La Famiglia

by Sienna Mynx

  “It won’t happen,” Lorenzo said in a flat tone.

  Neither of them spoke for what felt like an eternity. Lorenzo’s gaze swept her appearance and she could not mask her shame. He didn’t approach her. He gave her the space she needed to breathe. She was grateful for that much.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he began. “I lied to you. I never wanted to. The day I found out who you were I wanted to tell you. I swear that on my life. I brought you back to Sicily because I intended for you to know the truth. No matter what it cost me.”

  “Then why lie? Why hide my necklace, make me think I’m crazy. Why all of it?” she shouted at him. Her mask crumbled. She couldn’t prevent the tears from slipping. No matter how fucked up she was, Lorenzo was the man she loved. Even now she hurt just looking at him knowing what he’d done.

  “You know why,” Lorenzo answered.

  “I don’t! You’re my husband! Or are we even married and that was a lie too!” she shouted back.

  He chuckled. He shook his head. His gaze leveled on her once more. “There are rules in my life. Our life. Rules in the family I follow without question,” Lorenzo said.

  “Not always,” she said with a snide smile. “Did you follow them when your uncle was murdered? When Carmine was murdered?”

  “Fuck, woman! The shit that comes out of your mouth!” Lorenzo put his hands up to his head. He winced but chuckled. His gaze shifted to Marietta once more. “No. I didn’t follow them. And where has that gotten me?” He took a step toward her and he made sure it wasn’t threatening. “You have no idea what I’ve been through the past forty-eight hours. What I do for this family and what I’ve done for you. I risked my life, and everything else to bring you here. For you to know your sister.”

  Marietta went to him. He opened his arms to accept her. “I’m sorry, baby,” Marietta said. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you. I didn’t know what to do. I called you and…”

  He lifted her chin. He stared down at her. “Are you okay?”

  “No. I think I’m crazy,” she confessed. “I keep doing things, Lorenzo.”

  He kissed her. “You’re special not crazy. And if you’re crazy I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine.”

  “Don’t make jokes. Not now,” she said sadly.

  His brow lifted as if to say he wasn’t joking.

  She relaxed and held on tightly to him with her head pressed to his chest.

  “Your sister is in trouble. Do you want to stand here and fight me, or do you want to see her?” he asked. “I’m the only one that can get you in the door.”

  “The babies?” Marietta asked. “Did they survive?”

  “I don’t know. She needs you now. Let me take you to her,” Lorenzo said. “Tonight I will tell you everything. You have my word.”

  Marietta felt foolish. She reeked of alcohol. And her actions had her filled with shame. What was wrong with her? Why did she fuck up everything in her life that was important? Did Lorenzo know how lost she was and used it to his advantage? Even if he did, he was all she had at the moment to keep her grounded. Alone and free without the family she wanted she feared her next move. “Yes. I want to see her.”

  “I married you because I wanted you, Marie, no one but you. Every lie I told, every secret I kept, I kept them to protect you. Look me in the eye. Am I lying now?”

  “I can’t tell anymore,” she said softly. “All of it is more than I imagined when I came to Italy to find my father. I hate you for lying to me, and as crazy as it sounds I love you for lying to me, for protecting me from this truth.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “I’ll win your trust back. We are all we have, Marie. You must stop this. I’m never going to be your enemy. Never.”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Everything I love turns to shit,” she said.

  He kissed her brow. “Not true. This isn’t your fault. None of it. And it’s not Mira’s. She needs you.”

  “I can’t go to the hospital like this. I’ve been… I’ve, uh, been drinking. I can’t see her like this.”

  “There’s no time to change. I’ll be with you.”

  She nodded. She let him go. She started toward the door and pulled his hand but he didn’t move.

  “Marietta?” Lorenzo said.

  She stopped and glanced back. “Yes?”

  “What happened with Carlo?” he asked.

  The question though innocent in the delivery felt like an accusation. Marietta was careful to keep any reaction in her face absent and her tone casual. “Nothing, baby,” she said. “The asshole kidnapped me from the streets of Carini and then locked me up in here. I was pissed.”

  Lorenzo stared at her.

  “Let’s go. I want to see my sister,” she left the room. She held her breath praying he followed and didn’t ask any more questions.

  He did.

  * B *

  “Gio!” Catalina went straight to her brother. He stood and she was in his arms. “How is she? How are the babies? Mio Dio, please tell me they’re both okay.”

  “The boys were taken to special doctors who can help. They have problems I think,” Giovanni held his sister’s face gingerly while he shared what he knew. He was ashamed to admit it but he couldn’t bear to face the news of his sons. The only crisis his heart could manage was with his wife. Before Catalina arrived he paced outside of the doors to the operating room for news and turned anyone away who wanted to discuss anything else with him.

  “And Mira? What about Mira?” Catalina asked.

  “She’s still in surgery,” Giovanni glanced back down the hall. He half expected her to walk out of the doors grinning that the whole thing was some huge joke and she was fine. “They’ve had her in there for over two hours,” he said.

  “Che cosa? What is going on? What happened, Gio? How did this happen?”

  The ‘how’ and ‘why’ was not something he dared ponder. If he did his rage would send him on a futile mission of revenge. For now the ‘how’ and ‘why’ would have to wait. He kissed Catalina’s brow. “We have faith.”

  “I want to see the bambini. Who is with them?” Catalina asked.

  “Leo, take her.” Giovanni released his sister from his embrace.

  “Gio, you look so tired.” Catalina touched his face and he turned his head away. He didn’t want to be consoled. He didn’t deserve it. All of the blame for this disaster was his. Catalina must have sensed his conflict. Her voice softened, as did her touch. “You’re right, she’ll recover. But you need to see your sons. Come with me. We’ll go see your sons together.”

  They were both given cloth masks to loop over their ears and cover their mouths. They eased on cloth robes over their clothes that tied to their backs before they went inside with the twins.

  “Signor, I was just coming to see you,” the Neonatal Specialist said. He was a tall lean man with a mustache that curled on the ends. He didn’t wear a mask like the others in the room and that did give Giovanni pause. He vaguely remembered him from Mira’s last visit. But his mind was so filled with mournful thoughts he couldn’t recall his name.

  “How are they?” Catalina blurted.

  “Can we speak?” the doctor asked in a hushed voice which reminded them they should keep their voices low as well. Giovanni looked to his boys and then the doctor. He dreaded the news, but with Catalina at his side he forced himself to accept whatever came next. He nodded his response. His heart had permanently lodged in his throat. He kept his arm around Catalina. Together they walked into an adjoining room to where the twins were kept. She sat. Giovanni insisted on standing.

  “Baby A, I believe you named him Gianni. He’s three pounds and twelve ounces. Baby B, who I believe is named Gino is two pounds nine ounces,” The doctor said.

  “Mio Dio,” Catalina made the sign of the cross before her and put her hand to her mouth. Giovanni knew one was smaller than the other. He saw the boys come into the world and was humbled by the event.

  The doctor smiled at
Catalina and then returned his gaze to Giovanni. “Our concern right at this moment is desaturation.”

  “What does desaturation mean?” Catalina asked.

  “It means there was too little oxygen in the bloodstream at the time of birth. The babies were in distress, one already in the birth canal, the other had to be removed through a cesarean. Dr. Buhari did an excellent job. Your wife is strong, and so are the bambini.”

  “What do we do, to help them through this saturation thing?” Giovanni asked. Whatever held him immobile had passed. He found his voice once again.

  “Gino is the one to watch. We are treating him with higher dosages of oxygen through his breathing tube. He’s responding well. But I have to be honest, his lungs are not fully developed and his vitals register weak.”

  Catalina stood. She put her arm around her brother’s waist. “Can you develop his lungs outside of the mother’s belly? Is that what the incubators are for? Are they ovens, like healing ovens?”

  The doctor frowned at Catalina. Despite it all Giovanni smiled. His sister’s innocence reminded him of why he cherished her. Catalina continued with her questions. “Or will you have to operate? What does it mean when the babies’ lungs aren’t developed?”

  “Operating is a last resort. We can give them both something to help them develop their lungs naturally, but it will take time. It means they will need assisted breathing for now. It could change in a matter of days. We are optimistic,” the doctor said.

  “Is it okay if I touch them?” Giovanni asked. “Hold them?”

  Catalina and the doctor both looked at him surprised. Giovanni cleared his throat of any weakness. “I want to hold them,” he said again.

  “Not today, signor. Not yet. But you can see them and talk to them. It helps.”

  They followed the doctor out. The nurses left the care for the little boys and Giovanni was allowed his visit. One of the nurses placed nametags on each cube. He couldn’t help but smile at Gino. The baby kicked his feet and moved his tiny hands. His son had a warrior’s heart. He looked over to Gianni who slept peacefully. At least he hoped so. Both babies had tubing taped to their noses and their stomachs. Their lids were taped shut. They wore tiny diapers and little cloth caps on their heads. He wondered if Eve came into the world fragile and cherished.

  “Look at your boys, Gio. Your sons. They’re beautiful,” Catalina rubbed his back.

  He put his arm around her shoulder. “Gino and Gianni is what we call them. Those are the names Bella wanted. She never told me until they took her from my arms. I had decided on different names, ones from the family. Gino and Gianni are perfect for our boys but I’m not sure why Bella chose the names.”

  “She’s naming them after you, silly,” Catalina grinned.

  Giovanni’s brows lifted and his eyes stretched. He hadn’t made the connection. How could he have missed it? He smiled behind the mask covering his mouth. “Yes, I think she was. Even now she gives me what my heart wants.” He glanced back to the door. “And what have I given her?”

  “A family, Gio. Our family. She’s told me more than once she always wanted one again after she lost Fabiana and her grandparents. You gave her a family.” Catalina said. “Mira is so proud to be your wife.”

  “I need to see if she’s out of surgery,” Giovanni said.

  “Go. I’ll stay with the bambini. They will know we’re here for them.”

  Giovanni kissed the top of his sister’s head. “Grazie, cara mia, I will come again as soon as I know Mira is out of danger.”

  “Go.” Catalina waved him off. She stepped to the incubator. She touched the top of it smiling down at the baby inside. “I can handle it, Gio. Isn’t that right Gianni? Sei incredibile. Zia Catalina is here for you little one. Per sempre.”

  He turned and walked out.

  * B *

  “How did you learn the truth?” Lorenzo asked. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. Lorenzo always wore leather driving gloves when he drove a car and his dark lenses on his sunglasses concealed his eyes. But she sensed the hard way in which he stared.

  “I tried to call you. The moment I found out I sent you a page. Two pages,” Marietta said. She looked over at him. “You told me that you’d always call back. You didn’t.”

  “I want to know, Marie. Tell me the truth. How did you find out?” Lorenzo asked again.

  “Why? What difference does it make? You of all people shouldn’t demand the truth,” Marietta answered. If he learned that Gemma was the one to deliver the news her lifelong friend and surrogate mother would be dead. She was certain of it. And right now no matter how badly she hurt over Gemma’s lies she wouldn’t put her at risk.

  “You will tell me, Marie. Sooner or later.” Lorenzo started the car. She cut her gaze away and stared out of the window. She glanced back to the cottage where she and Carlo nearly committed the most unforgivable sin. She was grateful he stopped her. But how could she ever look him in the eye again?

  * B *

  There was a war raging. An eternal battle of personal restraint against crippling grief, it controlled his emotions. Giovanni concealed the inner conflict like that of a man born to live on the edge of death and consequence. He was a master at this game. However, each time a nurse or doctor appeared in the hall his façade chipped, weakened. If God took her from him he could not predict his future or be held responsible for the consequences. And there would be consequences.

  The doctor approached. Giovanni held his breath.

  “We’re taking her to recovery,” Dr. Buhari said. The man looked exhausted.

  “Then she’s okay?”

  “We’ve stopped the hemorrhaging. Her uterus is in tact. She’s lost a lot of blood. We’re concerned about her… her heart. Signor Giovanni, we’ve induced a coma for her. It’s a waiting game now.”

  “Waiting game? I don’t understand. You took the babies. What else is wrong? You’re keeping something from me.” Giovanni slowly stood. He could smell the cowardice on the doctor. He could read the deception in the chosen words the doctor selectively used. The man said heart. Why would his Bella have a problem with her heart? “Tell me what is wrong with my wife?”

  “I’m sorry, signor.” The doctor put both hands up as if to back Giovanni away. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

  “TELL ME!” he shouted and he felt the veins in his neck and forehead bulge.

  “Your wife had a stroke.” The doctor said.

  Giovanni shook off the news. “No! She didn’t.”

  The doctor blinked in puzzlement. He glanced to Giovanni’s men and then back to him. “Signor, she did. We aren’t sure how bad things are, but we got her heart started again,” the doctor said in a tremulous voice.

  “How the hell did she have a stroke?” Giovanni grabbed the man by the collar. He shook him. “How?”

  “It’s rare but it happens. Your wife arrived with a severe case of hypertension. We are lucky we brought her here in time. I don’t know what caused it. I had just examined her and her blood pressure wasn’t nearly as high.”

  Giovanni let the man go and shoved him so hard he was cast several feet away. The doctor stumbled and nearly tripped over his feet. He rubbed his temples and processed the news. A stroke? He imagined a lot of things, but a stroke was never one of them. He glared at the doctor. “Don’t hold back information. I want to know everything.”

  For an African man his face was flushed and red. “Signor, your method, your threats, it’s not helping. I’m her doctor and it is my duty to do the best that I can. You told me if she died so would I. Trust me I am doing everything in my power to make sure that does not happen. But she must not have stress, or chaos now. Do we understand each other?”

  The doctor’s gaze swung left. The man’s eyes stretched with recognition. Giovanni’s head turned and he sought what had the doctor so caught off guard. And suddenly it all made sense. Armando wheeled his father Don Mancini down the hospital hall. The old
man had dressed for the occasion in a suit and tie, with a dark fedora on his head. He would look as imposing as his son if it weren’t for the oxygen tubing out of his nose and hooked around his ears. And behind the father and son were eight of Mancini’s men.

  “What are they doing here?” Giovanni said under a stilted breath. He approached the troupe. Two of Giovanni’s men were right on his heels. The Battaglias met the Mancinis halfway in the hall. “Leave,” Giovanni said.

  “You are in my home, Giovanni. Everyone and everything here belongs to me.” The old man said and then coughed. “I will not go anywhere until I know how Mirabella is.”

  Giovanni glanced over to Armando and caught the gleam of smug defiance in his eyes. It was true that he had chosen Mancinis territory to have his children. Any conflict with the Mancinis now in the hospital would put his family in jeopardy. Again he had calculated things wrong. He wasn’t sure how Mira and Marietta learned the truth but one look at Armando and he sensed the son-of-a-bitch knew that Mira and Marietta were his sisters. He couldn’t risk his men finding out this way. He was certain Mancini wanted the same.

  “You and I will talk, and then you will go old man. I can give a shit about territory. I can give a shit about your authority.” Giovanni said.

  Don Mancini’s head tilted back. Steely dark eyes glared up at Giovanni from under the shadow of his fedora. “We shall see what is important to you, Giovanni. Yes. Let’s talk.”

  Armando wheeled his father toward the waiting rooms. Giovanni wiped his hand down his face and calmed himself. He had no choice but to follow.

  15.

  “I can’t go in there, Lo,” Marietta said. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”

  Lorenzo sat with her in the car. He stared at those arriving and leaving the ospedale. Marietta’s fear was understandable. He wouldn’t, however, let her be ruled by it. He hadn’t lied when he said he wanted to unite her with her sister. He truly wanted to heal what was broken in his wife. Maybe if he did so he’d find a way to heal what was broken in him?

  “Did you hear me? I said I can’t go in there,” Marietta said.