Page 7 of Till Death Do Us Part

Sunshine poured through the dining room windows. Mom sat at the head of the table, the seat she’d claimed after Father’s death, with a plate of uneaten food and her cup of coffee. She peered up at me from behind the pages of theKansas City Gazetteand sighed.

“Good morning,” I said as I took my seat and Rosa poured coffee into my cup.

“Breakfast, Mrs. Moretti?”

I scanned Mom’s untouched meal. The eggs looked like rubber and the bacon was cold. “Fruit and an English muffin.”

Rosa nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Dario and Catalina are coming to dinner tonight,” Mom said, folding the newspaper and setting it down to the side of her plate.

“To what do we owe the honor?” Sarcasm wasn’t disguised in my question.

“He said he wants to show her springtime in the Ozarks.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t believe their marriage is still working.”

“Before their wedding night, I wouldn’t have given it six months.”

Lifting the rim of my cup to my lips, I blocked out my mother’s soliloquy, the story about Dario and Catalina’s sheets. I’d heard it too many times to count. Each time she retells it, I can’t help thinking of my own wedding night. It was the only wedding night I knew was not embellished. The memories made my stomach turn.

Once Mom was done, I turned to her and scrunched my nose. “Don’t you think Catalina’s sister was right? We have some savage traditions.”

“They aren’t savage.”

“Did the old bats come into your bedroom after you and Father were married?”

Mom lifted her coffee cup. “Of course. It’s tradition.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“I don’t recall.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Mia,” Mom exclaimed.

“It’s true. We all hate it, and yet we make each new bride go through it. Surely, Dante will be marrying soon.” Rosa entered with my breakfast. Once she was gone, I lowered my voice. “I just hope he marries an Italian. Dario and Catalina can bear the weight of this alliance.”

“I spoke with Dario last night. There is to be another wedding.”

My forehead furrowed as I lifted my eyebrows. “Dante. Let me guess…” I tried to think of unwed women from the famiglia. Now that he was Dario’s consigliere, he would want more than a soldier’s daughter. “Is it someone from the Chicago or New York famiglias?”

Mom pressed her lips together as small lines formed around them. “Apparently, the negotiations have been in the works for the last three months.”

“I’m surprised Dante will wait that long if he has his mind set.” I lifted my English muffin to my lips, taking a bite of the buttery goodness.

“Mia, it’s you.”

My throat forgot to swallow. I had the sensation of falling, as though the floor had just been taken out from under me. “No,” I sputtered, finally swallowing the muffin. “No. I’ve done my part. I married Rocco.” I wasn’t a prized virgin nor the daughter of the capo any longer. “I won’t be forced to marry another soldier.”

I could admit that I’d enjoyed living in Mother’s mansion with her servants. This was the life I’d been raised to expect. Another soldier would mean I was back to living in a townhouse or worse, some small house in a rundown area of Kansas City.

“Mom, please,” I pleaded, “talk to Dario.”

She shook her head. “Your brother doesn’t listen to me.”

“I’ll call Dante.”

---