Footsteps

by Susan Fanetti

  “He go down okay?”

  “Of course. He had many questions about Joey, though. I hoped I answered them well.”

  She got into bed, and he closed his laptop, set it aside, and dropped his glasses on top of it. Then he leaned over and kissed her, slow and sweet. “I’m sure you did. You’re so good with him, Bina.”

  He started to push his hand under her nightgown, but she circled his wrist with her hand and stopped him. “May we talk first?”

  With a crease down the middle of his forehead, he sat back a little. “Sure. Everything okay?”

  “Yes. But something’s in my mind, and I’d like to talk about it. I worry that you’ll be angry, though. That maybe I would step over.”

  “I can’t imagine you overstepping anything. What is it?”

  She was anxious despite his assurance. “Shouldn’t Rosa be home more for Joey?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s hardly seen him since he was hurt. She wasn’t here today. Only she was missing. Is it right?”

  “Rosa…she’s young. She and Joey have never gotten along very well, and her priorities are…”

  “Wrong,” Sabina finished for him. He cocked his head, and she could tell by the subtle change in his posture that she had, in fact, made him angry.

  “Not wrong. Young. Maybe you’re right, Bina. Maybe this isn’t a place for you to have an opinion.” He turned and sat back against the headboard, pulling his laptop back onto his legs and sliding his glasses on, as if the conversation were over.

  It was not.

  “Am I not family, then?”

  He turned his head back toward her. “Yes. Of course you are. But you don’t know—”

  She cut him off. “I would like to finish my thought. Because maybe I see things a new way. Do you know how many photos of you are hanging in the hallway downstairs?” When Carlo didn’t answer, Sabina did. “Twenty-nine. Thirty-one of Carmen. Twenty-six of Luca and the same of John. Do you know how many photos are of Joey? Of Rosa? Six of Joey. Five of Rosa. There are twelve photos of Trey on that wall. More than Rosa and Joey altogether.”

  “You counted?”

  “I was curious. I see that your whole life is…the word is…chronicled in this house. The same is with Carmen, Luca, and John. But Joey and Rosa? No.”

  “Our mother died. We have different…” He stopped, and Sabina thought she knew why.

  She filled in the word he’d tripped over. “Priorities?”

  He was getting even angrier. He tossed his glasses down on the bed. “What’s your point, Sabina?”

  The last time he’d called her by her full name was beyond memory. Sabina was beginning to feel real fear now. But she also felt strongly, somehow, that she had to continue to press her point—not only for Rosa and Joey, but for herself. “I know how you love them. It is not a question at all. But you yourself said that you rescue Joey always and never teach him how to save himself. I think something like is in your love for Rosa, too. You call her a princess, you call her spoiled, but no one makes any demand on her that would help her see that she is. You complain amongst yourselves that she should be here, but no one demands it of her. You let her be away from this family time, when even I am told to stay, that family comes together, no matter what.”

  She took a breath and said her real point. “Carlo, what does that say to Rosa about her place in the family?”

  He stared at her, his eyes dark and hard. And then he got up from the bed and stalked to the door, grabbing his jeans on the way.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Downstairs. I’m not tired.” And he was gone, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Sabina wondered whether she’d just changed everything.

  ~oOo~

  She was lying in the dark, on her side, when he came back up later. Perhaps two or more hours had passed. She felt the bed dip as he sat on the bed.

  “Bina, are you awake?”

  “Yes.” She turned to her back. “I’m sorry you’re so angry.” She didn’t want to apologize for what she’d said, because she wasn’t sure she’d been wrong to say it. But she was certainly sorry for his anger.

  He lay down at her side. She could smell scotch on his breath, but he didn’t seem drunk. “It’s hard to hear another way I’m fucking up. I guess I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

  Rolling to face him, she brushed her fingers across his furrowed brow. “I didn’t mean that, Carlo. It’s not you only. The whole family does it, and it’s done of love.”

  “You’re right. I see it. I don’t know what to do about it. She’s almost twenty-one. It’s not like we can ground her.”

  Sabina didn’t know, either. Family dynamics like this were new to her. “Maybe speak with her? She loves you so.”

  He chuckled. “She’s my Peanut. She’s a good girl, you know. She really is.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I’m sorry I got mad. I had to work out the things you said.” His hand released hers and went around her waist, and he pulled her close. A knot in Sabina’s chest loosened as she knew that they were all right. “You were right to say them, though. You didn’t overstep.”

  “I love you, Carlo. Thank you for giving me this family. This home.”

  ~oOo~

  There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Baby, everything okay? You’ve been in there a long time.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. Things are fine.” Sabina turned again and tried to see her rear view. Dressing like this in the old-fashioned hall bathroom on the second floor of the house on Caravel Road was much harder than it had been when she’d had a bathroom of her own that was the size of the living room here.

  She held up a hand mirror and tried to see if there was too much skin showing. The dress had cutout low on the back, and she didn’t want the top of her bottom showing. She was not a plumber.

  She had splurged quite a bit on this dress. “Splurging” was a new concept for Sabina. Only in the past few months had she had to think about how much things cost. She and her aunt had kept tight purse strings, but that had been too far in her past for it to be something Sabina still remembered how to do. But this was an important event for Carlo—the unveiling of his winning design and the announcement of the plans for the new building. He was the guest of honor, and she wanted to be someone he could be proud of.

  And this was a world she knew.

  The evening was important for her, too. It marked her first foray into the social world of Providence since she had been free of Auberon’s bonds. Both Carlo and she knew that the media attention on her would be intense. There were rumors that she had killed her husband. Some of the theories were wild and fantastical; others were uncomfortably near the truth. She had taken lengths to stay away from that scrutiny.

  Tonight, she would embrace it. She was not afraid. She was not ashamed. And she was not meek.

  So she had driven to Providence with Carmen and gone to Le Palais Providence, the chichi department store at which she’d once sold men’s accessories. And she’d bought this dress—a glittery, sleek, turquoise confection. It had slender satin straps, artful cutouts, and a subtle mermaid cut, accentuating her curves in exactly the right way. Auberon would never have approved of such an overtly, decadently sexy style—and Carmen’s eyes had about popped from her head when Sabina had stepped from the fitting room. She’d made a droll comment about doubting Carlo would ever make it to the party, and that had made the decision for her. She wanted to be a knockout for Carlo. She wanted to make a statement.

  The dress had cost as much as three months of rent for her little attic.

  She’d finally given up the attic. The house on Caravel Road was truly her home now. She kept her job, though. She adored Andi, and she adored being in that beautiful, fragrant shop, and she adored having a place to go and be helpful. Andi was teaching her to spin and weave as well as knit. Sea Weaver was the thing, Sabina thought, that gave her the sense of self she needed to be strong and ready to be a member of th
e Pagano family. It was a thing that was hers alone—and that was something she had not had before in her life.

  Again, a knock. “Bina, I don’t mean to be a nag. But it’s a long drive to Providence.”

  She set the hand mirror down. “All right. One minute more.” Her makeup was done—in her life before, she’d had someone to do it for her, as well as her hair, but she thought she’d managed well. She smoothed a tiny touch of body glitter, very subtle, over her shoulders; she’d always liked that effect. It made her feel magical to sparkle just a little, in just the right light.

  She left her hair loose and simply added some product to her natural waves to give them extra shine. She wore no jewelry except the diamond studs that she’d been wearing when she’d run from the beach house—and the engagement ring Carlo had given her, a simple, two-carat square-cut diamond set in a plain, platinum band. Much smaller and less dramatic than the ring she’d pawned. And much, much more precious.

  All right. She was ready. She slipped into her silver strappy heels and opened the door.

  Carlo was wearing his tuxedo—the first thing she’d ever seen him wearing—and he looked beautiful. His evident discomfort did little to diminish his allure. She was bowled over by the reality that he was hers.

  He took her in, feet to head, and as she watched, his face told her everything she needed to know about her choice of dress. If she made no other impact tonight, she had made the most important one. His eyes finally met hers.

  “Jesus, Bina. You look…you…Jesus.”

  “Good, I hope.” She was fishing. She knew she looked good.

  “Breathtaking. Like something out of a fantasy I never dared to have. My God, baby.” He brushed his fingers over her shoulder with a low chuckle. “Pixie dust.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Nothing. Just having a memory. You’re spectacular.”

  He kissed her lightly, then led her downstairs, where he helped her into a crème-colored faux-fur shrug. It was early October, and the weather had been quite chilly. Trey was in the living room playing some kind of card game with his grandfather—War, she thought it was called. Joey was sitting in the recliner, watching television. They went in to say their goodnights.

  Joey muted the hockey game. “Wow, S-Sabina…You look…great. Beautiful.”

  She went and kissed Joey’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  Trey looked up, and his eyes, too, bulged. “Misby! You’re like a fairy princess!”

  “Well, thank you, love. Your daddy is taking me to a ball tonight.” She went over and hugged him.

  Carlo did, as well. “We’ll see you in the morning, pal. You be good for Pop-Pop.”

  Trey rolled his eyes. “Daddy! I’m always good! I’m a good boy!”

  All the grownups laughed. “You’re right. My bad. Love you, pal.”

  As they turned, Carlo Sr. grabbed Sabina’s wrist and gave it an affectionate shake. “Give ‘em hell, girl.”

  “I will, Pop.”

  “I know you will. Anyway, lookin’ like that, they’ll be struck too dumb to pester you with nonsense.”

  She kissed her father-in-law-to-be on the cheek, and Carlo took her hand and led her out.

  ~oOo~

  “How do you get out of this?” Carlo’s hand ran over her hips and waist, looking for a zipper. He was already out of most of his tuxedo, now wearing only his pants.

  “At the top—there are hooks.”

  “Oh!” He found the hooks at the middle of her back and unfastened them. “You really made a scene tonight. I’m not sure anybody cared about my silly little building.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “I hope that’s not true. I didn’t mean anything like that.”

  “I know, and I’m joking. I had plenty of attention. More than I like.” He pushed the satin straps off her shoulders and then the dress over her hips. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

  “Where do you think I would have put it under this dress?” She stepped out of the puddle of shimmering turquoise.

  He laughed. “If I had known you were commando, I would have found a dark corner and done you right there in the ballroom. Because that is blazing hot.”

  “I would have liked that.” She turned and pressed her chest to his, hooking her arms over his shoulders and sliding her fingers into his hair. She was still wearing her silver heels, but nothing else.

  “Yeah? Okay. Good to know. Public sex is on the to-do list.” He trailed his knuckles down her back, then cupped her ass in both hands. He clutched her to him, and she reveled in the feeling of his clad body against her bare sex. She moaned, and he kissed her.

  With his mouth still light on hers, he murmured, “You were amazing tonight. I thought I was going to have to lay a couple of those reporters out, but you just charmed them stupid.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a world I know. Not a world I like, but one I know.” She sucked a little on his bottom lip, until he grunted and flexed. “You were amazing, too. I’m very proud. You are an artist.”

  He grinned with obvious pleasure. “It’s my best work. And it’s great working for this guy. He gets it. That doesn’t happen often.” His eyes suddenly darkened. “Bina, can we set a date?”

  Having thought about this since they’d been engaged, she had a ready answer. “I would like to marry in May.”

  “May? That’s so long from now. Seven months.”

  “Yes, I know. But we’re together now, as we will be forever, yes?”

  “Yes…” Yet he continued to look dissatisfied. Sabina had to admit that she enjoyed his impatience to wed her. But she didn’t want to rush. They had rushed everything so far, moved with a speed that could easily be considered foolhardy. Though she no longer questioned the rightness of their choices, she saw no reason to rush this final choice. In fact, she had reason to take it more slowly.

  “I would like to wait until after the holidays. And May is important to me. It’s when we met. When I became free. When my life started. It’s a very good month. It feels lucky to me.”

  His brow had smoothed as she’d spoken. “Okay. May it is. At Christ the King?”

  “Of course. Then a party on the beach?”

  Carlo laughed. “You’re amazing. That’s perfect.” He lifted her, and as he turned toward the bed, she hooked her ankles at the small of his back, making him grunt. “Fuck, baby. Leave the shoes on.”

  Epilogue

  Carlo stood with his bare feet in the warm May sand and looked over the beach. This was his home. It was the only home he needed or wanted, and it was complete. Now, it was complete.

  Now, he was married.

  His father was grilling, one arm around Mrs. D.—when had that become a thing?—and John was out on his board with some friends. Trey was playing in the wet sand near the water. His sisters and his wife stood nearby, letting the waves wet their ankles as they talked.

  He watched Bina laughing with Carmen and Rosa. She was wearing a white bikini—she’d called it her ‘bride-kini’—and he was having trouble keeping his body under control. The bottom part had this silver ring on her hip, and he kept thinking about hooking his finger through it and…

  He shook his head to clear it. But he was going to make damn sure he got his hands on her while she was wearing that.

  Their wedding had been a simple affair, for a Catholic wedding in an Italian family. The pews were filled by family and friends, and they’d decided not to stand on the tradition of ‘bride’s side’ and ‘groom’s side.’ Bina had no family but his own, and they shared friends, as well. There was no distinction to be made. Instead of ushers, they’d had a simple sign at the entrance to the nave reading Welcome! Pick a seat, not a side.