There's Always Tomorrow (Immortal Series) (12 page)

The Taste of
Italy was a nice little Italian café.
 
It was unpretentious and filled with heavenly aromas.
 
The staff was all family and they were
very proud of the food they served.
 
When Giada and Anthony walked through the doors, they were immediately
engulfed by her loving and concerned family..

”Who is this
nice looking young man you bring to us, Giada?” her mama asked excitedly.
 
“He looks hungry.
 
Sit!
 
Sit, young man!” she ordered Anthony.

“Anthony, I
want you to meet my mama.
 
My
papa’s in the kitchen.
 
These two
good-looking guys are my brothers, Paulie and Carlo, and this is my little
sister, Pia.
 
We all live here,
above the café.
 
My brothers are
going to the community college,” she said with pride.
 
“No one from our family has ever gone to college, but Papa
says this is America.
 
Here, we can
do anything.”
 
Everyone laughed.

In no time
at all, huge aromatic platters began arriving to their table.
 
With his first bite, Anthony decided
that food had never tasted more delicious.
 
He forgot his troubles and concentrated on the happy chatter
that surrounded him.
 
It was
heartwarming to see Giada interact with her family.
 
Here, she was the woman she was meant to be... not a dancer
in a smoky nightclub, being pawed by drunken men and threatened by
mobsters.
 
This was her life.

So caught up
in the merriment of the moment, Anthony failed to notice the last few customers
leaving the restaurant.
 
He didn’t
observe the brothers placing chairs on the tops of tables.
 
It seemed he only had eyes for Giada.

“Thank you
for bringing me here, Giada.
 
Your
family is nice,” he said, smiling.

Her face lit
up at his sincere words.
 
“They
are, aren’t they?
 
I want to have a
family of my own, just like the one Mama and Papa gave us.
 
I love them all, so very much.
 
Do you have a big family, Anthony?”

He shook his
head.
 
“All of my family is long
dead and buried.”
 
He looked at his
empty hands folded on the table.
 
“Most of my friends are, too.”

“That’s
terrible.
 
You’re all alone, then?”

“Yeah.
 
But now I have you.”
 
He winked.

“Is that why
you drink?
 
Because you’re
lonely?”
 
Giada had a way of
getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Anthony was
quiet for a few moments.
 
How much
could he tell her?
 
“I miss my best
friend.
 
He died in the war.”

“I see,” she
said.
 
“But you’re still alive, Anthony.
 
Your friend wouldn’t want you to drink
yourself to death.
 
He’d want for
you, what you’d want for him.
 
Isn’t that so?”

He
nodded.
 
“His death was
indescribably horrendous.
 
I’ll
never forget it, and it prevents me from sleeping at night.
 
The alcohol helps.”

Giada shook
her head, causing her glossy black curls to dance around her lovely face.
 
She took hold of Anthony’s large
hands.
 
“The alcohol has not let
you forget your friend.
 
It has not
lessened the nightmares, or you wouldn’t still be trying to stop them with more
liquor.
 
The only thing you’re
succeeding at is killing yourself.
 
If the whiskey doesn’t get you, the gangsters will.
 
Johnny Torrio’s bunch is bad news,
Anthony.
 
I think we made him very
mad, tonight.”

“I believe
you’ve got that right.
 
Do you have
any place to go, where he won’t find you?
 
You should disappear for a few months.”

“No.
 
And I can’t just leave my family.
 
They need my money to keep the boys in
school.
 
I can’t just leave.”

Anthony
stood up and stretched his long frame.
 
He was at least six feet, four inches tall, Giada estimated.
 
She was five feet, one inch.
 
They were a perfect match.

It was
difficult for Anthony to take his eyes off Giada’s face.
 
She was perfection and much too good
for him.
 
He hated to say goodbye,
but it couldn’t be avoided.
 
“It’s
late.
 
I should go now.
 
Thank your family for me, Giada.
 
I can’t remember the last time I
enjoyed myself so much.
 
They made
me feel quite welcome.
 
You’re very
lucky.
 
Tomorrow morning, I’ll help
you find another job.
 
I’ll call on
you around …”

Anthony
didn’t get the opportunity to finish his sentence before the sound of smashing
glass shattered the peace of the evening.
 
Fire raised its ugly head across the entrance to the little restaurant.
 
Someone had thrown a firebomb through
the plate glass window.

Anthony
grabbed some nearby tablecloths, while Giada ran to the kitchen for buckets of
water.
 
Due to their fast thinking,
the flames hadn’t had a chance of catching, and soon they were extinguished,
with only a minimum amount of damage.
 
By the time the family had reassembled in the dining room, only smoke
and wet floors greeted them.

Giada’s
mother crossed herself and started to cry.
 
Her father took his wife in his arms and tried to console
her.
 
“It is all right, Mama.
 
We are not hurt, and the children and I
can have the restaurant looking as good as ever, by dinnertime.
 
Now...now.
 
No more tears, Mama.”

Giada’s
lovely face was covered in soot and she noticed Anthony’s hands were red and
blistered.
 
She wanted to cry, but
did not for the sake of her family.

“This is
because of me, isn’t it, Anthony?” she muttered softly.

He just
stood there looking at the blackened mess left for the Bruncato’s to clean
up.
 
“We can’t be sure, but it’s a
good hunch.
 
I think you should
pack a bag, and the two of us should get out of town.
 
We need to let this blow over before someone gets seriously
hurt.
 
Be ready by noon.”

Anthony
didn’t wait for her answer, but went into survival mode.
 
Giada and her entire family were in danger,
because of him.
 
Now, he needed to
make sure they would be safe.
 
He
and Giada would disappear for a while.

* * *

“Oh, it’s
beautiful, Anthony,” Giada exclaimed, while pressing her nose against the car
window, watching the dense forests speed by.
 
“To think it’s so close to Chicago.
 
Have you been here before?”

Anthony
loved driving his new Mercer Raceabout, but he so seldom got the chance.
 
He usually needed a driver to pour him
into the backseat of his town car, after an evening of over-imbibing his favorite
beverage—which was anything alcoholic—and that included pure old
rubbing alcohol.
 
It’s a wonder it
hadn’t killed him, he chuckled to himself.

“I’ve been
to the North Woods a couple of times.
 
The fishing is great.
 
There’s Walleye, Muskie, and trout.
 
Maybe I’ll rent a boat and take you out on the lake.
 
You can swim, can’t you?”
 
He kept his eyes on the road.

Giada
wrinkled her nose and crossed her fingers in her lap.
 
“Of course,” she nodded.
 
“Can’t everybody?”

“Good.
 
I like a woman who can take care of
herself in a crisis.
 
If the canoe
would tip, I wouldn’t have to worry about you.
 
I might as well warn you, the mosquitoes can be as big as
birds.
 
You’re not afraid of a few
bugs, are you?”
 
He turned his head
and looked into her blank face.

She shook
her head.
 
“Nope.”
 
Where was he taking her, she
wondered?
 
“Are there spiders?” she
asked tentatively.

“As big as
your fist,” he laughed.
 
“But
they’re nothing compared to the bears.”
 
He was having fun for the first time in days.
 
Giada was a good kid, he thought.

“Anthony...
I don’t think I like this place, we’re going.”
 
Her bottom lip was drawn down in the cutest pout.

He laughed
out loud.
 
“Honey, I’m just kidding
you.
 
If you can’t swim, I’ll swim
for you.
 
Besides, you’re with me,
and I never capsize my boat.
 
There’s no more bugs here, than back in Chicago—and nothing as
disgusting as the cockroaches.
 
The
bears will leave us alone, if we leave them alone—especially their
cubs.
 
They’re real cute, but Mama
is never very far away.
 
Remember that.
 
It’s beautiful there, and more
importantly, it’s safe from Torrio and his boys.”

Giada sat
quietly for a few minutes.
 
“Tony,
I saw a really big bug once, in Chicago.
 
It was called a ‘Bugs Moran’,” she giggled, thinking she was very
clever.

“How about a
Bugsy Siegel?” Anthony countered.
 
“I hear they’re really ugly.”

“Oh, he’s a
very nasty bug, but not quite as mean and ugly as Bugger Bertolli.
 
Now he needs to be exterminated.”
 
She was laughing now, holding her
sides.

“Bugger
Bertolli?
 
Never heard of him.
 
Is he part of the Chicago crime
syndicate?”

“A lot you
know, Mr. Barton.
 
He’s our
butcher, and he robs us every time we place an order, not to mention his beef
neck bones are fatty.”

“You think
you’re pretty funny, don’t you, little lady?” Anthony grinned.

She nodded
and grinned from ear to perfect ear.

“Why is it
suddenly, ‘Mr. Barton’?
 
What
happened to, ‘Tony’?
 
I kind of
liked it.
 
I’ve been called
Anthony—or worse—all my life.”

“I hoped you
wouldn’t be offended by, ‘Tony’.
 
It’s just more you, I think.
 
Anthony is such a stuffy name.”

Anthony
thought it over for a minute and nodded his head in agreement.
 
“From this moment on...I’ll go by the
name, Tony.
 
Thank you, Giada.
 
I like it, and it offers me a fresh
start.
 
God knows I need that.”

The shiny
Mercer turned off the main road and onto a dirt road leading through dense
woods.
 
The rocks crunched beneath
the wide tires, and in places, tree limbs skimmed the roof.
 
The pungent fragrance of virgin pine,
birch, and oak filled the air.
 
The
scent of lake water drifted through the closed windows.

“Just up
ahead is Herbert and Bert’s.” Tony said.

“Are they
friends of yours?” Giada asked excitedly.

“No, sweet
thing.
 
They’re father and son, and
they own the best resort in the North Woods.
 
Used to be called, Warner’s, but since old Herbert’s son
came of age, and took an interest in the family business, the name was
changed.” Tony pointed through the woods to a large timbered structure.
 
“Old man Warner lives over there, in
that log cabin.
 
It’s real
nice.
 
I had dinner there, once…a
long time ago.
 
Our cabin is on
down the road.
 
It’s close to the
café.
 
Every Sunday, they offer a
chicken dinner.
 
It’s very
satisfying after a day of trying to catch a fish,” he chortled.

Steering the
car around an enormous pine tree, Tony pulled up in front of a sweet cabin with
a rustic porch running the entire width of it.
 
Handmade twig chairs sat waiting for them, beckoning them to
come and sit a spell, and watch the world go by.

Tony killed
the motor.
 
“Get out, honey.
 
We’re home.”
 
He made a cheesy smile.
 
“I’ll get your bag.”

Giada ran up
to the porch and plopped down in one of the comfortable looking chairs.
 
“I’ve never been out of Chicago
before.
 
Did you know that, Tony?
 
Have you been out of Chicago much?”