Field of Blackbirds - Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (me reader txt) 📗

see a collage of his favorite pastas; Linguini Puttanesca, Penne Filetto di Pomodoro and Gnocchi di Ricotta. Marianna popped in a CD of Luciano Pavarotti and turned it down softly. She turned off some of the lights and lit candles on the table. Marcielli didn’t know what he had done to deserve this. He was moved by the delicacy she gave the moment.
“This is amazing.” he said.
“You’re very kind my dear, but your compliment is a little premature, you haven’t eaten anything yet.” she admonished.
After a Cesar salad, and a side of Focaccia bread, Marianna dished out the first helping of Linguini Puttanesca. Marcielli ended up having a total of three helpings.
While eating dessert, which Marcielli had no room for, but delightfully consumed anyway, Marianna alluded to a subject that Marcielli had tried to ignore, the Mafia. The bus incident occurred over six weeks ago and Marcielli hadn't had any run-ins since. The truth was, Marianna was scared, scared that Marcielli wasn’t taking everything seriously. The Italian Mafia wasn’t known for their empty promises. Marcielli’s argument was that there was no promise, and he refused to run his life into hiding. Marianna thought about what she wanted to say to Marcielli, she even rehearsed it over in her head a few times. She wasn’t sure how Marcielli would feel about it.
Marianna stood and gracefully cleared some things from the table. Marcielli knew the situation caused her anguish.
“Marianna, I know what’s been bothering you. Do you want to talk to me about it.” Marcielli got up and walked into the next room, beckoning Marianna to follow.
They sat down on the sofa. Marianna hadn’t yet sat down when Marcielli noticed her sniffling. Marcielli took her hand.
“Now can I tell you that dinner was amazing?” asked Marcielli.
Marianna subdued a laugh as she used her napkin to wipe away marinara sauce, claiming territory at the corner of Marcielli’s mouth.
“Oh Marcielli, you are so flattering. It’s those little things that make me so comfortable around you. You have a heart of gold.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
Marcielli was feeling humble when he redirected attention to her emotions, “What’s wrong, Marianna?”
Marianna squeezed Marcielli’s thumb as it was in her palm. She used her other hand to pull her hair behind her shoulders.
“Marcielli, I’m really scared.” she confided to him.
This wasn’t new to Marcielli, but he awaited her reasoning.
“Last Friday, I bumped into the mailman while he was delivering to our neighborhood. I was on my way to the library and I asked him if he had anything for me. He pulled out a couple letters. One of them didn’t have a return address but it was labeled, Mrs. Marcielli Corleon. I was curious what it was, so I opened it.” Marianna then began sobbing, this time uncontrollably. “There was a picture of you and me together at the Milan Gardens. We were kissing. I don’t know who took it, but there was a message on the back that read, ‘Nationals - Prague, see ya there. . . . . .’”
Marcielli’s first national game was next week and they would be playing the Czech National team in Prague.
“Marcielli, I’ve had time to think about it. They want to hurt you on National TV. Your father will most certainly be watching your first game. That’s how they will get to him! Oh, Marcielli!”
She planted her head into Marcielli’s chest and dispatched all of her emotions. Marcielli didn’t know what to think. He knew that he should start taking things more seriously. He knew Marianna was becoming impatient with his carefree way of dealing with things.
Marcielli actually was worried this time, worried the Mafia knew about Marianna and where she lived. He was angry that they would bring her into this. He didn’t want this for Marianna. He even thought a time might come where he would have to say good-by to her to protect her from this dreadful situation. But he quickly banished that thought. He knew he could never give her up for any reason. He would find a way.
“Marianna, I know you’re scared. I think we can work through this.” Marcielli tried to reassure her.
“I’ve stayed up all night wondering what we would do, and I want you to listen to me.” Marianna was looking him firmly in the eyes now. “Marcielli, we’ve talked about getting married. We’ve even made plans and talked about where we would live. I know you want to stay in Milan. I love you and I know you love me. Marcielli, let’s get married now.”
“Marianna,” interrupted Marcielli. “I do love you and I could only dream of making you my wife. But that won’t make our problem go away.”
“I told you, I’ve been thinking about this.” she interrupted. “We will have to sacrifice a lot. You need to postpone going to Nationals and I know that it means so much to you. Marcielli, you could join the Army and serve for eighteen months. We could live on the base together. I could put off school during that time. I might even find school on the base. We would be safe there Marcielli. The Mafia wouldn’t be able to get to us. And after a year or so, they would probably forget about us or move on to something else. I’m just worried that it will be too easy for them to keep track of you while you’re playing in the Nationals.”
Marianna knew this was rash. She knew she was pulling the rug from under his feet, sending all he worked so hard for into a coma. But it was the only way she could see them surviving.
Marcielli sat still for a moment and tried to take it all in. Now that Marianna was part of the equation, he did see some logic in the idea.
“Do you think I’ll still have what it takes in two years?” asked Marcielli.
“You’ll be in the best condition of your life, Marcielli, and besides, you’ll probably get more soccer practice in the military than you will in the Nationals.”
Marianna knew what a big risk this would be and that they would have to begin their marriage on a less than healthy budget, compared to that of a professional soccer player. Marianna also knew, however, that this was the only way for them to stay together and she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Marcielli.
Marcielli sat and thought to himself for a moment. Pavarotti was still playing in the background. He was singing ‘Fedora Amor Ti Vieta’. Marcielli leaned forward and rested his head on hers. They glanced down at their hands, which were intertwined. This caused Marianna more sniffling.
“Marianna, Belleze De Milano. I dare not harbor any other passion over ours and risk losing my true love. I wouldn’t be able to go on. You’re the reason I came back to Milan. And now I know why it is that I love you so much. We’ll do whatever it takes.”
With that, Marcielli stood up and asked Marianna to come out to the balcony, which overhung the Po River. Marianna looked confused when she saw that the entire balcony was filled with roses and flowers. See, Marcielli had been orchestrating his own surprise for Marianna. It took a little cooperation from his soccer buddy, Florentine, who filled the balcony as they ate. Florentine had another assignment. Hanging on the railing by a red ribbon was a little black velvet box. Marianna was in shock, covering her mouth with her hand. Before Marcielli finished untying the box, Marianna looked down and saw a Gondolier in his gondola. He began serenading them with the famous Italian love songs of Eros Ramazzotti. He was also a prepaid edition to Marcielli’s brilliance. Marcielli lowered himself to one knee. Unexpectedly and somewhat humorously, Marianna knelt down with him and looked him directly in the eyes. Marcielli opened the box and there it rested, infinite and resilient. Anxiously and even more comically, Marianna took the ring out of the box and placed it on her own finger. Her gallant smile inspired Marcielli.
“Marianna, Belleze De Milano, will you let me love you forever? Will you let me fight everyday of my life for you? Will you let me be the eternal keeper of your beauty? I’m asking you Marianna, will you love me forever?”
Marianna fell into Marcielli’s arms, causing them both to roll back into a pile of flowers. She kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes Marcielli, you can be the keeper of my beauty!” Marianna laughed and then she pouted, “You mean if I would have just waited twenty minutes, I wouldn’t have had to ask you to marry me?”
“Timing never really was my thing.” Marcielli admitted.
Then, rekindling the tenderness, Marianna ran her fingers through Marcielli’s wavy brown hair and pulled him a little closer, “And yes, Marcielli, I will love you forever.”
After the Gondolier had finished the three songs he was contracted for, he rowed slowly down the river. The moon cast just enough light on the water to see the trail of flowers that spilled over from the balcony and floated after the gondola.


Chapter 8 – The Train Station


Ivangrad, Montenegro 1992

“One ticket to Pristina please,” Radenko asked the man in the kiosk.
The man was wearing a beanie cap and ear-muffs. His hands were shaking. Radenko even saw his own breath settling on the glass. March was the coldest month in Montenegro.
Radenko waited on a bench for his train. He had just completed two years of law school. The military allowed him a free tuition. When eighteen months was up, he could start a private practice. General Marshal Gavrillo, Radenko’s father, was able to get him enrolled six months before he was of age. To say the least, nobody asked any questions. He was the General’s son. Radenko finished second in his class and was able to choose his location of practice. He chose Pristina, the capitol of Kosovo. It was right in the middle of the action and far enough out of his father’s reach. Radenko loved his father, but he also wanted assurance that he could make it on his own. The General had already assisted him more than he thought was fair.
The train arrived five minutes earlier than what was posted on the schedule. Just as Radenko stood up to board, he felt