I lift my pillow, my brow furrowing when I see his t-shirt lying there. I haven’t dared to return to Nico’s bedroom after that day. I hadn’t wanted to return his shirt at all, though not even a trace of his scent lingers at this point.
“I miss you,” I say to Gia after lowering the pillow again. Zeta is wonderful, but it’s not the same as having a surrogate big sister to confide in.
“I miss you, too.”
“But not Chicago?”
“Definitely not Chicago,” she agrees, sounding carefree in a way she didn’t before. “I’m sorry I’m missing your birthday. I hear Zeta is throwing a big party.”
“She is,” I admit, feeling embarrassed over it.
“I’ve done some nosing around in my father’s papers for you. There’s not much, Matilde,” Gia adds, regretfully.
With a sigh, I wait to hear what she’s learned. No, it’s not much, but it’s more than I had.
Looking over the notes I’ve collected, my heart sinks at the utter bleakness of their history. My father had just married my stepmother, a match arranged by their fathers, when he was sent to Chicago with Don Cicero’s son for extended business. The Trio men shared their Seconda Notte tradition with him, a disgusting excuse for new husbands to celebrate their marriage by cheating on their bride. My mouth purses with sympathy for my stepmother.
At the brothel, he’d enjoyed their newest girl, my birth mother. He’d enjoyed her so much that he’d asked for an exclusive contract while he remained in the States. He was a possessive man, and she’d happily agreed. About nine months later, Maddalena and I had come along. He returned to the U.S. when he learned of it and took me to Sicily to raise. As far as I know, they never saw each other again.
“Why did he take me from my mother and sister? His wife was forced to stare at a reminder of his infidelity every day instead.”
Gia’s voice is warm and consoling. “I don’t know, Matilde, and I’m sorry you’ll never know Elena, but it sounds like your father must have feltsomethingwhen it came to her. And consider this, if you’d stayed here, your life might not have been for the better.”
She has a point. Thinking of my mother's violent death and the men who abducted me, I pray my sister is safe. I’m still haunted by the thought of the girls that weren’t rescued like me.
“Do you have any idea why your father had collected information about my mother?”
“No, I can’t tell anything from the papers I’ve found. Have you considered asking Nico? He’s more approachable than his father, and it’s their city.”
Another good point from Gia, though I’d hardly consider Nico approachable. Plus, too many years of listening to my stepmother’s self-righteous ranting about fallen women has left me with shame I wish I didn’t feel when it comes to the truth about my parentage.
After Gia promises to keep looking, I thank her and end the call.
Zeta soon beckons me to join her in the spare bedroom she keeps ready for her grandchildren. “We’ll go ahead and start the twins’ bedtime routine here since Nico is holding an important meeting down in his father’s office.”
Mr. Important with his important meetings,I think, sourly.
Though, I must admit the principal’s office went much smoother than expected. I think the poor man made a mess in his pants when Nico stalked in behind me, sharply asking what the policy was regarding girls bullying new students.
The babies aren’t too sure about this bedtime routine business yet, but they enjoy bathtime. I snuggle Lucia close as I dry her off. Her baby fresh scent and soft chubby cheeks are absolute heaven.
Amadeo starts to fuss in his grandmother’s arms, staring at me when it’s time for their bottles. “He wants you, too,” Zeta laughs. Smiling, I take a seat on the little sofa and hold them both close, singing a lullaby in Italian while they drink.
Footsteps sound outside the doorway. Looking up, I spy Primo watching me sing. I roll my eyes at him, making shooing motions until he disappears. Zeta takes a seat beside me, whispering under her breath, “He likes you.”
I shrug, not interested in Primo that way. “I do not have time for boys.” Looking down at the little boy in my lap though, I amend my statement. “Except for you, Amadeo.”
***
It’s well past midnight when I hear a baby fussing. Zeta must have convinced Nico to let the children spend the night. I pad down the empty hallway. Amadeo is restless in his crib, so I lift him in my arms and start swaying back and forth. His gray eyes are narrowed in that judgmental way. “Like father, like son.”
Just as he’s getting sleepy again, I hear loud male voices in the hallway. Nico, Dante and their father. Glancing down, I cringe over the fact I wore his t-shirt to bed again.Merda. It’s just comfortable, nothing significant, but I don’t want him to see me in it.
There’s a shadow beneath the door, and I hear Arturo Morelli’s angry voice. “Don’t lie! You were gone again! Out of the country when your place is here! Andyou…Who told you to interfere in the personal lives of our men?”
No sooner than the words are out, the old man is racked with a horrible coughing fit, and I hear Nico’s coolly measured voice. “It’s late, Father. You should rest.”
“I’m not a goddamn invalid!”
