Rooted (The Pagano Family Book 3)

by Fanetti, Susan

  Things between them were much too intense. Much too good. The kind of good that could make Carmen forget important things, no matter what dangled from Theo’s neck.

  So when he’d asked if he and Eli could join them in the UK, she had said unequivocally no. This trip was supposed to be about Rosa, urging her to come into her own, to break free of her home habits. Getting wrapped up quickly with a guy and burning hot, fast, and out was one of her worst home habits. One Carmen was afraid she’d picked up now, as well.

  Rosa had pouted on the train, but she’d loved Ireland, and the men of Ireland loved her, so she’d perked up quickly, did her flirty woo-hoo girl routine with some handsome Celts each evening in the pubs, and they’d had a nice time. It wasn’t until their last night in Devon, when she’d been texting with Eli in the hotel—something they’d done every evening—that her mood turned, and when it did, it turned sharply. Carmen had been dragging a petulant teenager around London.

  Carmen had made a point not to be in excessive contact with Theo. They’d had three extended text chats since he and Eli had seen them off at the Gare du Nord. Otherwise, she’d sent a few photos. She’d ignored a few texts, too. She needed distance.

  Apparently, Eli was cooling on Rosa during this week away. She hadn’t said as much; she wouldn’t talk about Eli at all except to whine that he and his father weren’t with them, but her foul mood, Carmen thought, spoke volumes.

  But she was sick and tired of the ‘tude. On their way back to the river taxi from the Tower of London, walking past the Tower Bridge, Rosa started to stomp off ahead, and Carmen grabbed her arm. “Stop, sis. Enough. Let’s find a chip shop or whatever they call them and have some dinner and just talk. We’re in Europe. We should be having a good time, and right now, neither of us are.”

  “I know. That’s because you are determined to make it all SUCK!” Rosa yanked her arm, and Carmen let her go.

  “Listen to yourself, Rosa Teresa. Do you sound like a college graduate right now?”

  “Fuck you, Carm.”

  “That’s great debating style there, precious. Quite the rebuttal. That’ll get you right to the floor of the Senate, that will.” Since she was little, Rosa had wanted to be in Congress. How that ambition fit in the heart of this frivolous girl, Carmen would never understand, but there it was.

  “Why are you constantly riding me? What is it you want from me?”

  They were standing on the sidewalk, shouting at each other in vintage Pagano style. People were staring. Carmen didn’t give a rat fart. “I want you to grow up! I want you to be the woman I know you can be! I want you to see that your life is bigger than clothes and bars and boys! I want you to have what you want!”

  “Why do you care? Since when do you care? Nobody gives a crap what I do! You don’t even know what I want! Maybe I want clothes and bars and boys!”

  A woman in a dark uniform, wearing a cap with a checkered band—a cop—stepped up to them. “Excuse me. Is everything all right here?”

  Carmen took a step back and cleared her throat. “Yes, officer. Sorry. We’re sisters. Just having a sister thing.” Rosa scoffed loudly at that, and the officer turned to her.

  “Miss?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Sorry.” In full pout, Rosa crossed her arms over her chest. Ooh, Carmen wanted to slap that girl. But the inside of a London police precinct was not actually on her itinerary.

  The cop nodded. “Right. Well, let’s take the ‘sister thing’ off the street, shall we?”

  “Sure.” Carmen turned to Rosa and smiled tightly. “Shall we get some dinner?”

  “It’s like four-thirty. I think that’s called tea.”

  Maybe Carmen could get a slap in later.

  ~oOo~

  They found a little fish and chips place, which was barely more than a kiosk. When they had their order, they sat at a table on the sidewalk. Rosa ate sullenly, and Carmen, feeling calmer, thought about that fight.

  “What do you want, Rosie?”

  “You don’t care.”

  “I do. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Rosa glared at her, chewing slowly. When she finally swallowed, she said, “Right now, I want Eli.”

  Carmen took a breath and tried to answer calmly. “Do you understand why the words ‘right now’ worry me?”

  “I don’t understand where you get off worrying. It’s my life.”

  Because she’d had part in raising her. Because she loved her. “Sissy. Come on. What is going on?”

  Rosa sighed, wiped her hands on a paper napkin, and got her phone out. Carmen felt an urge to reach across and yank that pink, blingy thing right out of her hands. She watched as Rosa scrolled and tapped. Then she put the phone on the table and pushed it across. “There.”

  It was her text thread with Eli. Carmen picked the phone up. “How much can I read?”

  She shrugged. “As much as you want. We don’t sext or whatever. I’m not an idiot.”

  A lot of it was chitchat. Carmen scrolled, scanning but not reading too closely, feeling like she was reading Rosa’s diary, and guilty about it whether she had permission or not. Then she came upon an exchange from a few days ago—that last night in Devon:

  E (at the end of some blather about a joke Rosa had made): Love that about you. Just love you Rhody.

  R: ??

  E: sorry

  R: ok what??

  Carmen stopped and looked up. Rose was watching her, looking as if she was waiting for Carmen to reach the punch line. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me, either. Read on.”

  The next text was from the following day—during the day, while they’d been watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Carmen had pitched a fit about the phone then, too.

  E: That was stupid. Sorry.

  And then nothing until that night—last night, when they were in their hotel.

  R: Sorry. Carm’s a beeYATCH and wouldn’t let me use my phone. We need to talk.

  E: When you’re back.

  There were no more messages in the thread. “No grownups say bee-yatch, Rosie.” It was all she could think of while she was working out what she’d just read.

  “That’s what you take away? God, Carmen. And you wonder why I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “No, sorry. I just feel like I’m reading a book with pages torn out. Are you two that serious?”

  “I don’t know! I didn’t think so. I just wanted a Paris romance. A fling, or whatever. He lives in Maine! Usually it’s me that gets all invested and hopeful and then gets dumped.”

  “Are you dumping him?”

  “No! I…I don’t know. I really like him. Really. But I’ve been good this time. I’ve been careful not to get all swept up and stupid like I usually do. And now I’m wicked freaked because he feels things I made sure I wouldn’t feel. I don’t know! I mean, how would we even work?”

  Jesus. Rosa was saying things not wildly dissimilar to her thoughts about her and Theo, though she was sure Theo wasn’t wrapped up the way it seemed Eli was. She closed her eyes and took a breath. But Rosa and Eli were different from her and Theo. Rosa was young. So was Eli. They didn’t have history and baggage like she and Theo had. They had time to take risks and make dumb mistakes and correct them later. They had once-in-a-lifetime feelings to spare. To share.

  “Don’t worry about how it works. Worry about whether you want it to work. You started by saying that Eli is what you want. Then go for it. If you both want it enough, you’ll figure out the how.”

  “Pop would kill me if I moved.” Now Rosa was contemplative rather than combative.

  But wow. That was a big jump. “Well, baby steps here, hon. But if it comes to it, maybe he moves. He’s between jobs, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s true. He could find something in Providence. Maybe Uncle Ben knows—”

  “No, Rosie. Don’t even let that thought take root. No.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, okay. Can I have my phone back?” Carmen handed it
over, and Rosa tapped on the screen. “Don’t have a coronary, okay? I’m just saying something to make him feel better. I know what it’s like to be left hanging, and it sucks.”

  “He calls you Rhody?”

  “Yeah. I told him I didn’t like him calling me Jersey Shore, and that my accent wasn’t even Jersey. Then there was a thing about my name—Rosa, Rosie, Rhody—and then I had a nickname. It’s fine. It’s cute. Lame, but cute.”

  “Yeah. Lame but cute seems to run in that family.”

  With a final tap, Rosa put her phone away. She took a sip of her soda and then gave Carmen a long look. “Thanks, Carm. That was only minimal bitchiness on your part.”

  Carmen smiled.

  ~oOo~

  When they got back to Paris, the Wilde men were waiting for them at the station, and they fell right back into their intensity. Eli and Rosa were suddenly a bona fide couple. Carmen had done some thinking, and she felt some envy, but she knew that what was going on with her sister and Theo’s son could not be replicated between her and Theo. Too much history, too much baggage. But the week away had refreshed her resolve, given her the distance she’d needed. She had her heart in hand again and could let herself do the thing that felt good.

  One night, while she was sleeping in Theo’s arms, her phone rang, playing a Van Halen song. Luca was calling. She’d just spoken to him the day before, catching up on family news, so she knew instantly that the call meant trouble. Her phone was in the living room, and she scrambled to get it before it went to voice mail.

  She didn’t make it, but she called him right back, not bothering to wait for the message. He answered on the first ring. “Carm.”

  “What’s wrong? Is it Pop?”

  “Nah. Pop’s good. Well, healthy. But I got news. I didn’t think about how late it would be for you, though. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine, Luc, it’s fine. What happened?”

  “Fire at a job site.”

  “Fuck! John’s okay? Joey? Everybody’s okay?”

  “Yeah. Family’s fine. But the fire wasn’t an accident. One of our guys is dead, too. Tied to a support beam and burned in the fire.”

  Carmen sat on the floor, falling in a heap. “Jesus. Who was it?” Theo came out, naked, as she was. When he saw her on the floor, his expression went immediately to concern, and he sat down at her side and put his arm around her. She resisted the urge to shake him off.

  In her ear, Luca answered her question. “Norm.”

  Norm had worked for Pagano & Sons Construction for at least two decades. “Shit. What are you talking about? Why Norm?”

  “I don’t think there was a particular reason. Just the first of our guys they found.”

  Carmen suddenly understood. If Luca hadn’t roused her from a deep, spent sleep, she would have caught it more quickly. “This has to do with the Uncles.”

  She could hear Luca sigh. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  “Jesus, Luc. You want us to come home?” Theo’s arm tensed at that.

  “No! God, Carm, no. Stay where you are. You’re safe there. Except—maybe don’t do the trip to the motherland, okay? Who knows if this is just something local or how deep it goes. Whoever it is isn’t making a distinction between sides of the family. Things are getting all snarled up. Stay where you are, have your vacation. We’re good here. I’m sure the Uncles are on it, and you’re safe where you are. I just wanted to let you know, ask you to cancel Italy. Okay?”

  Carmen rubbed her eyes, feeling sad and weary. “Yeah, okay. How’s Pop holding up?”

  A long pause told Carmen more than Luca’s words would. “He and Norm went way back.”

  “I know.”

  “He’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah. Tell him I love him, okay? Tell him we’re good.”

  “Okay. Go back to sleep, sis. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” She ended the call and set her phone on the nearest table.

  “Carmen, something’s wrong.” She turned and considered Theo. She liked that he hadn’t asked an obvious question. He’d made a statement. Now that the call was over, she didn’t want to shrug him off anymore, so she laid her head on his shoulder.

  “Yeah. Family stuff. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Are you leaving?” She wondered whether she’d imagined the subtle break in his voice.

  “No. Not earlier than planned, anyway.”

  He kissed the top of her head and left his lips there to linger. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

  Bringing him into the loop about her family was too dangerous a line to cross, too close to home. “I know. Thank you.” She sat up. “Let’s just go back to bed.”

  With a nod, he stood and held his hands out, helping her to her feet. Then he led her to bed, tucking her under his arm, her head on his chest.

  When she was finally able to sleep again, Carmen dreamt that the house on Caravel Road was burning. She ran in to save her family, but every time she brought one to safety, the others she’d saved would be back in the fire.

  She woke, tense and gasping, when Theo shook her awake, his eyes sparking with worry.

  ~ 8 ~

  Theo closed his Mac, shoved it away, and stared out the window at the Eiffel Tower.

  He was blocked.

  He’d been in Paris for more than two months, and he had five thousand words, maybe a thousand of them worth the space they took up on his hard drive. There were times while he’d been writing Orchids in Autumn when he’d written five thousand words—good words, keepers—in a day.

  He simply could not write. Not even drivel. He’d tried all the exercises he knew to ignite even a flicker of inspiration, but there was nothing. Even when he gave himself permission to write sewage, as long as it was words on the screen, the sewage dried to a trickle in a matter of a few sentences, and then he’d zone out, his mind drifting far away, and he’d come back ten, fifteen, thirty minutes later, still staring at the screen, the thin line of the cursor blinking with steady determination at the beginning of an expanse of white emptiness.

  The grant that was paying for this Parisian retreat bound him to write the follow-up to Orchids, a prequel of sorts about his early life with Maggie. He intended to have a complete manuscript draft by the end of the year, when he was to return to his regular life as a professor of creative writing and American literature at Colson College in Colson, Maine.

  That was the plan, anyway. At this rate, he wouldn’t have the first draft of the first chapter done by then. Fuck.

  He drained his crystal glass of bourbon and, deciding he needed another, he stood abruptly, nearly overturning the fey chair with curlicue legs he’d been sitting on. He hated this damn apartment. He felt like a visitor in a museum every single second.

  Well, not every single second. He’d become quite fond of and at home in the bedroom.

  That brush of thought about Carmen brought an upward twitch to his mouth. Yes, he was quite fond of any space he shared with Carmen Pagano.

  He went to the bar and refilled his glass, emptying the bottle of Maker’s 46. That gave him a moment’s pause, and he considered when he’d bought this bottle. Wednesday. Today was Sunday. No worries, then. Even accounting for what he’d had while he was away from the Hunter Anders Museum of Expensively Prissy Taste, he was fine.

  Maybe he wouldn’t rush out to replace this bottle, though.

  He was alone in the apartment today, by his request. Eli was spending the day with Carmen and Rosa, even going to Mass with them at Notre Dame. Then they were visiting Versailles. As far as Theo was concerned, he had plenty of artsy-fartsy décor right where he was, and he’d rather use the day to work.

  He needed the day to himself. He needed to fucking write, to get something down, and Carmen was a delightful distraction. They’d been together for six weeks or so—if ‘together’ was what they were. They spent most of most days together. They ate most meals together. They slept most nights together. They were going off to spend the next weekend in A
vignon together, and he’d booked a romantic hotel. But even when she was curled up with him, sleeping quietly, her body woven with his, he didn’t feel like she was ‘together’ with him. Even in sleep, even when he could not possibly get closer to her, he could feel her holding him off. He couldn’t quite explain how he could feel it, but it was there. Even in moments of playfulness, even in passion, even when he had all of her in his hands, he had none of her, really.

  In five weeks, her French sojourn would be over, and she’d be gone. He knew that when she left, she’d be gone from his life completely. He wondered how long it would be before she forgot him completely.