Family Secrets

by Roberta C.M. DeCaprio

ISBN 978-1-59431-734-8 Mystery / Suspense / Romance / Paranormal / Time Travel

IN SOME FAMILIES, NOT EVEN DEATH IS FINAL!

Growing up in a orphanage for boys, Guylan was told his parents were killed in an accident. After he proposes to his beloved Neela, he discovers there are much more then skeltons in his family's closet. When a mysterious stalker invades Guylan's privacy, the doors to the truth of his past are revealed. He's the great-grandson of a powerful Scottish Druid who bestowed a blessing years ago on Neela's family. Was it a blessing or a curse? Guylan is soon faced with challenges forcing him to travel back in time to save the family he never knew. But changing the past directly effects the future. When all is said and done, will Neela still know him, be a part of his life? Or will he have forever lost her love?

Paper available only in the USA.

Prologue

October, 1930, Anglewood, New York

It was a day Sophia Pettrocini will never forget. It started out as the usual Saturday, helping her father in the family owned business, but it would end in a most unusual way. This day would be the beginning of all that would happen in the days to follow.

Just ten and short for her age, her black hair braided in two pigtails that hung to her waist, she wore a pink, gingham jumper. She liked the way the hem swished around her knees as she ran down the stairs to Nawna's apartment.

Nelana Caralena Pettrocini was her paternal grandmother who came to live in America just before she was born. She was a good woman, especially to Sophia, who loved to sew and make soap with her grandmother. But Nelana had her own opinions and sometimes those views clashed with Sophia's mother, Maria. This was why it was important for Nelana to have her own living quarters. The arrangement worked for the most part, insuring everyone's privacy.

She found Nawna sitting at the table in her small kitchen, which always smelled like garlic and freshly baked bread. Quickly Nelana closed the lid on the cedar wood box she was looking through and locked it. "And so il mio bambino, my baby granddaughter comes to see me."

"I'm not a baby anymore, Nawna. I am ten now." She fingered the floral designs and the raised letters spelling out her grandmother's name on the box. "Why are you always looking through this?" Once she caught a glimpse of what her grandmother kept in the locked box, a pair of rimless glasses and a black diary.

"Is that any of your commercio, business?" Nelana playfully teased, crushing her granddaughter in a warm embrace and kissing her several times on the cheek. "And you will always sia un bambino a me, be a baby to me, no matter how old you are."

She returned the affection before plopping down in a nearby chair. "Do you have anything good to eat?"

"Again you have not had your pasta di mattina, morning meal?"

She shook her head. "Mama needed to nurse Angelo and change Vicenzo, so I came down here."

"Ah…good thing you have got me or you would muoia di fame, starve," she said, a partially toothless grin spreading across her plump face. After Sophia stuffed herself with sausage and Italian bread smothered in tomato sauce she helped her grandmother wash the dishes. "Now your Papa asperttare voi, waits for you in the store," Nelana said.

Every Saturday she helped her father in the bakery her family owned on Cutler Street, relieving her mother, who worked during the week…along with various other wifely duties. She didn't know how her mother had any time to donate to the family business, baking the bread and rolls sold in the shop, while raising three kids…nursing Angelo, only a few months old, along with caring for Vincenzo, just a toddler and still in diapers, plus Sophia…who at times demanded attention in other ways. Nelana made the pies and soap, but most of the work was on Maria Pettrocini's shoulders. Taking pity upon her mother, she helped out on Saturday afternoons.

"Come, lascilo benedirto, let me bless you for the day," Nelana said, making the Christian sign of the cross on Sophia's forehead. She kissed her on each one of her cheeks. "That is for all that you do buon oggi, good today." Then she turned Sophia around, lifted her skirt and gave her a pat on the behind. "And that is for anything you think of fare male, doing bad."

She giggled. "That didn't even hurt."

"Ah, not like when your mother uses the chcchiaio di legno, wooden spoon, huh?"

She turned to face her grandmother and nodded. "That can really sting, especially if Mama's very mad."

Nelana shrugged. "Well, she has got to keep you a ragazza piavevole, nice girl. Now and then a hand to your bottom is how it is done." She kissed Sophia again. "Now go, your Papa waits for you to help, but do not mangi troppo, eat too much candy this time." Nelana waved a hand in the air as she spoke. "I awertito, warned him not to sell the candy too." She shook her head. "This will change many things, cause problemi, problems. But would my son ascolti, listen to his mother?"

She didn't understand what things would change. How could selling candy cause a problem, unless you ate too much and got sick, which is what happened when she consumed an abundance of coconut creams. The severe stomach ache she received and the enema her mother gave her afterward to relieve the pain would be forever etched in her memory.

When she entered the bakery, her father was washing the large, front window, readying it for a new display. "Fill the jars on the counters with peppermint sticks, Sophia," he instructed. "And make sure the lids are on tight."

The day progressed and grew warm…warmer then it should be in New York for the month of October. She was just about to take a break…go for a drink of lemonade to quench her thirst, when the bakery door opened and a man in a black cape, top hat and shiny boots entered the store. Accompanying him was a little girl, slim and fragile. A crop of red curls adorned her head, the ringlets framing a delicate face. Two, large round blue eyes stared in excited wonder at the jars of candy lined up on the counter.

"What would ye be wishin' for, wean," the man's baritone voice resounded through the tiny shop, his words rolling off his tongue like a melody.

The youngster pointed to the jar Sophia just filled.

"Aye, the peppermint sticks is it now, a leannan, sweetheart?"

The little girl beamed. "Yes, Da."

The man turned to purchase the candy, pulling from his vest pocket a coin. "I would be pleased to purchase a peppermint stick and a few loaves of your bread, at me lovin' wife's request."

She smiled and handed the child the candy while her father wrapped the bread and took the man's money, or bawbee, as he referred to the coins he handed Antonio. She could hear her father chatting with the man, but paid no further attention to their words, so intent was she on the pleasure etched upon the little girl's face. With every lick of the peppermint stick, the child's eyes rolled heavenward…her expression one of pure joy.

She giggled. "You must really like peppermint."

The little girl responded with an exuberant nod and took a large bite. But when her eyes rolled again, it was not out of pleasure…but from sheer panic. Somehow a piece of the candy lodged in her throat and she was choking.

Sophia's heart sank to her toes and she rushed to the little girl's aid, striking her hard on the back. But the child's airways stayed obstructed, her face first turning red and then a frightening shade of purple. "Papa, Papa," she screamed. "She's choking!"

Antonio Pettrocini's portly form moved with liquid speed across the shop, his chubby arms wrapping around the child's abdomen. With an upward push he freed the candy from her throat. It shot with a force across the room, landing beside the caped man's booted toe.

Stunned, the child's father stared down at the candy for a moment, then looked over at his daughter, who by now had wet herself, messed the floor and was crying hysterically.

"You are benissimo, fine now," Antonio consoled, patting the child on the top of the head.

The caped man reached his daughter in two strides, gathered her into his arms, and sobbed right along with her.

"Sophia, get the mop," her father instructed, making his way to behind the counter and returning with two glasses of water.

After the man and his child regained their composure, he took Antonio's hand in both of his. "'Tis a braw, brave act that ye have done, mo bhuidheag, my friend. And I bestow a bheanachd, my blessin' upon ye."

Her father's face turned crimson, the blush rising to his ears. "That is not necessario, necessary."

"Aye, 'tis very necessary. Mo nighean, my lass is mo chride, my heart and m'annachd, my best beloved in life, as I am sure your wean, child is to ye," the man said, his eyes filling again with tears. "And so to your wee lass, and to her first born daughter, and so on, and to the lad's they will marry, I bequeath a bheanachd."

What he proclaimed made no sense to Sophia and when she had a moment alone with her father later on in the day, she questioned him. With a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed her. "The man was overwhelmed with appreciation and didn't know what he was saying…now we have work to do and will talk of this no longer."

She had her suspicions about Antonio's glib attitude concerning the situation and explained the turn of events to her grandmother. Nelana smiled, reached for her cedar wood box, and shooed her upstairs. Later that night she snuck out of bed to eavesdrop on her parents as they sat talking in the parlor.

"I know the man you speak of, Antonio," Maria said. "I have heard he possesses poteri soprannaturali, supernatural powers and can cast spells."

"And where do you hear such things, Maria?" Antonio said with a weary tone.

Maria's voice trembled. "The women in church, they say he is from Scotland."

"And so we are from Italy. America is a melting pot."

"But the other women say he is a stregone, wizard, has poteri, powers to frightening to speak of."

"Then do not speak of them," Antonio said flatly.

"Antonio, you are not ascolto, listening," Maria said exasperated.

"It is you who must not listen to everything a bunch of anziane, old women say," Antonio snapped. "Il colloquio al minimo puo rovinare le vite, idle talk can ruin lives."

Maria's voice rose an octave. "It is the truth, Antonio…whether you want to admit that or not and he has meledetto, cursed our child."

"Sia calmo, be quiet, woman, keep your voice down," Antonio warned his wife. "Our daughter isbennedetto non meledetto, blessed, not cursed…this is what the man said and that is what we must believe." He sighed and added. "This is what we must always believe because it is too late to change."

"You can credi, believe whatever you want, Antonio, but I will be in church tomorrow and everyday thereafter, to say a Novena to all the saints for our daughter's anima, soul." She pointed a finger at Antonio. "Your mother awertito, warned you about selling candy in the store. For once in your life you should have ha obbedetto alle sure parole, obeyed her words."

Sophia tip-toed back to her room, knelt to say a prayer, and then climbed into bed…pulling the blanket over her head.