“Mamma,” I said quietly, “the thunder. It’s too loud, it’s hurting my ears. I’m… I’m scared.”
“Shh…” she whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “It is only the Roman Gods showing the world they’re still here.”
I pulled back and frowned. “Roman Gods? But you only believe in one God, Mamma.”
Mamma pulled me down to sit beside her on her bed and she laughed. “I do, mia luna. But your nonna used to say that thunder was nothing to be scared of. That it was simply the old Roman Gods making sure nobody forgot about them up in the heavens.” She laughed and pulled me closer. “I used to imagine them having a party. Having too much vino and stamping their feet.”
I laughed, imagining all the giant Gods sitting around a table, laughing and drinking—getting drunk. Mamma squeezed me hard, and this time, when the thunder clapped above us, I felt no fear. Because it was only the Roman Gods letting the world know they were still here.
Mamma shifted on the bed and lay down, tucking me into her side. Her hand began running through my messy hair and her rosary dangled from her other hand. I stared at the brown beaded rosary with the large silver cross, as it hovered before my face. “What were you praying about, Mamma? When I came in, what were you praying for?”
Mamma froze beside me, and I heard her breathing hitch. Mamma’s arms tightened around me, and when I looked up, I saw tears falling down her cheeks. It made my stomach churn. I… I didn’t like it.
“Mamma?” I whispered, my voice cracking at the sight of the tears. “What’s wrong?”
Mamma sniffed, and glancing away, finally looked back to me. “Nothing, mia luna.”
I lifted further, and pressed my hand on Mamma’s face. Her cheeks were all wet. “But you’re crying. You don’t cry for nothing.”
Mamma’s face fell, and she crushed me to her chest. “I was praying, mia luna,” she said after minutes of saying nothing. “I was praying to the Lord, to Mother Mary, to help us and I got teary eyed. Because I found something out today that has upset me, and even made me a little bit scared.”
“What made you upset and scared?” I asked, feeling my stomach twist and turn.
Mamma smiled against my head and stroked through my hair. “Nothing for you to worry about, mia luna. This is my burden, not yours. You’re my baby, my big seven year old brave boy.”
My stomach rolled again and my heart raced real fast. She didn’t sound okay. Then I noticed the rosary again, swinging in her hand.
Moving my hand, I ran my fingers over the brown beads. “Why do you hold these, Mamma? You always have them with you. Right now, you’re clutching them real tight.”
Mamma sighed and brought the rosary to her chest. “I use them to pray to Mother Mary. She gives me strength, mia luna. I pray to her for strength.” Mamma’s voice cracked again and I tried to think hard. I tried to think why she needed strength.
Blinking, a thought came to me and I asked, “Is it Austin and Axel? Do you pray for them? Because of the Heighters?”
Mamma sighed and ran her finger down my cheek. “Always, mia luna. I always pray for them. For what they do each night for that gang.”
I shook my head, knowing there was something else. “But what—”
“Shh,” Mamma whispered. She then held up the rosary and placed it in my hand. She curled her hand around mine and pressed the beads into my palm. “Levi, you take these now. I want you to have these. I want you to keep them for strength. For the strength you will need someday soon.”
I frowned and shook my head. “No, Mamma. They’re yours. I’m strong with you around. I don’t need these.”
Mamma’s head dropped, and she took a deep breath.
“Mamma?” I questioned. She was acting real strange.
Mamma wiped her cheeks and a sad smile spread on her lips. “Va bene, mia luna. I’ll keep them for now. Grazie. Always thinking of your mamma. But one day, when… when I’m not here, you keep these with you. I want you to remember that these are yours. You are not your brothers, Levi. You are kind and shy, not hard and boisterous, ready to fight the world. You are my quiet baby boy. My sweet, sweet soul.”
“I’m not weak,” I pushed, hating that I wasn’t like my brothers. Axel and Austin were strong and tough. I wanted to be just like them.
Mamma pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Never, Levi. You are a Carillo boy after all. But you are different from Austin and Axel. They are alike in so many ways—hot headed and tough, hard on the outside until they let you in. You are the timid one, the gentle brother—inside and out. You are the one to carry his heart on his sleeve. You are the one who watches silently from afar and loves with all his soul.” Mamma huffed, and said, “Whoever you end up with, my son, whoever claims your heart, will be a very special girl indeed.” Her finger stroked my cheek. “So much love, mia luna. You will love with your whole being, and it will be forever. You could not love in any other way.”