Sempre (Forever)

by JM Darhower

Mistress. The moment she’d said it, he knew the truth.

  “Well?” Carmine asked impatiently, pulling Vincent from his thoughts. “What was Mom doing there?”

  “She was the help,” he said.

  “The help?” Carmine’s tone was clipped. “Like a maid? Was she a waitress? Because the two of you were fifteen, and that’s not old enough to be employed. Not like you people follow laws or anything…”

  Vincent sighed. “No, Carmine, she wasn’t paid.”

  Carmine sprung forward, raising his voice. “It’s true? Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  Carmine shoved the front of the desk as he stood up, thrusting it into Vincent. He grabbed a hold of the laptop before it hit the floor as his son started rambling. “How could I have been so fucking stupid? Never in a million years would I have imagined she’d have been… you’d have… Christ!”

  Vincent shifted his desk back into place. “You can say the word.”

  “I know,” he snapped, “but can you?”

  “Of course. It’s just a word.”

  “Then say it. Drop the ‘she was the help’ bullshit and say it.”

  “Slave,” Vincent said, losing his composure. “Unwilling servant. Trafficking victim. Call it what you will, it’s all the same.”

  Carmine’s anger flared even more. “And the Moretti’s had her? Is that why Corrado feels like he owes her?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. That’s not my story to tell.”

  “Of course it's not your story to tell,” Carmine said, slamming his hands down on the desk. “The cop-out answer of the year. Nobody wants to tell me anything, so they pawn it off on everyone else and I stay in the dark. I can’t believe you kept this from me, though. After everything, how could you not tell me?”

  Vincent pushed Carmine’s hands away and stood up. “It’s in your best interest to settle down. If you want an explanation, take a seat. If not, get out of my office. The choice is yours, but I’m not going to sit here and let you scold me like some child.”

  Carmine glowered at him, clenching his jaw. Vincent could tell his son wanted to say something, but he knew to get answers, he’d have to do things his way.

  Sighing, Carmine flopped in the chair. Vincent sat back down and straightened up some papers that had been disturbed, giving the computer a quick glance before addressing his son. “When do you suppose I should’ve told you? When you were two and didn’t know what slavery was? When you were eight and looked at your mother like she was infallible? After she was gone, when you were already hurting? The time was never right.”

  “Don’t you think I had a right to know who my mom really was?”

  The question sent Vincent’s temper flaring. “That’s not who your mother was! Haven’t we been through this before with the girl? How many times have I overheard you telling her that didn’t define her? How many times, Carmine? And yet you have the audacity to turn it around and use that against me, against your mother?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Vincent said. “This is why I never wanted you to find out. Maura wasn’t ashamed of her past, but she didn’t want you to associate her with slavery. She wanted people to see a wife and a mother—a woman—not a victim. She didn’t want her life to still be about that, just as I’m sure the girl won’t.”

  The anger in Carmine’s expression waned. “She won’t.”

  “That’s what I thought. I let Maura leave the past behind, and maybe it was unfair to you, but it was her life. It was her decision. I loved your mother, and we went through hell fighting to be together. I’ve tried to make it as easy as possible on you, so that maybe you’d learn from my mistakes since I had no one to guide me. I had to learn through trial-and-error, and it wasn’t easy. I lost my patience with her so many times because I just didn’t understand what she needed.”

  Carmine covered his face with his hands as he attempted to rein in his emotion. “She always seemed so well-adjusted.”

  “That was our intention,” he said. “We didn’t want to taint your perception of the things she did. If you knew the truth, you’d question everything.”

  Carmine stared at him, unshed tears in his eyes. “This is fucked up.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  “And this is why she was desperate to help Haven?”

  Vincent knew he was rocking Carmine’s foundation, so he treaded carefully to give his son time to stabilize. “Maura wasn’t born into it, but she knew what the child had to look forward to. Your mother wanted to save her before reality hit. The older they are when you pull them out, the least likely they are to be able to adapt.”

  “Is this why we don’t see Grandma?”

  The question caught Vincent off guard “What?”

  “You never let us talk to Grandma. Is this why? Were you afraid she’d tell us?”

  A bark of laughter sounded through the room, and it took Vincent a second to realize it had come from him. “Uh, my mother…” He paused, shaking his head as he laughed again. “Let’s just say she has her beliefs. A slave was bad enough. An Irish slave was worthy of disownment.”

  “So she was Irish? That part's at least true?”

  “Yes, she was the daughter of immigrants. The father fell into some trouble with the Irish mob, owed them a lot of money. They snatched Maura as collateral when she was six.”

  “She was kidnapped? Didn’t people look for her?”

  “Of course they looked for her, but over two-thousand kids go missing in this country every day. Your mother disappeared before there was the Internet or any outside agencies for missing children, and certainly before there were things like Amber Alerts. All they had was word-of-mouth, and once everyone stopped talking about her, it was like she’d never existed.”

  “But what about her parents?”

  “They never paid and were killed,” he said. “Maura was sold a few times and ended up with Erika Moretti.”

  “Who freed Mom? Who vouched for her?”

  “I suppose you could say I did. Your grandfather said if I wanted something in life, it was my responsibility to be a man and earn it. So I initiated, and I’m still paying for it today.” He paused. “Is that all you wanted to know? Because I’m exhausted and don’t have the energy for this conversation anymore.”

  Carmine nodded, although Vincent could tell he wanted to know so much more.

  “I’ll talk to your brother, but whether or not you tell the girl is up to you.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “She has enough on her mind.”

  “I imagine she does,” Vincent said, glancing at the computer to see she still hadn't moved. “Her mother’s life ended just as hers began. Speaking of which…”

  Opening the right bottom desk drawer, he grabbed some files and held them out to Carmine. “Here’s the girl’s paperwork. It’ll take a while before the estate is settled, but no one will contest her inheritance.”

  “So she gets everything?”

  “Technically it all goes to Corrado, but he’ll sign it over to her once it comes through. She’ll get the land, the house, and any money they may have. She’d also get any slaves under our code of conduct, but we figured that would be like a slap in the face.”

  As soon as he said that, Carmine’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right it would be, just like what you did to Haven would be like smacking Mom!”

  The words hurt, but Vincent kept his cool demeanor. “I know I’ve done some things wrong, but I can’t take them back, as much as I wish I could.”

  “Yeah, well, like I said before, I’m not the one you need to say that to,” he said. “You ought to apologize to Haven.”

  “Maybe I will… after you tell her the truth. My apology wouldn’t mean much if she didn’t understand why.”

  “Excuses,” he said. “Anyway, since it’s apparently Haven’s birthday tomorrow, I’ll probably take her somewhere. I thought about going to the city for the night
if that’s fine with you.”

  Vincent shrugged. “I have nothing to do with it. She’s free to do as she pleases.”

  “That’s the best thing anyone could give her,” he said. “I sure can’t top that gift.”

  “It’s not a gift, Carmine. It’s just giving her what she’s been entitled to all along.”

  * * * *

  Rain splattered the window as it fell from the clouds hovering above. There was no sign of the moon or any stars, nothing but blackness. It was ominous, but it was fitting. It was how Haven felt on the inside.

  Empty.

  She might have been taking oxygen into her lungs as her heart pushed blood through her body, but a part of her had stopped existing. It had been a slow, torturous death, agonizingly painful as she withered away from the knowledge that it had been her fault.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, Haven strained her eyes to make out the numbers. There was enough light for her to see the little hand was already past midnight, another day having begun.

  She watched the rain for a while longer before a shadow moved, warning her someone was there. Carmine stood a few feet away, watching her. “I think we should go to sleep.”

  Grabbing the book in her lap, she set it down on the table and hurried back to bed before he could say anything else. Carmine followed her and shut the door, pulling her body close to his when he climbed into bed.

  “Buon compleanno, mia bella ragazza,” he said. “Happy Birthday.”

  Chapter 43

  Haven gazed across the room with blurry, tired eyes, seeing Carmine near the doorway. He held a small plate, a cinnamon bun on the center of it. A single blue candle stuck out from the top. Haven could smell the fresh pastry, a combination of spicy and sweet. Someone had just made them, and the subtle scent of something burnt told her who that was.

  “You baked?” she asked, stunned.

  He looked sheepish. “I wasn’t gonna attempt a cake. These damn things were hard enough. It took me forever to even figure out how to open the canister. I had to call Dia and ask.”

  Haven smiled as he approached, her chest swelling with love to the point that it was painful. Despite everything, he was still her world, her one and only. Part of her may have felt dead, but there was still another part of her that lived for Carmine DeMarco.

  “That’s sweet,” she said, taking the plate. “You didn’t have to. I told you—”

  “I know what you told me,” he said, “but I can’t ignore your birthday. You’ve never had one before. It’s special, so no arguing, because it’s rude to argue when people wanna do shit for you. It’s like, punching a gift horse or something.”

  She laughed. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth?”

  Rolling his eyes, he reached into his pocket for a lighter and lit the candle. “Yes, that. A caval donato non si guarda in bocca. Just take it with a smile, and it’ll be over before you know it.” The moment he pulled his hand away, Haven blew out the flame. He laughed. “Eager, are we? Did you even make a wish?”

  Her brow furrowed as he pulled the candle from the pastry. “Make a wish?”

  “You make a wish before you blow out the candle,” he said. “It’s the whole point.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right. You’ll get another chance later with Dia.”

  She tensed. “What did you say?”

  “We’re gonna spend the night in Charlotte with Dia for your birthday. Come on, did you seriously think you’d get out of dealing with her? We’re pretty much her only friends.”

  “But I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

  “I know, but it’ll just be the three of us.”

  He looked at her imploringly, pleading for her not to argue.

  “Okay,” she said. He continued to stare at her skeptically, and she realized she’d said the word he hated. “We can spend the day with Dia.”

  Haven tore the cinnamon bun in half, sharing it with him. The bottom was black and hard to chew, but she said not a word about it as she ate her piece. Once Carmine was finished with his, he grabbed a gift bag from the floor. Taking it carefully, she pulled out the medium-sized glass frame with the foreign words printed inside the glass.

  “It’s a selection of La Vita Nuova,” Carmine said. “It’s not much, but I didn’t know what else to give you, and I remembered you liked it.”

  “It’s wonderful,” she said, trying to read the words, but she didn’t recognize a single one. “Thank you.”

  He gave her a quick kiss before going to his room to take a shower. She took the plate down to the kitchen. She was straightening up a bit when Dr. DeMarco stepped out of the office underneath the stairs. “Good morning, dolcezza.”

  “Good morning, Dr. DeMarco.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know you don’t have to address me so formally, child.”

  “Yes, sir, but…” She trailed off and stared at him, not knowing how to explain it. He patiently waited for her to finish her thought, but his phone chimed before she had the chance.

  “I have to take this,” he said, walking away.

  Haven headed back upstairs, stepping into Carmine’s bedroom just as he was pulling on a pair of pants. Her footsteps faltered as her face heated with blush.

  Carmine smirked, closing the distance between them. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her over to his desk, where he picked up a stack of papers. She took them from him. “What is it?”

  “That, tesoro, is your life.”

  Haven scanned the top paper, a certificate of citizenship, and tears formed when she saw her name and photograph. She flipped through the others as her emotions ran rampant, but they did nothing but confuse her. Wills, codicils, executors, beneficiary distribution, uniform transfers, custodians, residuary estate, fiduciary… it felt just as foreign as the poem he’d given her.

  “What does all this mean?” she asked, holding up the packet of papers. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s your inheritance. It’ll take a few months before you see anything from it. Actually, it should’ve taken months for the rest of it, too, but Corrado somehow got it pushed through within a few days. I don’t know how he does it. Extortion, probably.”

  She stared at him. “Inheritance?”

  “Yeah, property and money and shit. I mean, I understand you’re not gonna wanna keep the house, but you can sell it or—”

  “What?” she asked. “What house?”

  He stopped speaking and looked at her with surprise. “Uh, the house in Blackburn.”

  “Are you saying that house belongs to me?” He nodded, and she blinked a few times as she tried to absorb the information. “But what about their stuff?”

  He shrugged. “It’s still there. You can take what you want and the rest you can throw away or donate to charity. Hell, if it were me, I’d burn it.”

  Panic twisted her gut. “What about Clara? What happened to her?”

  “They took her to Chicago.”

  A naïve part of Haven had hoped she’d have gotten away.

  “Anyway, everything will be yours,” Carmine said. “Corrado will put the money into a bank account.”

  “I don’t want it,” she said. “I don’t want anything that belonged to those people.”

  Frowning, Carmine grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bed. “Look, don’t think of it as them giving you anything, but after what you’ve been through, you deserve it. It’s like atonement. And I’m not saying any amount of money will make up for it, because it won’t. But after all of the torture and everything you lost, you’re at least entitled to this. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.”

  “And money will help with these things,” he said, grabbing the papers in her hand and shifting them around so the citizenship certificate was back on top. “Now you have the means to follow your dreams.”

  She smiled. “What happens to me now? I’m
still here…”

  “My father said you can stay here as long as you want, but you don’t have to.”

  “But where else would I go?”

  “Wherever you want,” he said. ”I told you that. California; New York; Timbuktu; Bum Fuck, Egypt… you name it, we’ll go.”

  Tears streamed from her eyes, and she clutched onto the papers as her hands started to shake. Carmine pulled her down onto the bed as emotion took control and rocked her body in his embrace. Overwhelmed, she didn’t know what to think. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you, Carmine.”

  “Good, because I’d miss you.”

  They quietly stared at each other, his green eyes a flurry of emotion. He wiped the tears from her cheeks before his fingertips brushed across her lips. She let out a shaky breath as he kissed her.

  She finally let go of the papers. They dropped to the bed as she ran her fingers through his unruly hair.

  “Ti amo,” he whispered against her mouth before softly reciting parts of La Vita Nuova. Haven listened keenly, goose bumps springing up as the words wafted across her skin. He stumbled a bit on a sentence and paused before staggering words spilled from his lips. “La mia bella ragazza. I want you to marry me.”

  She gasped. “Marry you?”

  “I don’t mean today or tomorrow. It doesn’t even have to be this year or, fuck, next year. But someday, when you’re ready, promise you'll spend your life with me?” His words made her stomach flutter, stealing the breath from her lungs. “Look, I know I’m doing this shit all wrong, but—”

  “Okay.” Her voice cracked. “Yes.”

  He stalled. “Yes?”

  She nodded. “Of course I will, Carmine!”

  His face lit up as he smashed his lips to hers feverishly, and she laughed into his mouth, kissing him back. The outside world melted away in that moment as his hands roamed her body, his fingertips causing sparks to ignite across her skin. Electricity. Static. Chemistry. Lightning. “I need you, Haven.”

  “You have me,” she said without thinking twice. Knowing she was free and had a life of her own, and that despite everything she’d been in the past, he still wanted her for the future, made her insides burst into flames of passion. She never wanted to lose that moment when she finally felt like a real person… when she finally felt alive.