by JM Darhower
It still didn’t make any sense to Carmine, but he knew his father wasn’t going to tell him anything more. “Okay, whatever. I’ll watch her.”
* * * *
The dining room was tense as the group ate in a strained silence. Carmine scooted the food around on his plate with his fork, trying to ignore the glares Nunzio was giving him from across the table.
“So, Carmine,” Salvatore said, smiling brightly. “You’ll be eighteen in a few months. Any plans for the future?”
Six weeks ago Carmine wouldn’t have hesitated—he would’ve declared he’d be in Chicago the day he turned eighteen—but he wasn’t just thinking about himself anymore. The girl two stories up, locked away like a prisoner, had managed to squeeze her way into his heart. He had no idea how he’d change her situation, but he was resolved to find a way.
He shrugged, unsure of what to say to that, and Vincent cleared his throat. “Carmine can do what he wants with his life, but I like to think he’ll hang around here until he at least graduates.”
Nunzio laughed. “School’s useless. What’s a diploma gonna get you these days—a job at McDonalds? There’s money to be made out there, and no piece of paper from some little school will matter a bit when it comes to it.”
Vincent spoke up again, his voice sharp. “A diploma may not matter in our line of work, but it’s not about a piece of paper. It’s about finishing what you started, being dedicated and not selling out. Nothing is worse than an opportunist.”
Carmine knew they weren’t talking about high school anymore.
“I wouldn’t call it being an opportunist,” Nunzio said. “I’d say it's more like wising up and changing your priorities.”
“Your priorities shouldn’t change when you’re on a path you swore you’d stay on,” Vincent said. “Carmine’s mother would want him to see it through.”
Carmine looked at his father, stunned he’d bring her up, while Nunzio just shrugged. “But Maura’s not here anymore, so what does it matter what she’d want?”
There was a collective gasp around the table as Vincent stood up, his chair crashing to the floor. “Don’t even say her name, scarafaggio! You never disregard your family! You always stay loyal, no matter what!”
Salvatore grabbed Vincent’s arm and dragged him out of the dining room. Carmine glanced around the table, noticing everyone besides Nunzio appeared just as shocked as he felt.
Vincent and Salvatore returned and went back to eating without saying a word, the only sound in the room that of clanking forks. It grated Carmine’s nerves. “May I be excused?”
Throwing his napkin on his plate, he stalked out of the room without waiting for an answer.
* * * *
Haven was watching the end of Jeopardy in her room when she heard footsteps nearing her door. She felt light-headed as the knob turned and opened without a knock. Carmine stepped in with a plate of food. Relief washed through her at the sight of him, but it was dampened when she noticed his expression. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “Well, not really. My father doesn’t want you left alone right now.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So you’re watching me?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Why you?”
His shoulders slumped at her question, a frown tugging at his lips. “Am I that horrible to hang out with?”
She realized what he thought and shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised your father would ask you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m apparently being punished for beating up Ryan,” he said. “Not that I consider this punishment or anything.”
She smiled. “I was going to say—am I that horrible?”
Rolling his eyes, he set the plate down in front of her. “Here’s some dinner, oh-so-horrible one.”
She thanked him and picked at the food, unsure of why he continued to just stand by the door. “Aren't you going to sit down?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously. He pulled out a small white tube. “Oh, my father said you burned yourself.”
“It’s not that bad,” she said, holding out her hand.
He sat down beside her. “Bad or not, you shouldn’t have burned yourself.”
Carmine gently rubbed some cream into her wound. After he was finished, he met her eyes. She stared at him, mesmerized by the color visibly shifting shades with his mood, and his hard expression softened as he nodded toward her plate. “You really should eat before it gets cold.”
* * * *
Haven lay with her head on Carmine’s shoulder as the two of them watched a movie. She ran her fingers down his forearm, stroked the back of his hand. Turning it over, she traced the lines and creases of his palm. His fingers twitched as she grazed the tattoo on his wrist. “Do you really believe that? Trust no one?”
“I used to,” he said. “Until you came along.”
She picked her head up to look at him. “You trust me?”
“Yeah, why does that surprise you?” he asked. “I let you sleep in my bed and be around my stuff. You think I’d do that shit if I didn’t trust you? That’s not me at all.”
“That’s right,” she said. “You’re finicky.”
He chuckled, shaking their bodies with the motion. “Am I that bad?”
“No,” she said. “You still won’t let me clean your room, though.”
He sighed exaggeratedly. “That has nothing to do with trust or me being finicky. I just feel like an asshole having you clean up after me. I mean, you’re my girl—you aren’t supposed to do that shit.”
A swell of hope surged inside of her when the words “my girl” rolled from his lips. “But don’t you see? That’s one of the only things I can do for you. I have nothing to offer, Carmine. No way to make you happy.”
He stared at her, his expression intense. She started to feel self-conscious and looked away, but he grasped her chin and pulled her face back to him. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do things to impress me. Just being yourself is enough to keep me interested.”
As she stared at him, she wondered if it could really be that simple.
“You’re so pure,” he said, like he could sense her doubt. “I don’t deserve someone like you after everything I’ve done, and I hope you can see past those things. I hope I can be good enough for you.”
She blinked a few times, surprised he'd say such a thing. “You’re too good for me.”
He laughed. “Are we talking about the same person? The selfish fucker who curses and yells, blows up cars and beats up people, because he has a temper he can’t control? You know, the one who drinks like a fish and fries his brain with drugs? That person is too good for you?”
She shook her head. “I’m talking about the boy who shared his chocolate bar with me when he probably never shared anything before, who gave me his mama’s favorite book, because he thought I deserved to read. The one who seems to be constantly fixing me up when I get hurt. I'm talking about the boy who treats me like I’m a regular girl, the one who desperately needs his bedroom cleaned and laundry washed but chooses to live in a mess and wear dirty clothes, because he’s too polite to ask the girl he kisses for help.”
“Wow,” Carmine said. “I’d like to meet that motherfucker.”
Haven smiled as he pulled her toward him again, and she rested her head back on his shoulder. Carmine took her hand, running his fingers along it much like she’d done his. It tickled, and she laughed as the tingles shot up her arm.
“Are you okay, tesoro?”
“Yeah, my hand doesn’t hurt anymore.”
He sighed. “I wasn’t talking about your hand, although I’m glad it’s okay. I was referring to the fact that he touched you.”
She turned back to the movie, the thought of the guy’s hands on her making her queasy. “He just scared me a bit.”
Carmine kissed the top of her
head. “Don’t worry. He won’t come near you ever again.”
Chapter 17
Haven headed out of her bedroom at a quarter after eight in the morning and collided with a form standing right outside her door. She recoiled, but Dominic just stood in front of her, motionless. “You okay, twinkle toes?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t expect anyone to be standing there.”
He smiled. “I’m taking the day off and figured we could spend some quality time together.”
“Quality time? What will we be doing?”
“Well, we'll do a bit of cleaning and then probably make dinner.”
“So the usual things I do.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Nothing exciting.”
“The usual is good,” she said. “I like knowing what to expect.”
She followed Dominic down the stairs, the two of them making it to the second floor when Dr. DeMarco stepped into the hallway. There was a guy with him, the one whose name Haven didn’t know.
“Morning,” Dr. DeMarco said, barely giving them a glance.
“Good morning, sir,” Haven said.
“Don’t bother cleaning my office today. I’ll be working out of it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. DeMarco walked away but the other guy lingered for a moment, giving her an unusual look. He seemed to be studying her, searching her expression for something.
Dominic squeezed Haven’s arm, motioning for her to go with him. Haven set off to her morning work and decided to wash Carmine’s clothes for him, while Dominic hovered nearby, just watching.
* * * *
After all of her work was done, Haven tentatively followed Dominic out into the yard. She sighed contently the moment she felt the sunshine on her face, the rays warm. Dampness lingered in the air, a cool breeze wafting across her bare arms and flushed cheeks.
She paused a few feet from the back door. “Are you sure I’m allowed out here today?”
“I’m positive,” he said. “Unlike my brother, I ask before I do things.”
The two of them strolled toward the thinning trees, the brittle, fallen leaves crunching under her shoes. She was apprehensive when they headed into the forest, but she wanted to believe he wouldn’t lead her anywhere that would get her in trouble.
The sound of rushing water met her ears as they walked, and they paused when they came upon a creek. “Is this still your property?”
“Yeah, it stops right about here.”
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, kneeling down and dipping her hand into the cold water.
“I guess so,” he said. ”I’m not fond of nature. Carmine’s the one that plays in the woods.”
“Carmine comes out here?”
“He hasn’t since he got back from the boarding school, but he used to when he wanted to be alone. He was moody and got into funks, so he’d come down by the water or run along the trail.”
Dominic sat down and leaned against a barren tree as he gazed at the water. Haven mulled over it for a moment before pulling off her shoes and wiggling her toes in the grass. Rolling up her pant legs to her knees, she stepped into the freezing water when Dominic’s voice rang out. “There are probably all kinds of creatures in there, you know. Fish. Bugs. Snakes. Scary shit.”
She smiled when she felt the mud squish between her toes. “I’m not afraid of what’s in this water.”
“I thought all chicks were afraid of snakes.”
She laughed. “I grew up with scorpions, so snakes aren’t scary.”
“Are you afraid of anything?”
“Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something.”
“So what are you afraid of?”
She was quiet, considering how to answer. “Hope.”
His brow furrowed. “Hope scares you?”
“I try not to hope for anything,” she said. “If you expect nothing, you aren’t disappointed when you get nothing.”
“That’s… sad,” he said. “You don’t have any hope?”
“I guess I do now.” She kicked around in the mud for a moment. She didn’t want to dwell on the fact that she now had the one thing she told herself she’d never succumb to. “What are you afraid of?”
“Losing my dad,” he said. “I already lost my mom because of this life. I don’t want to lose him to it, too.”
An ache strangled her chest as she thought through his words. Her mama was still alive as far as she knew, but she still felt as though she’d lost her forever.
“You should always have hope, you know,” he said.
“My mama used to say that all the time.”
“Smart woman,” he said. “So you knew your mom?”
“Yes.”
“When’s the last time you got to see her?”
“Right before I was brought here,” she said. “She told me to run away, but I got caught. That’s when your father took me.”
Dominic stared at her. “My father took you away from your mother? Does he know that?”
“Yes.”
They were quiet for a while, Dominic sitting in thought as she stomped around in the creek. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually.
She glanced at him. ”What are you sorry about?”
“The fact that you’re here,” he said. “I still don’t understand it. It stumps me that he’d take you away from your mother. That’s wrong.”
“It was scary to leave her, but I wouldn’t call it wrong,” she said. “If you knew where I came from, you’d see I have it well here. Even my mama would say he did me a favor.”
“Were your parents, you know…?”
“Like me?” He nodded. “Mama was. My master fathered me, and he wasn’t a very kind master, either. He rarely fed me and hit me sometimes just for breathing.”
“What's his name?”
“Michael,” she said softly. “Antonelli.”
Dominic stared at her for a moment, his mouth agape, before shaking his head. “We should get back.”
Although she hadn’t wanted to go inside, she tentatively stepped out of the water. Her feet were covered in mud so she cleaned them off, figuring Dr. DeMarco wouldn’t be happy with a dirty-footed servant scampering around when he had company.
They strolled back toward the house in silence, her brow furrowing when she saw the large white box truck in the back yard. All of the men from last night were unloading boxes, taking them into a door in the side of the house. It was hidden under vines and green growth, blending into the surroundings.
“I didn’t know there was a door there,” she said.
“It leads to the basement,” he said. “You don’t want to go down there. I don’t even want to go down there.”
Nunzio stepped out from behind the truck then, his eyes drifting toward her. Haven stepped closer to Dominic and focused her gaze on the ground, not wanting to give him the wrong impression.
* * * *
Haven was scouring through the kitchen cabinets for something to cook when Dr. DeMarco strolled in. “Starting dinner?”
She turned to look at him. “Yes, sir.”
“We’ll only be having one guest tonight, and you’ll be eating with us.” Her eyes widened at his request, but he interjected before her panic could worsen. “It’s just one meal. Salvatore’s important to all of us. I suppose you could say he’s my master, and he’d like it if you stayed tonight.”
No way, no how, nuh-uh. “Yes, sir.”
He hesitated in the kitchen for a moment, looking at her curiously as if he could tell her true thoughts, but walked out without commenting. Haven pulled out a pack of steaks to thaw and wrapped some potatoes in foil, placing them into the oven to bake before starting on the salad. She was finishing everything when the Mazda pulled up outside, and she smiled as she started setting the table.
“Do you need any help?” Carmine asked when he came inside, keeping a few feet of space between them.
“No, thank you. I’ve got it.”
“I�
�ll come upstairs as soon as I can get away from the table.” She shook her head, and his face clouded with hurt before she had a chance to explain. “You don’t want me to?”
“Of course I do, but your father said I had to stay for dinner because of his guest, so there’s no reason for you to rush away.”
He scratched his cheek, rubbing the stubble of facial hair coating his jaw. “He’s making you eat dinner with us because of Salvatore?”
“Yes.”
Carmine looked like he was going to say something else when his father walked into the kitchen. Opening the liquor cabinet, Dr. DeMarco pulled out the bottle of scotch, already half-empty though it had just been opened the day before.
Haven looked back to the doorway, seeing Carmine was gone. Dr. DeMarco held a glass of alcohol out to her. “Take this to our guest. Don’t spill it.”
She grabbed the glass and walked into the family room. “Here’s your drink, sir.”
Salvatore took it, his gaze on her peculiar. “Thank you, dear.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Just relax,” Carmine said, pulling out a chair for Haven as they made their way to the table for dinner. She sat down gingerly, and he took the seat across from her. Haven remained still as everyone bowed their heads, and Dr. DeMarco said a prayer. They helped themselves to food then but Haven only took a little, too anxious to eat.
“So Haven…”
Her name spoken in the high-pitched voice made the fork slip from her fingers. It clanged against her plate, and she winced at the sound. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Salvatore. She wanted nothing more than to blend into the background at that moment, wishing she could be overlooked.