by JM Darhower
His expression remained blank, but for the first time since meeting him, Haven saw his eyes glass over with tears. “Thank you, Haven.”
Haven. The sound of her name on his lips felt foreign as he finally said it. She smiled and wiped her tears as she walked out, knowing there was nothing else left to say after that. She stepped out into the hallway the same time Carmine came up the stairs. She eyed him peculiarly. “You’re home awfully early.”
“Yeah, school was a bust,” he said, shrugging. “How are you today?”
“Okay.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Okay? Is that an, ‘okay, I’m about two seconds away from finding a window to throw myself through, but I’m not gonna tell you that because you’ll stop me,’ or is it an, ‘okay, I’m pretty fucking peachy, Carmine, so stop questioning me?’”
She laughed. “I’m just… okay. Especially now that you’re here.”
He smiled, kissing her before the two of them headed upstairs. Settling into the chairs in the library, Carmine grabbed his guitar as Haven gazed at the cover of the journal.
“You still reading The Secret Garden?” he asked.
“No, I finished that book months ago.”
“Really? What happened in it?”
He didn’t truly sound interested, his gaze on his fingers as he strummed the guitar, but she smiled at the fact that he’d even ask. “The girl comes to the conclusion that the mean man she lives with isn’t as bad as she assumed him to be. He’s just grieving because he lost his wife. She makes friends with the son, who the father can’t face for a long time, because he reminds him of his wife.”
Carmine’s fingers stilled, the music abruptly stopping as he looked at Haven. “No shit?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Fate,” he said, his eyes drifting from her to the book on her lap. “My mom’s journal.”
“Uh, yeah. Your father gave it to me.”
He nodded after a moment and turned back to his guitar. He started strumming it again, music filling the room as sunshine streamed in on them from the window. She watched him in silence, her chest swelling with love as her favorite passage from The Secret Garden sprung to mind.
One of the strangest things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever... sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one’s eyes.
Haven felt it then, sitting in the library with the scarred boy who had stolen her heart, his deep green eyes twinkling as the beautiful notes poured from his fingertips.
Sempre. No matter what happened next, or what went on tomorrow, nothing would ever take that away. Their love existed, despite everything else, and it was that love that would go on forever. The moment was etched in time, transcending the constraints put on them by life.
For even after they were gone, when life continued to go on, a part of them would always exist in everything—and everyone—they ever touched.
She turned back to the journal and opened it to the first page. Taking a deep breath, she read the first line:
Today is my first day as a free woman.
###
Acknowledgments:
To my mother, the strongest person I know. She leads by example every day, teaching me never to give up.
To my father, for watching The Godfather so many times when I was younger, without which I never would’ve been inspired.
My family is amazing. I love you all. Per sempre.
And to Jupiter, thank you for teaching me all about thunderbolts.
To my ninth grade English teacher, Melissa Agee, who was the first one to say, “You could be someone someday.” You made me believe in my work. And to my college creative writing professor, who shall remain nameless, for telling me I’d never produce anything worth reading. You made me push to write better.
Traci Blackwood (for the countless hours of invaluable help and support), Sara “Andy-Sandy”, Pat Sills-Bertola, Sarah Anderson, Iris Jurado, Rhonda DuBoce, Jessica Faulkner, Renee Lunbeck, Naitasia Hensey, Lori McMullin, Katie Norman, Ariela Pacifici, Jessica Sato, and Laura Zapalski. You’ve each given me something special. Grazie mille. Shots of Grey Goose for all.
This book is also dedicated to you (yes, you). You know who you are. It would take another 500 pages to thank everyone who has helped me along the way, but I treasure you all. From volunteering your time to look over my words, to sharing your opinion on plot points, to humoring my random polls about nonsense, to sending me inspiration in the mail (my writing fairy, Toblerone bars, cards), to making art inspired by my words, to running blogs/tumblrs/pages, to encouraging me to continue when others pushed me to give up, to just simply taking the time to read… I’m eternally grateful and blessed to have all of you in my life.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
