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Gina’s a talker. She believes in talking it out, even small talk.
I can’t do it when I feel like this.
A trickle of water drips onto my knuckles.
Rain…
Of course that’s what’s missing from the day.
It rained when Mom was buried. The sky cracked open and poured from the heavens. I look up at the gray angry clouds above me as it starts to drizzle.
I should go.
I should leave but I can’t quite make myself do it.
Returning my gaze to the freshly laid earth on the grave and the cascade of red roses, I shake my head like I’m shaking my head at him.
Maybe it would hurt less if he was horrible to me.
Maybe it would make me feel better if I hated him. What I hate now is that I still have the love I’ve always felt because he was my father and I’m grieving. I hate that I’m grieving for a man who truthfully was a monster.
“I wish you didn’t do it. I wish you didn't do it Papa. Any of it. I loved you so much. Look at us now,” I say.
I hate crying. It makes me feel weak and I’m anything other than that, but no strength on earth can will the tears away.
But… just like that day so long ago as the tears come warm fingers cover mine.
I never even heard him approach.
Salvatore.
He’s here and he’s not alone.
They came too.
Nick, Julian and Angela and … Vincent.
Vincent…
When I look to him he tips his head in reverence as do the others. I look to Nick and remember him calling me a Giordano.
No way did I expect this.
Not any of it.
But I know why they’re here.
They’re here for me.
It’s a comfort that’s more than I could ever ask for.
“Thank you…” I whisper looking at each of them.
Salvatore takes me into his arms and holds me as the tears come harder. My soul weeping.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mimi
