by Sienna Mynx
“You’re right. I realize that with Lorenzo. It’s the last thing he said to me. I am not God.”
“You’re the Godfather. That gives you some responsibility.”
“It gives me all the responsibility. I knew the American woman had come to America pregnant in search of Carlo. I knew and sent her away.”
“Why?”
“Angelo Calderone.”
Mirabella reached out and turned on the lamp in their room. She looked at Giovanni now cast in yellow shade. He rubbed the back of their baby. “He was a father and a son. On a lie I destroyed everything. He retaliated, and I retaliated, so much happened because I decided during the Calderone war that I was God. And that I would punish everyone for losing you.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Does it matter? Adara life was never hers. And I didn’t care what I made her. She survived it. All she wanted was what we have. All Carlo wanted was the same. So I was Godfather and I gave them what they wanted, not what they needed. Look what happened.”
“I’m glad to hear you say you were wrong Gio.”
“It’s because of you.”
“No.”
“Bella? It’s you. I finally have your faith in me. You let me be the man I am, and by doing so I found out who I’m not. It’s because of you I have to fix it. Not even Omertà will protect this family if I don’t fix the wrongs. And killing my enemies, never stopped them. So the American woman is coming. Maybe your sister will be well enough to leave with her when she does.”
“She won’t.”
“Then she will join our enemy and we will see this to the end.”
“We have no choice,” Mirabella agreed. “The ending is so long, Gio. So hard to see, but it’s out there. We’re going to get there together. When we do Lorenzo and Marietta will understand everything we did was for the future of this family. The family will understand. Even Carlo. They will, because they will see how your sacrifices changed us all.” She leaned in and kissed him. She touched his neck and then jaw when their passion mounted. She smiled in the kiss and put her forehead to his. “Nothing has changed for me and your children. You are still the greatest man in our lives.”
“And you’re my Donna.”
THE DOOR TO THE ROOM opened. Dominic looked up as the doctor walked in. Catalina slept on the bed holding her son. She was exhausted. And the baby rested near her heartbeat content. It was as perfect of a scene to him as the Virgin Mary.
“Signore, how is she?” the doctor asked.
“She’s resting.”
“Well, all the tests have come back. Mother and son are healthy and free to leave. You will need to sign his birth record. Have you decided on a name?”
“He is Armando Mancini Battaglia. My son,” Dominic said. Catalina eyes opened to his comment. She looked at him and the doctor. She said nothing. The doctor walked over to her bedside. “How are you?”
“A little tender all over but okay. Just really tired.”
“Doctor, maybe its best that we leave in the morning?”
The doctor glanced to the windows with the rain pour simmering down he imagined the storm was far from over. The doctor nodded in agreement. “I will send in the nurse to take the child if needed. Congratulations to you both,” he said and left. Catalina adjusted her son and turned to her side so she could face Domi. He waited for her to object and remind him of his place in her life. After all, nothing really should have changed. The mistakes he made were felt between them still.
“Domi?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever think about your father? Your real father?”
Dominic sat forward. He stared at her for a long pause before speaking. “Sometimes.”
“Even though he was a bad man, and hurt you?”
“I didn’t say I had good thoughts about him. But he is my father. And I’m a man. Every man wants an understanding of their father. The man he was, the man we become is based off it. Tomosino did a good job of replacing him, but I still think of him.”
“I want my son to know the good things about Armando. For as long as we can protect him. I want him to see his father the way I saw mine, until the world changes that.”
Dominic nodded. “That won’t be hard to do. The world he lives in will be the one we give him.”
“That’s nice, Domi. But is it true? Can you guarantee that you will be able to do that? Help me teach him the good not the bad of a man you hate?”
“Can you love me again?” he asked.
She blinked as if startled. “I don’t hate you. I never hated you Domi.”
“Can you fall back in love with me?” he asked.
“The way we were before? No. I don’t ever want to be the way I was before. I need something that is different for us. Something new.”
“I love you, Catalina. I have loved you since the day we met. I’ve had other women, tried to know other women, but nothing has ever changed my love for you. When I say I will be a father to your son, I mean in every way. And I will never punish him for not being my flesh and blood. When I think of my father I think of all the things I would never be. When I think of Tomosino I think of all the ways I will love a boy who is not mine. How I will make him my son.”
“I’ve changed.”
“I can handle it,” he reassured her.
“I need time, before... we... you know... try. And I can’t tell you how much time.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving. I gave up being consigliere. I’ll give it all up to have you love me again.”
“How did we lose so much?” Catalina asked. She rubbed her knuckle over her sleeping babies cheek. “We had it all at one point. Why did it have to change?”
“Giovanni said we would have to grow up. He was right.”
“It wasn’t just you back then. I wanted you too, Domi. I had every intention of having you.”
“I was older; I was a brother to you. I should have remained one. If we hadn’t have fallen in love your boy would have been born just as he has been now. You fulfilled your destiny with Armando. I’m only asking that you fulfill the rest of your destiny with me.”
“You speak of us like poetry,” she smiled.
“I think of you this way.”
“I’m not the only one that’s different. You are too. I see it,” she said.
“I was angry with Giovanni for blaming me for falling in love with you, for his disgust. But I can see why. Back then I needed someone to love me in the deepest way because I do remember my father. The very worst of him. Rocco saved my life when he found me in that chicken coop, you saved my life when you choose me to be your first love. This family is my life. I wanted to hold onto it. I was wrong for how I did.”
“I understand. But you’re still different. Why?”
Dominic looked away.
“It’s okay. Tell me.”
“I had help. The doctor. A doctor. She and I talked about the shadows in my mind. The pain, the anger, the weakness. And I understood it better. So I stopped drinking and wanting to die. I started living again. For me, and you.”
She smiled.
“That boy is mine. Not because I want to control you. I only want to love you and him. I want the family we promised each other. And I want him to come into this world loved.”
She nodded. He got up from his chair and walked over. “Can I hold him?” he asked.
“Yes.”
For the first time he was allowed to hold the baby. Dominic walked carefully with him. The tiny infant moved a little but slept with his belly full. He looked so wrinkled and fragile, he could see no distinction in his features. But he was beautiful to Dominic still. Just as Catalina was beautiful to him when she was put in his arms after Madre returned from the hospital. He could remember that day like yesterday. And the love he felt for the child was pure as it was then.
“Don Armando Mancini Battaglia is a strong name.” Catalina said. “I like it, Domi.”
“You hear that Arman
do. You have gladiator blood coursing through your veins. We will rule the island together, until you are ready to take it all. As your father and your grandfather once did.”
He kissed his brow, he looked over at Catalina. He walked over and leaned in. She didn’t turn away and he didn’t abuse the privilege. He kissed her brow. “Rest. I’ll hold him until he wakes.” Dominic went back to the chair and sat in it. Catalina settled back into her restful state. He didn’t see the shadow demons from his past any longer. He didn’t crave the taste of alcohol or revenge. He felt such contentment he nearly dosed off himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Funeral
Turin, Italy
“DONNA, THE FAMILIES are arriving,” Leo whispered to her.
Mirabella looked around the sanctuary at those gathered. Carlo still hadn’t arrived. She walked down the aisle to Giovanni, alarmed. “Where is he?”
“Renaldo’s been searching since last night. We can’t wait any longer.” Giovanni nodded in the direction of the surviving Calderones. All of which had returned to Italy for the service. The tension in the cathedral was thicker than gravy. And most of the animosity was aimed at the Battaglias.
“Fine.” Mirabella conceded. She took her husband hand and nodded to Leo to let the local guests enter. The doors to the cathedral were opened and both the Battaglias and the surviving Calderone’s prepared to receive them.
RENALDO BANGED HARDER on the door. No one answered. He knew everyone was in there. He glanced to his men and pointed. Several of his men turned and headed around the back of the whorehouse to block anyone trying to flee. Renaldo took a step back. He kicked at the door twice before it crashed inward. A woman screamed. The pungent smell of smoke and something else singed his nostrils. He walked in as naked women and the men who paid for their services all ran for clothing and cover. His men swarmed the place. They captured who they could and demanded answers.
“Where is Carlo!” The Battaglias demanded.
This was the third whorehouse he knew of that Carlo used to frequent. He stepped over those forced to get down on the floor with their hands on their heads and went down the hall to the rooms. He threw open every door he passed.
The people hiding were of no use. They either screamed at the sight of Renaldo or scurried for cover. He abandoned the search of the top floor when he saw a stairwell entrance. He walked over to the stairs that led down a floor. Renaldo drew his gun. He went down slowly not sure of what he would find. This was not one of Giovanni’s territories. There were so many foreigners washing up and joining their criminal world it could belong to the Nigerians or the Chinese. Places like these were bought and sold constantly.
Below he found two men. One of them fired. Renaldo put him down. The other one dropped his gun and went to his knees. Renaldo gaze swept the room. His men started coming down to join him. Renaldo walked over to the door that was ajar. He stepped out of the line of fire and pushed it open slowly. A woman was on the bed naked. She held a sheet to her face and body and wept silently. His gaze swung left. Carlo was in a chair. He was slumped down in nothing but his unzipped pants.
“In here!” he yelled to his men. He went over to Carlo and checked his pulse. He felt it strongly. He slapped him in the face several times until Carlo came out of his doped up stupor.
“Are you fucking insane? Today we bury your wife and you are in here!” he hit him again. Carlo didn’t seem to even feel the blow, but his nose bled.
“Boss? What do we do?” Ernesto asked him.
Renaldo looked around. He needed to know what it was Carlo had taken. He couldn’t tell.
“What the fuck did he take, puttana ?” Renaldo hissed at the woman.
“Opium.” She pointed to the pipe at the side of the bed on the floor.
“Get him up.” Renaldo commanded. The men did as they were told. Renaldo kicked over the things in his way and went to the other door in the room. As he suspected there was a small shower and toilet.
“Throw him inside.” Renaldo ordered. He set the water to the coldest temperature the tap would allow. A blast of it hit Carlo hard. He gasped and gagged as he sagged against the shower wall. The water clogged his nose and eyes and began to retch. Slowly Carlo began to stand with his back pressed against the tiles.
Renaldo wasn’t done. He delivered a hard punch to Carlo’s ribs and his friend folded. He shoved him again under the water. The sobering effort was done out of love with a mixture of anger. The state of Carlo broke Renaldo’s heart. Though he was no idiot or saint and had, himself fallen, he just didn’t imagine that Carlo couldn’t recover from this last gut kick from life.
Carlo shouted something incoherent. Renaldo saw it as progress. If Carlo was angry he was at least feeling something. He wrestled with his friend and dragged him out of the bathroom. It wasn’t as easily done as before. When Carlo recovered he could be more dangerous than any man in the room including Renaldo. The men all stepped back concerned. They kept their guns on Carlo during the fight not sure at what point it would be okay to shoot a capu trying to kill another capu .
Renaldo took a few hard hits to the face, neck and gut before he got Carlo in a chokehold and subdued him. Carlo kicked his feet reaching back to claw at Renaldo’s face. It didn’t work. Renaldo tightened the grip until Carlo’s only reaction was to try to breathe. And he did. He wheezed through several hard breaths.
“Are you done!” Renaldo demanded.
“Are you done!” Renaldo repeated.
Carlo put up his hands as if to show a sign of mercy. Renaldo released him and Carlo gagged crawling away. Renaldo looked at the men that they were supposed to lead and felt shame. To see Carlo in such a state did irreparable damage to his reputation. Carlo was the beast they were supposed to fear. He looked nothing like the man he once knew.
“Everyone out. Leave me with him!”
The men obeyed the order, and took the dead man and the weeping woman with them. Renaldo paced. He’d rather put his best friend down than let him turn into the zombie drugged out freaks that roamed the street. He wouldn’t let it happen.
“Do it,” Carlo spat blood after the two words.
Renaldo frowned.
“Do it. If you don’t then the next bullet I have in my gun is for Giovanni!” Carlo sneered.
“What did you say?” Renaldo asked.
“You heard me. Fuck Giovanni!”
“Say it again,” Renaldo raised the gun. “Say it again and your boy is an orphan.”
It was the only thing that stopped Carlo dead in his tracks.
“You blame Giovanni for the shit show of your life?” Renaldo asked. “Was it Giovanni who killed Carmine? Was it Giovanni who brought the china man to town to kill Ciro?”
Carlo didn’t respond.
Renaldo stooped with the gun between his parted knees. “Was it Giovanni who fucked up in Vegas and set that Armenian rat on the course that killed your woman? Was it the boss? Was it?”
“He knew Shae had come. He knew and he let Umberto send her away. If he had stayed out of it Adara would be alive!” Carlo shouted as tears came down his cheeks.
“Maybe. But Shae would be dead. Which one of them should die first because you have sucked the dick of opium and let poison fill your lungs and brain? You’re weak! Weak enough that you think you could insult the Padrino and I’d let you live?”
Carlo shrugged. “I’m dead anyway.”
Renaldo again considered killing him. He loved him. He would die for him and all of his brothers. But he’d end them with a single shot between the eyes to save their soul. Staring into his best friend’s eyes he saw the truth. Killing him would not be mercy. He was right. He was dead inside already.
“You don’t deserve either one of these women you torture yourself about. However, Adara deserves a burial and respect. Not you fucking a whore the day they are to put her into the grave.”
“I can’t take it anymore. I can’t.”
“You will! You’re the fucking
butcher. It’s who you are.”
Carlo looked up and shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m dead.”
“I will not tell Giovanni this conversation. I believe it was the drugs that made you make the threat. But say it again brother, think it again, and I will deliver what’s left to you to the boss as the apology.”
Carlo wiped his tears and snot from his face with the back of his hand.
“Lo? Is he dead?” Carlo asked.
“He’s dead.” Renaldo said.
“And that doesn’t matter to you? You don’t feel anything?” Carlo asked.
“What am I to feel for the traitor? He went against the family. For me he died the day he sniveled to Giuseppe Calderone and let the punk outsmart him.”
“I need to get to the funeral,” Carlo said.
Renaldo stood. He extended his hand to Carlo. His friend accepted it while holding his side. Renaldo slipped his arm around Carlo’s waist to support him when he stood and Carlo put his free arm around Renaldo’s shoulders. Together they went upstairs and out into the light.
CARLO DROPPED HIS HEAD back and closed his eyes. His friend couldn’t see his tears thanks to the dark sunglasses he wore. “They’ve already made it to the gravesite,” he said. He’d barely made it in time to say goodbye. First he had to clean up and sober. Then they had to rush to the airport and find a commercial flight leaving in time. They were lucky enough to land when they did.
“It’s not too late. Let’s go,” Renaldo said.
Carlo reached back and got the long stem rose he stopped to buy before they travelled to the parish. The wails of the mourners leveled off to a low melody that deepened everyones sorrow. At the last minute Arielle and Giovanni granted the Calderone’s wish to have Adara buried in her family plot in Turin. He could see several people hugging and crying from her family. Renaldo put a hand to his back shoulder not just for support but to push him forward. And he needed that push. He walked stiffly in the tailored suit his friend had forced him to wear. He kept his eyes on the casket, not all the mourners who now watched his approach.