The Knotty Bride by Julie Sarff Read Free Book Online Page B

on the steps, a tangle of arms and legs, both of us trying to grab for the gun that has fallen out of her hands. A bear-sized man beats both of us. He reaches down and grabs the pistol with one hand before reaching down again and frantically grabbing for Federica with the other. I jump to my feet, trying to understand what’s happening. The man who is pulling Federica to her feet is wearing a police uniform. He must be a guard here at City Hall.
    The guard moves deftly, subduing Federica completely. This allows me to turn my attention to Enrico. He’s wailing something awful and rolling around on the ground. In two steps, I bound up the stairs.
    “Enrico, what is it? Let’s see.” He sits up slowly, holding his hurt hand. Beside us, a frantic Lidia Cerchi sirens so loudly it’s as though she’s announcing the arrival of a typhoon.
    “Let me see; let me see,” I demand. Reluctantly Enrico unclenches his fist.
    “My goodness, it looks like you’ve been shot by a BB gun,” I say, staring down at an impossibly tiny flesh wound.
    I take my ratty scarf off my neck and wrap it around his hand.
    “There, you should be just fine.” I say and turn my attention to the bride. “Guarda, Lidia. Sta bene. Non c’e male.” I tell Lidia to look at Enrico— he is okay. She eyes his tiny, bloodless wound and immediately ceases her yelling. Then she blows her top and issues a thousand curse words in Enrico’s direction. I ignore their lover’s spat and turn back to look at Federica, trapped in the arms of the burly poliziotto. My goodness, it is Federica, but it isn’t. The woman standing in front of me is wild. She is a woman who looks like she hasn’t eaten, or bathed or showered in days. Her hair is so oily it sticks straight out of her head.
    “Enrico, you’re a dead man,” she calls out, twisting, writhing, punching and kicking the poor poliziotto in an attempt to free herself.
    “Federica!” I shout authoritatively, aware that all the people of Arona have exited their cars to get a better view of the scandal unfolding atop the steps of City Hall. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth this. Trust me, Federica; you are better off without this sorry excuse of a man.”
    “Hey now,” Enrico tries to defend himself. Again I ignore him and stare at Federica. She looks as if she is seeing me for the first time. A horrible look of shame crosses her face, and she slumps forward. Behind me, Enrico staggers to his feet. He holds out his scarf-wrapped hand and looks woozy, as if he might pass out.
    “You’re a crazy woman,” he shouts at Federica. He opens his mouth to insult her again but is silenced by a bouquet of roses that comes crashing down on his head.
    “You told me you stopped seeing her ages ago,” an angry Lidia Cerchi screams, bashing Enrico in the face until every petal has shaken loose from her bridal bouquet. She snorts at him like an angry bull, and gives him the ultimate insult: spitting on the ground at his feet. With another rather rude gesture, she is off— holding her head up high as she totters away on six-inch heels.
    How horrible it is to have all of Arona bear witness to our shame, Federica as she is placed in the back of a police car, Lidia as she makes her way down the street, and me as I take my ex by his good hand and lead him in the direction of the nearby hospital. He hesitates, wanting to go after his young bride-to-be but I am firm as I push our way through the crowd that has gathered around us. I walk him the block to the hospital, help him with the admissions paperwork and then skedaddle back to my car where I sit along with the rest of Arona for another half an hour, waiting for the traffic to clear and thanking my lucky stars that I didn’t bring Matteo and Luca along to see their father get shot by a woman they adore.

Chapter 7

    “H e pushed her too far,” I whisper to Alice and Tommaso that evening as we huddle in the Bettonina’s kitchen.
    “But the boys? What are we