Page 130 of The Deadly Candies

“She’s in trouble. And I can’t fix it. I ruined her life,”Carmelo muttered, staring at the floor.

“She’s pregnant? That fast?” Matteo laughed. When Carmelo didn’t smile, Matteo’s laughter faded. “Christ, Melo, you just married the girl under our Pa’s nose. We won.”

“Not really. This was just paperwork, in case we ran, not a real wedding. For any of us!” Carmelo said.

“Speak for yourself. While you were upstairs, me and Debbie had our wedding. I had to think of something, vows, quick to calm her down.” Matteo grunted.

“This is all a game to you!” Carmelo said.

Matteo began cursing in Italian.

“You ain’t listening. She’s pullin’ away. She doesn’t believe this can work anymore. And soon… she’s gonna stop believin’ in me.”

Matteo crossed the room in two strides, grabbing his brother by the shoulders.“Snap out of it, huh? We got a plan. Solid.”He shook him once, hard.“Tonight, Pa’s throwin’ that party at the club. All the Dons’ll be there. He announces your fight, your shot at the belt. And me?”A sharp grin.“Pa finally gave me a real job.”

Carmelo stiffened.“What kinda job?”

“The kind that makes me useful. The kind that gets me made.”Matteo’s voice dropped.“I see cracks in Pa’s armor now, kid. DeMarco too. We can take ‘em down—but you gotta hold it together. And Kathy? She’ll hold on. Trust me.”

Carmelo wanted to. Desperately. But his gut twisted like a knife. Still, he forced a grin, clapping Matteo’s arm.“Yeah. Let’s go. Make Ma happy, play nice tonight. We’re good.”He swallowed the doubt, squaring his shoulders.“Hell, we’re better than good. We’re Riccis. Best damn stock in Brooklyn.”

39

Kathy Sweets - Harlem, N.Y. 1949

“Big Mama?” Brenda asked softly, concerned. “Why are you still on your feet?”

“Got these little cakes my mom and I make back home,” Big Mama replied, hands busy kneading the dough. “Want to leave some behind, so you can put ’em out tomorrow after we’re gone. Give these out free to folks passing by. Betcha business picks right up.”

Brenda smiled gently, glancing toward Claudia, who was quietly stocking a shelf. Claudia caught Brenda’s eye and winked knowingly. They both understood better than to question Big Mama’s authority when it came to her kitchen. Wherever Big Mama went, the kitchen became her kingdom. It was why the Jensens built her cabin so fine—a small token for the years she’d devoted faithfully to their plantation. She’d lived on that tiny lot of land all her life, making miracles from flour, sugar, greens, and love.

“I’s done,” Big Mama announced finally, wiping her hands on her apron. “Mary, come here and put these in the oven for me.” Turning, she gazed affectionately at Brenda and Claudia. “Now, let’s sit down and rest a minute. All this weddin’ business kept us on our feet, and we ain’t had time yet to sit together and talk things through.”

Claudia quickly pulled up a comfortable chair for Big Mama, while Brenda took her own seat at the kitchen table. Claudia fussed lovingly over the elder woman, pouring her a fresh Pepsi to drink. Brenda smiled softly at the tender scene; everyone in the family wanted to shower Big Mama with affection, including herself. It unsettled Brenda to see the strongest, most powerful woman in Butts looking tired, worn by the weight of age and family worries.

Big Mama reached over, gently taking Brenda’s hand. “You and my Henry all right, honey?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Brenda admitted softly. “We haven’t been this good in a long while. I was just hurting so bad for my baby, I couldn’t be a proper wife.”

Big Mama shook her head gently, voice firm but kind. “Well, Henry wasn’t much of a husband lettin’ you hurt all this time. He should’ve sent you with that child. Lettin’ her ride a bus alone through the South like that… just askin’ for trouble.”

Brenda bowed her head, tears suddenly overwhelming her. She gripped Big Mama’s hand tightly, crying softly. “I was so scared for her. So scared, Big Mama. I prayed so hard every single night.”

“I know, baby,” Big Mama soothed gently. “Lord knows, I know.” She gave Brenda’s hand a comforting squeeze, then looked across the room at Claudia, still anxiously fussing to fix Big Mama a sandwich. “Claudia, that’s enough now, child. You ain’t the family maid—come sit yourself down.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Claudia replied softly, coming to the table and taking her seat. “Sorry, guess my nerves just on edge. I get like this whenever it’s time to say goodbye.”

Big Mama studied Claudia closely, a concerned frown creasing her brow. She reached across the table, gently touching Claudia’s cheek. “You look a little peekid to me. You feelin’ al’right, honey?”

Claudia glanced nervously at Brenda, then back at Big Mama, her eyes glistening. She lowered her gaze, struggling to find the words.

Brenda nodded encouragingly. “Go on, Claudia. Tell her.”

Claudia took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ve been having nosebleeds, Big Mama. Went to see the doctor a while back. They think... it might be cancer. Called it nasopharyngeal—some fancy word. They said it’s up in my throat, causin’ the nosebleeds. They want me to join some kind of medical study, see if they can help. Good doctors at the Negro hospital coming up with all kind of treatments.”

Big Mama’s eyes brimmed with tears, and her voice cracked slightly. “My boy know?”

“No, ma’am,” Claudia whispered, wiping at her eyes. “We had Debbie’s wedding to get through. We wanted our girl to be happy, I didn’t want it to be a burden. I ain’t told Pete or the kids out of fear. Only Brenda knows.” Claudia’s voice broke as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I just wanna hold my grandbaby. I kept askin’ the Lord why—why Debbie got pregnant when I been faithful and had so many dreams. But I see it clear now. This baby’s special, and the Lord wanted to be sure I got to meet my grandchild before I?—”

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