Eloisa’s siblings and cousins made up a number of pews and then some kind of honor guard that came from various countries followed the large family. The locals sat in the church knowing Eloisa had known many people, but they were shocked at just how many.
She had died unexpectedly from a brain aneurysm. It was a tragedy, and one that couldn’t have been prevented. She had been working hard to bring awareness to brain injuries, pushing the use of brain scans when talking about injuries occurring in car and motorcycle accidents. She wanted people to understand how important it was to take brain injuries seriously. It seemed so ironic that in the end, she would succumb to a brain aneurysm.
The entire family wore suits, as did her honor guard, those representing other countries. Relatives, even those coming from other states, wore pinstriped suits, the signature of the Ferraros. Cousins wore suits with various colored ties, but it was clear from their features they were related, even if they were from San Francisco, Los Angeles or New York. It was tradition for all Ferraros to be cremated and laid to rest in a private crypt in a fenced and locked section of the old cemetery.
Eloisa Ferraro’s ashes were escorted around the block to the old cemetery in the Ferraro territory, the local mourners walking behind the honor guard as they walked in silent formation straight to the cemetery. It was an oddly silent procession. There were so many people, and yet they made little more than a whisper of sound as they moved behind the small golden container holding the ashes of Eloisa Ferraro.
Her children were directly behind her. Stefano pushed his wife in a wheelchair, his son riding on her lap. The others walked in complete silence, their heads up, no one shedding a tear. That was expected. Ferraros rarely showed emotion in public. Only the family were allowed once inside the gates. The locals left to mourn together, gathering at their private businesses. The honor guard went to the hotel to wait for the family.
Once they were in the town car, Emmanuelle between Valentino and Dario, Val wrapped his arm around his wife. There were no prying eyes to watch her if she broke down. Her body seemed abnormally cold to him, although she wasn’t shivering.
“Are you all right, Princess?” He rubbed her shoulder gently.
Dario moved closer to her, as if his warmth could help in some way. He exchanged a long, worried look with Valentino over her head.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I have regrets that I was never able to repair the damage to our relationship. I don’t know what the damage was, or how it even happened. From the time I was a child, my memories were mostly of her attacking me at night. During the day she was sweet to me in front of everyone. I clung to that. I would respond to her and try to do everything she said to make her happy.”
She leaned her head against Valentino’s shoulder. “She terrified me. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, what I did to make her act the way she did toward me.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I tried, I really did. Now I just feel empty.”
Dario heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I know this is her funeral and she was your mother. I should have sympathy. I’m only going to say this once and you better not be recording this. Either one of you.” He caught Emmanuelle by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I love two people in this world. Valentino, like a brother, and you, like a sister, because you both are worth loving. So fuck her, Emme. Fuck her for not seeing how damn beautiful you are. And never make me say that again.” He let go of her, pulled out his phone and stared down at the screen as if he hadn’t said a word.
Emmanuelle looked up at Val, blinking back tears. He grinned at her and brushed her upturned mouth with his. Dario detested showing emotion. They had already grown into a tight family. That was good for Dario. He needed Emme’s softness as much as Valentino did.
“I love you, too, Dario. Thank you.”
Dario didn’t respond or look away from his phone.
Emmanuelle leaned into Val and looked up at him again, her blue eyes filled with love, that look that turned him inside out. “To answer your question, Valentino Saldi, I’m perfectly fine. I love you very much. I have no regrets for the choices I made. Or that you made either when you decided to send all those little ropes to bind my shadow to yours.”
That was the first time she’d ever acknowledged to him that she had come to terms with the fact that he had all but taken her prisoner. At first, he hadn’t realized what was happening any more than she had, but later, when he realized she was terrified of loving him, that she really was going to run from him, he’d taken every opportunity to seal her to him.