Unforgotten

by Kristen Heitzmann

Was there something I could have done, more I could have said? The nightmare images plague me even in the daylight now. The moment my thoughts drift, I am seized by the sudden smell of blood, the thought of Papa. “Marco, did you see him, see Papa? Do you know—”

  “Yes, Antonia.” He doesn’t appreciate the reminder. “I tried to get to him, but I was too late.” The car rumbles over the rough road.

  My chest clenches and I can’t breathe. I remember the shots and knowing it was Papa killed and Nonno clutching my hand, Nonno falling. But what if … “What if Nonno wasn’t dead? What if I buried him alive?”

  Marco swerves the car to the side and stops. He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. “They’re gone, cara. And it’s not your fault.”

  Not my fault. Not my fault.

  She jolted back to reality with tears streaming from her eyes. Then whose fault was it?

  ————

  Seeing the glazed look in Rese’s eyes, Lance left the cleanup for Momma and anyone else who would pitch in. He had to get through another twenty-four hours at least before he could get Nonna what she needed from the bank and take Rese home. Hopefully there’d be no lasting trauma—for either of them. Having demonstrated his affection in the hall for all suspecting minds, they were in for an assault, but he didn’t care because it had felt so good to crash through the boundaries they had both established.

  Momma, however, was probably planning their first baby shower. As if she didn’t have enough grandkids. But he had yet to produce his share, and in her mind time was running out. She might think Rese cold and unfeeling, but if she was his choice then they should get married and move in where she could oversee everything.

  She was mistaken on both counts. He was not staying, and Rese was anything but unfeeling. It was her tenderness that made her work so hard to be tough. She just ran deeper than most people wanted to look. And he loved that about her.

  “Come on.” He ushered her out the door as Rico passed by with Star. They had eaten and mingled but now were headed somewhere on foot without drums or costumes. Lance tapped Rico’s arm. “Where are you going?”

  “The park.”

  “Reading Shakespeare?”

  “Listening to the birds sing, man.”

  Star giggled.

  Lance shook his head. “You’re whacked.”

  “Hey.” Rico pressed a hand to his chest. “I can appreciate the little things.”

  Lance laughed. “Hoops?” Something hard and physical sounded better than birds.

  “Have to swipe a ball.”

  “Swiping isn’t nice.” Lance motioned Rese ahead of him past a tourist couple going the other way. “We’ll let the kids play too.”

  “Ah man.” Rico hung his head back.

  They’d have no trouble finding takers, Lance knew. He played a fair shortstop, tough handball, and wicked pool, but neither he nor Rico had the size or the spring for hoops. And since the makeup of the neighborhood had shifted to giants more along Chaz’s line, the kids would eat them alive.

  The game in progress was not maxed out, and their overture was accepted as he’s expected. Tall, rangy Lawon Johnson gave Rese the eye and said, “You playin’?”

  She shrugged. “Why not?”

  Hands on his hips, Lance stared when she joined the other team. He hadn’t thought to ask Rese, but he didn’t have time to sweat it. The ball had gotten loose in a scramble. He snagged it, passed low to Rico on the bounce, but Lawon got between, spun, and shot.

  Ignacio took the rebound and sent it back to Luis. As Lance ran, he glimpsed Star, who had slipped off when they joined teams and was at the playground, leading a hopping, twirling retinue of ragamuffins, fingers splayed, heads thrown back. The Pied Piper of illusion.

  “Lance.” Rico passed him the ball.

  He caught it hard in the chest, then dribbled in and made the shot. He hooked fingers with Rico, but Rese had taken the rebound and sent a sharp bouncing pass to Lawon who dribbled down, then sent it back to her when Ignacio blocked him. It was over before he and Rico reached the other end of the court.

  Lance panted in close. “I didn’t know you could shoot.” He blocked her path as Rico and Ignacio raced the ball down, then missed the rim shot.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “We should put a hoop on the workshop.”

  She half smiled. “Are you distracting me?”

  He took her waist in his hands. “Would I do that?”

  She snorted, ducked around him, and rushed down for a pass. Rese Barrett played basketball. There were probably a thousand other things he didn’t know. It felt strange, when most of the people he knew were like the back of his hand, Rico a second skin.

  From the day they’d met, when Rico’s lunch got kicked into the gutter and Lance shared the meatball sub in his own, Rico had stuck closer than a tick. Lance saw right off that he didn’t stand a chance, even in his own family. Seven kids fighting over what little they had of food, belongings—and affection.

  It was pathetic how Rico had worked for his father’s attention— the biggest thing he and Lance had in common. But two years after they met, Juan went to prison for knifing an opposing gang member. He did six years, and when he came back Rico didn’t need his attention anymore, which was good since Juan was locked up again seven months later.

  Lance took the pass from Rico and turned into Lawon’s chest. He ducked under the armpit and bounced the ball at Ignacio, but Rese intercepted, took off down the court, and made the lay-up. Rico couldn’t stop her. He gave it all he had, but in spite of quick reflexes and coordination, basketball would never be his game.

  Rese high-fived Lawon, and Lance reconsidered the hoop on the workshop. Wouldn’t match the dcor. They went back and forth, and when Rese got too confident, Rico stole the ball, heaved it at Lance, and he swooshed. They grinned like fed tigers.

  One of the younger kids complained that Rese and Lawon were hogging the action, and Lance took the moment to catch his breath.

  “Your woman’s hot,” Ignacio said, beside him.

  “Yeah, and don’t even think of moving in on her.”

  The kid grinned.

  Four hours at the park—playing ball, watching Star’s impromptu skit with a handful of future thespians, talking with Chaz and his friends who joined them—took his mind off the safe deposit box and what it might hold. It almost distracted him from Nonna’s relapse and the stress and confusion she must be experiencing.

  He didn’t want to explain that she had to come with him to the bank. If she wouldn’t come down for breakfast, she must not want to be seen in public until she had recovered, and that wasn’t likely anytime soon.

  Elliot Dobbs had assured him there was no way into the box without her, not without a court order that might be granted only by proving her incompetent. No way. Nonna was perfectly competent, even if she couldn’t voice things correctly. She knew what she meant by those words, even if others didn’t. But he had no control over other people’s reactions. It could be humiliating and aggravating—exactly what she didn’t need.

  A surge of protectiveness overwhelmed him. Why hadn’t she let it go? He had released it all. Why did God keep returning what he surrendered?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  In the bedroom, surrounded by Star’s frog sculptures that all seemed to be smirking, Rese frowned. “It’s not funny. It was awful.” Star had gone out with Rico after the park, and Rese had hoped to join them, but she and Lance were invited to dinner with Monica’s family. While the numbers were fewer, the noise didn’t reflect it, Monica alone reaching decibels that threatened the eardrum when she shouted her kids down. And then there was the scrutiny, the delving and drilling. Rese felt like a tooth, hollowed and de-nerved and stuffed to insensitivity. “I don’t pry into other people’s lives; why do they have to know every detail of mine?”

  Star pulled a clip from her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. “You haven’t learned the art of deflection.”

&n
bsp; Rese shook her head. Lance had been right when he warned her that the minute his sister suspected a romantic interest she would give them no peace. Bobby hadn’t been much better with his ribbing Lance, though he’d toned it down in front of the children … all the children. They couldn’t all be theirs. She suspected they’d picked up a few of Lucy’s and maybe some off the street as well.

  Rese pressed her fingers to her forehead. She enjoyed them individually, especially Nicky, whose angelic face hid a naughty streak that reminded her of Lance. But gathered at the table with Bobby’s pontifications, Monica’s staccato questions—answers interrupted midsentence by admonitions to the kids—and the kids’ constant arguing, she had almost craved a cell in an asylum.

  “ ‘Sweet are the uses of adversity, which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.’ ”

  Rese frowned. She did not want that message again, especially from Star. Why would she need more adversity? She groaned. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

  “Cosmic convergence.” Star threaded her fingers in and scratched her scalp, then slid them out until the coils sprang free. “It was meant to be, all of us here together for this moment in time.”

  “Right.” Rese tugged the comforter back on the bed. “You came to be with Rico. I came to settle business.”

  Star giggled. “And Lance?”

  “What do you think? It’s his business.” She tossed the pillow up to fluff and set it into place.

  “You are so funny.”

  “It’s true. All that business in Sonoma, Star—the skeleton, for heaven’s sake. He’s trying to finish what he started, and he wanted me here to discuss our plans with Antonia. It’s just … with Lance nothing goes the way I expect.”

  Star spun around and laughed. “Because you don’t know what you expect.”

  “I know exactly what I expect. But Lance …” She couldn’t even blame him this time. How could he know Antonia would get so upset, relapse, and need him yet again?

  Star fixed her with a piercing blue gaze. “Lance is your other self.”

  Rese huffed. “I’m not saying he doesn’t matter to me. Just … that’s not why I’m here.”

  Star laughed again. “ ‘Thou art bewitched with the rogue’s company.’ ”

  Rese swept Star’s clothes from the floor and folded them into a drawer. “So now that you’re here by cosmic decree, are you going to stay?”

  Star looked startled. “I never think that way.” She dropped her head back, the bones of her slender neck forming a delicate ridge. “I am a free bird, sailing the winds of life.”

  “Don’t you ever want a plan?”

  Her head came up. “We can’t change the forces. I’m just glad they’ve cast us here now.” And the poignant brilliance of her china blue eyes left Rese breathless as Star sprang forward and clasped their hands in a patty-cake position.

  “Would you ever have come here with me, Rese? Would you have left that old place at all?”

  Rese frowned. Entrenched was probably a fair description. “Maybe.”

  Star tossed her head and laughed. “Never. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you in the hall. Planets must have realigned.” She let go and spun, her arms in ballet position. “Don’t you see? This was all meant to be. Rico and me and you and Lance.”

  “Star—”

  “‘We are bound together, you and I.’ ” Star’s face turned grave, her voice ominous. “ ‘Two sides of the same magic.’ ” Recognizing the lines from The Last Unicorn, which Star had devoured as a child, Rese said grimly, “That makes me the harpy.”

  Star doubled over with laughter. “You can’t resist the fates. ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.’ ”

  “I’m only here to—”

  “Stop.” Star put a hand to her lips. “Tempt not capricious gods. The tide is here at flood.”

  Rese sighed. “Well, I have news for you. There’s only one capricious God.” Who might not merely allow her to follow her mother’s path, but, in fact, ordain it.

  Star grew still except for the slight chronic palsy that made her seem ephemeral. “That’s one too many.”

  Rese sighed. “I didn’t like the idea either. But I’ve found it inescapable.” “You’re not serious.”

  “Star, do you remember the night I went to the hospital?”

  Star stalked to the other side of the room.

  “I should have died that night. Dad wasn’t home in time.”

  “He carried you free; you didn’t die. And here you are.”

  Rese sat down on the edge of the bed. “You know how you saw fairies when things were bad?”

  “I cannot believe you saw them too.” She clutched herself in her arms. “Rese Barrett does not see fairies.”

  “I saw nothing.” Why was she telling it now, when she’d gone all these years with Star never asking how she got through that awful night? “But there was something there.”

  “ ‘A walking shadow, a poor player that struts upon the stage and then is heard no more.’ ”

  “I think it was God.”

  The energy seemed to leach from Star. Her hand went to her throat. “God was in your bedroom?”

  “Not in a bad way, Star. It was a presence that—”

  “Don’t say it.” Star’s voice hardened. “Personally, I’ve had too much of old almighty men in my bedroom.”

  ————

  Lance tapped the door to tell Rese and Star good night. It had been a roller-coaster day, but hopefully the morning would bring some resolution. The door flew open, and Star stared at him with a haunted look, then kissed him square on the mouth. “ ’Tis an affliction not without cure. One must merely learn to bleed.” Then she swept past and out into the night.

  Slack-jawed, he turned to Rese. “Did I …”

  “You didn’t do anything.” Rese passed into the living room, then stopped, arms crossed, with her back to him. “I tried to tell her about that night, about the presence in my room.”

  Something so personal would not have passed easily from Rese to Star. He joined her and began rubbing the ropes of her neck and shoulders. “She didn’t believe you?”

  “She wouldn’t even hear it.”

  “Why?”

  “She’d have to admit I’ve had bad things in my life.”

  “She knows you have.”

  “No, Lance. She thinks that night was my deliverance.” Rese bent her head down as he rubbed. “All my adversity is sweet and useful, and only her bad stuff counts.”

  Star had hurt her, though she cloaked it with frustration. He worked his thumbs into the knots. “Not very equitable.”

  Rese snorted. “Now she’s off again, who knows where or for how long. But she’ll come back and expect me to pick up my life where she left it.”

  He used the heels of his palms along her shoulders.

  She groaned a little under the pressure. “I just wanted her to see there could be order in things. That she didn’t have to be at the mercy of whatever wind blew her way.” Rese sagged. “I shouldn’t have mentioned God.”

  Lance worked the tendons up under her skull. “You should be able to talk about your experience. I’d think Star would want to know.” Was Star threatened by the revelation, or by imagining Rese vulnerable? She wanted Rese to play the role she gave her. But why did people keep trying to box Rese in? He slid his fingers into her hair, wishing he could let her out completely.

  “It’s like talking to a cloud. Poof. She’s gone.”

  And there was Rese, as present as a Sequoia redwood. “You never know what gets through.”

  “It appalled her that I might believe in God.”

  “Maybe she’s afraid you’ll change.”

  She turned. “People change. Can’t I learn from adversity, grow in character? God forbid—have faith?”

  “Of course you can.”

/>   “That’s all I was trying to say. That maybe there was something, someone Star could trust too.”

  “You’ve come a long way.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know the half of it. Obviously.”

  But she’d put her trust where it mattered, and fear of the Lord was the beginning of wisdom. “Chaz’ll help.”

  She frowned. “Why won’t you?”

  Because he didn’t translate well from what he knew to what he did. “I don’t think I’m the best example.”

  “You’re the reason I believe at all.”

  Wouldn’t Evvy like that? She’d scolded and nagged him to “speak the truth.” And he had, but his actions hadn’t matched.

  Rese clenched her hands at her sides, exasperation sparking. “You made sense of it for me. You made it real.”

  “I lied to you.” And it stood between them like a guard dog, keeping him out. Even if she was letting it go, how could he explain his fear of spoiling her faith by some faulty action, some missed cue? He might claim her heart, but Chaz was the one to safeguard her mind and spirit.

  “Lance.” She searched his face. “Can’t we just … start over?”

  His breath stopped. A do-over? He’d been hoping to make up for the hurt, to prove he could do better. But to start over with no regrets, no blame? That was more than he’d expected, more than he deserved. Yet …

  He read her expression, hopeful and sincere. Rese meant what she said. He took her into his arms, pressing her head to his shoulder, breathing the clean scent of her. Or was it the fragrance of grace? Relief rushed in, and gratitude so deep it touched his soul.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The door opened and Rico came in. “Where’s Star?”

  Rese pulled out of Lance’s arms as Rico tossed two DVDs on the table, then took a bottle of sparkling artesian water and organic cheese puffs from the paper bag he carried. They’d obviously planned another movie night, and while Rico was off getting their contraband, Star was running out on them all.

  Lance said, “She got upset and left.”