Page 181 of La Dolce Vita

"I tried to tell you about the family," Mirabella said.

"No," Marietta said. "You tried to tell me about you. About your pain. About your guilt. I thought that was a conversation you should have had with Giovanni first.”

Mirabella nodded that she agreed. Marietta continued. “The thing is, Mira, I don't believe you even know the truth. You didn't know Mama was more than a junkie. You didn't know she ran off to find me. Our grandparents knew. I can't believe she came back here and didn't tell them what happened to her with Marsuvio. That no one told you. Even after our grandparents saw Marsuvio with their own eyes. No one told you.”

“Me-Ma gave me my bracelet,” Mirabella said. “She tried.”

Minnie nodded in agreement. But Marietta shook her head no. “The money set aside for you to go to college in New York. That came from Marsuvio. Right? So, grandfather had to know he was creating an account for you. Aren't you tired of the secrets? Can't you feel them? The moment I walked into this house, I felt them."

“Felt what?” Mirabella gaze swung from her sister to Minnie, then Belinda, who was staring at her as she loaded the dishwasher.

“For one thing where is her picture? Tell me that! Where are the pictures of Mama?”

Mirabella opened her mouth to explain but realized there was no plausible explanation. Her mother pictures never hung in the house for as long as she could remember. Macie returned with two huge photo albums. She plopped them down on the table. Minnie smiled at them.

"I found these in the attic upstairs. Collecting dust. You ever seen them?" Minnie asked.

Mirabella shook her head no.

"Your grandfather probably hid these books after your Me-Ma died. Clyde told me that after he had come back home from the war and suffering with his issues, your grandfather was the only one able to calm him. So he stayed here. He was here the night before your mother ran away. He heard the fight, the screams; he heard the tears when you grandfather locked her up in the attic and refused to let anyone go upstairs to look after her. He didn’t do it to hurt her. He did it to protect her. His way.

Clyde sat the door and listened to your mother cry. She talked him into letting her out. He said her suffering was like he was in the war all over again. He couldn't stand to see her being held captive. He said if he was stronger he could have convinced her not to run away. But all he wanted to do at the time was free her. And he has carried that guilt for many years. That's why he protects this farm for you, Mia. Not for the money. It's out of love. He loved Lisa. We all did.”

"Why does he feel guilty? He couldn't stop her. She was in love with James," Mirabella said.

Minnie shook her head. "She was no more in love with James than you were with Cutter. Yes, she cared for him. Deeply. But he got her with a broken heart. If she were whole, she wouldn't have taken up with the likes of him."

"That's not true," Mirabella said. "Marsuvio Mancini, the man who is our real father said he saw her with James. He broke them apart. He told us that she was in love with him."

"I don't know your real father. I hear from Clyde he was a nasty man. Showed up here with Lisa's body. Him and them Italians. Tried to take you, but the men from the church got behind your grandfather with their guns to stop hm."

"He tried to take her?" Marietta repeated.

"That's the way the story was told to me. But he and your grandfather had a long talk and he changed his mind. Never mind that part of the story. I knew Lisa. I knew she was special as a little girl when I used to watch her sing from the pulpit. She wanted to be a singer. She wanted it desperately. James was some poor country boy who worshiped her like the rest of these boys in this town. She looked like you both,” Minnie chuckled. “Aint that something? I can see her in you both." Minnie smiled. She wiped her tears. "She and James left here because he wanted to give her, her dream. And she ran away to punish your grandfather." Minnie opened the album. She turned the book around. It was a faded picture of two sisters.

"That there is your grandmother Mary and her twin sister Bessie-Mae."

Marietta pulled the book over and gazed down at the two women. They had to be no more than sixteen or seventeen. They stood next to one of those old-timey cars from the thirties. They were dressed sharply and identical. Though the picture had aged, there was no denying their beauty.

"That one there is Mary, and this one here is Bessie-Mae, I think. People used to call them Night and Day."

"Really? Why?" Marietta asked. She pushed the book over to Mirabella. When Mirabella looked at the image, her heart sank. She had never seen it before. Such a beautiful picture of her grandmother and she'd never seen it.

"Because they were the total opposites. Mary was a shy, churchgoing, good girl. Bessie Mae was a hell raiser. Everything Mary wasn't. She loved to drink and smoke. She loved to dance. She was a singer too. Like your mama. Sang at every juke joint along the Mississippi. Bessie was something fierce. And no man could tame her."

"You sound like you knew her?" Marietta pulled the book back over. She began to flip through the photos. Despite Mirabella's discomfort, she scooted her chair over next to Marietta to look at the pictures. There were several flyers of Bessie-Mae’s performances. She was everywhere from New Orleans, all the way to Savannah, Georgia, and then back up through Tennessee and Kentucky.

"Who saved all of these clippings?" Mirabella asked.

"Mary did. She was proud of Bessie Mae. She loved her. As most sisters do."

"What happened? Something had to have happened? Right?" Marietta asked. "These clippings stop around 1947. Are there more?"

"Along the way Bessie-Mae had several lovers. And each time she had a baby she dropped them off on her sister. She'd promise to return. To marry her new boyfriend or lover. But she'd be back on the road. At it again."

Marietta uncovered the wedding photo. "Who is this couple? That's not Grandaddy is it?"

"That is Bessie-Mae and Slimbody Berkman. The only man she married. And the only man I ever heard Clyde say she truly loved. Really loved. Deeply loved."

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