La Sposa (9 page)

Catalina squealed. She was out of her chair
and charging him. She threw her hands around his neck, stomping her
feet and jumping with happiness. Giovanni was forced to hold her or
be knocked off the desk. “
Grazie!
Mille grazie! Tante
grazie!
Bless you and
Donna
. Bless you, Gio!” He stared
at Dominic over his sister’s shoulder. It would take time and much
soul searching for him to find the brotherhood he felt was lost
between them.

Dominic stood. “
Grazie,
Giovanni
.”

Catalina let him go, and rushed over to
Dominic. She hugged him. He buried his face in her neck and held
her to him. When Giovanni looked to Lorenzo, his cousin shook his
head in disappointment. This indeed was a sign of
weakness.

Giovanni cleared his throat. “You will have to
pay respect to your dead husband, Catalina.”

She whirled on him, glowing with a bright
smile and fresh tears on her cheeks. “Yes, Gio. Of
course.”

He then spoke to Dominic. “You two will not be
forced to hide your love, not even in front of me. Though you will
not consummate your desires under my roof,” Giovanni said. “Not
until you are married. If I see, hear or smell you two fucking,
compassion will be the last thing in my heart.”

They both nodded that they
understood.

“
Now leave us, Catalina. We have
other business to discuss.”

Catalina grinned. “
Gio!
Ti amo!
”
She blew him kisses and then kissed Dominic fully on the lips.
Dominic drew her arms down and pulled away from her kiss. Catalina
gathered her umbrella and rain coat, then left. Giovanni felt the
need for fresh air.

“
I want to say…” Dominic
began.

“
Sta zitto
.” Giovanni
ordered.

Dominic sat without another word.

*****

Thunder clapped and Eve was the first to
notice. Her little curly head shot up and her eyes went wide with
fright. She sucked hard on her pacifier and blinked at her mother
for an explanation. Mira didn’t react. She waited. Her daughter
decided against tears, and continued scribbling on the fabric she
was given for entertainment. Mira glanced to the windows now
battered by the rain, wondering again how long this storm would
last. “It’s okay, baby, it’s just the rain and wind.”

The last rumble of thunder faded in the
distance. Eve rose to her feet and passed Mira an unneeded sample
of fabric. “
Grazie, bambina
. Mama’s helper.”

Eve plopped back down and began to run a
bright pink color stick over the pearl satin material, drawing
circles and loops. And Mira once again busied herself with the task
before her. After her meeting with Giovanni, Mira hurried to the
house in the rain. Quickly she changed, collected Eve from the
breakfast table, sent word that Catalina was to join her as soon as
she finished her meeting with Giovanni, and then escaped upstairs.
She had a tough schedule, and Zia’s help with Eve was so
appreciated. She wondered where Zia had gotten off to.

Mira glanced at the dress mannequin she had
slipped the gown over. Before she could sew the hem and train to
the slim- fitting garment, she would need to spend the day covering
the silk fabric with the antique beaded lace that was delivered to
her yesterday. She checked her watch and wished Catalina would
hurry and return so she could do one more fitting. The bodice of
the dress was heart shaped and strapless; each pearl had to be
perfectly spaced to preserve the elegance of the
garment.

The door to the sewing room opened. Carmine
grunted as he lugged in an old brown cedar chest. Zia shuffled in
behind him with her scarf crossed over her shoulders. She wore her
typical long blue skirt and white button down shirt with short
sleeves. A very attractive young woman around Catalina’s age
followed her inside. Mira walked around the sewing table and Eve
pushed up from the floor with her hands and followed her mother.
“What’s this?”

Zia smiled. “Mira, you remember Rosetta, she’s
the youngest daughter of Vito. He is Giovanni’s uncle from Sicily.
She and family members arrived today.”

Rosetta gave her a respectful nod. Her oval-
shaped face was framed by thick dark brown hair that fell wavy from
a center part. She was almost an identical beauty to Catalina.
Rosetta approached, smiling. She kissed Mira on both cheeks. “I’m
so excited to meet you. I know English! We can speak it
together!”

Mira glanced at Zia, and Rosetta grabbed her
hands to force the conversation. “I met you at the wedding.
Remember?” she said aloud. Rosetta formed her words slow as if Mira
was hard of hearing and mentally challenged. “Catalina’s wedding to
Franco? Do you remember? Poor Franco, we heard what happened to
him. Such a shame.”

“
Yes it was a shame. Very nice to
meet you too,” Mira answered back in Italian.

Zia tossed her chin up just a little higher
with pride over Mira speaking Italian so well. Rosetta tried to
cover her surprise, but failed. She even seemed a little
disappointed. Eve walked up to Rosetta and raised her arms to be
lifted and greeted by the stranger. “Oh look at you,
bambina
! Your eyes! Look at her eyes!” Rosetta picked Eve up
and smiled. She held Eve who studied her as well, and after a few
minutes of being properly introduced, Eve squirmed to be let down.
Once on her feet, she tottered away. “She is an angel.
Absolutely!”

Mira chuckled. “Spend a little time with her,
you’ll find out differently.”

“
Can I be of help,
donna
? I
know you’re creating your dress. Can I do something? You did
Catalina’s dress and we were all jealous! I wish you had done the
same for me when I was married.”

“
You’re married?” Mira
asked.

“
Widowed. The men in our family die
young.” Rosetta said, a dark gleam of amusement sparkling in her
eyes. Mira wasn’t sure what to make of the comment so she didn’t
respond.

“
Hmm. I needed Catalina to try on
the dress for me for another fitting.”

“
I can do it!” Rosetta
chirped.

“
What dress size are you?” Mira
asked, looking her over.

“
Same as Catalina!” Rosetta
announced. The bitter bite of envy was in her voice. This, Mira
couldn’t ignore. She glanced over to Zia, who nodded that Rosetta
should be encouraged instead of discouraged. Mira complied. She
went to the mannequin and gingerly removed the dress from it before
she passed the garment to Rosetta. “Please be careful, don’t force
the dress if it doesn’t fit. Call me in to adjust if need be. You
can change behind that door.”

“
Grazie.”

Carmine tracked the young woman with lust-
filled eyes. He was apparently taken with her beauty. “That’ll be
all, Carmine,” Mira said.

“
Ah, oh?
Sí, Signora
Mira,
ah,
donna
,
sí
,” he said, and was out the
door.

Zia stood next to the cedar chest with her
arms folded.

“
So what’s this?” Mira pointed at
the chest. “It looks interesting.”

“
It’s your trousseau.
Traditionally, it’s for you and your mother to pack for your
wedding night. But you and I will do it. I will stand in for her.
If that is okay,” Zia said in Italian. She now spoke only Italian
with Mira and Eve to encourage them to do the same.

“
That’s wonderful.
Grazie,
Zia
.” Mira put a hand to her heart, truly touched.

“
It’s expected. I see you as a
daughter.” Zia lowered her gaze. “You’re marrying my Gio. This is a
big event for our family. We’ve waited quite some time for him to
take a bride. You understand how important he is to all of
us.”

“
I do.”

Zia had been a bit reserved when they
initially met, and she learned that Giovanni wanted to date her.
And she knew the old woman had an issue with Mira disappearing with
Eve. A few comments had passed between them over the weeks after
her return that confirmed this belief. The past few days the
lessons in tradition, which included their faith in Catholicism and
cooking, were constantly hammered in Mira, whether solicited or
not. It felt as if she were marrying into some aristocracy instead
of a mafia family. Mira accepted all of the advice without
complaint. But the gift evoked the first genuine emotional
connection with Zia she had hoped they’d achieve. She walked over
to Zia and embraced the old woman.

“
Bellisima
.”

Zia patted her cheek and hugged Mira again.
“
Ti amo
.”

“
We should have it brought to my
room,” Mira said. She glanced back to the chest. Eve was now over
near the treasured locker, touching the shiny latches with
curiosity.

“
No. We will bring up the things
you want to pack in it and pray together. I’ve instructed Carmine
to take it to where you will be staying on your wedding night. Are
you nervous?” Zia asked.

Mira laughed. “Nervous about the wedding
night? No. I think I know what is expected.”

“
Not the wedding night. The
wedding.” Zia blushed.

“
Oh?” Mira struggled a moment to
find the words in Italian to express how she felt. “I’m worried,
not nervous. Giovanni won’t tell me anything. Do you know where the
ceremony will be? Will it be here?” Mira frowned and glanced back
to the rain storm outside the tall windows.

“
It will be in a catholic church.
It should be in Sicily, but Giovanni wants to marry right
away.”

Mira nodded. Giovanni made it clear earlier
all of the things he wanted. She was still struggling with the dose
of bitter truth he gave her. Before and after Christmas, Mira had
attended Mass with Zia. There were so many rules in this life, she
felt awkward about how rigid the traditions for them
were.

“
Traditionally, the bride’s family
would make the arrangements. I believe Gio is taking the lead
because of all the problems you two have faced. He wants your day
to be perfect.” Zia took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry. He
will see to everything just as you like it.”

“
How does he know how I like it
without asking me?” Mira pressed.

Zia frowned.

“
Can I ask you a question? A
personal question?”

Zia nodded.

“
The vineyard, the business, you
and Rocco own it?”

“
Rocco owns it with Giovanni.” Zia
corrected.

“
Do you run any parts of it? Maybe
the accounting or management of the workers?”

“
No.” Zia answered.

Mira cleared her throat. “Have you ever had a
job outside of being Rocco’s wife? Please don’t misunderstand me, I
think being a wife is fine but… well I think I’m going to… no. I
plan to reclaim my company. Giovanni and I are working out the
details. He’s a bit old fashioned about how we do this.”

Zia’s brows lifted. “You want to
work?”

Mira chuckled. “I built my company from
scratch. It’s not really work, it’s a part of who I am.”

“
Yes. But you are a mother
now.”

“
I am.” She looked to Eve who was
now wrapping herself up in fabric and playing. “I happen to think I
can be both.”

Silence settled between them. Zia stared hard
at Mira. To further explain herself, Mira decided on another
approach. “There are a lot of things expected of a wife. Being an
Italian wife or American wife, responsibility for the home falls on
the woman’s shoulders. I saw it with my grandmother. I understand.
But it’s the nineties. The man wants all of me any time I’m with
him—I’m talking about physically and emotionally. This I can
manage, because part of me wants the same thing.”

“
And the other part of
you?”

“
My company is part of me. I can
handle it. I just think he needs to understand that I’m a person, a
business person too. Our marriage is a partnership not a
dictatorship.”

“
I agree. You can be strong for
your husband and take care of your family and his needs. There is
dignity in who you will become when you are his wife. Nothing in
your company can give you the dignity of being Don Giovanni
Battaglia’s wife.”

“
Zia…”

“
Let me finish.” Zia put up a hand.
“He will never be the man to consider you an equal. And if I know
Giovanni, he has already expressed this to you. He is always honest
with himself and the people he cares about.”

She nodded in agreement.

“
No matter what he promises you, he
won’t make you his partner in life. He lives a different life,
Mira. This you need to accept now, or admit to yourself that you
don’t. Because our Gio will not change. And if you love him you
won’t expect him to.”

“
He expects me to
change.”

Zia nodded.

Mira sighed. “I guess I already have. I just
don’t know when I changed. Was it when I agreed with Fabiana to
date him? Come here? Was it when Fabiana died, or when I had Eve?”
She looked to her daughter. “At some point I’ve changed, and I
can’t explain why.”