Ariana strokes her hair gently. “Mom, you still have us.”
“Nothing,” Mom repeats, her voice cracking with raw pain. “I gave him everything. My youth. My freedom. My whole life. It can’t just end like this.”
The bitterness in her voice is laced with grief, not just for Dad, but for the life she gave up. I understand suddenly why she hates Lucy so much. They’re so much alike, strong and smart, but Lucy refuses the duty and obedience that Mom chose to embrace.
Mom catches me watching. Her tear-streaked face hardens, and her vulnerability vanishes behind cold rage. Her glare shiftsto Lucy. “This is your fault. If you’d been a proper daughter and married Andreas without all this drama, Carlucci would still be alive. You killed him. And I will never forgive you. Never.”
She clutches Ariana and sobs.
Lucy turns away and buries her face in my shoulder.
There should probably be tears somewhere inside me for the man I’ve called my father for so many years. But I just feel hollow and heavy. I can feel the weight of leadership settling on my shoulders.
Lucy and I hold each other in silence, intruders upon our own family’s grief.
21
Lucy
Acold wind slices through my black coat as Damiano and I stand hand in hand before the open grave. Dad’s casket is being lowered into the earth while the same priest who performed my abandoned wedding ceremony drones on somberly.
Across the grave from me and Damiano, Mom is statuesque in a black blazer and narrow dress, with a black hat atop her sleek hair. She dabs a tissue at the corner of her eye, clutched in a gloved hand. Ariana is by her side, and our extended family is clustered around them both. Various aunts and cousins glare balefully at us. Mom made it clear that Damiano and I are not welcome on that side of the grave with them. She’s been telling everyone that Dad’s death is all our fault, and since they all witnessed Andreas’s murder and me kissing my “brother,” they have no reason not to believe her.
I don’t know if Dad ever saw a doctor about his heart problems, or if he was afraid of a diagnosis. Don Carlucci Barone shunned any hint of weakness and imperfection.
Whether he did or not, it’s too late now. All that’s left to do is decide who is going to lead the family now. I’ve noticed several of Dad’s capos sizing each other up, as though they’re wondering how soon is too soon to make a play for power. Damiano is watching them all closely with a hard expression in his eyes. They’re scheming for something that belongs to him. I wonder if more blood will be spilled.
We each toss a handful of dirt onto Dad’s casket, and I feel hollow as we turn and walk away from the grave. I don’t want or need to shed a tear for the man who ignored me for most of my life, and who was happy to marry me off to a man like Andreas Montoni.
There’s a wake at Dad’s favorite restaurant, but an invitation wasn’t extended to us. Damiano and I decide not to impose our presence.
I stand at the open car door and watch as the gathering at the graveside slowly breaks up. “Dad’s will is being read tomorrow. If by some strange twist of fate we’re left with nothing…” I trail off.
Damiano takes my chin in his hand and raises it gently. “If we’re left with nothing, we’ll still have each other, and we will build a new life together.”
He says the words easily, and there’s no worry behind them.
“You don’t think you’ll be disinherited?” I ask, and he shakes his head. I suppose it is unlikely that Dad would have changed his will when he caught Damiano and me together in the bathroom, because he seemed to place all the blame for that incident on me. “In that case, Mom, Ariana, and I will be left with almost nothing, while the house and all the money are bequeathed to you.”
“I will never begrudge you anything,” Damiano reminds me. “You or Ariana. She can break off her engagement to Don Cristiano if she wishes, and you can go to college, or start a business, or learn three languages. Your life is yours.” He dips his head closer to me, and his lips are very close. “As long as you’re still mine.”
I play with his tie and gaze up at him through my lashes. “You know what I really want.”
His smile widens. “Yes, I do.”
“Will you give it to me?”
“If everything goes as planned tomorrow, I’ll give you the whole fucking world.”
As we walk to Damiano’s car, his two closest soldiers join us. Antonio’s arm seems to have healed well. He’s probably wearing a bandage beneath his suit, but his arm and fingers are mobile.
“Are you two waiting to see what happens tomorrow before you abandon me?” Damiano asks, his voice light.
“We’ll never abandon you, Damiano,” Antonio tells him.
“And if I have to fight for what’s mine, or someone starts a war to overthrow me?”
Giovanni’s expression is deadly serious. “Then we’ll fight with you and do what we can to convince our fathers to join the winning side. They respect loyalty to blood, and you are Don Carlucci’s blood.”
