by JM Darhower
Tess and Dia showed up a few minutes later, and everyone gathered in the family room once again. Haven excused herself to the bathroom to compose herself and lingered by the doorway when she returned. Dr. DeMarco and his sister were laughing together over some whispered secret, and Tess sat on Dominic’s lap as he squeezed her tightly in a hug. Dia was telling a story, making Carmine chuckle. The love in the room was so pure and powerful that her eyes misted again from the intensity of it.
Carmine spotted her and subtly patted the cushion beside him. “Why were you standing over there by yourself?” he asked when she retook her seat.
“Just a habit, I guess,” she said. “I'm used to always standing on the outside and looking in.”
“Well, we’re gonna break that habit. You belong on the inside with me.”
She gazed at him for a moment, smiling before looking over his shoulder. A pair of dark eyes met her, the penetrating gaze almost paralyzing. Dr. DeMarco was watching them, and he didn’t look happy anymore.
“Time to play in the snow!”
Everyone jumped up at once as Dominic shouted those words, and Haven just sat there when they ran from the room. Celia laughed. “Aren’t you joining them?”
“Am I supposed to?” Haven asked, looking to Dr. DeMarco for direction, but he said nothing, his expression giving her no hint.
“If you want to,” Celia said, “but you'll need to bundle up.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
She headed upstairs, finding Carmine waiting for her. Haven put on some extra clothes before grabbing her new coat. Carmine handed her a pair of gloves, and she put them on as he stuck a blue hat on her head.
She was wearing so many layers that she had a hard time walking down the stairs. The group headed for the back door, and Dominic collapsed to the ground right away, sending white stuff flying everywhere. He started forming snowballs to pelt Carmine with, and Haven laughed as Carmine threw some back.
The fighting got out of control quickly. Haven ducked as Dia ran, snowballs barely missing them both. Tess wasn’t so lucky, though, and one slammed her in the center of the chest.
“You asses!” She reached down to make a snowball. She smacked Dominic in the head with it. He gasped as he sprinted toward her. Flinging her over his shoulder, he ran through the yard as she pounded on his back.
Dia wandered off to snap pictures as Haven crouched down, running her hand through a pile of snow. She could feel the coldness of it through the gloves, the air chilly against her flushed face. She watched it drift through her fingers, captivated by the way it crunched when she made a fist.
She felt the burden on her heart lessening as she listened to the carefree laughter ringing through the backyard. Just for a while, she allowed her guilt to ease.
Carmine strolled over to her. “Wanna go for a walk?”
She nodded and trudged through the snow behind him the best she could. They hit the tree line, and Carmine took her gloved hand as they walked out toward the creek. He paused a foot away from it and glanced down at the rushing water, a look of longing embedded in his features. She stared at him, and he must’ve sensed her gaze, because he smirked after a second. “Like something you see?”
She nudged him. “You know I do.”
They stood under the trees, hand-in-hand, as two squirrels came running by. Haven watched as they chased each other through the snow nearby before scaling the tree beside them and leaping onto a branch. She ducked, realizing what they were doing, but Carmine was too slow. He looked up just in time for one of the squirrels to hit a pile of snow and send it flying into his face.
“Son of a bitch! I’m going to kill that squirrel,” he said, pulling his hand from hers to brush the snow away. She started laughing as she watched him, and he cut his eyes at her. “Something funny?”
She nodded, biting her lip to hold back the laughter. The moment she finally got herself under control, the squirrel came running along the tree again. More of the snow fell onto Carmine’s head.
There was a mischievous glint in Carmine’s eye when Haven laughed again. She turned to run as he started toward her, recognizing the expression from the fiasco with the dishwasher, but she only got a few steps away before her foot caught on something on the ground. She fell into the snow face first, a rush of cold instantly overtaking her body.
“See?” Carmine said. “That’s what happens when you laugh at me.”
She rolled over to look at him and tossed a handful of snow at his chest. “And that’s what happens when you laugh at me.”
He chuckled, pulling her to her feet. “You're covered in snow now.”
She shrugged. “It’s just water.”
“Just water? You can get frostbitten, or get sick, or even get pneumonia. Fuck, there’s hypothermia. All sorts of things could happen. You might lose a toe.”
“Carmine, I was born prematurely in the horse stables, and I survived. I’ve had the daylights beaten out of me, and I survived. I’ve had a gun shoved against my throat, and I survived. It’s frozen water… I’ll survive.”
“So you’re saying you’re a survivor again?”
“Yes,” she said. “And I just got my thesaurus, so I haven’t had a chance to find any other words for it.”
“Carry on,” he said. “Keep living. Remain alive.”
She glanced at him. “Isn’t they definitions?”
“Synonym, definition… same difference. It’s just a technicality.”
Staring at him, Haven fought back her laughter again. “I don’t think that’s the word you want.”
He ignored her. “You know, I was premature too. Just a few weeks early, though. My mom always wanted a bunch of kids, but they stopped after me. I never understood why.”
His voice was wistful. Haven closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe they realized they created perfection when they made you and didn’t need any more.”
“I’m far from perfect, Haven,” he said. “I have more flaws than I do good parts.”
“You have flaws, but that’s part of what makes you so wonderful. You are perfect—perfect for me.” She reached up on her tip-toes and kissed him softly before whispering against his lips. “Besides, flaws, no flaws, perfect, not perfect… they’re probably just technicalities, too.”
The sound of Carmine’s laughter warmed her frozen skin.
Chapter 24
Vincent stood at window in the family room, gazing into the backyard at the kids playing in the snow. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw both of his boys happy at the same time. For years he’d watched his youngest in a perpetual state of turmoil, his soul broken and heart torn. Vincent blamed himself for that, for not doing more to ease his worries all those years ago.
His child, so much like Maura—Vincent had failed him long ago.
He’d never forgive himself for walking out on his family after Maura’s death, but he couldn’t bear to face his son. He still had days where he had to look away from him, because he was a consistent reminder of what happened to his life. The life he’d loved—the one he’d struggled to build. It had been ripped to shreds, leaving only remnants of the things that matter to him.
Celia walked over and stood beside Vincent. “Carmine was playing the piano this morning.”
“Moonlight Sonata?”
“No.” Vincent could hear the smile in Celia’s voice. “Jingle Bells.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting is right,” she said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
He glanced at his sister, knowing what she was referring to by the look on her face. “What did you want me to say? That my son is an idiot?”
Celia jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t call him that. He cares about her.”
“She’s just a novelty,” Vincent said. “The newness will wear off, and he’ll move on.”
“Oh, give me a break. Even you don’t believe that.”
“One can al
ways hope.”
She shook her head. “They make each other happy.”
“They’re both idiots.”
“Vincent!” Celia said, pushing him. He stumbled a few steps and snickered as Celia grabbed his arm again. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” It was the truth; he had no idea how to handle the situation. “I considered sending her to Chicago.”
“We would’ve taken her.” He looked at Celia skeptically, and she smiled. “I would’ve convinced Corrado somehow.”
Vincent shook his head. He doubted even Celia could’ve talked him into getting involved. He’d been refusing to intervene over the years, and Vincent couldn’t blame him for it. It was a disaster.
“It doesn’t matter now. I missed my window of opportunity.”
“Vincent, you’re a fool if you believe you ever had a window of opportunity. Those two are enamored.”
He shook his head but didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. His sister was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.
He’d known for a while what was happening. He’d feared the worst that first morning until he heard what his son said when he let go of Haven’s wrist. It was such a simple word, a word most people used needlessly, but a powerful word to people like them. It was something Carmine hadn’t said since he was an innocent eight-year-old child, ignorant of the world’s troubles, but he’d uttered it that morning so casually, so nonchalantly, that Vincent wondered if he knew what he was saying.
The word was ‘sorry’.
It was a word even Vincent couldn’t bring himself to say. His sister would say he was a good man, a decent man with a heart full of compassion, and Maura would’ve said the same thing. She never saw the evil inside of him. Neither of them did,
When his wife was stolen from him, the blackness took over. He became possessed by it, consumed by anger and guilt. He was out for blood, and no matter how many people he killed in his quest for vengeance, it never went away. That timid brown-haired girl outside, the one his youngest had grown so fond of, almost became a casualty in his need for retaliation.
Vincent pulled away from Celia and sat down in a chair, rubbing his face in frustration. Celia sat across from him and laughed. “It’s cute how slick they think they are. Reminds me of how you and—”
“Stop!” he said. Celia cut off mid-sentence and playfully pretended to zip her lips. “There’s nothing cute about any of this, Celia.”
“Oh, come on. It is cute! And why can’t you just let them be? Carmine seems so happy now.”
“You know why,” he said. “Do you think I want my son to be unhappy? I don’t! But you can’t honestly think it’s smart for them to be together.”
Celia glared at him. “Shouldn’t that be their decision?”
“They don’t know any better.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should explain. He already suspects you’re keeping secrets. You should tell him the truth.”
He laughed bitterly. “The truth, Celia? Exactly which truth are you talking about? Do you want me to tell him all of it, even the part that’s going to hurt him? He’s a lot like me now, and you have to admit there’s a distinct possibility he might snap. Carmine and I barely have a relationship as it is, and this could very well ruin the last bit of bond we have left. Is that what you want?”
“You know that's not what I want.”
“Right, you want me to tell him just enough of the truth to make him believe it’s okay for them to be together, but I can’t mislead him with bits and pieces. It’s all or nothing.”
She frowned. “I wish there was a way.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve been trying to find some middle ground in the whole thing, but I’m just not seeing any way out of this. I know what I’m supposed to do, but the potential wrath that might come down on us is too much to bear. Not to mention it would be throwing the girl to the wolves. And if that happens, I can’t imagine the lengths my son will go to for her.”
“You can’t dwell on the ‘what if’s’, Vincent.”
“I always dwell on them. I barely sleep at night, wondering how one little thing could’ve changed it all, and how I could’ve stopped this before any of it started. It’s all I think about. What if I hadn’t taken Maura with me that weekend? What if we’d have gone a weekend earlier? What if we’d have been an hour later? Why did we have to be at that exact spot at that exact moment?”
“If that day hadn’t happened, that girl outside would be dead right now. You’re saving her, and she’s healing him.”
He shook his head. “If we hadn’t been there, Celia, my son wouldn’t need healed right now.”
Vincent would never forget the day that started it all, and how he felt driving down that long, vacant road in the desert for the first time. He’d been miserable, sweat dripping from his brow. The car was completely silent besides the sound of the rumbling engine. Maura knew he hated the silent treatment. He’d rather be yelled at than for her to sit there as she was, staring out the window with that blank expression on her face.
He had no idea, as he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, that it was just the beginning of a tumultuous day. “If you don't say something soon, Maura, I'm going to spontaneously combust.”
She exhaled sharply but still said nothing.
“What do you want me to do? Huh? It's my responsibility!”
His outburst was met with her scathing voice. “It's our anniversary, Vincent. It’s Valentine’s Day!”
“I know that, but they don't care,” Vincent said. “When my father says go, I have to go.”
She knew when he took the oath that he’d vowed to be there anytime la famiglia called on him, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. They were relatively flexible and didn’t often inconvenience him, but when they barked, he had to respond.
Vincent slowed the car when they neared the cutoff in the desert that led to Frankie Antonelli’s property. They climbed out when they reached the house, but Maura lingered by the car. Vincent stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door at the same time a high-pitched squeal rang out.
Swinging around, he saw a frail little girl running straight at Maura. She was knee-high and skinny as a toothpick, her hair matted in dreadlocks. She looked like a sewer rat, covered in filth.
The girl seemed oblivious to the presence in her path and slammed right into Maura without even slowing down. Maura stumbled a few steps from the force, and the little girl flew backward onto the ground. Her dirt-smudged nose scrunched up as she eyed the human roadblock.
“You’re awfully dirty, little one,” Maura said.
The little girl looked down at herself. “Where?”
Maura laughed as she crouched down. “You’re dirty everywhere.”
It only took Vincent thirty minutes to handle business that day, but it was a half-hour that unknowingly changed his life. The girl had come barreling into his life, turning everything he knew upside down.
At Maura’s insistence, Vincent inquired about her a week later, but Frankie informed him she wasn’t for sale. No matter how much money he offered, the man wouldn’t budge. Vincent hoped Maura would drop it, but the child became an obsession to her.
And he'd been oblivious to it all, living in his shell of ignorance and naively believing his life was fine. He was a keen person, but his wife had spent her entire life wearing a mask of secrecy. He had no idea what she was up to, although he should’ve been aware.
He should've known she'd see it as a second chance.
Over a decade had passed since that afternoon and not a single moment went by that he hadn’t thought of the day.
Vincent jumped when he felt Celia’s hand on his shoulder. “She asked me about her mother.”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t asked me.”
“Didn't you threaten to kill her once before? She's probably hoping you forgot she existed.”
He sighed. “I see the fear in her eyes when
she’s around me.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Celia said. “There’s always room for redemption. In fact, I have faith you’ll find a way to work all of this out.”
“You always thought too highly of me, Celia,” Vincent said, standing up. “When they come inside, tell her to come on up to my office.”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
Before he turned around, he saw Celia shake her head. “I still don’t understand why you never say her name.”
* * * *
Carmine opened the back door to the house, stepping aside so Haven could walk in. Her cheeks were flushed, and she sniffled as they started through the house, dripping water all over the floor. They nearly made it to the stairs when Celia stepped out from the kitchen. “Haven, dear, Vincent wants to see you in his office.”
Haven forced a smile, but there was alarm in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
She headed up the stairs slowly as Carmine looked at his aunt. “He isn’t gonna ruin her Christmas, is he?”
“No, he’s about to make it better.”
“How?”
“Why don’t you wait and ask her? Maybe she’ll tell you.”
Fucking evasiveness. “She will. She doesn’t keep things from me.”
Celia eyed him curiously. “Has she told you about life in Blackburn?”
“Some, but it's not a favorite topic of hers, considering the things they did,” he said. “I’m mad at Corrado for that, by the way. You make sure to tell him I’m gonna kick his ass. He should’ve smothered his sister with a pillow when they were kids.”
“You can’t blame Corrado for what Kat does,” Celia said. “Besides, I’d like to see you try to beat him up.”
“I could take him if he’d fight fair,” he said. “Knowing him, he’d let me punch him a few times and then shoot me between the eyes.”
“Corrado’s not callous. He cares about you.”
“If that’s true, why isn’t he here?”
“He was going to come, but he wasn’t sure how Haven would react,” she said. “He said if he still scares you, he knows he’ll frighten the girl.”
