I leaned back, knowing the decision was already made. It hadn’t initially been made by Angelina, but the more she spoke, with each word, each sentence, each comparison and rationalization, her resolve solidified, and the decision went from a possibility to being set in stone.
Finally, I asked, “What about her mother?”
“She’ll sign away her rights. She already has.”
“Who convinced her to do that?”
“Oren...” It wasn’t an answer but more of a warning.
“Vincent,” I volunteered.
“All I know is that the woman did it. She’ll even appear in front of a judge if necessary.”
“So she’s still alive.”
“For now.”
For now, because as I’d learn later, if she were dead at this juncture, Silvia would have become a ward of the state of Illinois, and that wouldn’t have worked for Carmine’s plans. After the woman signed away her daughter to the family who’d killed her son, her future would be less clear. Her existence would no longer be needed.
“Does Silvia know about any of this? Isn’t fifteen old enough to have some say in her future?”
“Yes, it is, and no, she doesn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
Angelina again reached for my hands. “It means that I want her to want to be with us. I want her to choose us of her own free will. It’s not exactly Uncle Carmine’s plans, and of course, his plans will progress, but I’d like that for once in her life, Silvia has a say. I didn’t want to talk to her until you agreed.” Again, her eyes opened wide, filled with the expectancy from before.
I stopped myself from clenching my jaw as I stared back, marveling at the spark, the gleam in her blue orbs that had been absent, that my inattentiveness had dulled.
I never was good at telling her no, at least not when it was something monumental.
“What about Lennox?” I asked. “Does he get any say in this?”
“If I were telling you that I was pregnant, would he get a say?”
“I suppose not. That’s a baby. This is...what?”
“A big sister...and I’ll talk to him.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t the enthusiasm I had that night long ago when I came home to lasagna to learn I was going to be a father; then again, life would never go back to that night, the simplicity or honesty or blind faith in our future.
Silvia soon-to-be Demetri was now my wife’s life’s work to pay it forward. Angelina loved and hated with her whole heart. She was generous to a fault with her time and our money. She could afford all the help she needed, and instead she cleaned her own house, cooked our meals, and did the laundry. According to her, doing so was taking care of those she loved, and she refused to allow anyone else to do it.
Carmine had given her the opportunity to have a live-in maid, and instead my angel chose to gain a daughter.
To me, Silvia would be something different. She wasn’t our opportunity to share life’s bounties with someone in need. This girl would be my wife’s reward for my service, for my devotion to the Costello family, and for my help in extinguishing a life. Perhaps in a way that helped me—or I hoped it would. I grasped at the straw as a way to justify my actions.
Where Russell had died, with Angelina and me to help, Silvia would be able to live.
“Okay?” Angelina asked, repeating my answer. “Are you sure?”
“No, baby, I’m not. I’m not sure how this will work. I am sure that if you decide it will, then it will. I’m sure that if you’re determined to win that little girl over and convince her to want to be part of us, you’ll succeed. I’m sure that whatever you set your mind to doing, you’ll do.”
“We should tell Aunt Rose and Uncle Carmine first. That way Uncle Carmine can keep working on the legalities...”
She continued to talk about what we could do and about what would happen. As we sat in Carmine Costello’s office without him, I wondered how many legal adoptions he’d facilitated. Were there others? Was this his first? Were there illegal ones? Why was he so hell-bent on saving this girl when her brother had almost taken his life?
So many questions bombarded my thoughts as Angelina continued to talk, so many that I knew would probably never be answered.
“Do you want to come with me?” Angelina asked.
“With you?”
“Oren? I said I was going to go talk to her, to ask Silvia to come home with us. Please listen.”
“I am. No, you talk to her alone. I haven’t seen her that much, but I get the feeling she’s unsure around me.”
“She’s unsure around all of us. You, however, frighten her.”
“Me?”
“You’re a tad intimidating.”
“I am?”
“It’s not just you. Uncle Carmine and Vincent...and all of the men who grace these halls. I remember what it was like to be a young girl living here. Men in suits. Little girls are afraid of them until we learn the truth.”
“What’s the truth?”
She leaned closer, her breasts flattening against my chest as she brushed her lips against mine. “That you’re all big softies on the inside.”
I chuckled, knowing she meant what she said. Nevertheless, my soft side was turning to stone, harder by the day, week, and year, solidifying in the frozen deepfreeze of life’s choices. The woman before me was my light, my warmth, my only hope at redemption, and if that meant helping her convince a fifteen-year-old girl to accept us as her family, to show that girl that I was less scary and just simply intense, then I would do it.
It seemed to me that on my list of recent decisions, this was one that was less damning.
Plan Silvia Demetri was set in motion and as with many other decisions, I was simply there to agree. After all, this had Carmine’s blessing. It had more than his blessing: it was his idea. Usually, when someone adopted a child, there was a delay between ‘here’s the child’ and ‘take her home.’ During that preparation time, things were done: a bedroom was decorated, clothes were purchased, and family was informed. It even happened when one bought a car, an opportunity for buyer’s remorse. That wasn’t the case with our situation. None of the preparations happened. This was not a by-the-books adoption. With the legalities in progress, Carmine and Rose were in favor of Silvia making the move immediately.
Angelina agreed with one stipulation. She wanted the girl to be involved. Therefore, after our private talk in Carmine’s office and after informing Carmine and Rose we were in favor, my wife went upstairs to talk to Silvia. Convincing her to leave the Costellos and go home with us wasn’t overly difficult. After all, moving from one family to the next had been the girl’s life for nearly the last four years.
Silvia may have thought that this was like every transition she’d already had, but soon she’d learn it was much different. If things went as Angelina had planned, she’d never make that transition again, not until she was ready.
I was in the kitchen with Rose when Angelina came down with Silvia. “Aunt Rose,” Angelina said, “I’ve asked Silvia to come home with us. She’s worried that you’re upset.”
I grinned, thinking that in all the years I’d known Angelina’s aunt, I’d never seen her angry. I’d seen her face lined with worry for her husband and son. I’d watched as she’d wrung her hands, waiting for a medical miracle or a dismissal from a judge. I supposed those qualified as upset, but an angry Rose Costello—never.
“Come here, girl,” Rose said, her unusually stern tone bidding my attention.
Slowly, Silvia approached. With each step her shoes shuffled across the kitchen tile.
Leaning against a wall of cupboards, observing the scene, for the first time I really looked at Silvia. I’d seen her before, but I hadn’t looked at her. She was fifteen, and yet she seemed younger. Unlike fifteen-year-olds out and about, she was painfully plain and reserved. Her dull brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. One sign of her age was her height, tall, almost as tall as Angelina. What struck me w
as her weight. She was thin, too thin. The lack of nutrients showed in her face and prominent cheekbones. Even her wrists were small and fingers boney. Just visible from the neckline of her top, her collarbone was pronounced, and her clothes hung from her frame. How anyone could live with Rose Costello for even a few weeks and not gain weight was beyond me. Such as the observation I’d made of her brother, she wasn’t full-blooded Italian. As I’d been taught, some might consider that not Italian at all; however, that wasn’t my wife’s way of thinking.
“Mrs. Costello,” Silvia said.
Rose’s chin went up in the air in a way that I’d never seen. “Tell me, girl. Have we mistreated you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Do you want to go with the Demetris?”
Silvia looked down, her eyes veiled as her hands came together in front of her. “I-I didn’t know it was up to me. I thought you sold me.”
My chest ached. Her misconception combined with the slight trembling of her hands punched me like no fist could. “We’re not buying—”
Angelina shook her head, stopping me from explaining. That may have stopped me, but what kept me silent were the wide brown doe-like eyes turned my way. This girl was terrified of me. It was written on her face as well as in the air. The stench of fear emanated from her every pore. I’d seen that look on men’s faces before. I’d witnessed it as Vincent and I would walk into a business or a home. There was something powerful in inciting that kind of reverence. However, this was different. It was coming from a child, and it made me ill.
What had men done to her? What were we getting ourselves into?
Silvia turned her head to Angelina. “Y-you don’t want me?”
“We do,” Angelina and I said together. Again, my voice snapped her fearful gaze to me. “Maybe if we—” I tried to soften my tone.
“Oren,” Angelina interrupted, “please come with me for a minute.” Reaching for my hand, she tugged me through the swinging kitchen door, taking me from the room. I turned back, and as the door continued to swing, I witnessed the way Silvia was standing before Rose until the door was shut.
For the first time ever, a part of me worried about leaving the child with Angelina’s aunt. I’d never before had that thought, ever.
Nothing was making sense.
Maybe it was my recent inability to sleep.
“What the hell is going on in there?” I said in a stage whisper, my anxiety rumbling through my chest and words.
“This is what she knows.”
I shook my head. “Then tell her the truth so that she knows something else. I’ll tell her. She’s not a commodity. She’s not something to sell. Why does Rose sound different?”
Angelina took a deep breath. “Oren, it’ll take time. Silvia hasn’t known anything different for nearly a third of her life. A life, especially one like she’s led, hasn’t been a fairy tale. People in her position don’t go to sleep a servant—or a slave or whatever Silvia’s been trained to believe she is—and wake up a princess.”
“This doesn’t make sense.” Maybe I was too upset about recent events to wrap my brain around the scenario, but I truly didn’t understand why we couldn’t just ask her if she wanted to be adopted. Maybe she didn’t. Then we could move on. If she agreed, then at least she’d know she wasn’t any of the things Angelina had mentioned. “Even hearing you say those things is upsetting.” I pointed toward the door. “She’s a person.”
“Yes, and with time—”
Rose’s voice came from around the closed door. “Go and tell them...”
We both took a step back. Slowly, the door swung our direction. “Mr. and Mrs. Demetri...” Silvia’s eyes were again downcast. “If it’s up to me, and Mrs. Costello said it was...if it is...and you still want me to...I’d like to go with you.”
Fuck.
Angelina looked up at me, her blue eyes brimming with hope before turning back to Silvia. She reached for Silvia’s clutched hands. “Yes, Silvia, we would both like that very much. Let’s get your things, and then we’ll go home.”
I shook my head as Angelina took Silvia upstairs to gather her belongings. My mind went to Lennox. He wasn’t even with us, but back in Rye at a friend’s house. He left this afternoon to go do what ten-year-old boys do, an only child. He’d return tonight to learn he was going to have a sister. Not a baby. No nine months of preparation. He was going to have a girl five years his senior as part of his life forever.
And yet our son’s reaction didn’t seem as paramount as the scene that had just happened in the kitchen. I was unusually unnerved by Rose’s tone and mannerisms. Stepping back through the swinging door, I stared at Angelina’s aunt, wondering if I should say what was on my mind.
Like a true Costello, she didn’t give me a choice. “Go ahead, Oren, parlare. Fai una domanda...Ask about things you know nothing about.”
“But yet you seem to understand. Angelina seems to.”
Rose nodded. “Sì. It’s a cruel world. Not everyone has a family like yours or mine.”
My family—the one where I’d been raised—was nothing like hers, and yet there was something in her unusually cold demeanor that made me want to understand.
“Yet you are behind this adoption?”
“No.”
I tilted my head. “No?”
“È troppo. I’m afraid that our Angel has bitten off more than she can chew. Silvia’s too old. Her life and behavior is already too engrained. It’ll be a difficult transition if one can be made at all. I’m afraid the child’s past will darken Angel’s future, not the other way around.”
“Then why are we doing this?”
Her chin rose again with a snap. “Because my husband believes in redemption—in acts of kindness to offset acts of ill will. A boy was used as a pawn in the game of life. Once Carmine got wind of this child, he sent our son on an errand, telling him not to fail. It took years, but Vincent, he did what he was told. Carmine doesn’t believe that any child should pay for her parents’ or even her brother’s sin.” Rose shook her head. “And he knows that if anyone can help Silvia, it’s our Angel.”
“I agree,” I sighed more than said. “Yet I’m still confused. Why are we keeping the buying-and-selling farce in motion?”
“I told the girl that she wasn’t sold. When Angel took you from the room, I told her that it was her choice, that Mr. Costello and I are old. We haven’t had a sla—worker,” she corrected, “in many years. I didn’t want one then, and I don’t want one now. I told her that she’d be happier with you. There’s more for her to do with you and Angel.” She lifted her hands. “We’re boring.”
I hardly thought Carmine Costello was boring, but I wasn’t going to debate that issue tonight. Instead, I concentrated on what she’d said earlier. “You...” I had trouble forming the words. “...actually at one time owned a person?”
“We didn’t purchase her. She was a gift from Carmine’s uncle when we married. I didn’t want her, and neither did Carmine.” She shrugged. “But it was what it was. Families have, for longer than we’ve been alive, paid debts with children and women. It’s not right, but it happens, and despite other advances, it still happens. Sometimes they’re spoils of war.
“Think about that, Oren. Think about your wife. We don’t know why she wasn’t taken when her parents were killed. I thank God every day that she wasn’t. If she had been, she could have ended up like that girl.”
“You would have searched for her.”
“We would have, but like Silvia, they’re shipped away to other cities, to other families. It’s easier that way.”
My knees grew weak as I eased myself into one of the kitchen chairs. “What happened to her—the gift you were given?”
“Carmine and me...we were young and naive. We released her—gave her freedom.”
“And?” It felt like there was more to the story.
“And she was about this girl’s age.” Rose shook her head. “We were married at nineteen. We weren’t in the pos
ition you and Angel are in today. We couldn’t have adopted someone four years younger than us. And as a new bride, I didn’t want a younger woman around my husband day and night even if she was just a scared girl.”
I worked to keep my expression from mirroring my thoughts. The story was leaving a sour taste I couldn’t swallow away.
“She had no education,” Rose went on, “no knowledge other than domestic work. She couldn’t support herself after we released her. Her family didn’t want her back. She represented something they wanted to pretend didn’t exist. Instead of helping her, as we’d intended, we imprisoned her to the only life she was capable of understanding.
“No longer someone else’s property, she used the only commodity she’d ever known—herself.” Rose turned toward the counter and busied herself with the collection of nonexistent crumbs. “It doesn’t work like that in our world, in any world. A woman can’t decide that she’s in charge of her own body, especially not one who’s still a child.
“The world is full of vultures willing to take what isn’t theirs. She found her way to a club in another territory, one that capitalized on desperate women and children. Drugs and sex.” Rose spun back toward me. “When we heard what had happened, Carmine went to his father. He asked for her back. We knew what we’d done was a mistake. It was too late. When my father-in-law found her, she was dead.”
Rose came close and sat across the table from me. “That’s why I’m worried for Angel. This will take time. Silvia needs to understand she’s more than a body. Thank the dear Lord she hasn’t been used in that way. But if my Carmine hadn’t been determined to find her, it would have happened. It was only a matter of time.”
The Price of Honor: The Making of a Man Page 25