard them. Leo said Umberto, they are just doing what they know Giovanni would want.”
“Giovanni demands loyalty from his young ones. Umberto, I like his way.” Tacchini smiled. “I’d prefer he watch over my daughters rather than some of the young idiots who work for me.”
“They’re serious, Piero. If they think anything is wrong, they won’t hesitate.”
“I know. I know. And I’m terrified. Now, how are you feeling?”
She sighed again. “I just need a few minutes. I feel... not myself.”
“My Nona had a remedy for an upset stomach. Stay here. I won’t be long.” He went to the kitchen. He was grateful to find the staff had fully stocked it. There was ginger, fennel, lemon, cinnamon and some fresh cut peppermint. He cut up the lemons and the ginger, put the rest of the ingredients in a blender with ice cubes and aloe vera tea that he typically drank. He blended the mix noisily and then he strained the mixture into a glass before he heated it in the microwave. He carried the tea back to Mirabella and found her sitting up on the sofa.
“Better? You’re feeling better?” he asked and sat next to her.
“Yes. I am...”
“Drink this,” he said.
“No I...” she pushed the mug away.
“Drink. I’m not going to return you to your men in this state. They’ve already put me on warning.”
She looked at the mug and then accepted it. She drank a sip and then more. She seemed to relish the taste, or maybe the affect it was having on her. Nona would make it for him when he was a small boy and it was instant relief.
“Better isn’t it? The nausea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“When my wife was pregnant, actually every time she was pregnant we always knew by her upset stomach.”
“Pregnant?” Mirabella frowned.
Tacchini arched a brow. “Is it possible?”
Mirabella blinked at him and then looked down at herself. “I can’t be. I can’t have kids. Gio and I have tried. The doctors say it’s not an optio
n because of my problems with delivering the twins.” She broke into tears. “We tried so hard. I just didn’t think... oh my God.”
He put an arm around her shoulder.
“I can’t face another crisis. Not another. I have to... I have to be stronger than this. But I miss my husband.” She wept. Tacchini pulled her in closer to him and held her. She turned her face into his chest and held him. She cried in his arms. It was a good cry. He would know. He’d shed many tears since the death of his wife.
“I need him. I feel so desperate. I can’t admit it to anyone anymore. All I can do is be their Donna Nera. But I’m his wife and I only want to be his wife. He lies in that bed and doesn’t move or speak. But it’s him. I know he’s in there. I can’t go on like this. What if... what if I lose him?”
“You will not,” he reassured her.
She pulled away and wiped at her tears. “Why do you care?”
“It’s very simple bella, I know your pain.”
“First the blue roses and now you call me Bella,” she shook her head and tried to pull away. He wouldn’t let her go. He wanted to hold her just a little longer.
“I do care. I care more than I understand. You are a remarkable woman. You keep talking like you are failing your family, your husband. I see you surviving. I see you stronger than even I thought you’d be. If Giovanni could see you now he’d be so proud.”
“Grazie,” she said. He brushed his lips over her forehead. Her soft breasts were pressed into him and her slender arms fastened around him. Her hair smelled like jasmine. Despite his restraint his hand slipped up and down her back with a slow caress. This villa, his loneliness, her unique beauty and desperation made him weak. And a weak man was dangerously stupid with the risks he took. If he kissed her every inch of progress he made with her would be undone. But if he kissed her and she allowed it he couldn’t conceive of all the possibilities.
He wanted to kiss her.
“Talk to me about Giovanni. Tell me more about him,” she settled into their embrace.
“He likes jumping off cliffs,” Tacchini said.
“What?”
“Have you ever seen him do it?” Tacchini asked.