The Inheritance: Chapter 5 - Part II (Updated 11/14)

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part III
December 1961

Angela Giorelli hated unexpected visitors. She never did know quite what to do with them. So when the doorbell rang one night in the first week of December, as she was beginning to cook dinner for herself and her husband, a sense of impending dread came over her. When she answered the door, she found her recently-widowed sister-in-law and niece on the doorstep.


"Sorry to drop in on you this way," said Maria, Giovanni's sister. "But you said you wouldn't mind taking Eva for a few days, Gio. I could really use some time to get the affairs of my house in order. Do you mind?"

Angela could tell that there was something that passed unsaid between the siblings. Before she could say anything, Giovanni said, "Of course Eva can stay with us. And if there's anything we can do to help with Ricardo's affairs, let us know."


"Thank you so much," said Maria. "Her school is nearby so you don't have to worry about anything. Now, Eva, you behave yourself for your aunt and uncle, do you understand me?"


"Yes, mother," said Eva sweetly. "Thank you for having me to stay, Aunt Angela, Uncle Giorelli. If there's anything I can do for you while I'm here, I'm happy to help out."


"She's very good with her hands," Maria said proudly to her brother.

"Is she?" asked Angela idly. Angela wondered what her niece's other skills were. After all, there was one skill that Eva had yet to learn.


Hiding her injuries...and her secrets.

Meanwhile, at the Moretti Villa...


That night, I was entertaining a visitor of my own--and worrying about my daughter, who had not yet returned from her tutoring appointment. As I finished the roast, Dante called the O'Reillys and confirmed that Josephine was still there.

Right on time, Father Bianchi arrived. He was old, yes, but he had a quiet strength about him that said he should be ministering to us for quite some time. I walked him into the dining room, explaining, "I'm sorry you won't get to see Josephine, she's tutoring a young man in town tonight. But I think Dante told you over the phone why we needed you."

"Oh yes. But I must reiterate that if you'd like my services you ought to let me do my dance. Many parents attempt to interfere during my questioning, and it sometimes leads to resentment on all parties."

"Yes, Father."


We sat down to dinner and after some time, Father Bianchi turned his attention to Marco. "Tell me, Marco: do you intend to go to the university?"

"I don't know, Father. I hadn't considered it."

"It's a wonderful place to meet people your own age," said the priest. "Are any of your friends going to college?"

Marco considered this for a moment, then bent his head over his plate and began to cut his slice of roast. "I guess," he said noncommittally. "I don't really...pass the gravy, please?" He looked at me and I passed him the gravy boat.


"If you don't go to university, what will you do?" asked Father Bianchi, who looked as if he had made a note of something in his mind. "Do you intend to follow your father into the management business?"

"No," said Marco. He took a bite of his pot roast.

"Carpentry?" asked Father Bianchi. Marco shook his head. "Another trade?"

"I don't know," said Marco honestly.

"What would you like to do?" asked Father Bianchi kindly.

"Do you really want to know?" asked Marco, looking somewhat ashamed. My heart was wrenched; he obviously didn't understand why the old priest was badgering him.

"Of course."


He looked at Father Bianchi earnestly, then looked at me. "I was thinking I might go into the priesthood," he confessed, blushing profusely. Clearly he was embarrassed.


"Really?" Dante asked, his jaw dropping. I knew that he had thought I was imagining things, and never imagined that he would possibly be interested in the way of the Cloth.


Dante's shock was nothing to my own, but I had been imagining things that were much worse: that he was despairing and lonely and couldn't tell us. I beamed down the table at him. "That's wonderful, Marco. I think you would make a wonderful Priest."


"Mrs. Moretti, please."

Father Bianchi held up a hand. "Marco, if you would like to enter the Priesthood, then I would be happy to help you to do so--with your parents' kind permission until you're an adult, of course."

Marco smiled, and looked genuinely happy. "Thank you, Father. I would appreciate your help." And after this exchange, I served dessert, and Father Bianchi returned home. Marco, excited about Father Bianchi's encouragement and Dante's and my acceptance, ran to his room to study his Bible.


Dante went to bed at eight after I told him I would stay up and wait for Josephine's return. The longer she was out in the darkness, the angrier I got until I was nearly trembling with anger.


Josephine came walking up the path to the door at 8:30. She was trying to sneak until she noticed me sitting by the stairs, waiting for her. She came in and shut the door behind her. "Mom, I'm really sorry for being so late, but--"

"We'll talk in the morning, young lady," I said sternly. I didn't even care at this point if I sounded harsh. She had behaved irresponsibly and violated the rules that Dante and I had set down. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

"But mom," Josephine started, but I didn't let her continue.

"March," I said quietly. Josephine, seeing the unpleasant look on my face, dropped her case and took to the stairs. A moment later, I heard the door to the childrens' rooms close. I locked the door and went upstairs to Dante. I was burning to talk to him about what had happened, but I wouldn't wake him up. So I settled down to a sleepless night.

The next day...


The next afternoon, my friend Adela was washing her front windows when she spotted something that she hadn't noticed before: a man had moved into the shop across the street; she hadn't noticed him carrying boxes and crates into the shop.


Adela closed the shop early and crossed the street. She went into the store and a cultured Italian voice said, "I'm sorry, we're closed and I'm very busy."

"I'm sorry," Adela said. "I'm not here to shop. I own the bakery across the street; I came over to welcome you to the neighborhood."

"Oh," said the man behind the counter. "In that case I'm not busy at all, come in."


"I'm Adela," she said as they shook hands. "Adela Koenig of the Koenig Bakery."

The olive-skinned shopkeeper bowed over Adela's hand. "And I am Silvio de Luca of Confections de Luca."

"I get that," said Adela with a humorous smile. "That's funny."

"And delicious, I hope," said Silvio, finally releasing her hand. "Please, try a truffle. The caramel are my favorite."

When Adela left the shop ten minutes later, she couldn't help but think (licking melted chocolate from her finger) that a little competition was just what the town needed. And if it was a handsome Italian confectioner that provided it, then that was just icing on the cake.

Meanwhile, across town...

While Adela was getting carried away with the idea of a new neighbor, I was dealing with a situation that was somewhat less pleasant. I had arranged to pick up Josephine from school and to have a talk with her on the ride home.


"Where were you last night?" I demanded as soon as she buckled herself in.

"I was at Donovan's. We were studying for the grammar test we had today." She looked at me sidelong. "Mom, I'm sorry I was late home, but Donovan's motorcycle broke down on the way, and we had to walk back to get his dad to fix it."


"Motorcycle?!" I demanded. "Josephine Moretti, under no circumstances are you to ride a motorcycle!"

"Well," said Josephine. "You can't really hold me responsible for breaking a rule yesterday that you made up today!"

As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. I said, "Fine. From now on you'll study at our house, and he can be out in the night until eight thirty."

"Okay, Mom." Josephine sighed contentedly. "We'll study at home."

That night...


Angela Giorelli cleaned off the table after serving her husband and niece dinner. By the time she returned, having set the dishes in the sink, the conversation had turned to the death of Eva's father.


"Your mother told us about the accident, Eva," said Angela kindly. "If you ever need to talk about it, you can always talk to me or to your uncle. Or we can take you to Father Bianchi; his counsel is always helpful to me."

"Why would I need to talk?" asked Eva, sipping her water and framing Angela with a curious look.

"Because," said Giovanni. "Your mother told me that you might think it was your fault."

Eva smiled at both of them, setting her water glass down. "Of course not, Uncle Giovanni. It's not my fault; it was my father's. I didn't kill him for no reason, you know. Is there anything for dessert?" She looked around at her aunt, smiling as if she had just been discussing the weather.


Angela and Giovanni exchanged alarmed glances. Neither knew quite what to say, so Angela stood and went to the kitchen to cut Eva a slice of cake. But Giovanni knew a possible opportunity when he saw one. He leaned close to Eva and said, "Eva...we need to talk."

"About why I did it?" asked Eva angelically. "That's all my mother wants to talk about."

"No, Eva," said Giovanni. He cast a covert gaze into the kitchen, where Angela was working. "I'm sure we'll get to that. But I wonder if... if you might... how do you..."

"It's easy," said Eva, a thrill coming to her voice. "You just have to want it, and you'll find the tools you need. You have to hate them."

Giovanni glanced back into the kitchen doorway, where Angela was carrying a few plates of cake into the dining room. He patted Eva's hand. "Don't worry, my dear. That isn't a problem."

[CuriousSimmer]

I realized it's kind of hard to see, so I'll clue everyone in: Eva has a black right eye (Which is the injury referenced in the first part of the post).

[Zorom]

OOOOOHHH.....I'm so excited....I want Adela to hook up with that italian lad!

My ridiculous theory:
Josephine falls in love with Donovan and they're about to kiss when Eva swoops in. Then Eva murders Dante and then....no, it's too ridiculous.

Keep up weith the updates!! I love 'em!

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part IV
December 1961

The second week of December, while looking in on one of Josephine's study sessions with Donovan, I stumbled upon something that I didn't want to see.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Here was the O'Reilly boy, kissing my daughter, bold as brass! I shut the door noisily and watched (with no small measure of satisfaction) as the two sprang apart.

"Good night, Donovan," I said brusquely. Josephine began to protest, but I simply stood aside and opened the door for Donovan. With an apologetic look at Josephine he walked out.


"I can't believe you just did that!" Josephine cried. "You embarrassed me!"

"You were about to embarrass yourself," I replied. "What were you thinking? You don't even know that boy. How could you be kissing him?"

"I like him!" Josephine shot back. "We were just kissing, mom, don't make such a big deal out of it!"


"You think I'm making a big deal out of it, young lady? How about this: you are forbidden to see that boy again, do you understand me?"

"You can't do that!" Josephine said. "Mom, please. I didn't do anything wrong, how can you do this?"

"Forbidden," I said. "You'll call Mrs. O'Reilly tomorrow and apologize. If he still needs help then your brother can tutor him."

Josephine, giving a disbelieving groan, stormed into her room and slammed the door. I did the same to my bedroom.


I explained the situation to Dante. Amazingly, he thought I was overreacting. "What do you mean, overreacting?" I demanded confrontationally. "She was kissing him! Kissing him!" I reiterated, gesticulating wildly, as if he was having trouble understanding me.

"She's sixteen," Dante said reasonably. "Why shouldn't she have a kiss?"

"You didn't see them," I said, folding my arms. "You didn't see the way he was... they were... he was kissing her," I all but shouted. "How can you be so calm?"


"It's not that big of a deal," Dante said. "You need to relax, Elizabeth, I mean it. You're being to hard on her."

"Well, of course you wouldn't feel this way," I said without thinking. "She's my daughter. I have to protect her."

"You mean she's not my daughter? Really, Betty, I think it's a little late in the game to be playing this game."


"I didn't mean--I forbade her to see him, so it'll be fine," I said, trying to reconcile without explaining my motherly protectiveness. "Come to bed."

Dante walked over to the door without looking back. "I think I'll sleep on the couch. After all, this is your bedroom, in your house."


I heard Dante's feet on the stairs as I lay in bed, fuming. I tried to justify my words: they were said in haste, I couldn't help it, it was my maternal instinct kicking in. But the truth ate at me: I had hurt Dante in one of the deepest ways possible.

The next morning...


We hadn't spoken to each other all morning. My guilt had manifested itself as defensiveness and he had retreated into a gruff exterior to protect his vulnerability. When all the children had gone off to school, I went out to the car to find Dante preparing for work.

"Where are you headed?" he asked casually, not meeting my gaze.

"I'm going to look in on Lady Thornycroft. Grant says he's not doing well and could use some company."


"Should we talk about last night?" Dante asked after an awkward pause.

I stiffened. "I don't have time right now, and neither do you. You'd better get to work."


"Fine," said Dante.

I smiled coldly. "Fine. I'm serving fish for dinner tonight," I reminded him.

"I'll get a bottle of white wine."

And for the first time in fifteen years, we parted without kissing goodbye.

Meanwhile...
That day at the Giorelli household started with a crash.

Angela and Giovanni rushed into the kitchen to find their niece on the floor, retching onto the stone tile. A plate containing a small pastry lay broken beside her. "Oh my God, what happened?" asked Angela.

Eva tried to talk, but only ended up vomiting again. Giovanni turned to his wife and shouted, "Phone a doctor. Now!"


Forty minutes later, Eva was resting in bed. Giovanni sat with her, brooding. The doctor had come and gone, declaring that Eva had food poisoning and would recover soon enough.

Giovanni sat by her bedside, praying constantly. He prayed for her recovery, yes. But mostly, he prayed that she would forgive his clumsiness.


You see, what Angela didn't know while she cleaned up the broken plate and ruined pastry was that the pastry was meant to be her breakfast...


...not Eva's.

[Glamily]

O.o i knew they would kiss! Also I sorta gathered about the last part..

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part V
December 1961

As difficult as it was for me to recognize, outside the drama of my home life the lives of all the other people in the world went on. Indeed, while I was struggling with my daughter's willfulness, the lives of my friends and neighbors was changing.

Adela, when not gazing hungrily at the handsome chocolatier across the street, was meeting a new neighbor...


The woman arrived in the shop covertly. Adela didn't hear her come in, didn't hear the bell on the door announce her entry. She simply came in to find her browsing the desserts.


"Good morning," she said politely to the woman. "Can I cut you a piece?" she asked, gesturing towards the cake that the woman had been eyeing.

"No," said the woman in a lilting Italian. "I would prefer something for breakfast."

"Some croissants?"

"That would be fine," said the Italian woman.


As Adela was ringing her up, she made smalltalk with the stranger. "I'm Adela, by the way," she said.

"I am Capricia Volante," said the woman with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Are you new to town?" Adela asked as she wrapped up the croissants.

"Visiting," said Capricia with another smile. "For now." It occurred to Adela as she watched Capricia Volante leave that this time, the smile reached her eyes. And this time, she had a somewhat sinister glint in her eyes.

Meanwhile...


Lady Thornycroft was not doing well. In her advanced age, she was struggling with memory and energy. Grant spent a lot of time with her, but the doctors said it was a good idea to be social, so I spent a few mornings a week with them.


"...and he was kissing her!" I said, unable to recognize that this was becoming a broken record with me.

"Oh, I remember when I was that age," said Lady Thornycroft, a cloudy look coming over her face. "Grant, your father and I would...well, I'm sure I shouldn't say, but he was quite the romantic, back then."


"So who was this boy?" asked Grant idly, finally setting down his newspaper.

"Donovan O'Reilly. His parents are Judith and David."

"Wait a moment. O'Reilly?" interjected Lady Thornycroft. "I know that name. Grant, darling, do we know them?"

"No, mother."


Lady Thornycroft closed her eyes, trying to remember. Suddenly she sat upright. "Oh dear. David and Donovan O'Reilly. They're...oh, dear, dear, dear. If I'm not mistaken, they were involved in something bad back home. Grant?"

"Mother, I don't think you--I don't remember anything of the sort." He looked at me apologetically. "Nevermind that. Sometimes she thinks she remembers things, but..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

"I'm not imagining things," said Lady Thornycroft stubbornly. "I... I really do... but I can't quite remember what..." She gave up, shaking her head stubbornly.

That afternoon...


"Gentlemen, thank you for coming," said Giovanni Giorelli as Father Bianchi and Marco walked into Eva's sickroom. She had kicked her blankets off because they were too warm.

"Of course," said the Priest. "I hope you don't mind that I brought my...apprentice, you might say. Marco Moretti."

"Sure," said Giovanni, avoiding Marco's gaze.


As Father Bianchi and Marco prayed over Eva, Eva's eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at the men and, realizing they were praying, and folded her arms over her chest to join the prayer.

"Thank you for coming," Eva said when the prayers were over. "I feel comforted by your presence, Father. And who's this? Come closer?"

Marco glanced at Father Bianchi, who nodded his encouragement. He stepped to the side of the bed.


And as Marco stepped forward to introduce himself, Eva Giorelli was able to see him more clearly. It occurred to her that, if this handsome young man was part of the faithful hierarchy, she was about to become far more devout.

[Glamily]

lol. Love the update! More More More!!

[eefje00704]

I join that request! Great updates!

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part VI
Christmas Eve 1961

I was determined to get to the bottom of this. If Josephine wouldn't give up Donovan because I asked her to, she would have to if it was true that he was bad news. And so I went to the local library and checked out a collection of newspapers for earlier in the year.


The librarian had agreed to search the newspapers for any keywords I might like, and I had the results in front of me: a thin sheaf of British and Irish broadsheets that I couldn't dare to open. What if this was all a mistake, and I was violating the O'Reillys' privacies for nothing? I hesitated, then stood from my chair.


I dialed Judith. "Judith, it's Elizabeth Moretti. You'll be coming to next week's social club, won't you?" I asked casually.

"Why yes, I thought I would," she replied.

"Could you come early?" I asked. "I could use some help and, uh, Adela won't be able to come early."

"I'd be happy to," she said.

"Thank you. Happy Christmas, Judith."

"Merry Christmas."

I hung up and looked at the sheaf on the desk. I would need to read it, to know what questions to ask. But I needn't spoil Christmas Eve by so doing. It would keep until the New Year.

Meanwhile...
While I was toying with the problem of whether to open the newspapers, my son and my husband were playing a game of a different variety.


"...party officials are looking to replace the Senator, who doctors say died of a heart attack, but have yet been unable to find a candidate. In other news..." the newscaster said as Marco came into the living room.

"Dad, could we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," said Dante. He turned off the television set and went over to the chess set. "Sit. We haven't played for weeks."


"I just got off the phone with Signor Giorelli, who was calling on behalf of his niece. They invited me to Christmas lunch with Father Bianchi," said Marco as he began his opening gambit.


"And what did you say?" asked Dante evenly.

Marco smiled weakly. "I said that we had other plans. But he just said that they'd like to see me at some time."

"Marco, my son," Dante began. "I know that it's unreasonable, but you must never, ever get involved with the Giorellis. I've been trying to get your mother to work through this, but she hates them. What he did, all those years ago...well, your mother hasn't been able to forgive him or his wife."


"It's only lunch," Marco muttered.

"I realize," said Dante, keeping his voice low. "But your mother is having enough trouble with your sister. I know it's unfair and un-Christian, but I really don't want to try your mother's patience anymore than your sister already has. Do you?"

"No, sir," said Marco. "You're right."

Later that night...


That Christmas Eve was probably the happiest in my entire life. The beautiful tree, in the foyer of my family's home, and all the family together. It was made all the sweeter by the fact that, even though our family was having some unity issues...


...we could all smile and enjoy each other's company.

At All Saints Cathedral...


It was fitting that the Christmas Mass that year was on the topic of love. Because as I looked around the cathedral, I could see nothing but love.


There was the grateful love of a brother for his little sister's warm forgiveness, and her grateful love that they would no longer be parted by the shame of her appearance...


...and the love of a mother for her son, despite a troubled past, returned with the love of a son for his mother's kind protection...


...the love of my family for all its members...


...and the phony, forced love between two people who despised each other, for the sake of appearance...


...love whose seeds had been planted but had not yet flowered...


...and love for a shepherd for his flock. Yes; it was fitting that the sermon would be on love. Love conquered, and calmed, and warmed the lives of all it touched. But most importantly...


...love sowed the seeds of hope for redemption and forgiveness.

[Glamily]

O.o i'm the first to comment again! yippie! luv the updates but again i must say MORE MORE MORE MORE!!!

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part VII
January 1962

The night before the ladies' social club, I finally bit the bullet and opened the cache of newspapers. As I read through them, an eerie pattern began to emerge. The O'Reillys, the papers held, had been a prominent Irish family with ties to the peace movement. Their stated goal was to end tensions between Ireland and the United Kingdom--until a string of articles that started just a year previously.


A bombing along the border had killed several people, among them a sixteen year old girl. The bomb-making materials were traced to the O'Reillys, and the investigation focused on Donovan, based on testimony from his parents and other witnesses. The girl, it was later discovered, was romantically liked to Donovan, and police speculated that the bombing was revenge for her cooling affections. Like the girl's love for Donovan, my blood ran cold.


"Is that today's paper?" asked Dante as he came into the living room.
"No," I said, and handed it to him. "Look, here."
I watched his eyes trace across the paper, reading the story I had just finished. He looked over at me. "We have to keep them apart."
"I know," I said dully, the thought of losing Josephine causing a cold sweat to break across my brow.

The next morning...


At the breakfast table, I handed out assignments for the day. Lara and Dante were to spend the day playing quietly outside or in their room.


Josephine was to accompany Marco on his rounds with Father Bianchi and then they would go to the library in town to study for when classes resumed the next week. Under no circumstances was Marco to leave her alone.


"And I'll be late tonight," said Dante as I walked him to his car. "I'm going to go over to the O'Reillys and have a little chat with David, see if I can't get to the bottom of this. If these stories are true, I'll try to convince him to leave town for the safety of all the neighbors."

"That's a good idea," I said, grateful that my husband could differentiate between maternal paranoia and genuine, justified concern. "I love you."

"I love you too." We kissed goodbye and he drove off, leaving me to prepare for the gathering, and my meeting with Judith.

A few hours later...


Judith arrived right on time. We exchanged pleasantries and I invited her to my office so that we could discuss the burning questions on my mind.


The dossier sat between us as I made my opening statement. "Judith, I want you to know how sorry I am about this, but you must understand that I have to protect my daughter. I had the librarian pull some articles about...well...about your family. About why you had to leave Ireland. I need to know if your son did what he's been accused of doing."


Judith looked apprehensive. "I cannot talk about it," she said uncertainly. "Please, Elizabeth, please. We moved here for a fresh start."

"But our children have developed a relationship, and if these news accounts are to be believed, if they split up then my daughter's life is in danger. You must understand how important this is."

"Elizabeth, I assure you that my son is harmless. He would never hurt a fly!"

"Is that right?" I opened the dossier and held up the newspaper holding the photo of the girl who died. "What about Jennifer Wallace?"


"Please!" Judith cried, a tear coming to her eye. "Please, I cannot talk about this. It would be such a betrayal to David, we have come here to start over."

"Can you do nothing with Donovan? A boarding school with close supervision, perhaps?" I asked, trying to sound diplomatic.

"No, no." Judith took a tissue as I offered it. "He's a good boy, he wouldn't hurt anyone. I won't punish him for a crime he didn't commit."

"Then why did you flee Ireland? All the authorities think he must be guilty that you'd run away with him." I asked.

"David de--David and I decided that we all needed a new beginning."


As I looked over at Judith, I could see that she was clearly convinced of her son's innocence, which meant that he was innocent or that she was a good liar.

But there was something else about her then, as she dabbed her cheeks dry: a look of fear in her eyes. Was it fear of discovery, of betrayal, of her past? At once I felt compelled to know more, but horrified that it could mean continued threat to my family.

I had no time to consider the matter; the girls had arrived.


To say that that meeting of the ladies social club was awkward was an understatement. Judith was silent and distant, and I could tell she was still collecting herself from the meeting before.


Lady Thornycroft recounted a story of a couple coming to her door and pressuring her to sell her home. "They seemed quite insistent and got angry when I refused," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Eleanor said, "Mother, Grant said not to worry about that. Sometimes you just imagine these things."

Lady Thornycroft shook her head. "Eleanor, please!"


Adela Koenig was breathless and giddy with the prospect of new love. "I have a date with the new chocolatier," she confided with us, the picture of girlish delight. "I'm cooking for him and his son."

After another hour of gossip over lunch, the meeting broke up. We all had things to do: Adela had to prepare for her date; Eleanor had to get her mother home to rest; Judith had to decide just what to do about her family secret; and I had to think of a way to protect my daughter.

That night...


Dante stopped by the O'Reilly's house after work and was greeted by David O'Reilly. My husband found David to be oddly distant and defensive, but he invited Dante in.


"What can I do for you, Mr. Moretti?" asked David as they settled down in the living room.

"I want to know about your son," said Dante.

David didn't seem surprised. "What do you want to know?"


"Is he dangerous? As you know, my daughter and your son have developed a...well, a relationship. But my wife found some disturbing newspaper articles about a bombing in Ireland involving your son."

"It was an accident, Mr. Moretti. My son did not kill that girl because they were breaking up, regardless of what the press say."

"But he did set that bomb? He did kill those people?"

"I don't see the necessity of digging into the past. I think you should go now."


My husband looked at the mysterious man across the room from him. There was something both fearful and dangerous in his eyes. As Dante stood and headed for the door, David called after him. "Oh, Mr. Moretti?"


"Yes?"

"I would recommend to you to keep your family away from mine. I would hate for something awful to happen to one or many of them."

[eefje00704]

What a creep! sorry i just had to let that out lol. can't wait for the next update!

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part VIII
January 1962

That very night...


As the sun was setting over the Italian hills, Marco walked around the yard with Eva as Father Bianchi visited with her aunt and uncle. "You look remarkably well, Miss Giorelli," Marco said quietly, blushing slightly.

"I feel remarkably well," Eva said. "Praise be to God, he delivered me. I have no doubt that he brought you here for that purpose."

Marco smiled abashedly. "He does work in mysterious ways, and if my presence has been a comfort to you in this trying time, then I am only too happy to help."


"I'm afraid there is something else I must ask for you to help with, then," Eva said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "I'm frightened, Marco."

"Frightened? But why, the doctor says you're fit as a fiddle."

"No, not of that," said Eva quickly, glancing sidelong at the house. "I'm afraid my uncle is going to kill me and my aunt."


Marco listened to Eva's tale. He held her as she cried, hesitant to betray her uncle but duty-bound to protect her aunt. What a brave girl she was, Marco thought. And for the first time, Marco felt his interest veer from spiritual to worldly.

Eva sensed it, and she made her move.


The kiss was passionate but brief. Marco pulled away, embarrassed and confused. He stammered an apology and set off running. Eva watched him, and through the crocodile tears on her cheeks she smiled.

Later that night, at the O'Reillys'...


It was happening to David O'Reilly again. Nosy neighbors. A pesky young woman distracting his son. Soon the police would come and they would have to flee again. Unless he could somehow get the Morettis to drop their inquiry now...

He went to his bedroom and opened the little box he kept handy at all times and flipped the lid open. With a grimace, he wheeled around and walked out.


David pounded on Donovan's bedroom door. "Donovan, where's my gun? Your mother knows not to touch it. I know you've been on a little rebellious streak, so where is it?" He pounded the door again, shaking dust from the ceiling. Finally, the frame splintered and the door swung open.


"Don't come any closer," Donovan warned, brandishing his father's pistol. "I've been thinking, Father, and I think it's time that we came clean about what happened back home."

"It would destroy us," David hissed. "Haven't we been through enough because of you? Think of your mother!"


"I love Josephine and she loves me. We'll be together, one way or another. You can't stop me anymore. I'm not afraid of you!"

David took a menacing step forward, clenching a fist. "You should be, Donovan, my lad. Remember that I have the best interests of this family at heart, and if that means knocking some sense into you, well, I'll do it."

Donovan lunged, struck!


David fell, clutching his head where the butt of his own pistol had knocked him down. Donovan went for the door, and moments later David heard the roar of the motorcycle engine.

Donovan was gone.

Meanwhile...


Giovanni arrived late from work, after Angela had gone to bed. He went to the stairs to go up to join her but stopped when he saw his niece kneeling on the top of the stairs. "Eva," he hissed. "What are you doing?"


"Shh," she said. "I'll explain in a moment."

Eva finished her work and stood up, carefully avoiding the first stair on her way down. "I figured since you almost ended up killing me last time, I would take care of this once and for all." She hefted a can of shortening. "Now you get out of here; you spent all night at the office, right?"


"Eva, this is--we shouldn't do this--I mean--" said Giovanni uncertainly as Eva steered him out towards his car.

"Don't be so weak," Eva sneered. "You want this, but you nearly killed me last time, so just be grateful. Now go!"

Meanwhile...


The Morettis were awakened by the roar of a motorcycle. Dante and I rushed to the window in time to see Josephine climb onto the back and the bike rush off into the night.


"I'll get the car," Dante said with a sigh.

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part IX
January 1962

We spent an hour tailing Donovan and Josephine, finally stopping them in town. Dante hoisted Josephine off the back of the bike, dropped her in the back seat of the car, and we took off. No words were exchanged; this had gone farther than that. She went to bed immediately upon getting home, and we were happy to let her.

Teenagers, I thought. I surely hope I didn't give my mother this kind of problem.


The next morning at the Giorelli house started with a bang as Angela slipped on the top step and tumbled all the way to the bottom. Eva, who had spent the morning doing some gardening, rushed in, trying to look shocked. "Aunt Angela!"


Eva was dismayed to find her aunt still breathing, but knew that she could do nothing. She went to the phone and dialed the police, asking for an ambulance. When that was taken care of, she called her uncle's office. "Uncle Giovanni, I'm afraid I have some terrible news."

"It's all right, Eva. I'm alone."

"It's done. Come home."

Meanwhile...


Dante and I had received some interesting guests. As I served coffee, one of the men, Modesto, explained why they were here: "As you may be aware, Senator Mentoli died during his term, and we've been searching for a replacement. Unfortunately, we've not yet found a replacement and the filing deadline is tonight."


"Is everyone comfortable?" I asked as I handed out the last cup of coffee. "Is there anything else I can offer?"


"We're fine, Mrs. Moretti. Thank you," said Flavio, the other man. "As Modesto was saying, it would be an embarrassment to the party if we were to not field a candidate, and you're our only hope. No one else living in the district is willing or qualified to run."

Dante looked at me and I offered an encouraging smile. He turned back to the men. "Let me think about your offer, and talk it over with my wife. You said you needed my answer by tonight?"

"Yes, Mr. Moretti."

"Then you shall have it."

I said, "Why don't you both come over for dinner tonight?" The matter was agreed.

"Mr. Moretti, why don't you come by the office downtown today? You can have a look at the operation, see what you might be getting into."

Later that morning...


Giovanni arrived just in time to see the ambulance technicians load his wife into the ambulance. He went to Eva and said, "What happened?"

"She's alive. But the men aren't hopeful." She gestured towards the retreating ambulance. "It could go either way."


"Thank God for you, Eva," said Giovanni. He was free, finally free! He swept her into a hug. The ambulance driver, looking in the rearview mirror, was touched by the show of familial sorrow. But what he didn't know was that the gesture was one of shared triumph, not sadness.

That afternoon...



Taking advantage of the quiet day, I sat down at my typewriter and looked at the half-typed page in front of me. It was a page in a book I had been working on for years, but I never seemed to be able to finish it, as much as I was determined to do so.

But the best laid plans often go awry, and my son came in and sat down. "Can I talk to you, mom?"


"Of course," I said. "What's on your mind?"

"I got a phone call from Father Bianchi. Mrs. Giorelli has had a terrible accident. Only..."

"Only what?" I asked, instantly suspicious of why he would bring the Giorellis up to me.

"Only I don't think it was an accident. Eva told me that Mr. Giorelli was trying to hurt her and her aunt."


"My word, is she all right?" I asked, my head buzzing. For all these years, had I been unfairly painting her with the same brush with which I painted her husband? Had she been his victim, too, like my Josephine had once been?

"She's had a bad fall, but she's expected to recover."

"I must go and see her," I said, seizing upon the guilt that was like a knife in my chest. "Has your father left?"

"Not yet."


"You were right to tell me, Marco, my son. Sometimes it takes the wisdom of a boy...a young man... to correct the foolishness of an old woman." I hugged him tightly.


"You have good instincts, my boy," I told him. "Listen to them."


A few moments later, I was down in the driveway. "Dante, wait!" He had been about to climb into the car to go to his appointment with the politicians downtown. "Can you drop me at the hospital on the way to your appointment?"

"Of course, it's just across the road. What happened?"

"It's Mrs. Giorelli. I'm afraid I've been wrong about her all along."

Downtown...


"What do you think?" breathed Flavio. "I think it really catches the youth and vigor of your campaign."

"It's-- I haven't agreed to run yet, Flav--"


"Imagine!" said Modesto. "Just picture this everywhere in the district."


Dante cocked his head to the side and examined the poster. "Well... I like it, generally. But my wife and I still have to talk about this."

"Of course," said Flavio generously. "But first, get behind the podium. See how you feel."


Dante stood behind the podium and read the remarks that were there, trying to sound authoritative and charismatic. The two consultants watched, nodding. "With the right polish..." said Flavio. "The wardrobe needs work, but..."

"And he'll need a better speech than that, but that's for the policy shop--you'll meet Castelli later," said Modesto.

Meanwhile...


"Mrs. Giorelli, you have a visitor."

Angela looked up with some effort to see me standing in the doorway. She neither smiled nor denied my entry, so the doctor left us alone.


"I, uh, thought you might like these," I said, showing her the bouquet I had purchased at the florist near the hospital. "I was so sorry to hear about your, ah, accident."

"I doubt that," Angela said coldly, her voice strained and brittle. "We've lived nearby for fifteen years, and I've never even spoken to you more than a handful of times. Why would you care now?"


"I've been terribly foolish about you," I admitted, feeling the color rise in my cheeks. "And unchristian. I had hoped that it wouldn't be too late to make amends."

Angela considered this for a moment, then said, "You know, I never even knew about my husband's crime until after he was caught. He never brought your daughter to my home; how would I have known anything?"

I sighed. "I don't know, Angela. I honestly don't. I'm very sorry for the way I treated you. It was wrong, and I want to make things right." I sighed and took her hand; she let me. "Angela, do you know what happened?"

"I must've slipped," she said. "The doctor said so."

"My son, Marco, was looking in on your niece. He said that she was afraid that your husband was trying to do you in."

Angela looked at me, and I saw pieces fall into place behind her eyes. "Giovanni?"


Just then the door burst open and the doctor rushed in. "Ma'am, was yours the red sedan?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's...well, it's on fire!"

"Oh my God!" I shouted. "Angela, I'm sorry, I--"

"Go," she said, looking concerned.


As I watched the car burn, Dante came up to me. "Thank God, I saw it from the window. What happened!"

I didn't know. All I knew as I watched paint crackle under the heat, and heard the squeal of tires on the street, was that there would always be people who suffered misfortune...


...just as there would always be people who brought misfortune on others.

[CuriousSimmer]

The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part X
January 1962

Despite the violent destruction of our car, life went on in the Moretti household. I was a good housewife, and I had invited company for dinner, so come hell or high water they would be fed!


The men brought a woman to dinner that I had not met before. She introduced herself as Chiara Castelli, and she was the brilliant political mind in the team, according to Modesto and Flavio.

I had cleared off the table and was waiting for coffee to percolate when the political discussion swelled again.

"Have you given any thought to whether you'd like to run, Signor Moretti?" asked Flavio.

"Yes," said Dante. "My wife and I talked about it and we've decided that I should give it a shot."


"Wonderful," said Modesto. "If you'll just sign this paper..." He slid a filing paper over to Dante with a pen. He picked up the pen and examined the page before signing it.

"Modesto and I will take it over to the filing office immediately," said Chiara.

"Don't you want to stay for dessert?" I asked politely.

"We're on a deadline, Signora Moretti," Chiara said dismissively. We all stood.


"Thanks so much for doing this for us, Signor. And, Signora, for your hospitality," said Modesto as the others walked out the door. "We can do great work together."


Later that night, Dante and I discussed what to do about Josephine. We finally settled upon sending her to a boarding school in Switzerland, just over the border, until the situation with the O'Reillys blew over.

"She won't like it," Dante warned as I sat down to unpin my hair.

"She won't have to," I said sternly. "It's for her own good."

Dante was quiet for a few more minutes before he said, "What do you think about this election thing?"

"I think it's a good opportunity," I said with a smile at his reflection in the mirror.

"But do you think I can win?"

"I don't think you want to win, darling. You're doing them a favor, that's all." Dante looked at my reflection in the mirror as I brushed my hair back from my face, then nodded.

"That's right."

That night...


"That's all taken care of," Chiara said, crossing the room to where the podium was. "Make way in the Senate!"

"You know, we might not win this thing, Chiara," Modesto warned. "This is a long shot."

"I know," said Chiara. "But I have a feeling that with our help..."


"...we can turn Durante Moretti into just the puppet we need."

The following morning...


"I can't believe you're doing this," said Josephine sulkily as she followed her parents into the train station. "I can't believe you're sending me away. This is so unfair!"

"Josephine, I told you that it's for your own good," said Elizabeth.

"But you won't tell me what that means!" Josephine shot back angrily.


Josephine, listen to your mother," said Dante as he examined the envelope he was going to give Josephine. It contained an encouraging note, her train ticket, and enough pocket money to buy food for the trip, and a check for the school. "This is for your own good, whether you choose to accept it or not."


The train rolled in, and Dante handed the envelope to Josephine, hugged her, and kissed the top of her head. "We'll send for you as soon as it's safe," he promised.

Josephine turned to me, daring me to try to hug her. I knew she wouldn't accept it; she knew this was my doing. I said, "Josephine, I've put a folder in your attache case. I want you to read it on the train, and then you'll understand."

"What is it?" Josephine asked suspiciously.

"Some newspapers involving your friend Donovan." I stood and straightened my skirt. "Have a safe trip. We'll telephone later tonight." I patted her shoulder, felt her tense resentfully under my touch, and then followed Dante out.


Dante was working the key into the door lock when a car's wheels squealed on pavement. I barely had time to cry, "Dante, look out!" before the car barreled through. Dante leapt out of the way in the knick of time, narrowly avoiding being hit by the white car.


We ran after the car, but it was going too fast to catch up. I stopped in my tracks when a realization came over me. "Dante," I said.

"What," he asked, wiping his bruised, scraped hands on his pants.

"That car was driving past the hospital when our car was on fire. I know it was."

"Do you recognize it?"

"I didn't until I saw the license. That's Judith O'Reilly's car!"

"Do you think Donovan...?" Dante asked as we climbed into the car.

"I don't know, Dante. I just don't know."

That afternoon...


I heard the roar of a motorcycle engine and went to the window to see Donovan O'Reilly walking across the yard. I hurried out into the yard to greet him, afraid of what might happen if I let him in the house. "Hello, Mrs. Moretti," he said. "Is Josephine home?"

"What? Oh, no, she's, ah, visiting," I said, backing up a little.


"I just wanted to see her..." said Donovan, sighing. "To apologize for everything. And to apologize to you. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

"You mean like almost running over my husband?" I demanded.

"What do you mean? I didn't run over anybody!" Donovan said, then he visibly recoiled, fear in his eyes. "Wait a minute!"


I turned to see Dante crossing the yard, his service pistol in his hand. "Elizabeth, get behind me."

"Mr. Moretti, I swear, I didn't!" said Donovan, stepping back.

"Josephine's gone," said Dante sternly. "It's over."

"Where is she?"


"Gone," I said. "Please, Donovan. Go home and forget about her."

"I can't!" he shouted. "I love her!"

"I know," I said, my voice trembling with emotion even as I recoiled with fear. "That's what terrifies me."

"Whatever my father told you, I didn't kill that girl. I didn't!"

"Go home, son," said Dante. He took my hand and started pulling me towards the house.

I could barely hear Donovan as he walked towards his bike. "I wasn't even the one who was in love with Jennifer Boyle!"