Home > Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(63)

Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(63)
Author: Bella Di Corte

Capo worked on the arbor mostly all day. Every so often, when the sun was too hot for Nonno, he’d go sit close to Capo under the tree in the back and tell him what to do.

I couldn’t believe how good Nonno looked. He almost glowed. It seemed like he’d gotten a second wind and was riding the wave. We even enjoyed a light lunch outside, and by the time evening met us, we were done.

The villa and the yard suddenly had promises to hold onto. And in some odd way, I felt as rooted as the new plants getting used to their new homes. I made a wish—I wished that any butterflies that found their way to our home would find shelter.

Zia Eloisa brought us dinner. We gathered around the table and dined family style. Platters moved from hand to hand, lots of wine was poured, and the laughter that was shared was more filling than the food and the wine put together. The stars were out by the time we were finished.

The sisters and a few cousins left first. Capo had planned on bringing Nonno back to his villa in the cart, but he wanted to sit in the yard and enjoy all of the new additions before he left.

Capo and I both helped him outside, and he took a seat on the bench, while we took a seat on each side of him. He turned his eyes up the sky and became very quiet.

None of us said anything for a while. We all seemed to be lost in our own thoughts. After thirty minutes or so had gone by, Capo asked his grandfather something about the arbor. He didn’t answer.

At first, it seemed like he had gone to sleep. Capo sat up faster than I thought possible and shook him. “Papà!”

I sat up too, wondering why he wasn’t answering.

After a second, he answered, but his words made no sense. They were slurred, and his eyes looked drunk.

“Mariposa.” Capo jumped up from his spot, going toward the front of the villa. “Keeping talking to him!”

I took one knee in front of Nonno, holding his hand to my heart. “Nonno,” I said, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible. If he was dying, I didn’t want him to feel chaos, to feel my fear, because I shook, my heart breaking. “Nonno, please don’t go. You have so much life left to live. You need to stay with us. Please. Don’t leave.” I kissed his hand, over and over.

He lifted his free hand and rested it on my head. His words were slurred, but I could make them out. “I have lived a long life. I have lived a full life.” He took a breath, and I could tell it was shallow. “I did not receive all that I asked for, but I received all that I ever needed. My last days have been filled with joy. I have retouched firsts. The first time I tasted air. The first time I felt the sun and the moon upon my face. The first time I fell in love. I have received all that I needed. My work here is done. My sacrifice was not in vain.”

I hadn’t realized that Capo had pulled me from his grandfather until I saw him from a distance, Uncle Tito sitting beside him, checking his pulse. Under the stars, Nonno looked peaceful, content, like all of his wishes had come true. All of his needs had been met.

Nonno’s found peace was the opposite of the cries that met my ears when his daughters and the family crowded around, grieving for the man who had meant so much to so many.

 

 

I had experienced death in my life.

My parents.

Losing Capo the first time.

Jocelyn and Pops.

In some ways, I never truly grieved for my parents, or for Jocelyn and Pops. I didn’t have time to. After I was relocated from one home at five, and then the only home I could remember at ten, my entire life from that point forward was consumed by survival. I’d often think of them, but not for long. It hurt too much. And in order to keep breathing, I had to keep my head on straight.

So death was not unfamiliar to me, but still, I hadn’t experienced loss on this level—this close and old enough to know what the loss meant in the moment.

Everyone wore black to the funeral, and I’d never heard someone cry as loud as one of Nonno’s daughters when they closed his coffin. It made my knees go weak. Capo had to hold me up to keep me from falling over. It was the type of cry that everyone fears—the sob of a soul grieving for the one person who took half of her with him.

After the funeral, we returned to his grandfather’s villa. I tried to keep quiet, keep out of the way, and help as much as possible. My heart felt like it was bleeding, so I couldn’t even comprehend what the people closest to him felt. He was one of those souls that the world would never forget. His words had been burnt into paper. He’d be forever immortalized between the pages and in the hearts of all who loved him the most.

Unlike me, who, at one point, thought that I might be found in a New York dumpster. The only people to remember me would be Keely and her brothers. I hadn’t even made a mark on this world. Not even a paper cut. Another Sierra.

I sighed, my eyes scanning the crowd, looking for Capo. He had been slipping in and out of my vision all day. He’d check on me and then disappear.

“Rocco,” I said, touching his arm. He was finally alone, getting a drink. “Have you seen Capo?”

“In his grandfather’s office.”

I nodded and went looking for him. The door was slightly open, but no Capo. I stepped in, noticing that a few of his grandfather’s books had been taken out. Before he died, he had written a letter to each of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. He had written them poems and stories. When I got close enough to his desk, I noticed a book there, opened.

Mariposa,

The smallest creature can make the biggest impact. You have been seen and you are valued. Share this with the great-grandchildren I will not meet. This is for them as much as it is for you.

You have put down roots in my heart and taken shelter there for always.

Nonno

I took a seat and opened to the first page. It was an illustrated children’s book.

A black wolf with shocking blue eyes sat in a dark forest, a full moon hanging over his head. He was a lone wolf, no pack to lead, because he demanded to be the alpha. Then a dull brown caterpillar came to the wolf on page three. The caterpillar told the wolf that the reason he’s so lonely is because he lost something that had once belonged to him. Or maybe it had been stolen.

“Who would dare steal from me?” the wolf snarled at her. “Tell me what I have lost so I can find it again and call it mine.”

She crawled onto his nose and said, “Follow me and I will show you.”

The wolf thought that what he lost was something tangible, something he could bite with his sharp teeth, but the caterpillar never told him any different. She let him believe.

Some have to be shown, not told, she thought.

What happened next was a journey. They met other creatures in the forest. They got turned around and lost. And finally, when the wolf was about to eat her for taking him on a foolish expedition, she led him to a magical garden.

There, he found a rabbit to eat. There, he found shelter from the blistering sun. There, she hid him in the darkness so he could rest, and she alerted him when someone was near. She became his companion through it all. Even when she was tired and bruised from her own struggles, she never left him alone.

During their journey, the wolf started to realize that the caterpillar had nothing for him to touch, but she had offered him so many things to feel. The feelings were even more tangible than the rabbit he had devoured. Through the caterpillar’s actions, she had loved him all along, a creature so different from her; a creature that could end her world with one snap of his mouth, or a swipe from his massive paw.

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