Luca nodded. “Yes, amore. Please.”
Moments later, I was sitting at a table with a huge cannolo in front of me. Luca was smiling with boundless pride and telling me that this had been his wife’s lifelong dream: to have a small cannoli shop. Apparently, they met when they were both twenty-five, and apparently, Mrs. Donatella hated him.
“It was hate at first sight, Signorina!” he told me, laughing, and explained that, at the time, she worked at a pastry shop in the city of Reggio Calabria, where she was repeatedly mistreated by her boss.
Unlike Donatella, Luca admitted he fell in love at first sight, and didn’t like the way his beloved’s boss treated her one bit. Suspicious, he started watching over her, following her day and night, to make sure nothing bad happened.
“I married a madman, Daisy,” Donatella said, joining us at the table shortly after. “But it was worth every moment.”
“How did he win you over?” I asked, intrigued by this very unique couple. She seemed like a calm person, moving slowly and speaking softly, as if nothing in the world could disturb her. He was clearly nervous and loud, always alert to everything around him as if there were danger around every corner.
Donatella laughed and Luca cleared his throat, turning a face that was far too red. “He killed my boss!” I choked on a bite of cannolo as soon as she said that, and her laughter grew louder. “What can I say? The men of Castello dell’Fiero are very practical!”
When I caught my breath, I looked at her, not knowing what to say, and it didn’t take long to notice the sullen scowl covering Luca’s face. “Gaetano authorized it…” he muttered under his breath, almost offended that his crime had been exposed.
I narrowed my eyes, studying them a little more. They were, in fact, a peculiar couple, but their complicity was undeniable. It was enough to see them there in front of me, side by side, the comfort they found in each other’s company, the silent connection through small gestures and glances, like his arm resting on the armrest of her chair, and the way she discreetly tilted her head toward him.
“Gaetano conspired with you, which is different,” she retorted with a sly smile on her face and winked in my direction.
“Who was this Gaetano? A friend?” I asked with a twinge of curiosity, and it didn’t take long for me to see a new expression appear on Luca Condello’s face.
It wasn’t worry, it wasn’t a bad mood, it wasn’t joy or even nervousness. It was something somber, like sadness and longing mixed together, a gaze that drifted off to a place far, far away.
Donatella confirmed my suspicions by raising an arm and gently caressing her husband’s face, smiling tenderly. “Gaetano was Don Camillo’s father,” she explained to me. “He and my Luca grew up together.”
Luca cleared his throat, removing his protective arm from behind his wife, and stood up very quickly, putting a hand in his pants pocket, searching for something. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going out the door to smoke a cigarette and I’ll be right back.”
Seeing the unfriendly-looking Italian flee the table with tears in his eyes squeezed my heart. I looked at Donatella, who wrinkled her nose and smiled again.
“It’s his weak spot. I think it always will be…” she admitted, and then explained, “My boss tried to take advantage of me, that’s why Luca killed him. He’d taken Gaetano Vicari all the way to Reggio Calabria to introduce him to me. They showed up at the pastry shop and sat there, and I was so furious with Luca… I even thought about kicking them out. I didn’t find it funny at all. And that was the day it all happened.” Her expression was calm as she told me those things, as if they didn’t affect her in the slightest. I admired that kind of fortitude. “My boss asked me to help him close the bakery, and as soon as he got me alone,he tried to grab me.Madonna mia, he was a huge man. There wasn’t much I could do.”
My heart raced. “Did he manage… to hurt you?” I asked fearfully.
Donatella shook her head. “No, but it was a close call. He managed to pin me down and take my clothes off. But when he tried to go through with it, Luca broke down the bakery door and slit his throat.” Relief filled my chest, and I didn’t hide a sigh of satisfaction. “Scusa, Daisy. You just met me and the first thing I tell you is something horrible.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t affect me in the slightest.” I admitted, clasping my hands on the table and shrugging. “I’m even glad to know that a man like that is dead.”
Donatella’s eyebrows furrowed, and she brought a hand to a small gold medallion hanging from her chest. “So, it doesn’t scare you?”
“What?”
“This world, this life. Death. I ask because you’re working for Don Camillo, and that’s a decision that must be made in good conscience.” She explained, gesturing toward the space around us.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my chair. “Honestly? No. My Papa was in the military, and I learned from him that sometimes good men are forced to do terrible things.”
There was a silence between us during which Donatella watched me with a half-smile on her lips and a look of someonetrying to find something on my face. I, on the other hand, was deciphering my own words.
Good men do horrible things, and understanding that, I realized in that moment, might make me a bad woman by traditional standards. But I had seen my Papa crushed by his conscience. The way he screamed every night, begging God for forgiveness.
Once, he pulled me onto his lap and, bathed in tears, revealed that during one of his missions in the Middle East, they blew up the pediatric ward of a hospital. It hadn’t been an accident. They were pursuing a terrorist responsible for the deaths of more than fifteen hundred people and saw him enter the hospital, attempting to use the children as human shields. My Papa had to make a decision as squad leader and decided to ensure the mission would be a success.
They blew up the pediatric ward, killing the terrorist, but also all the children and adults who were there. More than eighty innocent people executed.
Until those days, I was certain of only one thing… my Papa didn’t feel proud, much less happy, for having made that decision. But he did it out of duty. Because, as he often explained to me, cruel men were essential to the survival of humanity.
There, in Castello dell’Fiero, so many years later and in such a different reality, it was confirmed. If Luca Condello hadn’t slit the man’s throat, Donatella would have been raped. Just as if my Papa hadn’t blown up that hospital so many, many years ago, many more innocent people would be suffering to this day because of the terrorist’s actions.
“Daisy,” Donatella murmured, leaning forward. “This… You know what this is, don’t you?”
