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“No!” Franco shouted. “You’d be creating instability! You’d weaken our business! You’d jeopardize our family!”
“I’mour family!” Roberto shouted back.
“That’s why I won’t let you leave!”
“Letme?” Roberto threw up his hands. “That’s why I have to go! You always put your interests above mine!”
“Of course I do, Robo!I matter more!”
Roberto gasped.
The twin brothers locked eyes, their expressions identically enraged.
Roberto stormed from the dining room.
Leaving Franco.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Gaetano thanked God that the day of his release was finally here. He had served his sentence and was leaving prison. He knelt in the chapel and prayed the rosary, thanking Saint Paul, too. His thoughts unspooled back in time to the beginning of his prison sentence. He’d been so depressed then, especially when he would hear about new kidnappings in Palermo. They seemed to happen every two years or so, leaving him wracked with guilt. But things began to turn around when his fellow inmates, who used to ask him legal questions, began asking spiritual ones. He preached the Gospel of Saint Paul and taught them that Saint Paul himself had been jailed, more than once. The inmates nicknamed him Saint, and he established a prison ministry, like the priest he had once wanted to be. It had been his salvation. And now, it was over.
Gaetano looked up at the crucifix of simple pinewood, with a figure of Christ carved by an inmate. The altar was a small wooden desk at the front of the room, and a chipped statue of the Virgin stood on a stool. The pews had no kneeling pad, and the window had no stained glass, but the chapel had become a spiritual home in a way the Cathedral of Palermo never could. Now, though, it was time to go.
Gaetano rose, crossed himself, and went to the door, opening it onto a delightful surprise.
“We wanted to say goodbye, Saint! We wish you the best!” exclaimed his cellmate the Baker, holding out a magnificentcassatawith red and green icing. Behind him grinned his other cellmates, Long Hair, Talks Too Much, Little Mouse, Knob Nose, and Orange Eater, with many other inmates, along with Superintendent Coniglio and some guards.
“Oh my.” Tears came to Gaetano’s eyes. “How kind.”
“We’ll keep your lessons with us always. You have to come back and visit us.”
“Yes, Saint, we’ll miss you!” the inmates joined in. “Visit us!” “We’ll pray for you!”
“Saint, wait!” Big Feet hustled to him, waving in alarm. “Before you go, will you see my cellmate? It’s One-Eye. He’s at death’s door, and Father Terrino won’t get here in time.”
“Oh no.” Gaetano felt a pang. “I’ll come, but you know I can’t administer Last Rites.”
“Don’t worry, he’s had them twice already. It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long.”
Gaetano turned to Superintendent Coniglio. “May I go?”
“Yes. We’ll save yourcassata.”
“Sure we will!” the inmates called out. “We’re thieves and robbers, trust us!” “Your cake is safe with us!”
Gaetano followed Big Feet and a guard down the hallway. Inmates called out farewells and regards, and he called back thanks as he stopped at One-Eye’s door. The guard unlocked the cell, and they went inside.
One-Eye was old and bald, lying under a sheet in bed, his shoulders and neck wasted by disease. His gaunt cheeks had a grayish cast, and his eyes were closed, with one stitched shut.
“I’m here, One-Eye. It’s Gaetano... uh, Saint.” Gaetano went to the bedside and sat down. He didn’t know One-Eye well, since the man kept to himself.
One-Eye opened his good eye. “Saint, I knew you would come... pray... with me.”
“ ‘Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee.’ ”
One-Eye whispered along.
“ ‘Blessed art Thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.’ ”
