Chapter 37
37
T he Wedding II, Brooklyn, NY 1949
The back door creaked open, letting in a gust of chilly November air. "Welcome to Mama Stewart's," Mama said, her voice warm but her eyes sharp as she took in Ely's tense posture.
"Thank you, ma'am," Ely murmured, stepping inside and wiping his shoes on the worn mat. His hand was tight around the strap of his small tote bag - all he'd brought for this dangerous night away from Harlem.
Mama Stewart guided him to the back room where three shadows waited in the amber glow of a single hanging bulb. Carmelo stood abruptly when Ely entered, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. The two young men locked gazes - one dark-eyed and wary, the other burning with desperate hope.
"The girls?" Carmelo's voice cracked with tension.
"Next door. Ready for you. José, too," Ely answered, his eyes moving over to the unfamiliar older man sitting at the table - some white judge in a coat that probably cost more than Ely made in six months.
Judge Foly gathered his leather attache case with practiced ease. As Matteo brushed past Ely without a word, his winter coat swirling like a storm cloud, Ely caught the raw anguish in the Italian's red-rimmed eyes. This was a man walking in misery. Returning to a bride who wasn’t his. A sin of his own making.
Carmelo, however, hesitated at the door. He stood before Ely. Thank you, Ely," he said, his Italian accent thickening with emotion. "For bringing Kathy. I know the risk you took."
Ely's jaw tightened. "I didn't do it for you."
The words hung between them, sharp as broken glass.
Carmelo's hands twitched at his sides. For a heartbeat, Ely thought the hotheaded Italian might throw a punch right there in Mama Stewart's sacred back room. Then Carmelo surprised them both - he extended his hand, palm up, in a gesture of peace.
Ely stared at the hand offered. The calloused fingers trembled slightly. Behind Carmelo, Mama Stewart crossed her arms, her silent warning clear: any trouble, and this whole fragile plan would collapse.
With a slow exhale, Ely shook Carmelo's hand. The handshake lasted only seconds, but in that moment, some unspoken understanding passed between them - two young men caught in a storm not of their making. Both are in love with Kathy. One would win and one would lose. Ely conceded he had lost the Battle but would not give up the war.
As Carmelo disappeared into the alley, Mama Stewart bolted the door behind them. "I'll feed you back here," she said, turning to Ely. "Those Harlem boys you brought are killers. They out front getting takeout. When they're gone, you can come out." She hesitated, then added more gently, "Got a jazz quartet tonight. Might help pass the time."
"Thank you, ma'am." Ely's bag slid from his shoulder like a weight he could no longer carry.
Mama Stewart studied him with knowing eyes. "You really care for her, huh?"
Ely stiffened. "Ma'am?"
"That little show with Carmelo," she said. “The only reason Kathy’s father let her out of his sight tonight was you vouching for her." When Ely didn't deny it, Mama sighed. "I don't know how this story ends, child. If there's any good left in those boys, it's in Carmelo. That's why Kathy loves him so. But..."
She turned to face Ely fully, her voice dropping to a whisper. "While his father draws breath, while Lucky's trapped in Italy, that boy's bound to the Family, and that love affair is doomed. He may not want it, but he's the Capo di tutti Capi prodigy now. Don Ricci owns their world." Her dark eyes bored into Ely's. "You stay her friend. You get her out of harms way. Because that boy? He'll come for her again, consequences be damned. Love like theirs makes men reckless."
Ely swallowed hard. "That's my plan, ma'am. To save her life. Even if she hates me for it."
Mama Stewart's laughter was soft as worn velvet. "Kathy sure is something, ain't she? Got two fools playing hero." She patted Ely's cheek before heading to the kitchen. "Lord help you both."
Alone in the silent room, Ely sank like a condemned man into a chair. The judge's abandoned whiskey glass caught the light, tempting him. At eighteen, he'd never touched liquor - his father's belt had taught him that lesson early. But tonight, with the woman he loved preparing to pledge her heart and her virginity possibly to another man just feet away, Ely poured himself two fingers of courage and drank his first bitter taste of heartbreak.
* * *
Matteo crossed the threshold first, and before the judge or Carmelo could step inside, Debbie was in his arms—a blur of white satin and taffeta. She buried her face in his neck, her wedding veil slipping askew as silent sobs of relief shook her shoulders. Carmelo shook his head at their drama but quickly shut the door behind them to join in. He’d sealed away the cold Harlem night in favor of the world they created inside.
The scene before him unfolded like a surreal dream: Judge Foly embraced José with quiet affection near the fireplace, their silhouettes framed by flickering candlelight set up all around the room. The two men kissed in front of them. Matteo looked away, but Carmelo did not. It was a love he didn’t understand but he had found respect in their bravery, because he knew the consequences were as grave as the ones he and Kathy faced. Then his breath caught - Kathy stood by the staircase, bathed in lamp and candle light.
She was a vision in blush pink satin, the dress hugging her curves before cascading to the floor in soft folds. Baby's breath nestled in her upswept hair like scattered stars, and when she turned toward him, the delicate pearl earrings caught the light. For a heart-stopping moment, Carmelo forgot how to breathe. She looked every inch a bride - his bride - and he suddenly hated his rumpled suit, the scuff marks on his shoes, knowing in his closet he could have chosen better. She deserved so much more than stolen moments in secret rooms.
Then she was moving toward him, tears glistening on her dark lashes. When he swept her up in an embrace, the satin whispered against the wool of his coat, permission for him to go further, her weight nothing in his arms as he spun them both. Her laughter - that bright, musical sound he'd missed more than air - filled the room as she clung to him. Around them, the others tactfully melted away, leaving them in their own private world.
Carmelo showered kisses around her lips and along her jaw. His lips returned coaxingly to hers. There was a dreamy intimacy to their kiss now. It was a series of slow shivery kisses that neither could stop. Unlike their first desperate reunion, charged with guilt and sorrow, this moment felt like coming home. It was Carmelo who ended the kiss. Kathy pressed her lips to his ear, her breath warm: "A whole week you've been here, and I'm just now getting to hold you.”
Carmelo closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her in his arms. He feared if he spoke or breathed too deeply, this fragile happiness might shatter. But reality demanded he set her down, though his hands lingered at her waist.
"Are you okay?" he murmured.
She nodded, fingers tracing the fresh scar above his eyebrow. "Are you? What happened here?” she asked with concern.
“Nothing, I was just in a little boxing match. I won,” he grinned.
“Me too. I won this night with you,” she smiled. “Are you happy?”
The simple truth spilled out: "I am now."
"We have all night," she promised, pressing closer. "Just you and?—"
Debbie's sudden peal of laughter broke the spell. They turned to see Matteo running circles with Debbie thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour, her wedding dress hiked up to her knees as she shrieked with laughter. All their troubles fell away in that moment - they were just themselves again, stealing joy where they could find it.
Kathy squeezed Carmelo's hand, her smile radiant, until José's announcement sobered them all: "It's time. We should start now."
The laughter died as Matteo set Debbie down, wrapping protective arms around her from behind as they faced José and the judge. With visible pride, José gestured to his companion. "Everybody, this is my best friend, my boyfriend - Judge Samuel Foly. But you can call him Sam."
The men exchanged stiff nods, while Debbie and Kathy moved first to greet the judge properly. They exchanged cheek kisses, friendly hugs that made José beam brighter with pride and happiness than anyone had seen on him since this entire matter of marrying Debbie began.
"Alright," José continued, producing a stack of papers. "First, we get married and I mean officially. Fill these out so Sam can sign them properly with the state seal. We will be each other’s witnesses. And then you guys will need to be the witnesses for me and Sam.”
Matteo immediately pulled Debbie onto his lap, nuzzling her neck as she filled out both their forms with shaky handwriting, while fighting off his advances. Kathy led Carmelo to a quiet corner, pushing the paperwork toward him once they were seated. But he couldn't stop staring at the way the candlelight played across her skin, at the delicate flutter of her pulse beneath her pearls.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she whispered, cheeks blooming with heat.
"Every time I see you," he said hoarsely, "you're more beautiful than the last. I'm afraid if I blink, you'll disappear."
With an exasperated smile, she pulled his form toward her. "Let me do yours so you can keep staring." Her pen moved in careful loops and curls, Carmelo murmuring answers to her questions between stolen kisses. They finished first, watching reverently as Judge Foly signed their certificate with an official seal and Matteo and José as witnesses.
"Show this to any lawman," the judge warned, "and it's as good as gold. You are legally married unless challenged in court because you didn’t follow due process. Then we're all in trouble."
Kathy's hands trembled as she held the document. After months of pretending their love didn't exist, here was tangible proof - their names entwined in ink, stamped with the seal of New York State. No longer something shameful to hide, but recognized and legitimate.
She threw her arms around Carmelo's neck. "Let's go upstairs, right now.”
“Wait! It’s our turn,” José laughed.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” Kathy blushed. José and Sam signed their paperwork, and then Matteo, who refused to get up from his chair or let Debbie go, signed his signature along with Carmelo. The same was done for Carmelo and Debbie. The pair were married.”
“Now let’s have the ceremony and recite our vows, in front of everyone,” Debbie said, holding on to Matteo’s neck.
“What vows?” Matteo asked.
“The ones you wrote for me,” she reminded him.
He blinked.
“You better have written your vows like I told you!” Debbie pouted.
Carmelo took Kathy’s hand, and she addressed the room without looking back: "We'll say our vows in private. Goodnight."
Samuel turned on the radio to drown out the arguing couple and pulled José into a loving embrace. They swayed in each other’s arms. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms, one bathroom, and privacy for all.
Kathy grabbed the waiting basket and wine, barely noticing Matteo and Debbie still tangled together in an argument over vows to each other, or José swaying with the judge to the soft jazz drifting from his portable radio.
There would be no need for vows. They were married.
* * *
This was Debbie’s house. She knew what the night would bring, so she had Matteo assign the rooms and furnish them for the evening. It was no easy thing, but the mobster in training had the resources and heart to get it done. Each room had a little sign hung, which Debbie had gone upstairs and put in place after Henry Freeman’s men had searched it. She had worked alone, telling Kathy there would be a surprise waiting for her.
Kathy reached the door with their names. Mr. it wasn’t just their love. It was the threat that at any moment someone or something could retake their joy.
“Wait, Kathy, wait, I have more planned. And I want?—.”
“Later… now, right now, I need you now,” she said and again tried to push his coat off his shoulders. “I’ve missed it all. You were hurt, and I wasn’t there. You had a birthday and I wasn’t here. I’m tired of missing you, Melo. I’m tired of waiting to be here—with you. Don’t you want me?”
Carmelo smiled. She was right. Time was never their friend. What they needed, they needed, and they needed each other. He stopped her busy hands and took them into his.
“ Ti amo, cara ,” he said. “You want this?”
“Yes,” she said.
“ Volentieri! ” he said
He stared into her eyes for a moment, seeing the pain and suffering there vanquished by his offer to release them both from the sexual tension they’d felt since their first night in the attic.
It filled him with so much regret and remorse. He released her hands to run his around her waist and up her back to her zipper. Kathy exhaled as the tight fit to her midriff eased. She had turned for him and let him draw the zipper down her spine, nice and slow. She cast a look over her shoulder at him. He smiled as he pulled her dress down to leave her in her slip.
Kathy was no longer timid; she wanted him to notice her, to see the man before her desire her, not just to immortalize her. There were times when Carmelo’s love felt like worship. She didn’t need that. She needed reality now more than ever. She’d faced a lot of it in the segregated town of Butts.
Kathy desired and longed for the deep connection her parents shared, where their souls were intertwined in a bond that nothing and no one could ever break. So, she reached behind her and released the hooks to her brassiere. The cups dropped and the straps fell down her arms as she let the garment fall, revealing her breasts to him.
Carmelo gazed at her body, holding his breath as the slip dropped and pooled around her ankles, covering her feet. The reality of her beauty surpassed even his most vivid fantasies. Her skin was flawless, smooth as if bronzed by the sun, without a single blemish to mar its perfection. Her dark, full nipples stood taut, more exquisite than his imagination had dared to conjure during their absence. A delicate waist tapered into heart-shaped hips, the curve of them accentuated by the teasing drape of her bloomers—hiding her sex, yet hinting at the alluring V beneath. Her thighs, shapely and strong, flowed into legs so perfectly sculpted they seemed carved by divine hands. She was a vision, a goddess made flesh.
Kathy watched as Carmelo shrugged off his suit jacket, the fabric sliding from his broad shoulders with effortless grace. His fingers moved deftly down the row of buttons on his shirt, each one releasing to reveal more of him—tawny skin stretched over lean muscle, the body of a fighter, honed and hardened in the ring. At twenty, he was in his prime, his beauty almost unfair: sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, dark curls slightly tousled from the evening’s tension, eyes that burned with a quiet intensity.
She fought the instinct to cover herself, but the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world, left her breathless, immobile.
Then his shirt fell open, and her heart fell apart.
His torso was a map of old battles-thin scars from fists and hammer used for discipline, the mottled bruises of recent fights, the knotted ridge of a poorly healed rib. She knew he boxed, knew the violence of the sport, but some of these marks… they weren’t from the ring. The realization struck like a fist to her chest, and her throat tightened. Tears blurred her vision, not just from pity, but from the terrible, beautiful truth of what they risked just to exist in the same moment.
Yet when he stepped closer, his hands—calloused, capable—reached for her with a tenderness that defied every scar, threat, and means put upon him to abandon their love. And in that forbidden space between them, there was no color, no hate, no past nor future. Only this: his chest brushing up against her breast, his hand sliding down to cup her left buttock, his erection hard against her bloomers, his lips soft but firm as they captured hers, and the warmth melting down from her heart to warm her in womanly places she dared admit existed.
This was their moment. They were together. At last.