She crawled onto his nose and said,“Follow me and I will show you.”
The wolf thought that what he lost was something tangible, something he could bite with his sharp teeth, but the caterpillar never told him any different. She let him believe.
Some have to be shown, not told, she thought.
What happened next was a journey. They met other creatures in the forest. They got turned around and lost. And finally, when the wolf was about to eatherfor taking him on a foolish expedition, she led him to a magical garden.
There, he found a rabbit to eat. There, he found shelter from the blistering sun. There, she hid him in the darkness so he could rest, and she alerted him when someone was near. She became his companion through it all. Even when she was tired and bruised from her own struggles, she never left him alone.
During their journey, the wolf started to realize that the caterpillar had nothing for him to touch, but she had offered him so many things to feel. The feelings were even more tangible than the rabbit he had devoured. Through the caterpillar’s actions, she had loved him all along, a creature so different from her; a creature that could end her world with one snap of his mouth, or a swipe from his massive paw.
What I hadn’t expected next was the caterpillar’s death. The wolf mourned for her, both of them realizing at the very last second how much they meant to each other, and what lessons there were to be learned about living and dying. It took death to make them understand what life had been trying to teach them.
What the wolf had lost was his ability to love. For so long he’d been running with the pack, biting and snarling, always fighting for his position until he was banished. When he found himself alone, he was left with…himself. The wolf had forgotten that he was capable of love. He had to be shown how to give and receive it again.
What the caterpillar needed to understand was that her struggles were not in vain. In the end, she would be remembered for all she had done. Even if it was this one snarling, violent animal that remembered her. He would never forget her. She had taught him how to love without forcing him to be something he wasn’t. Weak. Her love only made him stronger.
The last page showed a blue butterfly nestled in the wolf’s thick fur, the moon high above them, sitting in the magical garden.
“Nonno.” I shut the book and rested my head against the hard cover. He had written a children’s book for his great grandchildren. He had written a children’s book in honor of the girl he’d said was both woman and child. He knew I’d love and cherish it. Even the artwork was something out of a whimsical fairy tale.
“I believe that book was his last.”
I jumped at the sound of Rocco’s soft voice. He stood behind me, looking at the book. I ran my hand over the cover, wanting to lock it away and keep it safe.
“Have you read it? It’s…I don’t even have words.”
“Some. Your husband was reading it when I found him here.”
“Where is he?”
“I do not know, Mariposa. He is…struggling.”
“I know,” I said, thinking over the words in the book, trying to find a deeper meaning.“Can you drive me to church, Rocco?”
He took a seat on the edge of the desk, one leg dangling, watching me. “Why church?”
His grandfather had told me that he had made a deal with God, and it was the first time he had returned to church after Capo’s mother, his daughter, had taken her own life. Maybe I was wrong, but I felt it in my gut.
“Where would a man go to fade yet be seen?” I said.
He chucked me under the chin. “Clever girl.”
Rocco drove me to the church where Capo and I were married in a steel-gray Lamborghini. If I’d hoped to make it there in record time, my wish was granted. As we made our way toward the steps, two men in suits were just about to enter.
Rocco slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me closer. I was about to step out of his embrace, because he had never touched me like that before, but at the subtle shake of his head, I stood where he’d placed me.
“Arturo,” Rocco called, stopping them right before the other guy, the younger one, opened the door.
Arturo, the older of the two men, narrowed his eyes at us before he and the younger guy started toward us. “Rocco.” He held out his hand for Rocco to shake when we were close enough, but Rocco didn’t take it.
There was nothing remotely friendly about Rocco in that moment. I’d never seen him that way, and honestly, it sent a spike of fear up my chest.The Fausti was coming out in him. Some people called them lions. He had a tattoo of one on his forearm, a rosary around its mane and a sacred heart in its middle. It wasn’t noticeable under his dress shirt, but I had seen it before, when he rolled his sleeves up.
Arturo was American, and he looked familiar to me, even though I’d never seen him before. Bold features. Thinning black hair with stripes of silver. Broad shoulders but a bit paunchy around the middle. Brown eyes. The man next to him was solid all around, but with blonde hair and brown eyes. He shared some of the same features with the older man.
After Arturo took his hand back, he slapped the younger man on his back. “You remember Achille.”
Achille took a step forward and nodded.
