Battaglia Mafia: La Famiglia Part 12

Giovanni cut his gaze over to her. "Something like that, but more personal. It's just a man, his sail, his board and the sea. You will let me teach you to swim?"

"First the gun, now swimming," Mira chuckled. "Yes, we'll try it after the babies are born."

"Speaking of, your gun is in your vanity drawer. I made sure Leo put it there for you. Keep it on you if you go out to the beaches."

"I'm not carrying a gun to the beach." Mira scoffed.

"Then you won't be going to the beach alone," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

They drove around the market square of the town and travelled down a very steep hill into the countryside. She was almost ready to ask how much further when the car veered off to what looked like private property. Ahead of them was a wood and stone farmhouse situated upon a hill. Through dense foliage, the upper level of the cottage could be seen. From her limited view the place looked older than Villa Mare Blu.

"Does someone live here?"

It was a valid question. So many historical cathedrals and stone structured buildings were in Sicily.

"My father called this place Acqualiquida Rosa which translates to liquid water rose. In the spring all that you see surrounding here are beautiful pink roses. Nowhere else in the countryside do these roses bloom but here. My dad's sister was named Rosalie because she was born here instead of Bagheria. She was born outside of my grandfather's marriage."

Mira found it distasteful to hear that another Battaglia man had forsaken his vows. But she decided to not harp on it. "Your father was close to her?"

"He was, he raised her." Giovanni continued to drive slowly up to the cottage.

"Is there a reason why?" Mira asked.

"He considered her, Rosalie, his sister I suppose," Giovanni shrugged. "Family."

"No. I mean is there a reason why he was so big on roses?"

"You think he was big on roses?" Giovanni scoffed.

"They're everywhere in your life." Mira smiled. "Oh c'mon, baby," she reached over and touched his thigh. "Tell me? Why did the great fearless Don Tomosino Battaglia like pink, purple, and blue roses? And don't tell me that c.r.a.p that you do it all for the p.u.s.s.y," she laughed.

Giovanni looked over the top of his sungla.s.ses at her. She smiled and he smiled. "Roses represent love. I suppose love is the strength of the family. Love is what we Battaglia men need."

"Fair enough. A beautiful rose reminds me of love too." Mira gazed upon the cottage. A closer look changed her opinion. It definitely appeared to be lived in. There were clothes on a line flapping in the wind.

"Rosalie died at thirty-three. She died in childbirth. The place has been kept in the family," Giovanni said. "Funny I never met her child, never knew what it was. I believe her husband moved with the child to England some say America."

"Who lives here now?" Mira asked.

Giovanni parked. He turned in his seat. He put his arm around her headrest and looked at her again over the top of his sungla.s.ses. "My father's wife is from Porticello. When they were married she loved the place so he gave it to her. They stayed between here and the family home in Bagheria. I'll take you there next. My uncle Vito, Rosetta's father, he and the rest of the family live there now."

"Okay?" Mira said returning her gaze to the cottage. The gra.s.s so tall it nearly swallowed the car. "But who lives here?"

"Esta asked me, after his death, permission to be allowed to live out her days here. I think it holds some fond memories of their time together."

"You have a relations.h.i.+p with her?" Mira asked in surprise. Giovanni nodded his head yes. "Does she stay here by herself?"

"Her younger sister who is in her late sixties stays here too. I make sure they are provided for. My father made no provision for her in his will."

"Why didn't he? Nothing against your mother, but why did he treat his wife Esta so horribly?"

"You know how this goes, Bella. Don't make me explain it again." He looked back to the cottage. She stared at it as well when he answered. "She considers me her son. I consider her nothing more than a burden. One of many my father left me." Giovanni sighed. "I intend to make this visit short." He removed his sungla.s.ses and tucked them into the front pocket of his s.h.i.+rt. Mira reached over and grabbed his face with both of her hands. She kissed him, twice.

Giovanni gave her a slight smile and then threw open his car door. Mira emerged from her side of the car. Her gaze landed on the window to the front of the cottage just as the curtain fell back. "I think they know we're here."

"Of course they do," he said and took her hand into his.

Together they approached by walking across the unkempt lawn. At the door he knocked twice. Mira heard one lock, two, and then three disengage. The door slowly opened, but only an inch. A pet.i.te grey haired woman peeked out at them through the dingy lens of her eyegla.s.ses. After a brief pause she opened the door wider.

"Benevenuti," the old woman said with a curt nod. She wore a white and blue floral housedress, and slippers with socked feet.

"Ciao, Fiona. Dove e Esta?" Giovanni greeted the old woman with a pleasant tone. Mira watched as he kissed her on both of her cheeks.

"Bene," Fiona stepped back to allow them to enter. Mira smiled before she stepped inside. There was a brown cloth sofa and loveseat in the living room with a coffee table in between. Newspaper was scattered and stacked with books and magazines on the floor and chairs. Across from the sofa was a TV on top of a piano. There was no rhyme or reason to the way the house was organized.

"Fiona, this is my wife Mirabella Battaglia," Giovanni said.

"Nice to meet you," Mira said. She extended her hand. Fiona looked at her hand for a second as if it weren't attached to Mira's body. The old woman reached for it, shook it briefly, and let it drop. Mira was surprised to see her wipe her hand against the side of her dress as if in disgust. "Esta is upstairs, you can go right up," she answered before she shuffled off to what Mira suspected was her kitchen. "We've already eaten so I can't offer you anything," Fiona said.

Giovanni led Mira by the hand to the stairwell. She felt a very personal sting of anger pierce her gut. The woman was unnaturally dismissive of her husband. She'd only seen people show Giovanni respect. And to Mira's surprise she had grown to expect the humility from others when they were in his presence.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mira whispered.

He winked. "Of course."

A sour stench greeted them as they entered the hall. There were only three doors upstairs. Esta's door was the first they arrived to. He knocked and then pushed the door open. He stepped in first and she followed. The room reeked of bleach. Putrid and unrelenting she bit back a wave of nausea. Mira instinctively put her hand to her mouth and nose to resist the urge to puke.

An old woman lay in her bed propped up by pillows. A crocheted blanket covered a patchwork quilt that was tucked around her. She was as still as a corpse.

"Esta?" Giovanni said.

The woman's sagging lids parted to reveal murky grey cataract eyes-a steely pair that fixed on Giovanni. Time had been unkind to her. She had to be well past the age of seventy. With very wrinkled skin dotted with moles, her hair was thick, silver, long. She wore it parted down the middle with two braids. Maybe in her hay day she was striking, but Mira saw no evidence of that beauty now. She reminded Mira of the witch that gave the poison apple to Snow White. And like the old woman, Esta's mouth twisted with displeasure over the sight of Giovanni's new American wife.

Mira gaze switched to the silver picture frame at the side of the woman's bed. The strikingly handsome man who looked like Giovanni had to be his father in a dark coat and fedora. He stood next to an expensive car. Beside Tomosino's picture was one of the Pope, and above the bed a wooden cross was tacked to the wall. No other furnis.h.i.+ng besides a portable toilet and a dresser with a television propped on top was in the room.

"Giovanni? That you? I had hoped you would come." Esta's voice was very soft, almost meek. It surprised Mira. The woman extended her arthritic hand and welcomed Giovanni into a hug from her bed. He kissed her on both cheeks and said something to her that Mira couldn't hear. The woman actually managed a smile. And then those cool eyes fixed on Mira once more.

"Esta, meet my wife Mirabella. We have a daughter Eve and she's pregnant now with twins. Sons. I will be a father again soon. With sons," he said in a single breath.

Mira blinked at him confused by his hurried introduction. "Nice to meet you," Mira said.

"You're different," Esta replied in English. "But beauty and babies often make wives out of wh.o.r.es."

"Now Esta, I will only caution you once about your manners," Giovanni said in a tight voice.

Esta quickly added, "I meant no disrespect. You and your father have always had a thing for the exotic. I'm happy to meet you, Mirabella."

Giovanni spoke. "How's your health?"

"The same, the doctor treats me horribly. Fiona said you must be skipping payments on my bills. Why else would the doctor be so uncaring about my suffering?"

"Not true, Esta. You know me better than that." He picked up one pill bottle then the other, which Mira was sure he paid for. "How about we get you a private nurse?"

"No!" Esta snapped. "No nurse. I won't have strangers in my home." Esta's cold eyes switched to Mira. She caught Mira staring at the photo of Tomosino near her bed. "That is my husband, Don Tomosino Baldamenti. The family took on the name Battaglia when they left Sicily and started up with that G.o.dless Camorra. They all did. His brothers, everyone. But he is a Baldamenti! He was a great man. A powerful man," Esta boasted. "They have an entire village named after him."

Mira didn't know how to respond. So she kept quiet.

"Will you stay for dinner, Gio? You haven't spent time with me in awhile," Esta said in a voice wavering with emotion.

"Maybe we should go. Let her rest," Mira blurted. The last thing she could stomach was dinner with these ladies. And she didn't like the odd relations.h.i.+p Giovanni had with this woman. Something about it felt unnatural. The truth of his devotion soon unraveled before Mira's eyes. He wasn't caring for Esta in the way the old woman needed. He forced her into this isolation with this meager existence to torment her. Mira was almost certain of it.

"You go. I want to speak with Gio alone." Esta answered in a sharp, brisk tone.

"Esta! Basta! One more word of disrespect to my wife and I will leave. I came to check in on you. To make sure you were okay but I won't put up with it."

"But I'm so lonely Giovanni. No one comes to visit Fiona and me. I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I didn't get an invitation to your wedding," she whined.

"You weren't well." Giovanni reminded her.

"The doctors said I was. I sent word that we could come. I was told-"

Giovanni put up a hand and Esta silenced. The wrinkles in her face creased deeper with anger. Mira cringed at the hatred she saw boiling in the old woman's glare. It made her even more uncomfortable that her husband enjoyed it.

"Whatever you need, you will have." Giovanni kissed her forehead. "Mira's right. It's time we leave. Be well." Before he was fully righted Mira started for the door. She couldn't take another moment of this scene. She didn't bother to look back. She heard Esta protest and Giovanni respond. Mira had enough. She went on without him and down the stairs, headed for the door. Fiona watched with a cup and saucer in her hand.

"You know he is evil. Don't you?" Fiona asked to her in Italian. Mira glanced over to the old woman. "To his rotten core," Fiona grinned.

Mira could hear Giovanni coming down the stairs behind her. The witch shuffled away to not to be seen talking to her.

"Ready, Bella?" Giovanni smiled.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she replied.

Once outside near the car she could breathe again. Giovanni reached to open the car door and she stopped him. She couldn't hold it any longer. "Why do you keep her here this way?" she asked, her voice trembled with emotion. He opened the door for her instead of answering. She was helped inside and then he went around the car and joined her.

"They were awful. The both of them," Mira said. "But you keep them out here isolated in misery on purpose. Don't you?"

"She's had a hard life, Mira," Giovanni said. "That's not my fault."

"So it's your burden? Or is it something else that makes you keep them locked away here?"

How should he answer? The truth was something he rarely admitted to himself. This was Esta's exile. Instead of his Bella seeing the facade, she saw the prison he put the b.i.t.c.h in. The woman who tormented his mother relentlessly would rot in this h.e.l.l kept locked away from her family and friends. He paid Fiona to make sure it remained that way. He turned over the engine and sped backward down the drive.

"Fine. You don't have to answer. But I'm your wife," Mira said.

"This I know," he replied.

"As your wife I've decided I don't want you to see those two women ever again."

"You've decided?" Giovanni asked.

"I'll see to their needs. The bills and the doctors, whatever it is you take care of for them. I'll do it."

Giovanni stopped the car just before turning on the main road. "I see to Esta. No one else."

She spoke while staring out of her window. "It's not healthy for you."

"I will handle it as I do all unhealthy things," Giovanni replied.

"I'm saying that this isn't your burden alone." She looked him in the eyes and he felt his resolve weaken. "You have enough to deal with. I want you to stay away from your stepmother. I'll take care of Esta and Fiona."

He chuckled. "I don't think you understand-"

"I'm serious. This is non-negotiable," Mira said. "Either I handle the family affairs or I don't? Which is it?"

"And you think handling the family affairs means dictating to me what should and can be done?" Giovanni asked and kept a smile from his lips when she answered him.

"I sure do. I won't have anyone hurting you. And more importantly I won't sit back and watch you hurt others in this family." Mira touched his hand. He took her hand into his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "She's your family whether you like it or not. Forgiveness, Giovanni. Sometimes it takes a stronger person to give it freely."

"Have I told you how s.e.xy you are when you protect me?" Giovanni chuckled. He leaned over and kissed her nose. "I will have to get used to having a life partner."

She smiled in return. "Yes you will."

* B *

"We're here!"

Catalina strutted in through open double doors in four-inch stilettos. She had a hard time getting cleaned up for her arrival on the train. But she managed it. She spun with her arms outstretched. She was so excited to be home.

"I said we're here!" she shouted.

No one came forward to greet her. Catalina figured they were upstairs or in the gardens. She walked through the open foyer toward the back of Villa Mare Blu where the stairs were. Her heels clicked across the tile floors. It had been over three years since she last visited her mother's favorite home, and it was with Franco of all people.

The trip into Sicily was grueling. She had suffered the train ride and drive into Mondello like a good girlfriend. Now she needed food, a shower, and sleep, in that order. Catalina stopped. She put her hand to her hips. "Where's everybody?"

"They're probably at the beach," Dominic said. He walked up behind her with luggage in hand. She had so many bags he'd need to make at least three trips to bring them all in. Catalina checked her watch. "It's too early, Domi. It's not even noon yet."

"Nippy!" Eve sang from the top of the stairs.

Catalina glanced up at the call of her name. Cecilia walked down the stairs holding tight to Eve. The little girl bounced and grinned excitedly in a yellow and green sundress. Eve stretched her hands out to her aunt. Catalina and Mira were often amazed over how Eve could laugh, sing, and talk with her pacifier tucked to the side of her mouth. And Eve spoke clearly. "Nippy! Nippy! Nippy!"

Love surged through every chamber of Catalina's heart over the sight of her blue-eyed, brown baby girl. Her usually wild and free locks were brushed into a single ponytail to the top of her head. Her blondish brown curls were longer than when she last saw her. Catalina hurried up the steps and met them half way. She brought Eve into her arms and the toddler spat out her pacifier and kissed Catalina on the lips.

Dominic chuckled behind her.

"Look at you! How big you've gotten."

Eve smelled like powder and lilac. Catalina inhaled her and kissed her face. "Ciao, bambina, I have missed you."