Epilogue
EPILOGUE
F inally, the boys all moved in to Blackridge. I’m coming up with a plan to have the old house turned into something. A conference centre or maybe we could donate it to house the orphanage. My preference would be to have it turned into a lake, but you have to pick your battles.
As a way to mark the new phase in our family, I declare that this year’s Christmas party is going to be here in Blackridge. To a chorus of dismay, naturally.
Carlo complains, “I thought you wanted us to keep the location close.”
“And” Bruno says, “I thought you wanted to hold it in the orphanage.”
Ans Alessio’s objection is, “Didn’t you say the house wouldn’t be ready?”
“We’re all living here,” I point out, reasonably. And, at long last, we are. It’s such a relief. We hardly even have to go to that old hall of ghosts anymore. I did want Christmas to be at the orphanage, but I’ve decided it will be even nicer to bring all of the orphans up here for the holiday. There aren’t so many of the little scamps and we can easily accommodate them all for a couple of nights.
They can wake up to piles of presents. We can have a big Christmas lunch then play games inside by the fire, and outside in the snow for whoever is up for that. And they can all stay over and have a huge breakfast the next morning.
We’ll invite everybody.
Alessio says, “So, you don’t want to keep the location close anymore?”
“I do, but we already learned that all the people I wouldn’t want to know where our house is, already do know. And it was bound to happen. Nobody in the Life can keep that kind of a secret.”
“True.” Bruno agrees.
And Carlo says, “And it’s not just to keep us all busy so we’re not thinking about the subject we’ve all been avoiding. Right?”
Sometimes he’s really too much like a mind-reader. But, if anything, it’s the opposite. “Right.”
We all have been bouncing off the topic for weeks now. I believe the body decides when you’re ready. But I think mine is going to make that decision pretty soon.
Everybody is nervous about how the party is going to go. Bruno is worried that some of his friends will bring some of their rowdier associates. Carlo frets that none of the people he invites with show up.
He doesn’t let it show and he covers it well but, Alessio is nervous about everything at the moment. It will pass. I know that we’re all going to be okay.
Carlo, Bruno, and Alessio are all like the world’s coolest big brothers with all pf the children. It brings a tear to my eye to see them. The little orphans are all in love with Diabolo, too. He’s like a dog with two tails when they all want to play with him in the snow.
Mikey seems to monopolize Waya, Tai, and the elders, or maybe they’re monopolizing him.
My daddy comes, naturally. He manages to get along with everyone and everyone seems to love him.
Catlin brings her sniper apprentice, Erin to the Christmas party. Giovanni and Franco, two of our enforcers, come with Isabella, the girl with the market stall by the orphanage. She brings trays of her fantastic sfincione, a fluffy Sicilian pizza.
Not only do Don Romano and Don Pucci both stop in, but they stay all afternoon, playing with the kids. They even manage to appear like they’re a pari of long-lost old friends. So much so that I start to wonder if they really can bury their differences and grievances.
The grand and mischievous Ester travels all the way from her island home in the south of Italy. Carlo’s mother and Bruno’s adopted mother, also Alessio’s step-mother rarely visits the States, so we are honored indeed. Carlo melts when he sees her, and Bruno is thrilled. She and Alessio have a complicated relationship, but they both give a good enough impression of a happy family unit.
She even makes a decent performance of getting along with daddy, and they’re seen at one point playing cards together.
I’m surprised when, in the middle of the afternoon, I get the nicest greetings calls, not only from Don Amato, but Don Cappoci and Don Vitelli, too. they all call, with video.
When all the kids are finally dozing in front of the TV or the fire, and all the adults who are left have settled in the den with long tales and Christmas spirits, Alessio collects Carlo and Bruno together and we all step out into the snow under the silver moon and the blue velvet sky
Alessio has four chilled glasses and a special bottle of cold champagne.
“I want to toast the four of us. Especially you, Lucia. Donna Fortuna. My queen and the greatest of us all. I love you so much.” He pops the cork with a colossal bang and pours the foaming fizz into our glasses.
We all toast. “Happy Christmas.”
“I love you all,” he says, “And seriously. I want to thank you all for allowing me back in.”
“Provisionally.” Bruno says.
Carlo nods. “On a probationary period.”
I let them have their fun at his expense. He has earned it, after all.
And I say, “I have an announcement, too.”
They all look round, their faces shining with anticipation.
“I kept quiet about a series of tests I’ve had done. I wanted to know the results first, before I said anything.”
They’re all holding their breath.
“It’s not as dramatic as all that,”’ I tell them. “But I’ve had tests to see if there’s any reason I can’t or I shouldn’t have children.” The tension is almost visible. “And there isn’t. I should be good to go.”
Alessio is hesitant, “But do you want to?”
“Okay. That’s the other reason I’ve held back. I wanted to be sure. But if I had any doubts, being with all the children today and seeing all three of you with them made me certain. Now I know for sure. I really do. I want us all to have babies. As many as possible. And as soon as possible.”
A tear breaks free. I can’t help it.
I tell them, “We’re so damned perfect together. We’re the F-Word.”
We chink glasses as we chorus. “The F-Word.”
Then we all fall together in an embrace and I kiss all three of them. “I love you so much,” I tell them.”
“I love you, too, Lucia.” Carlo’s voice almost cracks.
Bruno says, “I love you, Lucia. More than anything.”
“I love you completely.” Alessio starts to lift his Christmas sweater and his shirt.
“Oh,” Carlo says, “You’re not going to be one-upping us the whole time with that.”
He pulls up his shirt. His colorful and elaborate tattoo says the same thing as Alessio’s.
“Yeah,” Bruno opens his shirt. “That’s still good, Lessie, but it’s not your sole intellectual property any more.” and he reveals his own.
My three mafia kings, all hallmarked and branded as my property.