Rooted (The Pagano Family Book 3)

by Fanetti, Susan

  “I’m so sorry, Theo. Everything’s so fucked up between us, and I did it. I’m sorry.”

  He almost hushed her again, but instead of soothing her, he took her chin between his fingers and turned her head so that they were locked eye to eye. “That’s the second time you’ve apologized to me for breaking us up, Carmen. So I ask you again: do you love me?”

  “Yes.” She hadn’t hesitated at all.

  “Do you want to be with me?”

  “Yes!” She nodded in his grip.

  “Then you have to stop running from me. We work out our problems. We stay together. Right?” He knew he was taking advantage of her weakened condition, but he didn’t actually care. He’d just driven like a bat out of hell through four states in a haze of terror because she and their daughter had been fucking shot. He was through with her fear and her drama. “Trust me to love you, Carmen. I do—so much. Just let me. Please.”

  She nodded and whispered, “I love you.”

  “Good.” He kissed her.

  ~oOo~

  “Okay, you ready?” Carmen nodded, and Sandy, Theo’s favorite NICU nurse, smiled at him. “You want to do the honors, Daddy?”

  Theo leaned into the bassinet, lifted Teresa in his hands, and pressed her to his bare chest. He had taken to wearing a button-down shirt every day, because the nurses encouraged as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. They called it ‘kangaroo care,’ and the first time he’d felt his little girl’s scant weight on his chest had nearly unmanned him.

  After almost a month, Teresa was out of the isolette for long stretches of each day. She still needed help breathing, and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to go home, but she was strong and gaining every day. Sandy had been right that first day—their little girl was a fighter.

  Carmen’s progress had been slower. She’d had to fight off a nasty staph infection and had been weak enough for Theo to find a new depth of fear. But through it all, she had, with the help of the nurses, expressed her milk to keep her supply going. She’d been released the week before, and she had kept expressing on her own, bringing the milk with her every day to the NICU and expressing there, too.

  In the meantime, Teresa’s digestive system had matured enough that she was ready to feed normally, rather than from a tube in her belly.

  Today, Carmen was ready to nurse, and Teresa was ready to feed. Whether she would root and latch was the question. Theo handed their daughter, still very small but so much bigger now, to Carmen. Sandy helped mother and daughter get into a comfortable, likely position.

  Sandy held Teresa’s head at Carmen’s breast. “Here, Daddy. Why don’t you do this? Once she latches, you can let go.”

  Theo went over and put his hand on Teresa’s head. Sandy slid a chair behind him and he sat. Carmen brushed her nipple on Teresa’s cheek. At first, nothing. Teresa squirmed and fussed, but didn’t root. Carmen did it again. And again. On the third pass, Carmen leaked a little onto Teresa’s lips. She opened her mouth and turned. And then she latched.

  Theo knew when Carmen felt the first pull of milk through her breast and into Teresa’s sucking mouth. He had no idea how it felt, of course, but Maggie had described it as indescribable. Carmen’s eyes lifted to his, and he could see that she would agree. He smiled. “I love you. I love you both with all I have.”

  Sitting in the NICU, they watched their four-week-old daughter, not yet even four pounds, nurse like a pro.

  ~oOo~

  That night, lying together in the loft, as Theo began to doze, Carmen whispered, “I don’t know if I can leave here.”

  And Theo was wide awake again.

  Teresa’s doctors estimated that she would be in the hospital for another two to four weeks. When she was released, Theo was taking his girls to Maine. They’d decided together. Carmen was going to spend the next few weeks getting her staff set up so that she could come down a couple of times a month and check in. She would come in for proposals and client meetings, too, but otherwise, she would operate from Maine and stay home as much as she could with Teresa. John was going to rent the beach house from her, so she didn’t even have to give up this place she loved. And they would be away from the bloodshed. It was a perfect solution.

  Far more perfect than what was happening now, with Theo commuting up to Maine twice a fucking week and trying to cobble together online work for his classes on the days he wasn’t on campus. Between the hospital, and his courses, and the driving, and the arrangements for the move, he was exhausted, and his nerves were frayed to fluff. He’d found an AA meeting at St. Gabriel’s and he was going as often as he could, but the twelve-step, higher-power, good-vibe stuff was started to wear on his worn nerves. He still didn’t have a sponsor. He needed one. But not here. Here was temporary.

  Unless Carmen pulled more of her shit. “Jesus, Carmen. Please don’t. We have a plan. A good plan.”

  She rolled in his embrace, her breasts—always beautiful, now positively stunning—grazing his arm. He felt the familiar clench in his balls and ignored it. “I know. I know. But I’m leaving my family behind with all this crap going on. I don’t know how to do that. They need me.”

  “This crap is why I have to get you both out of here, Carmen. You and Teresa were shot.” He decided to take a risk, but a calm, level-headed one. He cupped her cheek in his palm. “How do they need you? Tell me what you can do to help that’s important enough to put yourself and our baby girl at risk.”

  At first, as he expected, she was angry. But he held her steady when she tried to turn away, and he kept his eyes on hers. Finally, she answered—or tried to. “They…I…we stick together.”

  “We stick together. Remember? You have a family of your own now. Teresa and me. We are our daughter’s roots. What’s best for her?”

  “Theo…”

  “Carmen. I know you’re scared of making a mistake. But you’re clinging to a past that doesn’t exist anymore. Rosa is off living a life with Eli. Joey is working and in his own place. Your father is remarried. It’s time for you to look to your future.” He waved and smiled, trying to lighten the dark look in her eyes. “Greetings. I come from the future.”

  It worked, and she laughed a little. “You are so lame.” When she settled against his chest, he finally relaxed and turned onto his back, bringing her along. She sighed. “I am scared. I can’t stand not seeing for sure what’s right. And I can’t stand the thought of making my father hurt. He’s lost so much lately. Taking his only granddaughter more than two hundred miles away? How can I do that?”

  “As someone who’s making that drive back and forth in a single day twice a week right now, let me say that it’s hardly Saturn you’re moving to. Teresa will know all of her wonderful family. We’ll make sure of it.”

  She ran her fingers over his chest, and his cock swelled. He could not wait until he could be inside her again. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

  “Only when I’m right.” He lifted her chin and bent his head to look into her eyes. “Are we good? Still on the plan?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “You say ‘I’m sorry’ a lot.”

  “Would you rather I didn’t?”

  “I’d rather you not need to.”

  “How about I make it up to you some other way?” She pushed her hand under the covers and took hold of him.

  He groaned and lifted his hips as her hand began to work his cock. “I’ll let you know when you’re forgiven.”

  ~ 23 ~

  Carmen sat next to Teresa’s bassinet, nursing. Her daughter was a good little eater, and she was approaching the critical five-pound milestone. When she topped that weight and was able to stay oxygenated without a cannula, her doctor said he’d release her.

  And then they’d...move to Maine?

  That was the plan. It was a good plan, a reasonable plan. Safe and right. Carmen knew all that, and she was not slowing down the preparations. She and John had worked out a rental agreement, and she had worked out a way to keep her
business running from a distance. Tomorrow, when Theo would be in Quiet Cove and could stay with Teresa all day, Carmen had a meeting scheduled with Maxine, her site manager, who was going to take over as general manager. Max had kept everything running smoothly all summer, and Carmen trusted her. Theo was right.

  He was right about everything—about Maine being where they belonged, about Quiet Cove being too dangerous for a Pagano right now, about his job being less mobile than hers, about the reality that she wasn’t needed at home, and about the way she was letting fear and intractability blind her to the rest of it.

  But she didn’t know any other way to be than rooted to her family. After all these years, the wild girl who’d stood up in Tony Napoli’s Jeep, who’d wanted to wander through Europe in search of adventures, who’d studied philosophy because she loved to think big thoughts and feel big feelings—that girl was gone. The woman in her place had always lived a small life in the shadow of the big house on Caravel Road.

  Teresa unlatched and looked up at Carmen, her blue eyes big and thoughtful. She had nearly lost that swollen, incompletely molded look her face had had the first time Carmen had seen her in person, when she was just more than a week old. She lifted her daughter’s little hand from her breast and kissed it lightly.

  “You done, little miss?” She turned Teresa carefully and set her on her chest, between her breasts. Even at nearly six weeks old, she was still so small and fragile that Carmen had yet to feel totally comfortable moving her around.

  The doctor had explained that Teresa’s development was still more akin to fetal development than newborn—though it had been six weeks since her birth, in reality, in a safer, more perfect world, Carmen would most likely still have been pregnant at this time. While most newborns were developing motor control and muscle strength, preemies like Teresa were developing lung capacity and organ function. Eventually, when the milestone ranges widened, she would likely catch up. But in the meantime, extra care and patience would be necessary. Carmen was afraid of this, too—of not being a good enough mother to help her daughter overcome the challenges of her early, traumatic birth.

  Her head swirling with all those thoughts, she sighed and struggled with one hand to close the cup on her bra.

  “Oh, sorry.” Her father cleared his throat, and Carmen looked up to see him turning away, averting his eyes.

  Leaving Teresa settled on her chest, where she was falling asleep without having burped—burping was a function she was still developing—Carmen adjusted her top so that her father wouldn’t be scandalized. “Hi, Pop. It’s okay. I’m decent.”

  Carlo Sr. turned back and came around the bassinet. “How’re my girls today?” He pulled up a chair and sat at Carmen’s side, his eyes as bright as his smile, and he reached out and laid his rough hand on Teresa’s back. “She looks sleepy.”

  “Milk coma.”

  Her father gave her a worried look. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, Pop,” Carmen laughed softly. “It’s just an expression for a nap after she eats. Her belly’s all full and cozy.”

  “Oh. That’s good then. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Can I…would it…” He looked a little lost.

  “Go get squirted, and then yes, of course you can hold her. She probably won’t wake up at all. Because milk coma.” Though Teresa was still in the NICU, she wasn’t isolated any longer, and she spent most of every day being snuggled and loved by a grandparent, an aunt, an uncle, or a parent.

  He got up and went off to sanitize himself. When he came back, he sat again in the chair and held out his burly, hairy arms. He was beaming at his granddaughter. “Come see Pop-Pop, bella.

  Carmen settled her daughter in her father’s arms, negotiating around the tiny cannula in her nose, and he nestled her into the crook of his elbow and then against his chest like a man who had fathered six children and nurtured his grandchildren as well. He knew what he was doing. He looked down on the tiny girl with such brilliant love and devotion that Carmen, still caught in the clutches of maternal hormones, found herself in a violent internal fight against tears.

  Doubts rose up in her heart and head—they were always bubbling just below the surface, and needed little impetus to break free and wreak havoc in her mind. How could she take Teresa away from all this love? Family—was that not home itself, love itself? How could she go off to live alone with Theo, just the three of them surrounded by woods and strangers? How was that the right choice? Was she making a mistake, taking Teresa away from home? She was, wasn’t she? But Theo would lose his mind if she changed hers now, when everything was nearly set and they were simply waiting for Teresa to be able to leave the hospital.

  Oh, shit. She had no idea what to do.

  “What’s wrong, Carmen? You look upset.”

  She left her horrifying reverie and saw her father watching her, his brow drawn. Her daughter slept cozily in his arms, a little fist against her cheek. She gave him a hopefully convincing smile. “No. I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t convinced. “Carmen. You don’t have to be brave all the time. You can tell me anything.”

  She knew that was true. “I’m just worried about leaving home. Leaving you—leaving everything. I don’t want to make a mistake.”

  He sighed so heavily that he disturbed the baby. She woke and fussed, and Carmen watched as, without much thought at all, her father resettled his only granddaughter and bounced her gently. She calmed and closed her eyes almost at once. Carmen would never have bounced her; she was still afraid of breaking her.

  “Carmen, my sweet girl. I’m going to serve you up some truth. You think you can handle it?”

  She laughed, imagining Jack Nicholson saying words like it. A Few Good Men was one of her father’s favorite movies, so she was certain he was imagining something similar. “Sure, Pop.”

  “Your priorities are out of whack. I’m getting frustrated with you. If you were a little girl, I’d’ve had you over my knee by now.”

  “What? Why?” She had not expected that to be the truth, and she wasn’t all that sure she could handle it.

  “Because you’re welching on your responsibilities, and I’m getting sick of it.”

  Nope, definitely couldn’t handle it. “Pop! That’s not fair! I feel like all I ever think about is my responsibilities.”

  “The wrong ones, baby. You think about the wrong ones. Don’t you see that?”

  Carmen just stared at him, her head swimming. For something to do that would remove her eyes from his, she buttoned her shirt.

  “Carmen. Look at me.” She busied herself with her buttons. “Carmen Cella Pagano, you look at me right now.”

  Though she was thirty-eight years old, she felt chastened by her father’s use of her full name, and she looked up, her fingers still on the button just above her bra.

  “I know what you gave up when your mother died. You think I wasn’t paying attention, and I know I wasn’t paying enough. But I do know what I asked of you. You more than Junior. I know, baby. I know. You gave up you, and became your mother instead. She was a wonderful woman. A wonderful mother. You are, too. But you aren’t you. I think you stepped into her shoes and got stuck in them. I think that’s why you were so mad when I married Adele and moved over next door.”

  More than once, Theo had said something similar. It was a powerful thing to be understood. A fearsome thing, when that understanding eclipsed one’s own. Feeling like her heart was sitting in her lap, raw and exposed, Carmen couldn’t keep eye contact anymore. She let her eyes fall onto Teresa’s beautiful, sleeping face. Her dark hair, curling just slightly at the ends already.

  “I think I’m right,” he continued. “Aren’t I?”

  “Pop.” She hated the small sound her mouth made, and the way the word broke in the middle.

  “Look around you, Carmen. You don’t have to be stuck in your mother’s place. You did right by the family you were born into. You did more than anybody. But now it’s time to do right
by the family you made. It’s time to do right by yourself. It’s time to ask yourself what’s right for you. What will make you happy—you and this little girl in my arms.”

  “I want her to grow up seeing you every day.” Her voice broke again, and behind that faulty dam, tears surged forth. She let them. After all these months, she was used to being drippy.

  He chuckled. “I am going to spoil this beauty rotten. It won’t be good for her to eat candies and cookies every day. I need a chance to save up, too, for all the ponies and kittens. But it’s her daddy she needs to grow up seeing every day. Not Pop-Pop. You know what’s right, Carmen. Don’t you?”

  Sobbing hard now, she nodded. “I love you, Pop.” She had to force the words through her knotted throat.