Serial: Down the River – Chapter Thirty-Five

I’m finally revisiting the characters from The River City Chronicles nine years after their original timeline. I’ll be running the series weekly here on my blog, and then will release it in book form at the end of the run. Hope you enjoy catching up with all your faves and all their new secrets!

Today, Carmelina arrives in Rome with Daniele and Gio, and literally spills her secret…

< Read Chapter 34 | Read Chapter 36 >

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Chapter Thirty-Five
A Roma

Carmelina stared out of the train window at the passing buildings, wondering what had changed since she had visited a couple decades before. Rome—the Eternal City—always looked a bit shabby on the approach from the airport in Fiumicino. Lots of old—but not classically old—buildings lined the tracks, many with brightly colored flags consisting of the day’s laundry drying on lines hung out on balconies and across alleyways.

Graffiti tagged the sides of many of the buildings, dressing them up in bold greens and yellows and pinks—at least it was in Italian, though she didn’t recognize any of the words.

It could have been almost any city in the US—the L train line in Chicago came to mind, where it wound through some of the city’s poorer neighborhoods.

“What are you thinking?” Daniele’s hand brushed hers, his dark eyes meeting hers. Even after almost a decade, he could still take her breath away with his handsome Italian looks.

She blinked and looked around. The train was only half full this early in the morning. God, I hate red eye flights.

Gio was in one of the opposite seats, with their luggage piled on and around the other, forming a veritable wall, and most of it was hers. Diego’s son had white earbuds in and was glued to his iPad, oblivious to the outside world.

Why didn’t we fly in a day early? She stifled a yawn. Attending the ceremony that very afternoon while jetlagged from a fourteen-hour flight—two flights, if she was being exact, routed through Frankfurt—was going to be brutal. “Just tired. I was wondering why they don’t clean things up along the rail line.”

Her handsome boyfriend shrugged. “Why would they? It’s cheap next to the train. If they cleaned it up, it would cost more.”

She laughed. Was it only Americans who were so concerned about gentrifying everything? “Where is the wedding being held again?”

“Ostia. By the sea.” He moved his hands in little wavelike motions. Italians loved to talk with their hands. A slight quirk of his lips told her he knew what she was thinking. “It’s a beautiful little town.”

She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard seat, and her purse flew onto the ground and dumped out half of its contents. “Cazzo!” she exclaimed, earning her a grin from Daniele.

“Your Italian is getting better.” He knelt to help her retrieve the scattered items. “At least the cursing.”

She swept her make-up and lipstick and keys—why had she bothered to bring those to Italy?—back into her macrame purse.

Daniele handed her the wallet… and lifted up a white envelope in his hand. He stared at the name and address.

Oh no. She’d meant to tell him about it. She really had. But the last few days had been so rushed, what with Sam’s arrival, scattering Brad’s ashes, and packing half her wardrobe for the trip to Daniele’s cousin’s wedding. She snatched the envelope out of his hand and stuffed it back into her purse, ignoring his raised eyebrow.

“Do you have a secret Italian lover I don’t know about, cara mia?”

“Yes. His name’s Daniele, and right now he’s being a pain in the culo.” She regretted it as soon as she said it. It was a fair question, even if it was delivered in the form of a joke.

He crossed his arms, giving her the look, while he waited for her to say more.

She reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry. It’s just… there’s some guy in Italy who says he’s my uncle, and wants to meet me.”

That raised eyebrow again. “And?”

She pulled the envelope back out and handed it to him. “You might as well read it.”

With a bemused expression, he took the now-crumpled envelope and flattened it on his thigh. Removing the letter, he unfolded it carefully and scanned the text. “Oooh, sounds mysterious. Is this why you agreed to come with me to Italy?” He slipped it back into its envelope and handed it to her, his eyes narrowed

“Not at all.” She stuck it back inside her purse. “I came because you asked, and because I love Rome.” It was true. She’d been looking forward to the trip—and the wedding—for weeks, “But…”

“But?”

“Strangolagalli is nearby, right? And I’ve wanted to see it ever since I read those Teresa Papavero mysteries. If we have time…?”

He pretended to think about it. “We’re going to be awfully busy, hauling around all those suitcases you brought…” He eyed the pile that teetered every time the train wend around a bend, threatening to bury poor Gio, who seemed entirely unaware of his peril.

She smacked Daniele in the arm. “Spaccapalle.”

He relented, flashing that magnetic smile of his. “Of course we can go. I’d love to meet this… uncle of yours. Did you write him back?”

She nodded. “Email. But no response yet—” Her phone dinged. Thank God for international phone plans.

She pulled it out and stared at the screen. “Well, speak of the devil.”

She scanned the email that had just come in. “He says he was my father’s half-brother. We share the same grandfather, apparently.” I wonder why Nonna never spoke about him? “What should I tell him?”

Daniele was staring at his own phone. “Ask if we can come see him on Monday. We have a break in the schedule—”

“We have one, or you just made one?”

He grinned slyly. “Uno vale l’altro. Same difference.” He hummed something she recognized as Funiculi Funicula—now he was just mocking her with his stereotypical Italian references—and nodded. “Looks like it’s a little over two hours by car.  I’ll see if Elena will loan me hers. Otherwise we can take the train—that’s about four-and-a-half hours.”

She snorted. “I’m already tired of trains.”

As if on cue, the train went around a tight curve, and the tower of luggage teetered over Gio.

Daniele’s hand reached out to steady her own personal Leaning Tower. “Monday it is, then.” He kissed her cheek. “You don’t need to be afraid to tell me things.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just…” Maybe, on some level, she still didn’t completely trust the man who had killed her daughter, no matter that it had been nothing more than a horrible mistake two and a half decades ago.

He seemed to catch her train of thought. Sadness washed over him like a shroud. “Lo so, cara mia. Lo so.”

She kissed his cheek. “Ti amo.” Then she turned back to look out the window as the tracks wound their way into Central Rome.

“Stazione Roma termini in cinque minuti.” That was easy enough to decipher—Termini Station in five minutes.

And Strangolagalli in three days.

< Read Chapter 34 | Read Chapter 36 >

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Like what you read? if you haven’t tried it yet, check out book one, The River City Chronicles, here.