Massimo tried to make the best of his time in the attic, as it was an interesting place to be; filled with the history of the Vetrano family.  Shuttered windows gave him a sheltered view, and he tried to memorize every detail of his beloved homeland.  He could see the orange groves, the vineyard, much of the hillside, and all the way out to sea.  The courtyard where the family constantly gathered for meals was where he longed to be most of all.  He watched his brothers, who looked so much alike from a distance it was often hard to tell one from another.  Even with six years separating Antonio and Gino, their dark hair and similar builds from far away looked the same.  However, they all stood out from the many transplanted, blonde haired, blue eyed Northern relatives.  Grandpa Don Vetrano, Fortunata, Guiseppe, and the brothers were of the Southern Italian heritage with jet black hair, dark eyes and skin.  Age had made Don Vetrano the exception and lightened his eyes to green.  His nearly bald head had only gray wisps of hair, but wizened photos proved how dark he once had been.

Each night as the vineyard grew dark, Massimo watched the sun hiss into the Mediterranean Sea.  He would miss his ocean when he left for America.  He wanted to go to the seaside before leaving Sicily but knew it was impossible.  Massimo saw his brothers and cousins going to and from Mass as they prayed for the souls of their brother and Uncle Salvatore.  So, for lack of anything better to do, he began to play spy and take notes in his journal of what people did.  With everyone still in mourning, there was nothing exciting happening but not having contact with anyone other than his brothers, parents and Grandpa was getting boring.  He missed his friends and cousins.  He felt terrible knowing that everyone thought he was dead and that it was causing them pain.  His Auntie Margherita was the worst to see in distress.  His mother's youngest sister was Massimo's Godmother and she had always watched over him like a big sister.  When Massimo saw her from afar, he ached to comfort her.   The effect of his death had caused her so much pain, she'd lost weight, grown pale, and Massimo could tell she had stopped brushing her beautiful blonde hair.  He begged his mother to tell Margherita the truth but the plan was never altered.  So, Massimo waited, quietly in the dark, and watched his family hurt.

CHAPTER TWO

    All was dark except for the glow from a pair of yellow eyes with vertical slits that moved back and forth with each strike at Massimo's body.  Right before it would strike, he could see the head, mouth, and the long, curved fangs with a flicking red tongue.  Each time its triangular head pulled back, the eye's glow illuminated the dead and bloody body of his Uncle Salvatore. The snake struck again, recoiled.  Now it was Massimo’s own dead body illuminated by the eyes' glow.  His mother screamed. 

Massimo jerked awake and knocked over a cup of soda on the small tray table extended over his lap.  His new journal fell victim to brown bubbling liquid.  He stood and picked up the book to rescue the other pages and his pants from more cola catastrophe.  A pretty, blonde American flight attendant, who served only First Class passengers, suddenly arrived with dry towels for damage control. 

She smiled, dabbed the tray, dried off his journal and the seat, then whispered, "No harm, no foul." 

While his English was becoming somewhat passable, he was confused by her comment.  He understood the word "foul" was a reference to either sports or to poultry.  Since the word before it sounded like "ham," he assumed she was talking about food, "no ham, no fowl."   He concluded she was telling him they had no pork and no chicken for their dinner on the flight from Italy to America. 

He smiled back, and whispered, "Grazie."

He looked at Gino sleeping across the aisle.  Their mother slept in the seat beside his.  They needed their rest, he would tell them about the lack of dinner choices when they woke up.  Massimo thought about how hard this was on his brother.  Gino had to say goodbye to his fiancée, Maria, and Massimo could see the pain in his brother's face.  They should have been married by now.  The wedding had been set for shortly after Massimo's birthday but his death had put their plans on hold.  Massimo wondered how angry Maria would be when she learned the truth and knew that Gino had kept it a secret. 

Massimo looked at his precious Mama.  Beautiful olive skin gone pale with heartache, more gray strands had invaded her raven hair within a few weeks than Massimo had seen in his lifetime. Even closed, Fortunata's eyes looked swollen and red from the grief of leaving her family.  The black dress she wore, specifically designed for her, gathered loose around her hips and waist.  An ever-present rosary was woven in her sleeping fingers.  Both hands propped her chin up against the window, her head tilted backward.  Her neck would be stiff when she woke up; it was a terrible position to sleep in for so long.  Massimo made a mental note to give her a good neck rub when they arrived at the Orlando hotel that night, or would it be morning?  He'd forgotten the time difference and what time of day they would be landing.  It didn't matter.  He was dead, his uncle was dead, his Grandfather and Papa had sent him with his mother and brother into hiding.  The only time that mattered was when they would all be rejoined as a family again.

Massimo decided to stretch his legs and looked out the window near the galley for a little while. The entire trip to this point had been exhausting and depressing beginning with the moment they left the Vetrano Villa.  After giving the family's driver the day off, Marco had to drive the limo all the way to Syracuse in order to make sure no one would see Massimo leaving their home.  From there, they were escorted by associates that Grandpa Vetrano trusted without reproach in new vehicles all the way to Rome, where they boarded their flights.  The trio had been on the road for almost an entire day and the flight would take another thirteen hours.  Leaving home under such circumstances after so much time alone in the attic had Massimo feeling as if he were in a state of shock and out of touch, much like the way he felt after he witnessed Uncle Salvatore’s murder.

He tried to shake off the icy feeling slithering through his blood.  He remembered there was a lounge for First Class passengers up a spiral stair case toward the front of the plane.  Climbing the steps felt good to his stiff legs but once he'd reached the second level, he only saw older men drinking and playing cards.  He felt awkward and returned to the seat beside his mother. He wondered when dinner would be served and was glad they didn't have pork or fowl, either fish or beef must be the choices, and he was going for the beef.

He smelled food and realized he must have dozed off again when he awoke to his mother pulling out the tray table from the seat's arm rest.  The flight attendant placed each of their meals in front of them.  Massimo told this mother he'd wanted beef.  She said it hadn't been an option, so she got him the next best thing. The plate in front of him had two small pork chops smothered in brown gravy and mashed potatoes drown in brown gravy.  In a dish beside the plate, wilted asparagus floated in a runny hollandaise sauce.  He looked over at his mother's tray.  She had what looked to be an attempt at chicken parmesan.  It was buttery noodles with a chicken breast, flakes of mozzarella cheese and watery red sauce, ketchup perhaps? 

Gino had the same meal as Massimo.  His expression was comical as he looked at the pork chops in front of him, then whispered across the aisle in Italian, "Mama, please say you packed a lunch!"   

Massimo nodded toward the flight attendant and in Italian told them, "She said there was no pork and no chicken!  I was hoping for beef!"

 He went on to tell them about the exchange that had taken place with the blonde flight attendant while they were asleep.  "She said," he whispered the phrase in English, "no harm, no foul."

 Fortunata found this hilarious.  But she'd done nothing but cry for so long, her nose was swollen and clogged.  When she laughed, she snorted so loudly the sound startled the three of them, which made them all laugh.  After she quickly explained in Italian what the flight attendant really meant, Gino almost spit out his food laughing, which set them all cracking up again.  The flight attendant gave them a disapproving look but too many weeks had passed since the last time they'd all felt the joy of smiles and laughter; they weren't about to let the moment go so easily.  When they saw other passengers look in their direction, they all shushed each other.  Fortunata snorted again, so they laughed even more.  They laughed until they cried and their stomachs hurt.  Tears and pain through laughter felt good and it made a bad meal go down a little easier.