The Life: Sacrifice (The Life 3)

That and a whole lot more went through my head in the ensuing days, and I got to looking at things differently and seeing things that I’d overlooked in a new light. I haven’t spent the whole week just gazing off into space either, not after that cryptic message about Adrienne’s death.

But I had to be careful with Victoria still in the house. I took some time off from going to the office and spent my days outside of the house visiting old friends. Those who didn’t close the door in my face were only too willing to talk, to share their thoughts on my now wife and what they knew of her true character.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard some of the things they said, but it was the first time I listened without bias and without Becky’s whispers in my ear. Most of them only spoke up now because of recent events, and I’m certain the Russo men had got to them in some way since they were willing to talk freely without fear of repercussion.

They’d opened my eyes to some things, but I still need to hear Gia tell me from her own lips what all had been done to her. I let Becky prattle on and on with that sing-song voice that grated on my nerves when it never had before. The anger that had built up over a week was barely contained as I nodded as if agreeing with her assessment that Adrienne’s death had been so long ago, and as her friend, it pained her to even remember it.

“If Gia’s coming here, I don’t think you should have that picture hanging there. You know how she is; she’s not ready to deal with seeing her mother like….”

“You mean to say she’s still too young to deal with the loss? I seem to recall that’s what you said when you had me remove all traces of Adrienne from the house.”

“Why are you saying it like that? We both decided that don’t you remember?”

“Of course, I remember. I agreed with you at the time, seeing as you were the one who spent the most time with her; I thought you knew best.”

“That’s right, and since she’s been acting out lately, I don’t think she’s in any state to deal with this. She seems to be having some kind of mental break. Maybe we should….”

“It was Gia who brought the portrait home.” She got up from my lap and walked around behind me, I guess, in a futile attempt to hide her anger. The look on her face reflected in the glass that covered my wife’s portrait made my guts turn.

She hadn’t realized I guess that I could see her. It’s odd, when I had the portrait encased just a few days ago, I didn’t give any thought to this added benefit, but in the last couple of days, I’d seen both mother and daughter’s reflection as they stood behind me and what I saw made my blood run cold.

* * *

GABRIEL

* * *

“You ready?” She nodded her head silently and gazed out the car window with a sigh. She might be, but I’m no longer sure that I am. I’d convinced her to go in there alone because I knew we stood a better chance of Becky slipping up without me there. It’s been my plan all along, not only to show Gianna that she had the strength to stand on her own but because I knew Becky wouldn’t dare show her ass with me in the room.

But now that we’re here, I feel like a dad dropping his kid off at the school gate for the first time and dreading his precious baby being bullied by the other kids. I took her hand and brought her attention back to me. “Tell me, do you really want to do this? If you’re not sure, I’ll think of another way.”

Nothing could’ve reassured me more than the giggle she gave me or the way she leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I’m sure; stop worrying.” The lamb is comforting the lion. I grabbed and hugged her like she was going off to war, but that too was twofold. When she’s distressed, her heart beats in a certain way, which I could now feel, but at least it wasn’t as bad as I’d have expected.

Whereas in the last few days I’ve been rushing to get her life together so I could move on to my own problems, I was now wishing I could turn back the clock, give her more time to get herself together, more time to deal with all this until she was truly ready. But I don’t have the liberty.

This trip to Paris is the chance I’ve been waiting for. Pop has me under lock and key when it comes to getting that close to Sicily. Even without either of us acknowledging that the other knows what the other is thinking, we’ve drawn our lines in the sand. He doesn’t want me anywhere near Ma’s past, and I can’t let him handle what’s mine to do.