Page 75 of Heaven Help Me

I fold my arms across my chest, wishing it didn’t hurt so much. “Is that why you refused to give up control in exchange for our safety? Because we’re so important to you?”

She bats her hand through the air. “He wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“That’s not a bet you should have been making,” Valentina interjects.

Bettina pins her with a no-nonsense look. “You’ve been in my shoes. You know our bets are high stake. That’s why you have to have nerves of steel to do what we do. That’s why we’re excellent at it. We don’t sit there and wring our hands with what-ifs. We execute. And if there’s collateral damage, then we deal with it later.”

Valentina is shaking her head. I know she now sees my mother the way I see her. Hard. Unfeeling.

“That’s just it, Bettina. I don’t want to live that way any longer. Haven’t wanted to in a while, if I’m being honest. Whatever plans you have for New York…count me out.”

Bettina’s mouth snaps shut. She inhales once, then twice, blinking repeatedly as she thinks.

I step forward, not wanting to hurt her unnecessarily, but also needing to drive home our position. “You’re my mother and I will always love you, but I need to do that from afar. Neither of us wants anything to do with your way of life going forward. We believe it best for you to go back to New York and we’ll stay here. Phone communication can be discussed as time goes on. Please respect our boundaries.”

“Well…I…” Bettina seems to be at a loss for words.

“Ma’am?” One of the bodyguards runs into the room. “We have a problem.”

“Not now!” Bettina snaps.

The bodyguard is not deterred, which tells me he hasn’t been working for Bettina for very long. “There’s a crowd gathering outside.”

That gets our attention. Valentina, Bettina, and I all head for the front door, peeking out the windows on either side of the door. My mother has her gun drawn, Valentina has her knife in hand, and I have my head in my hand.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

It’s a crowd alright. Led by my father in a wheelchair (pushed by Tommy) and Birdie. Neighbors and friends are in the group right behind them, all talking at once and pointing toward my house as they take up the entirety of my driveway. The lone bodyguard is backed against one of the porch railings, wiping sweat from his forehead as he attempts to calm the crowd. With a silent prayer for patience, I push the two ladies out of the way and head outside to address my friends.

“Nothing to see here, folks!” I holler.

The crowd noise dies down just a smidge, but my father shouts his own question that re-energizes the crowd.

“Is that woman in there with you, son? She was spotted arriving in Heaven last night.”

“I heard she’s the Mafia Maven!” shouts someone else.

I hold my hands up until they get quiet again. “Yes, she’s here to clear some things up, but she was just leaving.”

Mary London pushes to the front of the crowd, careful to keep an arm out to protect Ophelia strapped to her chest. “She can’t have Valentina!”

“She’ll have to gun us all down to take Valentina,” says Rhett, pushing his way to the front to rest his hand on his wife’s shoulder. You can’t miss the pistol holstered to his belt.

“Valentina’s one of us, son. Bettina’s gotta leave her alone.” That was from my dad, sounding more like the thunderous professor that I remember from my youth.

Valentina steps outside, knife sheathed below her skirt again. Her hand slips into mine and our fingers entwine. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Damn right you’re not,” I say quietly, looking at her with all the admiration of a besotted man.

Bettina steps out onto the porch, her bodyguard right behind her. The crowd shifts from cheers to boos. She rolls her eyes, but lifts her nose in the air to march down the stairs. She turns and points at both of us, having to raise her voice to be heard.

“We’ll speak later about all this. Once I’m back in New York. Like you wanted.”

It’s not an admission that she’ll adhere to our wishes. It’s not even close to an apology for all the ways in which she’s let us down. But it’s a small concession that hints at us being able to have a relationship down the line. Quite frankly, it’s more than I thought she’d give.

The crowd, as if the whole thing had been choreographed ahead of time, starts throwing flowers at my mother. She bats them away easily and spits out a few baffled curse words, but safely makes it to the black sedan she came in. The bodyguards back the car down the driveway and pull away. The crowd cheers at her departure.

“What the heaven was all that?” I ask on a laugh. Dozens of flowers now litter my driveway.