23. Ravenna
Ravenna
T he frozen winter ground must have given the grave diggers a challenge.
I sympathize with them as I stand before Papa and Mama’s coffins, with Elena at my side, in the frigid weather.
Today the cemetery is full of Italians, mi famiglia , the truce is too fresh for Cian to be here in person, though I know he and his security men lurk at the perimeter.
This is a family event, so I’m under my uncle’s protection. As the new don, Uncle Davide is the ultimate authority now and I feel much safer with him than I ever did around my own father. So I’m not worried for myself.
It’s Elena that I’m concerned about. My cousins and Aunt Rosa had to literally drag her out of their house this morning.
Now she stands beside me, quiet, but in a vacant kind of way.
She should be crying over the loss of our parents.
She’s always been sweet and emotional like that, not hard as stone like she is right now.
As far as I know, Mama and Papa never abused her. She was our brother’s favorite. He doted on her while he harassed me. Even though we’re identical twins, our personalities are so unique to each of us that we have always been treated differently.
I don’t know why I’ve always been everyone’s punching bag. Because I can take a hit? My strong personality hasn’t done me any favors, that’s for sure.
Whereas Elena is the type of sweet that makes everyone treat her like a fragile object. She’s pretty, agreeable, and docile. Her tone’s always polite. She’s the perfect princess in every way. Everything a mafia man wants in his ideal wife.
Though she’s different now. Being kidnapped, and witnessing two deaths, changed her. Understandably. But I’m afraid that I’ll never get my twin sister back, that she’s as dead as our parents even though she walks among us.
That fear makes me feel so alone. I’ve lost everyone but my sister. I can’t lose her too.
I’m not uncaring toward our mother and father, but even as the priest says his words, I can’t summon up a single appropriate emotion to express. I struggled with the same when we lost our brother. Does that make me a bad person? Am I somehow as rotten as my brother and parents, but don’t know it?
Maybe that’s why they beat me. They could see a reflection of themselves in me and they hated it.
We’re supposed to love our parents—even if they are terrible people. We’re born with that expectation ingrained in us. I’m not sure when my love for them turned sour, but it did at an early age. Yet, even after everything they put me through, I feel guilty that I despised them both.
My father had been terrible to me for years, so it’s no shock that I’m relieved that he’s gone. But Mama… I thought we were on the same side. Until she completely betrayed me the night of the auction.
She never even said she was sorry. Unless that’s what her suicide note meant? I don’t know. I’ll never have any concrete answers.
I’m not sure how else to feel as I stand here. I’m not going to lie to myself about my feelings toward them. Nor will I gaslight myself into believing the past is anything other than what it was.
Mentally shoving away my self-analysis, I bow my head and lace my fingers with Elena’s.
As the caskets are lowered into the graves, many people step forward to toss flowers and other mementos to be buried with them.
We follow their example. I toss a white rose into each of their graves, finally feeling a twinge of sadness and sympathy for my mother. Nothing but loathing for my father.
I can’t imagine the horrors she faced being married to Papa. Perhaps I should forgive her weakness, because would I have acted any differently married to a man like him?
He broke her. Given enough time, he would have broken me too.
Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I don’t have to find out.
Relief settles over me as we amble toward the waiting car. It’s over. Not only the funeral, and burial, but also the past twenty-one years of my life. My childhood is gone. My brutal adolescence is done. The traumatic beginnings of my adulthood are over.
I’m free of those who tormented me my entire life. That realization seems surreal.
Given the stress of the past week and a half—being auctioned off, my father’s death followed by my mother’s suicide, narrowly avoiding another mafia war, then Cian’s fight—I attend the reception hosted by my aunt and uncle for the minimal amount of time possible.
I suffer through all the condolences, trying to sound like I’m grieving that my parents are six feet under. When all I can think about is how my sister and I are free of them. Free of our toxic upbringing.
Wrestling with my guilt takes a toll as well. By the time I can escape, I’m exhausted and want to go home.
I go in search of my sister, finally finding her staring at the floor in a corner. “Elle, you’re coming home with me. Grab your coat.”
She silently nods. We head for the door, but we’re intercepted by our cousin Sophia.
“She’s welcome to stay with us indefinitely,” Sophia glances between us. “Mama said it’s the least we can do.”
“Wait here,” I tell Elena. Pulling Sophia aside, I lower my voice in the crowded room. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for her, but Elle is my responsibility. I want to keep her close and make sure she’s going to be okay. I’m worried about her.”
“Me too.” Sophia chews on her bottom lip.
I frown as I gaze at my twin, who continues to stare at the floor. “Please tell me your father isn’t going to uphold the plan to marry her off to the Russians. She wouldn’t survive it.”
Sophia wrings her hands, catching my full attention. She’s struggling to find the right words, to be diplomatic. What is she so concerned about?
“Spit it out,” I tell her. “You know you’re not good at keeping secrets from me.”
A wry grin briefly flits across her lips.
“True. And no, Elena doesn’t have to worry about the Russians.
Now that Papa’s the don, it makes more sense for our alliance with the Russians to be through our immediate family.
Which means…” She glances away. “Which means it falls on my shoulders, since I’m the eldest.”
“Oh, Soph.” I grab her shoulders and pull her in for a hug. “I’m so sorry. I don’t wish those brutes on anyone.”
She hugs me back. “I don’t know if it will be that bad.
I get to start dating my fiancé soon, so my experience won’t be anything like yours.
I’ll at least get to know him before our arranged marriage happens.
Besides, you survived the Irish, and we thought they would be horrible.
Remember all the terrible stories the aunties used to tell us about them? ”
I snort. “The aunties are terrors. But you’re right, I might even find happiness with Cian. He’s nothing at all like I expected—mostly. I mean he is huge and can be mean, he has a temper too, but there’s so much more to him. I hope your Russian match goes as well as mine.”
She stares at me for a moment. “You had to pretend to be your sister—who got kidnapped—then your husband ditched you when he found out, only to have your parents try to sell you on the flesh market. No offense, but I hope my marriage match goes way better than yours.”
I laugh, drawing startled glances, and immediately sober. “Fair enough.”
My cousins, uncle, and aunt know most of the details of what recently happened to me, but everyone else is in the dark. Which is where they will stay. I don’t want anyone spreading gossip or half-truths. My parents’ memory should be untainted by their last few actions in this life.
The official story is that Papa was murdered at the auction house, where he was conducting business, by an opportunist with a grudge.
That man was executed before everyone’s eyes on the night of the fight.
Mama couldn’t live without him and took her own life.
Elena and I are now orphans who’ve suffered a tragic loss.
Only Uncle Davide, my sister, and myself know the truth of my father’s death, and that’s how it’s going to stay. If any other Italian learns that Cian pulled the trigger, we’d be back at war in an instant.
That secret will die with us.
“In all seriousness, are you sure you’re okay?
” Sophia studies my face, searching for clues of the truth.
I haven’t confided in her, or anyone else, about all the past abuse from my father.
I’m too raw to talk about it. Elena would never divulge my secrets, so I’m not concerned about her revealing anything to our cousins.
“I’m not okay, but I will be. Until then, I need to be strong for my sister.”
Sophia glances at Elena. “Yeah. Given everything you know about Cian, can you imagine him married to her instead? I mean, that’s how it was supposed to happen.”
An uncomfortable sensation slithers through my stomach. I don’t want to even think about my twin with my husband. He’s my Irlandese.
Shaking off my unease, I consider her question, but the answer’s obvious. “They would have been a terrible match.”
“I guess it was fate that you ended up taking her place.” A soft smile graces her lips.
“I suppose so.” All the what-ifs plague my mind for a moment before I push them aside. “I’m taking her home with me, but if anything changes, or it doesn’t work out, I know she can always come here. So thank you.”
“Of course. And I’ll text you when I find out which Russian I’ll be marrying next year.”
“You better.” I hug her again, then usher a zombie-like Elena out the door.
Her eyes widen with fear as we step onto the sidewalk and a black SUV pulls up to the curb. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from her in days.
Cian exits the passenger side, then opens the back door for us. I push my reluctant twin inside, noting how her whole body shakes, and I don’t believe it’s from the chilly late winter air.
“What’s wrong?” I ask in a hushed tone. “We’re safe now.”
She shakes her head. “We’re not. Safety is an illusion. Anything can happen to us in this car, anyone can get at us. And… they’re Irish , how far do you really trust them? Don’t forget they murdered our brother.”
I swallow down my shallow but reassuring response.
She’s suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress, which is completely normal, but I don’t know how to deal with it.
How do I make her feel better when she’s right, safety is not only an illusion, but often fleeting.
We’re never guaranteed anything in this world other than eventual death.
God, I sound morose.
But I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for my sister either. That won’t help her get better.
“I trust Cian with my life.” It’s the truth. The rest of his people, I’m not so sure about.
“I don’t.” She peeks at him. “He’s big and scary. He killed Papa and Mama too. I don’t understand how you can like him even a little.”
“I know him,” I attempt to explain. When she doesn’t answer, I ask a question that’s been on my mind for a while. “Did Mama speak to you the morning she died? Do you know why she did it?”
Elena’s silent for a few breaths. “No. Not a word. The new maid brought me breakfast that morning and told me they found my father’s body last night.
I ran downstairs to find Mama. I looked all over, no one had seen her in a while and they assumed she was in her room grieving.
That’s when I found her body. And that note. ”
I hold her hands. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. That’s awful.”
A pang of sadness hits me hard. I guess Mama really couldn’t live in this world without Papa. Even though he was her abuser too.
Elena whispers, “The man you married did this to our family.”
“I know. I wish I was sorry, but I’m not. You saw how Papa hurt me, and how Mama helped him. I’m not sorry Papa and Matteo are gone.” Finally, I voice the hard edged words. A sliver of guilt pierces my chest. “I’m sorry Mama couldn’t embrace a future free of Papa.”
“Me too.” She sighs. “I wish we could both go far, far away from here.”
“I know.” I drop my arm across her shoulders. “You’ll be fine. You are safe with me. You know I’ll protect you with my life, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” She rests her head against mine as we head home.