One day, she had surprised me when finding me in a field working. Since this was so unusual, I rushed to her. “Are you not well?”
Endearingly, she smiled at me, careful not to touch me while others were around. “I am fine but worry for Angelo.”
Instantly understanding her concern, I nodded. “Losing you is going to cut him deep.”
I loved Noemi. This she knew well, but I had Angelo and always would. I was sound. He was all I needed. My best friend was the one who filled the void of losing my brother. But Angelo’s void ran to a core only those who have lost a parent at a young age could comprehend. My mother adored her angel. And he cherished and respected her, but she couldn’t reach deep like Noemi did. That was a part of him that connected to his physical side. Not that he ever had strange relations with his mother, but somehow, Noemi offered the feminine touch that he craved. Soon, she would have to leave us behind to be loyal to her husband.
How was Angelo going to react?
Like shit.
“He can’t save the world, Rossi,” cried Noemi before she silenced her fears with her hand. She was very aware of Angelo’s beautiful trait. How he always wanted to rescue the underdog.
Seeing how upset Noemi was, I ached to hold and calm her nerves, but a few men in the field had already noticed her, so I told her, “You must go, but do not fear.” I backed away from her, arms wide while delivering a confident smile. “Trust me, for I am Sal Rossi.”
My wink gained me a smile in return.
Now, Angelo and I were waiting for the verdict about Isabella. Sitting at a lunch table in the front yard of the Giordano compound, I watched Angelo as he nervously dug the sharp point of his knife into the grooves of the wood. A doctor was seeing Isabella because she was losing weight again and looking more ill as the days passed. Angelo hadn’t been permitted to talk to her for almost a whole week.
As soon as the front door opened and the doctor came out holding his little black bag with Mr. Giordano following, Angelo jumped to his feet. But no one spoke to him. Mr. Giordano only glared at him before balancing on his cane to turn around and go back inside.
I stood. “Angelo, don’t—” but my best friend was very stubborn at times.
He ran toward the entrance. “Wait! Please tell me!”
Before Suits could catch him, he was inside. I grabbed hold of his arm, trying to pull him back out. Being in that home was not acceptable without permission. This fine day, we were without. Hence, security now grabbed us both.
From over the shoulders of Suits, who were forcibly attempting to shove Angelo and me backward, my best friend begged, “Mr. Giordano! Please, tell me—”
The head of the Giordano family turned on his old legs and fancy shoes, and shouted, “How dare you come into my home and demand answers! That is my daughter! Not yours!”
“But she is my friend.”
He growled, “She is nothing of the sort! She is only a tormented woman who needs rest.”
“Not true! She is a mother mourning for a child because she is giving up!” Angelo’s voice bounced off the high ceiling. His eyes watered in frustration, even though I was sure he was fighting it, due to the act usually being viewed as a weakness. “Please, Mr. Giordano. Help me convince her to fight on. Dare to believe. Just like you did. My father found your daughter after ten years! How can you give up on Scarlett?”
Mr. Giordano bellowed even louder, “Do not say that name! Let her soul be free!” He demanded to his Suits, “Get him out of here!”
“Stop!”
We all froze but looked up to the second flooring of the huge staircase. There stood a dying Isabella. Or, at least, that is how she appeared. Her pale cheeks were hollow, and her eyes sunken. She was so thin, even her once full lips had practically shriveled.
With authority and something that sounded stuck between pity and embarrassment, Mr. Giordano tried to direct her to go back to bed, but Angelo, in English, shouted over him, “Fight, dear Isabella! Fight!”
Tears beginning to stream down her face seemed to have her father going quiet.
My best friend? The young man I would die for? He got bolder. Braver.
Refusing to get pushed out of the house, he leaned forward into the Suits. “Don’t you dare give up on that little girl, my friend. My father will find her. He will. And if he doesn’t, I will find her.” He screamed, “I swear it on my mother’s soul!” He lifted his chin, defiantly.
Every man, including me, went still as we took a collective sharp intake.
I stood there, taking in his words and admirable dedication. Did I ‘look up’ to Angelo? I’m not sure that is how it could be worded. It is more like I treasured him—his ideas, his loyalty, his determination, and his hope. All that had me making a very powerful decision. Even though Angelo had practically damned his mother’s soul, if you are going to love someone, you have to also love their crazy side. If Angelo just bought a one-way ticket to Hell, I wanted on that train.
“And I,” I awkwardly spoke in English, shocking myself by the sudden size of my balls. “I will help him find her.” I lifted my chin to match my friend’s—who was actually now staring at me as if I had caught him off guard. I nodded to him. “From this moment on, I vow my loyalty to the Giordano family until my promise is kept, even if that means eternity.”
My words spoke of loyalty to the Giordanos, but it also was speaking of the pact my best friend and I had shared and would live our lives by.
Understanding I was making this a formal pledge, Angelo blinked away his shock then stared the leader directly in his eyes. “I the same. From this moment on, my life is your life.” He broke a hand free from the Suits—who were also with mouths gaping—and pointed to Isabella on the above landing, telling Mr. Giordano, “My life is her life.” His stern expression softened as he gazed up to the mother of the one he was truly giving his life up for. “My life is Scarlett’s. Give me the honor of bringing her home… to you.”
Slowly, Isabella’s frail hand lifted and covered her open mouth, tears dripping.
Angelo quickly promised her, “I won’t fail you.”
With his sincere vow, the Suits loosened their hold on us.
Overcome with emotions, Isabella started to shake her head no, but Angelo interrupted with, “Please, once and for all, accept my friendship and loyalty.”
Isabella, as if it pained her to do so—but needing such dedication to live and breathe her very next breath—finally, reluctantly, nodded. She knew the weight of such a nod. She knew Angelo’s soul was now, irrevocably, connected to hers and her daughter’s.
Had we known all that was to come, maybe Angelo and I would have at least paused long enough to have a discussion, but that is part of the beauty of life. If you truly knew what was coming, would you be brave enough to take the very next step? Would you dare challenge yourself to test your strengths?
Angelo looked to her father, reverting to Italian out of respect. “Sir, do you accept?”
After a moment, the leader gestured to the Suits to release us. As they did, he exhaled. “This is what your father always wanted; I just did not know you would come to it on your own.” He nodded as if secretly regretting owning another life, but quietly replied… “I accept.”