Page 36 of Mending Our Chance

19 Felicity

If it hadn’t been for Marcus, I wouldn’t have managed the nearly three week delay to lay my aunt to rest. I had discovered that he was an expert at staying busy. It was how he coped, and my inherently energetic nature kicked in and signed right up to the idea of workaholism. It wasn’t like I was new to the condition. Now that my work had more purpose, this gave me extra enthusiasm to strive forward.

Our company had started off on the right foot. Starting a business was a marathon, not a short sprint. But with Marcus’ portfolio, the contracted developers, and my special skill set, we found ourselves out of the starting gate as strong contenders in the business world.

And during the dark of night, passion kept us locked together until exhaustion finally conquered. Our connection was a blur, the lines of dating and work all blending together in a glorious mess of ecstasy and purpose. On one good note, since we’d been together, there were no more nightmares. Marcus said he was dealing with his anxiety during the day so that it wouldn’t flare at night. Even so, I would have been there for him. After becoming an item, I began to research exactly how to help him should he need it. Ignorance was a poor excuse. So, I began reading up on his condition and how significant others could help.

Despite that, I could already see that my touch left him craving more. My own needs were rarely sated, only pacified enough so that I could work through the hours before we could have sex again. Yes, our time free from work was always spent doing something which left little time for thought.

But all too soon, it shattered. The time for the funeral came. Although it would be a simple affair, I still had to lay that chapter to rest in order to deal with the present. That fateful day found me in a solemn black dress, a small veil covering part of my face as I opted for a modern take on the traditional customs.

Stepping away from the coffin, I wandered into the sanctuary for a moment of solitude. I noticed that the reservation plaques had been placed on the first five pews on each side of the aisle. Shaking my head, I went to change that as I did not expect that many people to show up.

“Young lady, what are you doing?” A deacon came running after me. He snatched the bronze plaques out of my hands. “This has already been set up.”

“There will be only myself in the front pew for family.” The words were icy shards. Although part of me felt bad for ripping the poor man of God a new one, today was not a day to mess with me. “And there will hardly be anyone else attending. This is not necessary.”

“Ma’am,” the deacon began as he replaced the plaques, “Father Pazzi informed me late last night that Signora Saccone had a large family. The clan is quite extensive.”

At his words, I let out a breath I did not know I had been holding. Did he mean that more people would be here than the twenty or so guests I was expecting? God forbid! The family!

Just then, the doors to the atrium banged open. Jerking around, I saw the twins bustle into the sanctuary where they paused to cross themselves and bow in reverence to the altar. Then, their eyes simultaneously fixed on me, and with a few bounds they were at my side, enveloping me in a hug.

“Basta!” A hoarse whisper floated down the aisle. My brothers’ stalky forms were blocking my view, but I would know that voice anywhere. I stiffened. Matteo, who was hugging me, winced. “Surprise,” he murmured. “We would have called, but he told us he would handle the arrangements.”

Dropping my arms, I smoothed down my dress, and with my head held high, I began walking down the aisle to meet the Signore.

He also paused in religious fervor at the entrance. He was barely taller than I was, but his barrel chest was as thick as a tree trunk and his arms to match. There was no doubt that he could still knock an opponent senseless if he chose to take a swing. However, it was his damned mind that was deadly. Sharp and lethal, the Signore ruled his empire with a strong, merciless hand.

“Babbo,” I murmured bluntly as I curtsied in front of him. Lowering my eyes was a sign of respect that still came naturally to me. The fact that I brought them right back up to meet his stare showed my father that I was not intimidated by his presence. “It is good that you are here.”

“Your aunt is probably rolling over in her casket.” There was a twinkle in his eye. It was unexpected, and it clashed oddly with the harsh lines of his face.

“Should we go check?” quipped one of the twins. “She is in the back room.”

“You know, make sure she is still looking pretty for her final debut?” replied his brother. “It will only take a moment.”

I felt that the gaiety behind me was out of place. Turning a scowl onto my brothers, I opened my mouth to tell them off when a harsh string of the old language came out of my father. Both of the boys instantly lowered their gaze and shuffled their feet. It was as if they were children, not full grown adults. My father’s tone was what surprised me, because there was no hiding the grief that laced his words.

“We have come to say our final goodbyes to Gianna,” the Signore continued. “If you would honor us, we would sit with you in the first pew as the rest of the Family takes up the other seats. Many will come this day to mourn with us. Although Gianna was a black sheep, we will still lay her to rest with great sorrow. She is one of our own, regardless of whether she chose to turn her back on the Family.”

“I honestly didn’t think you cared,” I blurted out. Then I winced.

“Ah, my child.” The Signore shrugged and helplessly lifted his hands. “I have been trying for years to reconcile with Gianna. Now that she is dead, I can finally bid her farewell. I will see her again someday when we start anew in Heaven.”

“She never said you reached out to her,” I whispered in return. My hand found a pew to steady myself.

“Why would she?” The question Signore posed was not necessarily meant to be answered. “I missed my chance to apologize to my sister, not that she would have been open to receiving it.”

I considered him closely. He appeared truly sorry for the way his relationship with my aunt had gone. To say that I was conflicted was an understatement. I did not know what to make of the situation, but I knew he was right. Gianna was a hard woman. I didn’t want to be like her, but I also didn’t want to be naïve and rush back into my father’s arms without finding out the truth.

“Please, sit with me today,” my father said. It was an olive branch—a small concession. “Let us put aside our differences and mourn her together.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I could see the loss on his face, so I nodded.

This seemed to give my father hope. “May I see her, alone?” he asked.

The Signore was deferring to me as if I was her closest kin. I raised a brow, to which he elaborated, “To force her to listen to my apology and to bid her farewell.”

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