Page 4 of Blood and Penance (The Puglisi Crime Family #1)

Chapter Three

Gianni

Taking a deep breath, I ask God to give me strength before I step into my mother’s bedroom. When she took a turn for the worse, my mother moved to another room to spare my father from having to see her in this state, according to Lorenzo.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen her myself.

Unfortunately, her cancer is progressing at an alarming rate, faster than the doctors predicted even a few weeks ago.

So, she has stopped treatment and stopped attending church over a month ago.

She’s been too tired to make the trip, which I understand.

And since I’m not allowed in the house anymore, per my father’s orders, Father Girardi has been stopping by, giving her communion, and praying with her.

I wouldn’t be here now if she hadn’t sent a message through Father Girardi for me to come and administer her last rites.

To prepare me for what I’m about to see, Lorenzo explained that her beautiful, dark hair has almost completely fallen out, she’s lost a lot of weight, and her once olive skin tone has changed to an ashen gray.

He says she’s like a talking skeleton. Despite his insensitive description, I’m thankful I know what to expect.

While I’ve done last rites, presided over many funerals, and visit the hospital every week for my parishioners and the community, it’s different when it’s your own family.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” I mumble before I push her bedroom door open.

With the door closing behind me, I pause, my gaze instantly drawn to my mother. She’s asleep. Lorenzo said she’s been in and out of consciousness for the past few days, which Father Giraldi confirmed.

Upon seeing me, Father Giraldi, who's sitting next to her bed, stands from his chair.

“Father Giraldi, nice to see you again.” He reaches for my outstretched hand, grasping it.

“You too, Gianni.”

Since I entered the priesthood, he’s never called me father. He’s my mentor, but he’s been our family priest for as long as I can remember.

“How is she doing?”

He blows out a breath. “As to be expected. She’s weak, but she’s hanging in there. Would you like to start, or would you like a few minutes alone?”

“Give me a few minutes.”

He nods, grips my shoulder, then steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Incense hangs heavy in the darkened room.

I assume to mask the smell of sickness. The heavy burgundy drapes are closed.

The only light in the room that’s shining is from the Tiffany lamps sitting on both nightstands beside the bed.

It’s clear some effort has been made to create a more homelike atmosphere in the room to make it less sterile and clinical.

Except for the IV drip that’s administering pain medication through her veins, all the medical equipment has been pushed against the far wall.

More than likely, Lorenzo’s doing. I can’t see my father caring one way or the other.

As I blow out a breath, I walk toward her king-size mahogany four-poster bed fit for a queen, then sit where Father Giraldi had been seated.

Unsure if she can even hear me, I call out to her, grasping her hand. Although it feels warm to the touch, it also has a clammy, unpleasant feel.

Her eyes flutter open and focus on me, then a weak smile crosses her face.

“Gianni, you came,” she says, her voice no louder than a whispered breath.

“Hi, Mama. Of course, I did. How are you feeling?”

She chuckles. “I’ve felt better. How are you? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, my son. I’ve missed you.”

“I’m doing alright. I’ve missed you too. I would have come by if I could have.”

“I know,” she says, sadness clouding her eyes.

“Are you ready to get started?”

Tears fill her eyes. “No. Not yet. There are some things I need to say to you first. I need to apologize.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Mama. What’s done is done.”

“No, son. I love your father, but I should have stood up to him more than I did when it came to you boys, especially you. I’ve known for a long time you didn’t want to take his place, and I didn’t fight him hard enough for you, and because of that you lost Phoenix.”

Hearing her name causes my heart to clench inside my chest.

“I’m where I’m supposed to be,” I say, pushing down the pain of hearing her name.

“But are you happy, my son?”

It’s a question I’ve asked myself over and over again since becoming a priest. Some days I’m not happy at all and wish I’m somewhere else and in another lifetime with her. While on other days, I’m in tune with who God wants me to be and what he wants me to do.

When I have those good days, it’s like I’m floating on cloud nine, like nothing can go wrong.

And on the hard days, temptation takes over, and I have to do penance and ask God for forgiveness for my thoughts and my actions.

Father Giraldi has given me guidance on how to curb my urges, my temptations for Phoenix, but I’ve had to come up with other ways like the cage.

“By the look in your eyes, I can see you still love her.”

“I will always love her,” I confess. “That will never change.”

I don’t deny that my feelings for Phoenix will always be there, but we aren’t meant to be together. She’s living her life and I’m living mine.

“I know.” My mother sighs. “Not helping you fight for her is my greatest failure as a mother, Gianni. I hope you can forgive me, my son.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.”

I bring my hand up to her face, and she leans into my touch.

When her tears fall down her hollow cheeks, I brush them away.

She blows out a breath like she’s relieved that I forgave her, but I’ve never put the blame for what happened on my mother.

Of course, I wish she had fought harder for me.

But I know this world, especially how women have to navigate within it.

And I know my father. There’s no room for disagreement about his demands.

And she’s always tried to keep the peace.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but thank you. However, I’m still pissed you didn’t give me any grandchildren to spoil.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “You have four grandchildren.”

She smiles and nods. “Yeah, but that’s not enough. I wish I could be here to see them grow up.”

I let out a sigh as the weight of the moment settles on both our shoulders. These are her last days. She might not be here in a few hours, a few days, or a few weeks. Only God knows the time, but we all know it’s coming soon.

“I wish you could be here to see it too.” I stand from my seat, lean forward, and kiss her on the forehead before pulling away. “But you’ll watch over us.”

“Not even hell could stop me.”

I let out a deep laugh and wipe away the first tear that falls from my eyes. “I love you, Mama.”

Her teary gaze softens. “I love you too, Gianni. Never forget that. No matter what happens after I’m no longer here, remember I’m always with you.”