“You were—you are—Tino Morelli’s son. His son by Orla Fincher Donovan. Your mother, uh…” He pauses, thinking, trying to find the right words.
I guess I can’t blame him. There’s no good way to tell someone their mom was running around on their dad. Their not-dad, in fact. “Well, shit,” I say. “Everything Maggie said makes a lot more sense right now.” My voice sounds light, but I’m not.
The whole world is shifting around me, and I’m trying to grasp on to the new sense of things, but it’s like trying to hold water. I remember Maggie’s words, the hatred in her face as she said it. I am my father’s daughter. But you—you’re just some mutt.
“But I never knew…” I start, and then the truth of it hits me. I never had the chance to get to know Tino, not as my father. I’m an orphan now, and I never even had the chance to know my father before he died. “It’s—it’s not fair…”
Luca pulls me close and holds me while I cry, his hand rubbing up and down my back. He doesn’t tell me everything is going to be okay. I’m glad about that, because it would be a lie.
There’s nothing okay about this at all.
The next few days pass in a blur for me. We go to funerals, so many funerals, for the men who died with Tino and finally, for Tino himself. There are large gatherings in the townhouse, lots of muttering men and alcohol and toasts and memories shared, but I try to stay upstairs with Celia and think about other things.
There’s one good thing, and even this is not a good thing: Connie’s not dead. Only she’s not alive, either. Celia goes to visit her every day, and I go several times a week. The doctors tell us she can’t hear us, but we hold her hand anyway and tell her lies. That she’ll be okay. That we’ll get the best care for her when she wakes up.
She’s not going to wake up. But her baby is growing, and Celia got hysterical when the doctors suggested we take Connie off life support. She couldn’t stand the idea that the baby wouldn’t get a shot at life, and neither could I. This kid is going to be my baby brother or sister, after all. So we all agreed in the end that once the baby is born, we’ll revisit Connie’s treatment.
That’s another lie, though. Connie’s soul is already gone, and once the baby is born, I’ll ask the doctors to turn off life support.
On the other hand, everything Luca told me turned out to be true.
We’ve speculated together on just when Tino knew I was his kid, why he was so sure, why he never said anything about it until so long after we were married… At least one of our questions was answered, though, when Marco sheepishly owned up to having provided some of my hairs to Tino at his private request. And Luca found a letter locked in Tino’s safe from a lab, confirming my status as his child. It was dated the same day he changed his will.
But Tino must have known before that, I think.
Now that I know the truth, I can see his features overlaying mine. My weird eyes are a mix of my mom’s green and Tino’s caramel. My nose is the same as Tino’s, and maybe even the shape of my lips. Yeah. I’m sure in my heart that Tino must have known exactly who I was all these years, but chose to stay out of my life for one reason or another.
Maybe Mom wanted Tino to stay away, for her sake as well as mine. But I was always Mom’s favorite, and I think part of the reason for that was because I reminded her of the man she really loved: Tino Morelli, her neighborhood friend in childhood and her husband’s enemy as an adult.
Or maybe Tino understood the danger. If Howard Donovan, Irish Mob Boss, figured out his only son was actually not his—that his namesake was really the love child of his wife and his enemy—
Well, that’s exactly what happened. The Donovans did figure it out, or someone told him. And then Pops and Maggie wanted me killed. I should be dead. If Mom hadn’t pushed me out of the way at the last second, those bullets would have blown me away like they were meant to, instead of her.
One day, maybe, I’ll find out more. I know Mom had a diary somewhere, but it’s not like I can rock up to the family home in Boston and just ask for it. Not without getting myself killed, anyway. For now, I just try to concentrate on the happier stuff.
Like Celia and Frank finally getting the kind of place they deserve. They moved into our townhouse for a few weeks, but they’re moving out again today. Not back to their old place, but to another one of Tino’s properties not far away from ours. Celia has perfected the art of looking respectful while still being incredibly happy on the inside. I’m happy Luca and I can do this for them. Luca even made Frank Capo of his own crew on my urging.
“Frank’s not really the sort of man who…” he hedged at the time. We were in his study, poring over names and options and positions. I never realized just how complicated all this Mob stuff was until my baby became the Boss. There are a lot of positions to fill, a lot of men to test. Luca still suspects some Fuscone loyalists among the ranks, but he’s confident he’ll weed them out.
I’m confident, too, because I know my man. He was born for great things, and great things have now arrived for him.
“Give Frank a goddamn chance. He’s been in your shadow long enough,” I told him, and Luca had shaken his head, but
