The Secret One

by Cardello, Ruth

  “That there is no right time, no day when something can be revealed without a cost. The best you can do is try to choose a time when you think a person is ready to hear the truth. For Gian, I believe the timing was good. He’s a man now.”

  The pit of my stomach twisted. “Dad, when I was at Nona’s, I found a letter from Rosella to Mom.”

  “And you read it.”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m sorry I did. I should have given it to Mom without reading it. Now I don’t know what to do.”

  “Give the letter to your mother.” He returned to the chair where he’d been sitting.

  He had to know. “And not tell Sebastian?”

  His eyes darkened, but he looked neither shocked nor disapproving. So he did know. I wanted to shake him and demand he tell me what to do; then a thought occurred to me. Maybe being a father didn’t mean he had all the answers. Maybe he was just a man, like me, doing the best he could and hoping to hell it all worked out.

  The sound of the front door of the house opening and closing broke my train of thought. “Christof?” my mother called out. My father stood.

  I rushed to the hallway to meet her. I would have offered to carry a bag in for her, but her hands were empty. We stood there for a long moment simply looking at each other. “You know,” she said in a voice thick with emotion.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  I dug the letter out of my pocket and held it out to her.

  As she took it from me, my father joined her, putting an arm around her waist in support. She held it in her hand without reading it at first.

  “It’s from Rosella,” my father said.

  My mother closed her eyes and swayed against him. “I have spent so much of my life making myself okay with her actions. I can’t stomach it anymore. She does as she pleases, treats people like they are nothing, then leaves me to clean up the mess and make things right. There was nothing right about what she did to me, nothing right about how she left her children with that monster or how she left Gian. I don’t want to read her excuses. Why must I always be the one who forgives?”

  “Because you’re the strong one.” I took one of my mother’s hands in mine. “Let the past fall away, Mom. You have the kind of marriage I hope to one day have, four sons who adore you, two daughters-in-law who do as well, and grandbabies. Everything that happened brought us here.”

  “For my own sanity I had to stop trying to save her from herself,” my mother said, but her eyes misted up. “I—I hate that I didn’t do more for her.” She gave my hand a squeeze and swallowed hard. “You don’t have to remind me how much I have to be grateful for. I count my blessings every night and pray I do enough to deserve them.”

  Few decisions in life were simple. They were complicated, messy, and sometimes downright painful. Why had McKenna found the letter if it wasn’t meant for good?

  I looked to my father for guidance. My mother’s anguish was mirrored in his eyes, but he wasn’t attempting to stop me. He trusted me to do the right thing.

  The loving thing.

  Did I know what that was? I prayed so.

  “I’m not a doctor, or studying to be one like Gian, but your sister sounds like she did the best she could with what she was given. I feel sorry for her. Even when she tried to do good things, she did them in self-destructive ways that reveal a paranoid and extreme personality. I do think she believed every bad decision she made was the only path available to her. Read her letter, Mom. It won’t change anything that happened, but it might help you understand that when she hurt you, it wasn’t out of a desire to beat you but from what I think was an early sign of her mental illness. When you see the world through her eyes, it’s a terrifying place. That doesn’t excuse any of her behavior, but it does explain it.”

  My mother nodded, released my hand, and opened the letter. She read it aloud for the benefit of my father. There were tears in her eyes by the time she read the line about how she belonged with Basil.

  My father turned her so she could bury her face in his chest. I had seen my mother cry only a handful of times in my life—usually at the news of a relative dying—but she cried then. My father rocked her against him, murmuring to her in Italian.

  With an audible deep breath my mother collected herself, raised her head, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She read the letter one more time silently to herself, then stuffed it in her pocket and exchanged a look with my father. “Christof, thank you for this. I’ve been angry with her for so many years, but she couldn’t help it, could she? I always thought she slept with Antonio to be vindictive, but it wasn’t that. When I look back, even when we were children, she would see evil where I didn’t. We could have a conversation with the same person, have been together the whole time, and later recount the event very differently. With her, there was always something to fear.”

  My father said, “Then you met a man who warranted that reaction.”

  My mother shuddered. “And she saved me from him. If he had found out about Sebastian—”

  “I would have gone to prison,” my father said.

  My eyes widened, and my mother’s mouth rounded.

  Without humor my father continued, “We would still be together, Camilla, because you and I were meant to be . . . but I would have killed him had he laid a hand on you.”

  I didn’t doubt for a second that my father would have.

  Turning toward me, with tears still welling in her eyes, my mother said, “Where did you find the letter?”

  “It was with photos of the two of you together in Nona’s closet. Unopened.”

  “I wish—” my mother started to say, then stopped. “Once I heard of his abuse, I begged her to leave him. Looking back, I should have done more. I was so scared, though. He was insanely rich, so powerful and vindictive. We had babies on the way. Yes, we helped hide her, but . . . maybe a part of me thought she deserved what he did to her?” Tears poured down my mother’s cheeks, and I had to blink quickly, or I would have cried right along with her.

  My father hugged her to his chest again. “None of us did all we should have. I—” When a tear slid down my father’s cheek, too, I almost lost it.

  I struggled to get the next words out. “No. I’m sorry, but I don’t agree. From what I’ve heard, Antonio Corisi had people killed, here in the US and back in Italy, and was never punished for it because he was that powerful. Dad, we needed you with us—not in prison. Mom, you did save your sister. You and the family kept her safe from him until he died. You kept her secrets, and you paid a hefty price for that loyalty. She chose to go with him. She stayed and had two children with him. You can’t save someone until they want to be saved.”

  Above my mother’s head, my father nodded slowly. “The past is a story that has already been told. There’s no changing it, not even the parts we might want to. But tomorrow we have a chance to make things easier for Gian . . . by welcoming his birth mother.”

  I put a hand on my mother’s back. “Nothing he feels for her will take away from how he feels for you, Mom. It’s your voice he’ll hear in his head telling him to sit up straight, help clear the table, call his brothers when he hasn’t heard from them.”

  She lifted her head and smiled. “You make me sound like a nag.”

  “Every good mother is,” I joked, the tightness of my chest beginning to lighten.

  Her swat at me never connected. After taking in an audible breath, she straightened and stepped back from my father. “Does Sebastian know?”

  “I don’t think so. No one knows about the letter. Well, no one besides McKenna. She found it.”

  As she wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks, my mother’s expression began to return to normal. She studied my face. “You really like her, don’t you?”

  “I do.” I remembered the ring and took it out. “But I need to return this to you.”

  My mother tucked it into the same pocket she’d stashed the letter
in. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Christof.”

  “It’s not over, Mom; only the fake part is.”

  “Oh,” my mother said.

  “Oh, indeed,” my father added, then smiled. “Will she be joining us tomorrow?”

  I shook my head. “When I bring McKenna home, and I will, I want it to be as happy an event as when we first met Heather and Wren. She’s already seen so much of our family drama; I’d like her to see another side of the Romanos.”

  My father said, “Don’t buy her a cow. Sure, at the time it feels like a good idea, but you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to explain it.”

  I barked out a laugh.

  My mother smiled.

  It was a relief to see the two of them on the other side of the secret and still standing strong. That was the future I saw for myself with McKenna.

  My mother’s expression sobered. “I kept Sebastian a secret at first because I was ashamed, then because I was afraid. He deserves to know the truth, but is tomorrow the right day to tell him?”

  Her question hung in the air.

  I would have answered her, but I honestly didn’t know.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  MCKENNA

  I threw down a torque wrench, the sound of it bouncing along the floor drowned out by the music I had at full volume. I banged my hand as I spun and swore. The garage had always been my happy place, but even it wasn’t enough to drown out thoughts of Christof.

  Had he given the letter to his mother?

  Was Rosella going to show?

  How would Gian feel about meeting his biological mother? Worse, what if she ran away again? I wanted her to want him so badly.

  I hadn’t heard from Christof, and the silence was slowly killing me. The kiss he’d given me when he’d dropped me off had been accompanied by a promise to call me. Six hours and thirteen minutes later, each time my phone beeped with a message that wasn’t from him, I ached.

  I removed my gloves, threw them to the floor as well, and covered my face with my hands. I was close to tears and hating myself for it. Had I finally succeeded in pushing him away? Would he have invited me to the talk with his mother if I hadn’t given him the ring back?

  Was there any way he could be missing me the way I was missing him?

  The music cut off suddenly. I lowered my hands, half hoping—then fought back disappointment when the man walking toward me was Ty.

  God, I wanted to smack the shit out of myself for mooning over a man to the point where nothing else seemed to matter. I swore I’d never again care about anyone enough that their leaving could break me.

  Ty replaced the wrench on the board where it normally hung. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but this nearly took out my knee, so I have a general idea.”

  “Sorry, it slipped.” I squared my shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were in here.”

  One of his eyebrows arched. “Wayne said you and Christof seemed fine when he dropped you off.”

  “We were.”

  After coming to stand in front of me, Ty folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t believe you.”

  I couldn’t look him in the eye because I was embarrassed by my weakness. “That’s your choice.”

  “If he hurt you—”

  “He didn’t.” I rubbed my chin with the back of one of my hands and blinked a few times quickly. “I’m the one who fucked it all up.”

  “You had sex with his nona?”

  I laughed at that and wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye. “Worse. I fell in love with him.”

  “With Cal?”

  I rolled my eyes, but Ty’s jokes were pulling me back from the edge of bawling. “Yes, I’m completely, utterly in love with Cal. Don’t tell Wayne.”

  “Too late,” Wayne said as he and Cal appeared next to me. “I’m totally jealous. All this time I thought you had a thing for me.”

  A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth, but I didn’t give in to it. “This isn’t helping.”

  Cal put an arm around my shoulders. “You’ll have to get over me, darling. I’m already taken. Have you considered opening your heart to that straight Italian you’re engaged to?”

  I waved my bare hand at the three of them. “Already over.”

  “It didn’t look over when I saw you together earlier,” Wayne said.

  I sighed. “We had sex. Good sex. That doesn’t mean anything. Right, Ty?”

  Ty looked me in the eye before answering. “Did he ask for the ring back?”

  My gaze fell to the floor, and I frowned. “I saved him the trouble.”

  “That boy is in love with you, McKenna,” Wayne said.

  I shot him a glare. “You didn’t see how relieved he looked to take the ring back. And before you say something else in his defense, I’m glad it’s over. He’s an all-or-nothing kind of man. Geese are like that. Well, I’m not a goose. I’m not changing my name or my life. I have everything exactly the way I want it. What do I need a man for?”

  “I’m confused,” Wayne said. “Is she upset that he doesn’t want to be with her or afraid he does?”

  Cal’s arm tightened around my shoulders. “Love is confusing, baby, but don’t fight it. You might not be ready for it, but when it hits, there’s nothing that matters more. And that’s okay.”

  I shrugged his arm off. “No, it’s not. I can’t lose my garage.”

  “What are you so afraid of?” Ty asked in a gruff tone.

  Wayne shared a look with Cal. “She’s afraid to lose us.”

  I froze. It was true, even though I hadn’t been able to see it until Wayne said it. My fears went deeper than simply whether Christof loved me back. A part of me was convinced I’d be forced to choose between two lives I wanted—just as I’d once had to choose between my parents. How had I not seen that before? Decker Park was my dream, but Ty, Cal, and Wayne were my family. The thought of doing anything that might risk losing them was downright terrifying.

  Cal nodded, then said, “McKenna, we were all grateful when you offered us a chance to work together again, but this garage isn’t what keeps us together. When you came back from school, with or without this place, your ass would have been part of our lives. Hell, Ty had talked about moving closer to you if you settled somewhere else. We’re a family, Mack.”

  “Yes, we are.” My eyes welled with tears when he used the same name for me that Christof did. I looked around the garage and thought once again of what Christof had said to Dominic. In my case, Decker Park was a piece of land with a building. If I ever lost it, I would still have what mattered most—my crew. Decker Park was an achievement, but it wasn’t who we were.

  Even my father—he wasn’t in the car he’d given me. His love for me was right there, shining through the eyes of the men who had helped raise me.

  I was grateful, scared, sad. “God, I’m a fucking mess.”

  “No, you’re in love,” Wayne said.

  “With a man we approve of,” Cal added.

  “I broke it off with him.”

  “In your head?” Cal asked.

  They knew me too well. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Wayne smiled. “I have a feeling the two of you are very much not over.”

  “He hasn’t called or texted.”

  Cal joked, “In weeks? Days? Oh, hang on, it’s only been hours, right?”

  I groaned. I sounded pathetic. “Okay. Okay. I get it. I need to be patient.”

  “Or text him yourself,” Ty said.

  My eyebrows flew up. Really? Relationship advice from someone who barely learned the names of the women he was with? I remembered the one woman he’d looked for after breaking up with her. If I let my fears stop me now, would that be me one day? “He’s busy with his family.”

  His eyes darkened with memories. “It’s natural to be afraid, but never let it keep you from the race. If you hold back when that flag goes down, you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

  Yes, I see that now. I hugged
Ty then, hugged him so tight. “I love you, Ty.”

  He hugged me back.

  Wayne joked, “Hey, I thought you loved me.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him. “I do. And you too, Cal.”

  Cal laughed. “Damn right, and me too. So now that we’re over the hump of this, you go call Lover Boy.”

  I stepped back from Ty. “A quick text. I’ll just ask him how he’s doing.”

  Wayne looked on with approval. “Tell him we say hello.”

  I hugged him and Cal one more time, then stepped away with my phone. Ty’s words echoed in my head. My father had never let fear stop him. I wanted to be remembered the same way, even if it wasn’t on the racetrack.

  I closed the door to my office but looked through the glass portion out at the row of cars in the garage. Take it all away, and I would still have everything that mattered. If I did this right, though, I could have Christof and Decker Park. The Christof I’d fallen in love with wouldn’t want me to choose.

  I sent a text to Christof: Thinking of you.

  His answer was immediate. Missing you.

  My heart leaped in my chest, and I smiled. Did everything go as expected with your mother?

  Yes and no. Better in some ways.

  How do you feel about tomorrow?

  I’m not looking forward to it, but hopefully it will surprise me as well.

  I put aside my insecurities about not being invited and focused on simply being there for him.

  I’ll be thinking about you and your family all day. Possibly praying, although I’m not good at that.

  You don’t know how much that means to me.

  I did, and I found comfort in that. There were so many unknowns, but Christof was a good man doing something important for his family. He was putting his worries in the passenger seat and doing what needed to be done. No wonder I loved him. I’m glad. Good luck tomorrow.

  I’ll call you afterward. I don’t know what time dinner will wrap up.

  I took a deep breath and then a leap of faith and typed:

  I’ll be here.

  And just like that we were no longer over.