Page 6 of Blood and Penance (The Puglisi Crime Family #1)
Chapter Five
Gianni
I’ve spent more time with my family these past few days than I have in a very long time.
I can’t say it’s been all that easy, but I’ve done it because my mother asked me to.
For my father’s benefit, she made her wishes known, once again, in front of our entire family and Father Giraldi before she took her final breaths, so there wouldn’t be any confusion.
I’m to preside over her funeral not Father Giraldi, as my father wants.
There were a few grumbles from Sergio and my father, but neither would go against the wishes of my mother.
They aren’t the only ones unhappy with my presence.
As I stand in front of the congregants as we prepare to commit my mother’s body to the ground, glares have been thrown my way from the Vitale family.
I guess they still haven’t got over me calling off the arranged marriage with Arianna Vitale when I became a priest. Six years is a long time to hold a grudge especially since she’s married into another family with children.
But by the sneers and glares coming from Don Vitale and his son, they haven’t forgotten or forgiven me.
As the rest of the funeral goers take their places, I compose myself. This is my duty, but it’s also my mother. It’s hard taking on such an important role when I should be grieving along with my family, but this isn’t just my duty to her. It’s also my duty to God.
“Our sister, Anna Romero Puglisi, has gone to rest in peace with our Lord.” I look out over the crowd. “May He now welcome her to the table of God’s children in heaven.”
While there are over fifty people standing graveside in the cemetery, which is far less than what packed the cathedral only moments ago, my eyes gravitate toward one person.
A solitary figure standing toward the back.
A woman who’s wearing large black sunglasses, and a large black hat that’s shielding some of her face.
While I can’t see who she is, familiarity hits me at once.
“It can’t be,” I mumble under my breath.
“Gianni,” Father Giraldi calls out to me, breaking my focus on the woman.
My gaze slides back to him. “Yes, Father Giraldi?”
“Do you need me to take over?” he asks with concern in his eyes. “If it is too much for you to continue, I can take your place.”
For a moment, I’m confused at his question, then I realize where I am and what I’m doing. I take a deep breath.
“No, Father Giraldi. I can continue.”
My eyes went back to where the woman is standing, but she’s no longer there.
It has to be my imagination.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. Let’s continue.”
My father glares at me, but I ignore him. Hopefully, he doesn’t see who I think I saw. I pray I don’t see her either.
“With faith and hope in eternal life, let us assist Anna with our prayers,” I continue even though my mind is no longer where it should be, but on the woman, I gave up years ago.
“Let us also pray to the Lord for ourselves. May we who mourn be reunited one day with our sister Anna. Together may we meet our Lord when He who is our life appears in glory. Let us pray.”
For the rest of the service, I perform my duties like I’m on autopilot.
While my mind should be on burying my mother, it’s not.
Even though I know the scripture by heart, I open my Bible and recite it.
I bless the burial site, commit my mother’s body to her final resting place, then do a final prayer for her.
We all say the Lord’s Prayer, then I offer a final blessing before dismissing everyone.
As the congregants leave, I look out over the crowd one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman I haven’t seen in over six years. If that had been her, what is she doing here? Why would she come back now?
Finally, my eyes land on a figure entering the backseat of a dark blue sedan.
Someone closes the door behind her. The window is lowered only a few inches while she leans over to talk to someone I can’t see from where I’m standing.
When she looks out the window, the breath is knocked out of me.
She’s no longer wearing sunglasses when her eyes meet mine.
She’s still that same beautiful woman I fell in love with all those years ago, but her eyes hold so much sadness.
A hand lands on my shoulder, and my trance is broken. “Gianni?”
I look at Father Giraldi who’s staring at me with concern. But I look back toward the woman, but the window is raised now, and the car is driving away.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Did you see that woman?” I ask, looking at him. “The one in the car that just pulled away?”
“I'm sorry. I did not.”
I let out of breath, trying to calm my nerves.
“Was it her?” he asks.
All I can do is nod. So many emotions are swirling inside me at this moment, and I don’t know what to do. Phoenix is back. Why is she back?
“Come,” Father Giraldi says, guiding me toward one of the cars away from the cemetery. “We must talk and prepare you for what comes next.”
Even though I have no idea what he means, I follow him as my mind still reels at the fact that the only woman I have ever loved is back in town. What does that mean for me? What does that mean for us?