by Lesia Reid
“I don’t want to cut my hair,” Joey said.
“It’s going to get tangled and be a mess.”
“I like it when it’s long. And Brit likes it too. Trevor thinks it’s cool, like a rock star.”
“Brit?” Deana raised a brow.
“Yeah,” Joey said, looking up from his book. “We had a sleepover at Uncle Jaime’s when you were away. She said she hoped you never cut my hair again because it looks good when it’s like this. I think so too.”
“Uh-hmm, I see.”
“I talked to Dad about it, he said it’s up to you but he doesn’t care as long as I comb it.”
“We’ll see. Did you pick up everything for school while you were out?” “Yes.”
“Good. Go fetch your father, dinner is ready.”
…
For Deana, it was strange to cuddle with Sebastian in the family room after dinner and Joey was in bed. She reminded herself to stop thinking of the house as Sebastian’s. It was now theirs. She picked up the mail and idly sorts through.
“I need to go job hunting,” Deana said.
“I thought you wanted to take a break and decide what you want to do.”
“You mean have I made up my mind to work for you?”
“You’d be working for yourself. I’ll just contract you for interiors on the models.”
“The problem with that is I’d be traveling all the time. Between your travels and mine, Joey would end up with part-time parents. Besides there’s just something taboo about sleeping with the boss. I’m thinking of a pastry business or a restaurant. I still have the money from the sale of the two houses. Of course, I would need to do a more complete chef’s course.”
“So go to school full time,” Sebastian said.
“I’ve never been without a job since I was sixteen.”
“You have a job. It’s being a full-time student, a mother and a wife. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”
“Merda!” Deana’s hands trembled as she looked at a large brown envelope addressed to Mia DiMarinetti. Her heart raced as she tore it open.
“What is it?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t know.”
There was a letter and several other pieces of paper. She opened the letter first and recognized the curvy flow of Luigi’s writing.
Dearest Mia,
It was not an angel that saved you or your boy from the Devil, but a man who died when his sunshine was snuffed from him. As I promised, you will never have to live in fear again. You will not from this point on hear from a Pacelli, Ventura, DiMarinetti or any other from your past. This is my last note and reassurance to you and your new family. I will not describe the details of the aftermath, except to say your history has been buried.
I have enclosed a gift for your son. It is the only contribution we will ever send. This comes with love from his grandfather and from a coward who should have been his father. Do what you will with them. They are yours and his.
Good Luck, Mia,
With love always, Luigi
Deana refolded the letter and pulled the remaining papers from the envelope. They were savings bond, nearly twenty of them, all a hundred thousand each, and all set to mature on Joey’s twenty-fifth birthday.
Oh, she reminded herself, Luigi was there for Joey’s birth. “What do you think?” Deana asked.
“About the bonds or the letter?”
“Both.”
“I think your past is literally buried in New York, but I can’t prove it and I don’t know if I should be concerned. I believe Luigi genuinely wants you to have a better life. The bonds are up to you. Joey is my son, a Torrance. As such, his future is financially secured and not just from Torrance Construction. There’s a trust for every Torrance and he’s no exception. He’s not the first adopted Torrance either and the principles of the trust will be upheld even if— and I pray this never happens—you decide to leave me.”
“I don’t want this to be my decision.”
“Then put them in the safe. Let Joey make the decision when he’s older. We cannot take this from him. You know in time we will have to explain it all, and not the short version we gave him so he’d understand.”
“Not everything, Sebastian. I cannot explain the beginning to him.”
“Honey, you cannot be ashamed of what Tony did to you. It was not your fault. I am afraid if we keep this from Joey and later he finds out it will be worse than if we told him the truth. He has your strength, he will understand.”
“It’s unfair for him to know he was conceived that way,” Deana said.
“Deana, many children are conceived in the heat of passion and don’t have a mother half as loving and caring as you. I think he will understand. It will make more sense to him than our explaining that you left New York because his father was a violent man—a violent man who searched for him for almost ten years. I will stand by whatever decision you make. For my part, I love you even more knowing what you went through and knowing what you endured to save your child.”
“He’s just a boy.”
“But he will be a man someday. And he will ask the tough questions. You have time to think about it. Let’s go to bed.”
“How did I ever get so lucky to meet you?”
“I think I’m the lucky one. I love you, Deana Torrance.” “And I love you, Sebastian Torrance.”
I Loved You
You thought another had stolen
My heart from you,
But you could not have been more wrong.
My heart was never yours for the taking and
Even when loaned, not for the keeping.
I admired you once, a long time ago
You were just a little rat from the
Worse side of town - just like me.
And like me, you were driven by
Ambition to someday get out
And never remember from whence you came.
But alas, the city drew you and you became cold.
Only when it was apparent that your
Seemingly endless climb on the ladder of
Success could only be ruptured by
She who walked even more perfect in
Your steps than you, did you
Remember the pact we made and that
Only with me you could be of all things, YOU!
Too late!
Lesia P Reid
Copyright ©2005 Lesia P Reid