Epilogue
Emmeline
Four months later…
“Why are all government and state offices so freaking drab?” Donatello jerked to his feet, moving toward the single window in the room.
He was right in that in the older buildings whose renovations had been delayed based on the discovery of asbestos, every office held a sense of decay. As if everything discussed or decided was based on death.
I shuddered from the thought. “Try and relax. This is supposed to be a formality and nothing more.”
He leaned against the wall, shoving his hand into his trouser pocket. Trying to act casual. Pretending he wasn’t ready to climb down people’s throats with a loaded Glock.
At least he’d worn a white shirt to appear friendlier instead of his signature black. Not that with the scowl on his face he could fake his demeanor.
He was a killer after all.
Well, killer turned stockbroker. His dabbling in trading over the last few weeks had garnered him a reputation within the family and the Prince organization.
If you wanted advice on what stocks to invest in, Donatello was your man.
He had an uncanny ability to know which ones were about to do well and which ones were ready to tank.
However, that hadn’t taken the edge off the man.
At least we’d heard the Cosa Nostra had found the people responsible for his parents’ deaths. They were no longer breathing. Some good news as of late.
“I can’t relax. This means everything. What the fuck is taking so long?”
“I know. Don’t you think it does to me too?” His exasperation was stressing me the hell out.
His snarl only added to the butterflies swarming in my stomach. While Ms. Gannon had told me over the phone that our meeting was routine, I’d sensed something was wrong.
“I know, honey. I’m just angry at their incompetence!” He raised his voice on purpose.
“Would you stop. Come sit down.”
Every time he grumbled, which lately had been a lot, he reminded me of a kid who hadn’t gotten his way.
Before he had a chance to retort or otherwise determine how to make the lives of everyone on the floor miserable, Ms. Gannon walked into the room. In her hand was a manila folder, which I assumed was our case file.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Please sit down, Mr. Giovanni.” When he didn’t comply right away, she offered him a stern look like one a first grade teacher would give her worst student.
He finally complied, but not without grumbling as he did.
She sat down, carefully placing the file on a desk that had seen better days.
In the nineteen-sixties.
After the comprehensive glare she offered Donatello, she turned her attention to me. “Mrs. Giovanni—”
“Prince-Giovanni,” I corrected.
Her tongue tied, she ignored the name completely. “Emmeline. As you know, our role here with the Department of Social Services is to ensure the children we place in homes is the best decision for both parties. There are a number of considerations that go into play.”
Now Donatello’s ears were perked and not in a good way. “What are you getting at? We’ve passed all your tests, Ms. Gannon, and are more than qualified to adopt a child.”
She sighed, still putting most of her energy into dealing with me. “Yes, well, sometimes looks can be deceiving.”
“Meaning what?” I asked, feeling the first twinge of real anger.
“Meaning, when the entire picture of a couple comes into light.”
“I suggest you explain yourself and do so now.” Donatello was already rising to a standing position.
I did my best to calm him, placing my hand on his as he leaned over her desk menacingly. “I’ll handle this, honey bunchkins.” As soon as he sat back down, I stood, now the one leaning over her and I knew for certain my look was very threatening.
“Emmeline.”
The fear was evident in her voice. “Ms. Gannon. Are you trying to insinuate in any way that our family is not considered good enough to adopt a child?” I was already getting emotional.
“Are you even remotely trying to tell me that we don’t make enough money or couldn’t provide a good home?
Are you even thinking that we wouldn’t love this beautiful child with all our hearts because I can tell you with no reservation that my husband and I will…
” A sob broke free and I was not only mortified, I was furious with myself.
“That we will love this little baby with everything we have, our entire hearts and souls. That’s what adoption is supposed to be about.
Right? Love? Caring about a child to the point that we would die to keep him or her safe? Right?”
And I would.
I’d already realized with my heart of hearts that I would die to keep our precious baby safe.
So would Donatello.
She was so taken aback, I feared she would bolt out the door. Thankfully, she stood her ground, but maybe too much.
I’d thought her reactions plastic before, but as her expression hardened, I wanted to reach out and rip her heart out through her throat.
“Yes, but it’s not just about love, Mrs. Giovanni. As I said, there are other factors such as the aspect of danger in the life of a child.” She ripped open her desk drawer, pulling something into her hand.
“Danger?” Donatello repeated and I sensed he was ready to tell her how many soldiers would watch our child throughout almost every hour of the day.
Not the best comment to make.
“Yes, Mr. Giovanni. Danger. I’m sorry, but it’s widely known that you’re the enforcer for a mob group, dangerous men who solve their issues using guns.
Now, that’s fine if you want to do that with your naturally born children, but not with those inside the system.
I suggest you consider other alternatives. ”
“Other alternatives?” I threw back. “I wouldn’t be here if there were other alternatives for me.
I can’t have children. I’m physically incapable.
Do you know what that makes me feel like?
Do you know or even care about the sleep I’ve lost in wanting and wishing for a precious child to hold and watch grow?
To teach and share in laughter and all the good times? ”
I could tell my words of love were being showered on deaf ears.
“I understand, Mrs. Giovanni, but my hands are tied.” She slapped down whatever was in her hand against our application with enough force, I jumped.
The huge word Denied was printed in rubber-stamped ink and that’s when I lost it.
A split second before I had my hands wrapped around her throat, Donatello caught me, dragging me toward the door.
Once outside, he pulled me into his arms.
“It’ll be okay, baby. Everything will be okay. I’m going to make certain that happens. I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”
Anything.
And he would.
Including murder if that’s what it took, but this was one thing in our world that couldn’t be fixed by someone’s death or with money, power, and influence.
For two people who had everything in the world, the loss was unbearable.
* * *
Magic was highly overrated.
I’d come to that conclusion.
Either that or I’d lost my magical touch with voodoo and all the sexy spells that had been so easy for me to toss out on others.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
I moved through the downstairs with a glass of wine in my hand, uncertain where Donatello had gone. After returning home, he’d poured us a drink and we’d sat at the kitchen table for a half an hour, unable to say anything. I don’t even remember coming home, the fog was so thick.
I’d yet to tell anyone our hopes had been dashed. I was certain by tomorrow I’d have a list of the kind of alternatives Ms. Gannon was thinking about, including Russian orphanages. If I knew Alexander, he’d call in favors and find a child for us. Or maybe ask the Five Families for their help.
Right now, I just wanted time.
For once, the last thing I wanted was for the decision to be forced or to go around a system that wasn’t broken. Maybe we were the broken ones.
After searching the downstairs and hearing nothing, I headed up the stairs, finding the bedroom untouched.
A moment of dread rolled into my system as I headed down the hall.
We’d been so certain a child would be coming home in the next two weeks that we’d already fixed up the nursery.
Fixed up. Creating the perfect little dream room had taken every moment of our free time.
We’d enjoyed doing so together, picking out all the little objects from the crib to the changing table, the rocker for Mama and the stuffed animals.
We’d even painted the room together, getting more paint on each other than the walls. But we’d made it special because of our love.
I had no idea if I could ever walk into the room again.
Yet that’s where I found him, sitting in the rocker.
I could feel the despair coming off his body as he stared at the crib.
The same queasiness in my stomach even as he sensed my presence.
In his hand was a glass of whiskey, which he twirled back and forth across the arm of the rocker.
He’d pulled the blinds and the shadows would have been ominous except that he’d turned on the mobile over the crib.
A luminescent glow of stars floated across the ceiling.
Somehow, I managed to walk further inside.
“I can’t fix this,” he said quietly.
What was I supposed to say to that? I moved closer, able to run my finger across the edge of the crib before kneeling in front of him. I never thought in a million years I’d see tears in his eyes.
He took a pull of his drink and I was certain he was about to toss the glass against the wall. That’s why I placed my hand on his. “You don’t need to fix it. You just need to be with me.”
His exhale was full of anger and despair, exactly the way I felt. He slowly lifted his head, allowing a slight smile. “You are the strongest woman I know.”
“I’m not strong. I’m just… My family is with you. That’s all I need.”
Half laughing, he brushed hair from my face and I took comfort in nuzzling against his hand. “You’re so beautiful, Emmeline. So amazing. One day I’ll give you everything you want. One day. Somehow.”
When my phone rang, I pulled his hand to my lips, pressing a single kiss before pulling out my phone. Recognizing the number, I sighed. “I should take this. I’ll be right back.”
I headed from the room and down the hall, taking several shallow breaths.
“Emmeline Giovanni.”
Just as I answered, I heard a loud boom coming from the nursery. What in the hell was he doing?
“Mrs. Giovanni. I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to go over—”
Crash. Wham!
Jesus Christ. What was he doing? I could hear his heavy breathing.
I pressed my hand against my ear, trying to listen to what was being said.
“I thought you’d want to know right away.” Her voice was calm.
I slumped against the wall. “You’re sure.”
“I’m positive. Now, we should get you in for more extensive tests and a path forward, but I’m positive.”
My entire body began to shake, a knot forming in my stomach. “Okay. Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make an appointment.”
“Good enough. Take care.”
When the call was ended, I held the phone in front of me, but the second I heard even more commotion, I was jolted into action. I ran into the nursery, horrified by the sight.
“What are you doing?” Donatello had ripped everything apart.
Turned away from me, he stopped what he was doing, his shoulders heaving from the exertion. “I told you once that I could fix anything. I can’t. I failed. I failed you.”
I scanned the room, biting back a laugh as I walked inside. “You do fix everything, but I have a question for you.”
“What? How could I be so insensitive? Well, I do have feelings too. I wanted this baby. For us. For us. A little family. I wanted the little squeals and happy laughter. I wanted the birthdays and ponies. I wanted ponies! Is it too much to ask for a guy to get a goddamn pony for his son or daughter?”
“You also wanted the sleepless nights and a grumpy wife?”
He took several deep breaths, tossing the lamp he’d pulled out of the wall to the floor. “Yeah, that too. Maybe I wouldn’t have a wife who needed ice cream and pickles, but I’ll take the grumpy one.” He realized what he was saying. “I know, ridiculous.”
“Not ridiculous. That’s not my question.”
“Then what is it?”
“Stop being a hardhead and listen to me.”
“Fine!” he growled, his features softening. “Fine.”
“Are you good with a hammer? Maybe a saw; I’m not sure what you’ll need.”
Turning, he studied me with a strange look on his face. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither did I.” I remembered what I had in my pocket. As I pulled the bag of gris-gris into my hand, Donatello narrowed his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
As I pulled the sachet to my nose, I took a deep breath. “I placed a little spell on us that we’d be granted approval for adoption. Well, those weren’t my exact words. I wished for a child.”
When he acted as if he was going to rip it from my hand, I jerked it away. “Well, sometimes things fail.”
“Sometimes you’re not wishing for the right thing. My mama always told me that the earth and the stars brought you what you needed.”
Now I’d thoroughly confused him.
Laughing, I placed the little bag on the nightstand along with the glass of wine. I guess I wouldn’t be enjoying my favorite beverages for a little while. At least he hadn’t tossed the piece of furniture against the wall.
“Maybe so,” he told me.
“I know so.” I closed the distance. “So, can you fix the room back to the way it was?”
He opened his mouth, closing it instantly. “Yeah, I can fix… almost anything.”
“Oh, you can fix things alright.” I took his hand into mine, placing his hand on my stomach. “You gave me love. Now, you’ve given me life.”
Seeing he was still confused, I was certain the man was going to go off on some crazy rail of anger. But he flitted his eyes to mine. “No!”
Nodding several times, I squealed when he finally realized what I was saying. While issuing a roar that would challenge any beast in the wild, he pulled me into his arms, swinging me around several times.
The moment he finally placed me onto my feet, the single sound he issued was a sob of joy.
Perhaps it could be said that I’d underestimated my family’s power. I’d certainly done so with how important they were to me in all aspects of my life.
However, in the background I’d been given valuable lessons that I planned on teaching my beautiful child. Families meant everything. Real families. Adopted families. Found families. All the money in the world meant nothing with no one to share it with.
I’d been given many gifts, including the ones of dark magic, but right now the only one that mattered were the gifts of love.
And of life.
The End