Chapter 69: Codename: Aconite Chapter Nineteen

I make my way past the length of the backyard pool, my eyes locking with Castor as he gives me a look of concern. I'm so tired of everyone looking at me like some wounded animal. I can tell Castor is fighting himself to come over and console me and I'm grateful he's too hesitant to do anything in front of my family because I just can't deal with him right now.

I give him a kind smile and continue through the courtyard and into the house to leave. As I make my way to the front door I stop by the foyer mirror and take a look at myself. I look great for a woman who has cheated death once again; an oversized black leather jacket, a short-sleeved white crop top with high waisted denim shorts and grey cowboy boots with a 3-inch heel and a chiffon scarf around my neck. At first glance, I just look like a normal woman rocking the latest fashion, but a closer look would reveal more.

If you look closer you might see the faint abdominal bruises peeking out from the waistband of my shorts. If it weren’t for my long hair, thick bangs, and well-applied makeup, you’d notice the still healing gash in my head and the uniquely shaded purple bruise it has caused to travel down my forehead and left eye. My clothes hide the bullet wound in my shoulder, and thankfully I’m now out of the sling, so that’s one less way to draw attention to myself, but I think most obviously, if it wasn’t for the scarf, I would have people stopping and staring on the street.

I step towards the mirror and gingerly pull down the scarf from around my neck and examine the harsh red line that goes all the way around my neck. It took two weeks before I could talk or swallow without pain, and still even now there is some discomfort. The chiffon feels like sandpaper against the wound and is a reminder of how close I came to losing my head. But I endure it. I take a breath and adjust the scarf back into place before I make my way out to my car.

Just as I’m about to get in, I hear the front door open.

“Paperotta!” I hear my grandfather call.

I turn with a soft smile, “Yes?”

He walks over, handing me a Tupperware container with some of the leftover food from lunch with a warm smile on his face. “Your grandmother would never let you leave emptyhanded,” he says cheekily.

I smile, amused and touched, taking the container and giving him a tight hug, which in spite of his age, he returns just as tightly. I take a moment to breathe in his aftershave, the perfect combination of All Spice and basil. I pull back to look at my beloved grandfather and feel an ache in my chest. Having him this close reminds me of how much I missed my grandparents.

Grandpa Gaetano is 79 and stands at 5’4” making him a fraction shorter than my grandmother. He has thin snow-white hair and tanned skin that almost appears golden despite the many fine lines showing his age and wisdom. He wears thin, black-framed glasses that make his dark blue eyes appear so much larger, while his rather large – somewhat bulbous nose – expertly keeps his glasses in place. He has a neat and trimmed thick goatee that is all white but greying closer to his mouth. He’s wearing his usual oversized black turtleneck to hide his pot belly along with his favourite grey tweed jacket and matching pants, but it’s that look of unyielding love and unending patience in his eyes that are my focus.

My grandfather is a good man and a good soul, and I often feel like having all of us in his life is tainting him. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, and he’s never even harmed a hair on another person’s head. He prefers to take care of people and leaves the killing to my grandmother, and I suppose the rest of us too. It’s actually how he and Grandma met. He was driving through the hills to return home late one night and found my grandmother lying in the middle of the road badly injured and unconscious. He picked her up, took her back to his cottage and nursed her back to health and they’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s known from the beginning what she does and has never judged her for it. They are like yin and yang. She’s volatile, rebellious and stubborn, but he’s calm, amenable and a natural-born peacekeeper. He used to be a vet. Primarily taking care of farm animals in his village. Then he ended up marrying the wildest animal of all.

“Your grandmother loves you, as do I. You know what she’s like. Always putting on her tough façade, never showing weakness or vulnerability. But when she saw your injuries she was very scared. She was the same with your mother many times. And every single time she sees our daughter or granddaughter hurt, all she can think is that it’s her fault,” he says compassionately.

“How on Earth is any of this her fault? She’s not the one who attacked me,” I say incredulously.

“No, but it was her life choices and carrying on your family’s traditions that put your mother and you on this path. She fears losing you. Family is everything to her,” he says. He cups his warm, calloused hand to my cheek, “She would give her life for you and Noemi. She’s a good woman, despite what she’d have the world believe. She can go a little far, but it’s always out of love.”

I sigh and hold his hand in place and kiss his palm, “I know, nonno. I love you and nonna so very much and I’m thrilled to have you here and to be able to see you. It can just feel a bit smothering having everyone hovering over me and controlling my actions, and it’s a bit much when I already feel like I fucked up on my last job. Everyone reminding me of my injuries just reminds me of how much I fucked up, and I don’t need that right now.”

He nods sympathetically. “I can understand that. I’ll have a talk to your mother and grandmother, get them to tone it down,” he assures me.

I smile and hug him tight, kissing his cheek, “Grazie.”

“Don’t mention it. You go and take care of yourself, okay?” he says warmly.

I smile wide at him. “I promise.”

With that, I get in my car – placing the leftovers on the passenger seat – and start driving home with a final wave to my grandfather.