part0033

GIOVANNI TOOK TO THE open road like a fish in water. His Ferrari accelerated and decelerated around the traffic. It smoothly glided around the winding roads at an expert’s speed. He knew the coastline pretty well. He knew the Amalfi pretty well. The last two days had been less dramatic than past weeks of hell he and his wife had been through. With her and the children secured in Chianti he felt clear headed and focused. And he needed to be.

Therefore, he broke his promise to not leave her. But he planned to return as soon as he was able. Business was business, and he could never really escape it.

He dropped his car into sixth speed on his Ferrari and let the engine purr. The car shot through the night like a bullet under a full moon. His gaze lifted to it. He remembered a moon that bright before. It was the moon that his Bella stared up into the night at after he seduced her in Bellagio on the palazzo balcony. He’d never wanted a woman who didn’t fall for his charm or power in the first greeting. The night he decided to make her his, was the first night he wanted to earn the privilege. Four kids later he felt blessed to have done so.

Renaldo delivered the update on Carlo. The drinking and opium had started again after he sent his children and woman back to America. He couldn’t change Lorenzo or Nico’s fate, but he had hope that for his friend Carlo he wasn’t too late.

The Gaiola was one of the most beautiful beaches in Napoli. At night, however, the tourists were warned to stay away. The clans ruled the night. Carlo had returned to work as well. But after only a few hours he’d escaped to the beach. Giovanni parked along the street and reached into his glove compartment. He removed the envelope and tucked it inside of his blazer pocket. Then he was out of the car into the streets. He was not under the cover of his men. He had no fear of the Santoro’s though they had been disruptive in the past few days with their retaliation. He was now in the heart of his organization. Even the migrants were paid by him.

On the concrete steps that led down to a den of tents on the beach sat the person he knew to look for. A man in his late sixties of East Indian descent. He thumbed his guitar that he played for tourists during the day. Giovanni walked over to him. The man looked up with cataract eyes. He nodded to Gio, stood with his guitar and headed out onto the sand.

Giovanni followed him. They walked around the maze of tents to the less populated stretch of the beach for ten long minutes. His feet didn’t completely sink in the sand but he did feel the grains invade his leather loafers. Renaldo offered to do this job for him. Typically, he would have agreed. But Carlo deserved his hearing. Giovanni removed Danny Boy from under his blazer and kept the gun pointed down next to his leg. In the darkness it was unseen. Though he knew the vagrants wouldn’t dare try him, every man could be tested.

The man they called Olu pointed to the rocky edge of the beach. There was another tent pitched. It stood alone.

“Did you tell the boys to be ready.”

“They are there, they see you,” the man gave a toothless grin. “They are always where he is.”

Giovanni nodded. He reached in his other pocket and removed some bills. Olu nodded in respect. He took the money and hurried off. Giovanni scanned the area. Carlo was never alone. Whether he wanted it or not his boys always followed. He didn’t see the young men but he knew the old man was right. They were close. He walked over to the tent. The moonlight was so bright he could see the coastline clearly. Half way there, Carlo came out of his tent with a bottle in his hand. He turned and he saw him approach.

When Giovanni reached him Carlo nodded that they should speak. He walked away from the tent to where the shoreline and the water almost met. Giovanni wasn’t sure who was in the tent but he finally did see Carlo’s lost boys on the rocks. They watched them but didn’t approach.

“I could have come to you, boss,” Carlo said. “You need some work done? I’m your guy,” he said after a long belch.

“But you haven’t come to me. Not even after what happened to Eve, and the death and the tragedy in the family. I haven’t seen or heard from you.”

“How is Evie?” Carlo asked.

“I had my own death and tragedy to deal with.” Carlo tossed the empty long neck vodka bottle to the sand and it rolled out over the smoothed tide into the waves. Both he and Giovanni faced the ocean.

“I know you sent for her. My daughter. I am grateful.”

“Are you?” Giovanni asked.

Carlo cut him a sideways glare then returned his gaze to the sea. “Shae will be a good mother to my kids. That was the plan, right? Get me focused.” Carlo hit his bare belly and then his chest. “I’m ready boss. What’s the job?”

“So you sent her away?”

“You know I did,” Carlo said.

“And for what? More pussy from whores?” He glanced to the tent where a young woman ran out of it barely clothed. He turned his gaze back to Carlo. “More poison in your veins?”

“I’m clean!” Carlo barked. “I drink to take the edge off, but I’m not on that shit anymore. I’m out here only a few days a week. I have a room back in... I have a room, somewhere close.”

“I didn’t come here for your itinerary.”

“Why did you come? What do you need boss? I’m your guy.”

“Not anymore. You made that choice back in Africa when you let Lorenzo go.”

“But you knew. You knew it was the one trigger I couldn’t pull. Remember? You knew!” Carlo smirked. He looked down at the gun in Giovanni’s hand. An awareness flashed over his face. He got down on his knees before Giovanni and clasped his hands behind his head.

“Renaldo told me. The Generale and Carabinieri are building a case against you. They are going to use me. My charges, my mistakes. I’m a liability now, boss. I accept that. I’m prepared for it. I want my children taken care of. I want all my money sent to Shae in America. Renaldo has invested some of it, and some of it I have in cash. He’ll know where. Give half of it to my boys and the rest to Shae. Will you make that promise to me?” Carlo glanced to the boys who now had numbered more than twenty on the rocks watching. “Promise to take care of my boys, too? I don’t know how, fuck I don’t. But get them off the streets. Do something with them.”

“I know you’ve tried to clean up. But you failed. The butcher is dead. There is no way to change or erase the mistakes of the past. I know that better than anyone.” Giovanni said. He put his gun to the back of his pants. He reached inside of his blazer pocket and removed an envelope. He tossed it to the sand between them. “We took oaths as boys, as brothers, we honored them. But we’re men now. And in this life there is no honor between men.”

“What is it?” Carlo asked.

Giovanni didn’t answer. Carlo reached for the envelope. He dusted off the sand. He went inside to remove two passports and a cheque book. He frowned.

“It is you. An American citizen born in Spain. Everything is there.”

Carlo looked up at him. “You’re letting me go?”

“The new man on that passport doesn’t belong to me. Carlo does. And I’m not letting Carlo go. It would cost us both too much.”

A man could be heard struggling and shouting for mercy. Carlo glanced back to see his boys dragging the man down to the sand. He was of the same height and build as Carlo. He looked to be about the same age. Carlo stood. He frowned and then looked to the man the young boys held. It was one of Santoro’s men. And he was desperate for forgiveness from Giovanni. He said and confessed to everything to spare his life.

“Carlo is dead,” Giovanni said and removed his gun once more. The boys let the man go who immediately ran toward the water. Giovanni opened fire. He blasted three to four bursts of bullets into the man’s back and skull.

“The boys will take care of the head and hands. When the authorities come what is left will be in the tent. It will be all that is left of the Butcher.”

Carlo didn’t speak. They both knew that Carlo boys would protect the secret of his death and resurrection. Their loyalty was stronger than the men now under Giovanni. And part of Giovanni wished he were the man again who inspired such devotion. But his brotherhood was broken. And he was doing his best to repair what was left of the men he loved.

“Dominic has arranged transportation to take you to Istanbul. Six months is all I ask before you return to America. And when you return to America remember you and the Camorristi are done. Don’t ever come back to Italy or Sicily. Don’t contact your mother or your sister. Don’t look to have a conversation or beer with Renaldo. Don’t look back, because if you do I will be ready.”

Giovanni walked off.

“Gio!” Carlo said.

“Thank you, brother. For my life.”

Giovanni nodded. “Good luck, brother.”

He went back the way he came. His gun still hot from the crime. He held back from feeling anything until he got behind the wheel of his black Ferrari and disappeared into the night.

MIRABELLA CLOSED THE book. She glanced to Eve on the bed. Somewhere between the sunken treasure to the Pirates rescue, her daughter fell asleep. She set the book aside and got up from her chair. She walked over and tucked Eve in securely under her blanket. Loose curls rested on her brow and she brushed them away gently with her hand. Under Eve’s closed eyelids she could see movement. Her child could never have a restful sleep. Since the fire and devastation Eve hadn’t spoken.

There was a soft creek at the door. Mirabella glanced over to see Catalina peek in. She smiled at her. Mirabella nodded that she’d be there soon. She was hesitant to leave Eve. She and Giovanni never left her alone more than an hour at a time. She put the baby monitor close in case Eve woke with a nightmare and then took the receiver with her. The door was left ajar and the light in the hall on. Mirabella walked to the front of the house where she heard the soft cries of an infant. Zia was pacing and comforting little Leeza.

“Is she hungry?” Mirabella asked.

“She misses mommy,” Zia answered and handed her over. Catalina’s baby boy was in his bassinet near her. She sat on the sofa scanning two newspapers that were delivered by the men.

“What’s the latest?” Mirabella asked.

“Same as the television. They are exaggerating what happened to our family and what caused the fire. They are calling it a mafia hit. It’s terrible they make fun of our pain,” Catalina said.

Mirabella sighed. “Yes, it’s terrible.”

Zia picked up her knitting and sat in her chair. She began to rock. The family had relocated from Sorrento to the main house on their land in Chianti. Zia never visited the house when Rocco was alive, but now she too stayed with them.

“When will Gio and Domi return?” Catalina asked.

“Two days, I think,” Mirabella said adjusting so her daughter could feed properly.

“What does Gio want to do about Melanzana? Are you going to stay here in Chianti? Or move to Milan, Bellagio?” Catalina asked. “Have you thought about coming back to Sicily? We are rebuilding in Mondello. Domi and I are making sure it’s restored. It may take time but you should consider bringing the children there.”

“Enough with the questions, Catalina, we need to focus on Eve,” Zia admonished. Catalina gaze switched to Zia and Mirabella caught a bit of hostility in the brief exchange between the women.

“It’s okay. We all have questions,” Mirabella said. “I told Gio that we need to stay here for now. I think being here on the farm will help Eve. The doctors said it could be good for her.”

“How about that doctor who helped you? What was her name? Sera? Yes! Where is she? Can she see Eve?”

“Sera was an informant for the Polizi di Stato .”

“What? She was?”

Catalina obviously was not told about the complicated affair between Dominic and Sera, but Mirabella knew all the sordid details. She also knew now that Sera was a distant cousin of Fabiana. But she decided to keep that information to herself. It would be revealed again at a later date.

“Did Giovanni deal with her?”

“She’s gone. Let’s leave it at that.”

Catalina nodded. Mirabella smiled down at her daughter when she’d fallen asleep and stopped suckling. She picked up her little hand and kissed her tiny fingers. In all of the horror of the past months since her birth her sweet baby had been very patient and tolerant of Mirabella’s split duties. She only fussed when she wanted to feed or be held to sleep.

“I have to ask—” Catalina began but her voice fell short. She glanced to Zia who was staring at her and then to Mirabella. “Marietta? Where is she? How is she?”

“She has Lorenza with her, and I know she’s safe. How she is, I don’t know.”

“I understand.” Catalina sat forward. “Eve is going to recover. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, Mirabella, but she will. We will make sure. We’re going to get through this.”

The words of comfort from Catalina meant so much. She’d been broken inside since the fire, and trying so hard not to show it, Belinda’s death was the last straw. She couldn’t look at her husband without crying.

“I’ve called Father Angelo from the church here in Chianti. He will come to sit and pray with Eve. He also said he can help with counseling her, if we need too. I think this should be more spiritual. She needs to be healed from all of this pain,” Zia said.

“I don’t mind his prayers for the family, but let’s move a bit slowly with anyone accessing Eve. For now, it’s just us. Later we can talk about how to care for her.”

Zia got up from her chair and came for Leeza. “I’ll lay her down next to Eve. For the night.”

“Grazie,” Mirabella said. She handed her girl over and watched Zia leave.

“How do you do it?” Catalina asked.

“That? Sit here with Zia as if none of it happened. As if her lies and manipulations didn’t destroy this family? As if she isn’t the cause of all of it!”

“You’re angry with Zia?”

“Yes. If she had let Rocco acknowledge Lorenzo none of this would have happened. Patri would be alive, and so would my mother. Everything that was done, was done because of her and Rocco’s lies.”

“No, Catalina. Zia didn’t rape that young woman. Zia didn’t force Rocco to do anything. He did that on his own. Zia has been punished. You know her story, her heartbreak. She loves this family and she tried to save Lorenzo just as hard as you did.”

The tears on Catalina face broke Mirabella’s heart. She reached over and took her sister in-law’s hand. “We don’t give up in this family. Not on each other. Do you want to spend the rest of your time with Zia blaming her?”

“No. I just hate this.” Catalina picked up her son and left the room. After a few minutes Zia returned. She put her hand to Mirabella’s shoulder.

“There was a message for Giovanni today.”

“Oh? Okay?” Mirabella said.

“I heard the men speaking of it. It was about you.”

“A request from your sister to visit her. She’s made a few calls Mirabella. Has Giovanni told you?”

“No. So much has been going on. I’m sure he will mention it eventually.”

“I have something for you.”

Mirabella was ready to join her daughters in bed. But she delayed it for a moment as Zia left the room and returned with a box. Mirabella was surprised by what she brought with her. “When you were in Naples with Eve the men started bringing what could be salvaged from Melanzana here. They brought this, from Villa Rosso.”

Mirabella looked down in the crate and saw her mother’s record and journal. There was also Giovanni’s mother journal and mementoes. She remembered packing the crate to have the items sent to her attorney. She and Giovanni secured documents, jewelry and other valuables in their vault.

“I had completely forgotten about them.”

Zia nodded. “I know you have a lot on your mind. A lot to deal with. I was looking at your mother’s things. The album and records. I think you should say goodbye to your sister. Have your own goodbye.”

“It’s too late, Zia. But thank you.” Mirabella stood. She was careful not to wake her sleeping baby. “I’m going to get in bed with Eve. She might wake up soon.”

“Thank you for what you said to Catalina.”

“She has a right to be angry. I can never make up for what I’ve done.”

“I don’t think any of us can change the past.”

Zia wiped at her tears. “I wish Eve would have met you before she died. She would have loved you for this family.”

Mirabella smiled. “Good, because I love this family.”

THE HOUSE DIDN’T WAKE early. Catalina did. She had a newborn who she had to keep close at all times. With Armando in her arms she eased out of bed carefully and put her feet into her slippers. She picked up his diaper bag and left the room. She would change him in the front of the house and feed him again if he was hungry.

Catalina walked down the long hall and inhaled the fresh the brew of morning coffee. She sensed Zia was up. She went to the sofa instead of joining her aunt in the kitchen.

After Armando was changed and in her arms feeding from her breast Zia walked in. She carried a cup of tea and set it on the coffee table before her.

“Morning,” Zia said. “I bought you tea instead of coffee, better for you and the baby.”

“Good morning,” Catalina answered.

Zia smiled. She stared down at Armando for a moment. The silence felt awkward between them but Catalina didn’t know how to move them past it so she kept silent.

“It’s been decades since I’ve been in here?” Zia looked around. “But now with Rocco gone and the family here this place doesn’t feel like it used too.”

“It was your home when your son was alive. Rocco built it for you. I know it has memories.”

“Yes. Plenty of memories.”

Zia went to the sofa chair and sat down. She stared so hard that Catalina was forced to look up. Zia gave her a pleading smile. “I know you are upset with me.”

“Let’s not discuss it. We have Eve to worry about. And we both need to help Mirabella through her grief. That’s why I came back to Chianti.”

“I never thought it would go this far. That the secrets and lies would end this way.” Zia confessed.

“Why Zia? Why couldn’t you let Rocco claim Lorenzo? Why let him grow up thinking that Isabella was his mother? You saw how evil she was. How could you sit back and watch him suffer that way?”

“I’ve asked myself that a lot lately. Why couldn’t I do it? Look at your boy,” Zia said.

Catalina looked down at Armando. She stroked his cheek with her finger.

“That love you feel for him is pure. I felt it ten times greater for my Arturo. He was everything to me.” Zia put her hands to her face as if to stop herself from having an emotional break. After a long pause she started again. “I hated Chianti, I hated being away from my family in Sicily. I had no one out here. But Arturo became my life. And he died. All my hope and faith nearly went with him. I found him Catalina, after the gun went off. I was there to see what had become of my boy.”

“Zia, I’m sorry.”

Zia shook her head no to the sympathy. “Rocco didn’t cry. I cried for months, every day and every night. But Rocco? He didn’t allow himself to grieve. He didn’t speak Arturo’s name after we buried him. It was like our son never lived.”

“So you wanted to punish Rocco?”

“It’s not that simple, Catalina. Rocco had caused me so much pain and others, too. It didn’t feel like punishment. It felt like... I can’t explain what it felt like. But when I heard what he did to that poor girl and how she suffered, how she was taken from her family—stolen like I was, I didn’t want Rocco to get away with it. I couldn’t go to the authorities on him. I couldn’t go to Tomosino and demand justice. I didn’t want Rocco to have a son when God said we couldn’t anymore. After Isabella took Lorenzo it was out of my hands. The lie was hers and Rocco’s. I couldn’t change it.”

“Lorenzo is dead. Rocco is dead. None of it matters anymore.”

“It does matter, Catalina,” Zia said. “The men in this family have always decided our lives. But they did so because of the mothers who never taught them better than their fathers. You will be a good mother to that baby. You will be a strong mother for him. And you will teach him a different way. Because you know what has happened could happen again. I pray for all of you.”

“I shouldn’t have blamed you Zia. I know more than anyone what it’s like to be a woman in this family. I love you. I pray for all of us too.”

Zia clasped her hands to her face... Armando stopped feeding. He blinked at her with a dazed look of contentment. She put her breast back in the front of her dress and got up from the seat. She walked over to Zia who looked up.

“Do you want to burp him?”

Zia nodded. She hadn’t held Armando since he was born. Catalina gave her the baby gently and Zia balanced him on her shoulder. She rubbed and patted his back. Catalina stepped back smiling. “Why don’t you spend some time with him. While I get some rest before everyone wakes.”

Zia nodded through her tears with a look of gratitude.

“I forgive you, Zia, because you’ve always forgiven me.”

“Grazie, Catalina ,” Zia said rocking back and forth with the baby. Catalina returned to her room. She eased into bed with thoughts of Dominic. She couldn’t wait until he came back. She felt like she was home.

“YOU’RE ALIVE?” ARIELLE backed away from the door. Carlo walked inside with a cap pulled down low on his head. He closed the door immediately.

“That I was dead. I know.”

“How are you alive? What have you done?”

“As far as the world knows, Carlo is dead.”

“But—Giovanni, the Camorra? They find out you did this and—”

“Arielle, I don’t have much time to explain. I needed to see you before I leave, because I’m not coming back.”

She finally let go of her shock. She nodded that they could talk and walked back through her home. He followed her to the kitchen. It was where she spent most of her days. She still had baby Carmine’s empty bottles on the sink. Arielle sat down and settled into her misery. Carlo walked around as if nothing had changed between them. Everything had. And she hated him for his final offense. He should have died. He should be with Adara. She’d be able to let go of her pain of losing Carmine to the American woman if she could believe Carlo was dead.

“You forced me to give up my baby,” she said softly. “Adara would have wanted me to keep him!”

Carlo paused. “He isn’t your baby. He isn’t your son. He’s mine.”

“And you gave him to that American puttana! You sent him to a foreign country! He won’t even have an identity over there. You tossed him in the garbage like your father did you!” she spat at him. Carlo pulled out a chair and sat at the table with her. He had the nerve to take one of her cigarillos out of the pack and light it in her face.

“I’ve been in a bad way. A really bad way. I never wanted my boy to see like that.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Arielle chuckled. “When Giovanni finds out you faked your death he’ll bury you next to Adara, and there will be justice.”

“I’m not well Arielle,” he began as he dismissed the threat. “But I am going to get better. I just can’t do it as Carlo. Not anymore.” Carlo’s gaze slowly lifted and fixed on Arielle. “I loved Adara.”

“That’s a lie!”

“I didn’t admit it for a long time to myself, and I couldn’t hold my boy without feeling the pain of losing her. I was the one that got her killed. I wasn’t there to protect her. I’ve made my peace with my weakness. I want you to do so too...”

“Weakness? How am I weak!”

“Look around. You surround yourself with other’s lives, and have given up your own. Your sacrifice is good, but we both know it’s because you aren’t strong enough to face that world alone. You need those children to keep you whole. That makes you weak. I couldn’t use my boy that way. It’s not what Adara would have wanted. You have to give this up. And you’re freer than me. Walk away.”

“Good for you that you have such great wisdom now. But this is the life I chose,” she waved off his concern.

Carlo reached across the table and touched her hand. Arielle let him hold it. He then squeezed it. “I’m sorry I can’t bring her back. I know she loved you. She thought of you as a mother. And I know you love my son. But he’s mine, and I need to be a father to him. I will get the help I need and then I’m going to find him and give him a life away from the Camorra. A normal life.”

“You aren’t normal. How many people have you killed? You don’t have a soul, Carlo. You think running from us will change that?”

“Maybe it won’t. If I fail, I know I’ve lived up to the promise I made her.”

Arielle pulled her hand free and wiped at her tears. “I can’t forgive you because I can’t forgive myself. You said you were coming to say goodbye. I’m telling you not to run away. It’s a not a life to live. Giovanni will find you. Did you not hear what he did to Lorenzo and Marietta? Are you fucking insane?”

“Giovanni is releasing me.”

“There is no release! Not for you! Not for me! This is it! This is the life!”

Carlo put out his cigarillo in the ashtray.

“You’re a strong woman, Arie. You’ve given your life to Camorra. I know why you did it. Why you can’t let go. Gio belongs to Mirabella. You should belong to yourself. Sell this place and go. Get out of here. Start over somewhere.” He removed an envelope from his jacket pocket with bills. He put it on the table. “It’s all I could get together in cash.”

“Carlo! Don’t do this! You can’t walk away. You can’t!”

He stood and she went into his arms. He hugged her. He squeezed her to him. He whispered to her the things that Abedi taught him about freeing himself from demons. The lessons he learned too late. Arielle cried, but soon let go her grip on him. He was taking a risk letting her know that he lived. She knew he took this risk for her. That somehow he believed he owed Adara this debt. He would not abandon Arielle without giving her the same freedom that Giovanni had given him.

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked.

“No.” He kissed her cheek. She walked him to the door.

“You’re fooling yourself, Carlo if you think you can change. Be a different man in America. We are Camorra. Not even the ocean can divide us. I will see you again.”

He winked and pulled on his cap and raised his collar to shield his identity as he dashed out of the door into the rain and a waiting car. In the end she was left as she always was. Alone.

“To Rome. Domi has someone waiting for me there. We’ll go to Istanbul first, and then make our way to Spain.”

Rolando nodded. The kid pulled away from Arielle’s house. Carlo looked into his rearview mirror to see her watching. She was tough and she was loyal. She would protect his secret, but he knew that this probably would not be the last he saw of her.