Chapter 21 #2
That had to have been a great shock to her.
But…I could empathize with Brando. All these riches had been sitting here for centuries with his name on them, and they were probably struggling to pay the light bill. My father was rich, and we were struggling. He could’ve at least sent my grandmother money to take care of me, his daughter.
Occasionally, he’d get a wild hair and send a few bucks. My grandmother would send it back with a note: you can stick your hundred dollars up your ass. My grandmother was one of the nicest women, but she had an Italian temper and wasn’t afraid to use it when it reared its head.
Then there was the woman who gave birth to me. The one person who should’ve been willing to give her life for me, since she gave birth to me, didn’t want me. Not after she claimed a new name, a new life, and created a new family.
Rocco had a mother, but she had only given birth to him to give him up to the family. She didn’t want him. She wanted compensation.
My husband lived in this grand castle, stared out its windows, probably wondering, had he been anyone else, would he be allowed beyond its walls? He was born to serve this family as a soldier would, and then, as he grew older, wiser, and more vicious, kill for it.
Once he earned his place, he would rule it. He’d stare out the same window, but with a crown upon his head and palms full of blood.
My heart belonged to Rocco, and it truly broke for him and for how lonely he’d been. I felt for Brando, too, knowing he’d denied all this so that he wouldn’t be beholden to it.
From all views, it was a messed-up situation.
Even for Dario and Romeo, who considered themselves spares to the heirs.
On the one hand, this family was amazing. The traditions, the respect, the romance. They embodied what it meant to be Italian.
On the other hand…they were ruthless to the core.
I couldn’t imagine what it would take to send a young woman into a war zone where she’d be killed to placate a son who was a favorite.
Or for a man, Luca, to even consider killing another, Uncle Tito, to send him to his wife, Aunt Lola, even if it wasn’t his time.
Rocco searched my eyes, as if he was attempting to read the thoughts behind them. In so many ways, my husband was learning to live outside of his family’s lines, and I could tell he was sometimes lost without them—then he’d take my hand, and together, we would find our way.
“It is a beautiful castello,” he finally said, answering me but not.
I didn’t think he ever stopped to think…it was awful growing up here, or, I loved it because…
Because my husband, like most men in the family, were not raised to bother with comfort. They were raised to endure and not complain about it.
You must walk on glass? So be it.
My husband was a product of his upbringing, even if being with him made him more human. I could tell by the way he was with his sons. Ermanno too.
“It’s wonderful that it’s beautiful,” I pressed. “I can tell from the outside that it’ll be spectacular on the inside. But is there anything you love about it?”
“What is not to love?”
Rocco looked down at Ermanno, as if to say, this is true, but Rocco knew I wanted him to dig deeper. Was there anything that made him happy here? The past wasn’t important, but…I was curious to know.
“Sì, there is something that I find pleasing.” He checked his watch. “We have time before lunch.” My hand was in his, and he guided me to the back of the property, where a mammoth statue overlooked a pond.
The statue was a giant, his reflection shimmering on the surface of the water while two graceful swans glided in front of it.
It was apparent that the giant was ancient, designed by hands that didn’t have the tools available in current day, and these hands were able to accomplish a feat that a soulless machine never could.
The attention to detail, the giant’s features, even down to what seemed like salt but was rock coating him, was so real, I almost wondered if a mere man had created it. It seemed unreal, almost impossible that with tools that couldn’t match this day’s, the giant was created in one lifetime.
“This is so gorgeous,” I said, looking around, understanding why Rocco would love it here. An iron bench was placed beneath a shading tree. The perfect spot to sit and hang out with the giant and his swans.
Rocco told me how he only visited the walled city after his father was sentenced to time in Louisiana, meaning he had been here, spent time here, but what was comparable to a soldier’s quarters was somewhere else for him.
It wasn’t a secret in the family that Luca had killed the sheriff’s wife on purpose while she was pregnant. The situation had something to do with Maggie Beautiful not being accepted by Marzio at the time, since Luca was married to someone else.
A marriage on paper and in the eyes of the family and the world—the family seemed to be known for these types of “relationships.” More business than personal.
A hard wind blew, and the trees around us shimmered with whispered shivers.
The situation with Luca and Maggie Beautiful was proof of what Luca would do in the name of his Wildflower.
Aunt Lola’s last message rang in my memories like a warning siren.
My heels tapped on the tarmac road that led to the giant as I took steps toward him. Maybe to redirect my attention. We’d be sitting at a table with his father soon, and I didn’t want any lingering thoughts of what he’d done to still be in my head. I had a feeling he could sniff them out.
Rocco held me closer, as if he could feel my unease. I held tighter to him while he gave me the history on the giant. Ermanno and I were both listening intently. Rocco and I grinned at each other when Ermanno copied the statue’s stance.
Ermanno’s personality reminded me of Romeo, in a way, and even though I refused to say it aloud, I thought Ermanno had gorgeous hair too. The Fausti men all had this in common.
Rocco stared at my face, and then his eyes narrowed on Ermanno. I laughed, wrapping my arm around his even tighter, feeling his muscles flexing underneath his custom-made suit, and after he kissed my forehead, we started walking along the tarmac in the opposite direction of Ermanno.
“It is wonderful to have you beside me,” my husband said.
It took me a moment to look at him. My eyes had been on the swans, my mind wandering to Aunt Lola and Uncle Tito. The pain was lingering. “You mean here?”
He stopped and, lifting my sunglasses, stared into my eyes. “Amora, my words and their intent surpass this moment. It is beyond the desires of my heart to have you always walk beside me in life.”
My smile came slow, and I leaned forward, offering him my forehead to kiss again.
Honk. Hooooonk. Hoooooook!
The loud, echoing noise made me jump. Rocco tightened his grip on my arms and set me behind him easily.
Hooooonk!
“They are after me!”
I didn’t need to look around my husband to find out what Ermanno was going on about. Geese. They were closing in from behind—my view—and in front—my husband’s view. Still. I peered to the side and saw that four were attacking Ermanno while they made an awful honking noise.
“What are these?” I breathed out. “Soldier geese?”
The gaggle coming for me seemed to be waddling with purpose—Charge the people! Honk. Honk. Hooonk. This battle cry seemed to echo through their ranks.
“My father,” Rocco said. “He decided to get them. They make a lot of warning noise, as you can tell.”
“Please tell me his geese are not trained in weaponry.”
Rocco turned and noticed the gaggle running at us.
One of the geese was doing this weird maneuver, pouncing from the ground, catching air, while honking his head off.
I didn’t think they could cause real damage, but I saw the way the one was going after Ermanno.
It was still going at him. He was acting like he was a knight and swinging a pretend sword at the goose.
His technique wasn’t working. If anything, it was irritating it.
“They are coming for us.” This from my husband, who delivered this line with a deadly straight face.
In a move that made me cry out, he scooped me up and set me over his shoulder.
The gaggle converged.
I could feel one of them hitting my heel.
“These are nutso geese!” Then the look on my husband’s face, when he’d said, they are coming for us, came back to me in a delayed reaction, and I exploded with laughter.
The first true laugh since Aunt Lola had passed. It hurt, but it proved that no matter how badly we hurt, life finds a way to keep moving forward.
I was wheezing by the time we reached Ermanno, who was still feuding with his nemesis. The two gaggles cornered us, and when Ermanno went to kick out to scare them, he overcompensated somehow, and his leg went up before he went down.
“Geese m-m-merdaaaa!” he screamed. “I am in geese cock-a-doodie! These geese are like the inspector—inspector gadgets! They have used their shits to overtake me! Run, Signor Fausti. Run for your wife’s life! Take me, bastardi!” He was hitting out, but when one backed up, another took its place.
They were, in fact, all going after the downed Fausti. They were pecking at his clothes and hair. I briefly wondered if Luca had fed them some kind of pellets or feed that made them thirsty for blood—our blood.
“Do not allow them to keep you down!” Rocco shouted. “Rise and fight!”
This entire scene was so ridiculous, and it was making me laugh so hard, I couldn’t even have slid off Rocco’s shoulder if I wanted to. I was limp with it. If I’d had a bladder issue, Rocco would’ve gotten it.
It must have caught.
Rocco started laughing too. Roaring with it.
Then, out of blue—or maybe not so out of blue, I just hadn’t noticed them—a bunch of soldiers made a wall around us. Rocco’s brothers, along with their wives, were in the mix. All of them, except for the most serious of soldiers, were laughing too. Especially when Romeo started to egg it on.