by D. C. Ruins
"Very good," he commented.
"Thanks, Heath," her father said, then handed the bottle to Drew. "Take that in the kitchen. Go help your mother and your sisters." He affectionately cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lightly on both of her cheeks. "Go on. Let us men talk. Hey, you want a beer, Heath?"
Heath glanced at Drew over her father's shoulder and she nodded slightly at him. "Yes, sir," he said lightly. "Beer would be great. Thank you."
"Drew, go get the man a beer, will ya?" her father said, waving her off. He was smiling, and Drew knew that he was appreciating all the respect that Heath was showing him. She wasn't sure but she didn't think Ryan or Vince had ever referred to her father as "sir" in their lives. But she saw how immediately Heath had slipped into his old military bearings, and knew that showing this type of courtesy and respect to someone who "outranked" him in a sense was nothing new to him.
Drew knew he didn't drink right now, but her father had extended a gesture of hospitality toward him in his own way, and he'd be a fool not to take it. Besides, one beer wouldn't kill him. She hustled into the kitchen, seeing her mother stirring a big steel pot on the stove. Nik and Toni were standing by the sink, talking and laughing.
"Hey, there she is," Toni said with a grin. "The disco queen."
"Ugh, I hate you two," Drew replied. "Don't ever feed me tequila again."
"Bad night?" Nik asked, raising her brows.
"Something like that. Look, Mom," Drew said, changing the subject. "Wine. Your favorite. Heath brought it for you. Daddy's holding him hostage in the living room or else he would have given it to you himself."
"Oh, let me see that," her mother said, turning around. She took the bottle and peered over the top of her glasses at it. "Oh, it is my favorite! What a sweet, thoughtful boy."
"Yes, we really should go say hi," Nik said, smiling innocently.
Drew held up a hand. "You leave him alone. Between your groupie husband and Uncle Gino he's got his hands full." She pulled out a beer from the refrigerator and popped off the top, then took it back out into the living room. She was surprised but pleased to see Heath smiling at something her father was saying, smiling genuinely and broadly. He looked up when she approached and his smile widened.
"Thanks," he said, taking the bottle from her.
"Get your Uncle Gino one more, too, hon," Uncle Gino called, lifting his empty bottle. Drew smiled and reached over to take it from him.
"Yes, Uncle Gino," she said and got her uncle another beer. When she returned to the kitchen, her mother was taking the caprese salad she'd made and placing it into a serving bowl.
"Sweetie, set the table please. Nik—get the antipasti ready. Toni—slice the bread."
"Yes, Mom," was the collective response. Drew knew that setting the table meant everything but the dinner plates, as her mother personally insisted on dishing up and serving each person their plate. Her mother always cooked all of the food, except for when the girls would trade off weeks making a side or a dessert, and she always ate last and very quickly, to make sure that everyone's plate stayed full. Drew would have objected, but her mother seemed to love taking care of everyone; her grandmother had been that way, and hers before her. It was just part of the family tradition.
"And now, we're ready to eat," her mother was saying brightly, and Drew's stomach involuntarily clenched up. During the meal was the time when the new guest would be peppered with questions and assaulted with veiled threats.
Nik and Toni were smiling at her, and Toni actually rubbed her hands together.
"Be nice," Drew whispered. She'd meant for it to come out as a demand but it sounded like a plea.
Her sisters exchanged a look and Nik drew her finger across her throat.
Chapter Fifteen
Mrs. Carnevale went to personally collect the men for dinner.
"You bums want to eat, you better come now," she called good-naturedly to them. A moment later, the men filed into the dining room from the living room, Mr. Carnevale rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
The room was small, just big enough for the large oak dining table and all of the chairs, plus a smaller table for the kids. They typically sat in the exact same places every time, and Drew noticed that an extra chair and place setting had been wedged in right next to her normal place. She caught Heath's eye and smiled and pointed to the chair next to her. He nodded and walked around beside her. Her father sat at the head of the table, and Uncle Gino sat at the other end. Her mother sat to the left of her father and Drew to his right. With the odd number of people at the table it was a little awkward, but Drew moved over as far as she could without intruding her father's space to give Heath enough room.
"Let me go get the kids," Nik said, and for the first time, Drew realized with a jolt she hadn't seen any of her two nieces and two nephews. She had completely forgotten about them, so stressed with the introduction of Heath to her parents and sisters.
"Where are they?" Drew asked.
"Outside in that little play area for kids, on the other side of the courtyard."
She returned in a few moments with her son and daughter, Mia and Dominic, and Toni's two children, Dante and Ramona.
"Hi, guys!" Drew exclaimed, kneeling down to allow the four small children to barrel into her. "I didn't see you outside. Why were you being so quiet?"
"Hide and seek," Mia informed her.
"Who won?"
"Me!" Dominic shouted.
"No, me," Dante whined.
"Enough," Toni said, bringing her fingers to her temples.
"Auntie Drew," Ramona whispered, her eyes furtively going to Heath, who was watching them with his arms folded over his chest and a half-smile on his face. "Who is that?"
"Who?" Drew asked, pretending she didn't know who Ramona was talking about.
"Him," she whispered back, pointing a small finger at Heath.
Drew glanced back and smiled up at him. "Oh, him? That's my friend. Heath."
"Heath," Dominic repeated.
Heath knelt down next to Drew. "Hey, little man," he said. "What's your name?"
"I'm Dom," Dominic said.
"That's Dante and Mia," Drew said, gesturing to her niece and nephew. She wrapped an arm around Ramona's waist. "Can you tell Heath your name?"
"Ramona," Ramona whispered shyly. The smallest and youngest of the children, she was immensely shy around anyone but her family, and she buried her face against Drew's shoulder.
"Hi Ramona," Heath said. "That's a pretty name."
"What do you say?" Drew prompted her.
"Thank you," she whispered. She looked at Heath, and he looked at her, and she gave him a big, toothy smile before quickly burying her face against Drew again.
"Okay, kids," Nik said. "Come on. You know where you need to sit."
Obediently, the children filed to their small table set just away from the adults' table, and automatically took their assigned seats.
"Everyone sit, let's say the prayer," her mother said, patting the air to encourage everyone to sit down. They took their seats bowed their heads. Drew wasn't really sure what Heath's denomination was, but his head was bowed like everyone else's. They crossed themselves and began the food blessing and moved into the Hail Mary, finishing with another cross.
"Okay, everyone just sit tight." Mrs. Carnevale rose to her feet.
"Some help, Mom?" Drew called after her.
"No, no," her mother's voice answered her. "I got it."
"So, Heath," Nik began and Drew sighed heavily, fixing her sister with an annoyed look. "The wine. Nice touch."
"Oh." Heath nodded. "Hope you like it."
"We prefer white, actually," Toni said. "Where's the pinot grigio?"
"It's wherever you left it," Drew interjected. "Oh, wait. You didn't bring any. Because you're a selfish bitch." She made a silly face to temper her words.
"Hey, language at the table, the kids," her father warned. "The wine was a nice gesture, thanks, Heath. You girls wa
nt anything else, you bring it and stop complaining about gifts."
"So, you really tied one on last night, Baby Sis," Toni said sweetly, ignoring Drew's pointed and fervent glances at her father.
"What's that mean?" her father demanded. He looked at Drew. "You were drinkin' last night?"
"She got drunk," Nik said bluntly.
"Only because you guys made me!" Drew insisted hotly. "Ordering all those shots, making me drink them."
"I don't recall pouring anything down your throat," Toni pointed out.
"How did you get home?" Mr. Carnevale asked, ignoring them. "You didn't ride the bus drunk, did you?"
"Who was drunk?" Mrs. Carnevale appeared and placed a heaping plate of pasta and meat sauce in front of Mr. Carnevale and one in front of Uncle Gino, who nodded his head graciously and tucked his napkin into his shirt.
"Your daughter," Toni informed her.
"Drew!" her mother exclaimed, smacking her on the shoulder before turning for the kitchen again.
"No, I didn't ride the bus, John," Drew said, grabbing some marinated artichokes and mushrooms with a fork as a distraction and placing them on her small bread plate.
"Well, did Bunz take you home?"
"Uh, no," Drew answered. Her father was like a bloodhound that had caught the scent when something didn't sit well with him. She popped a large mushroom in her mouth and glanced at Heath who was sitting quietly. "Heath took me home," she said around the mushroom, covering her mouth and hoping her father wouldn't make out her garbled words.
"He took you home?" he repeated, glancing at Heath. "Home to your apartment? Late at night when you were drunk?"
"Just to make sure she got home safely, sir," Heath spoke up reassuringly. "I wouldn't let somethin' bad happen to her." Her father nodded at his words but continued to glare at Drew.
"It's your daughters' faults, anyway," Drew added. "They kept buying me shots and makin' me drink them."
"They tied you down?" her father asked rhetorically. "They pumped tequila down your throat?"
"No, John," Drew sighed, glaring murderously at her sisters. You bitches.
Nik winked at her and Toni blew her a kiss. Heath let out a low chuckle but covered it up with a cough when Drew turned her glare on him. That, in turn, made Ryan and Vince start laughing. Drew glanced around the table with narrowed eyes. She wished she could pelt them with marinated artichokes and mushrooms.
Thankfully, her mother arrived again with more food. When everyone was served, everyone lost themselves in the flavorful dishes. Her mother had made spaghetti with a decadent tomato sauce, oily and rich, full of meatballs, sausage, and pepperoni. Drew's caprese salad was fresh with large basil leaves, sweet Roma tomatoes, creamy fresh mozzarella, seasoned with salt and pepper and tossed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Aside from the marinated vegetables there was also a plate of Italian deli meat—genoa salami and prosciutto. And sliced neatly in a brown wicker basket, wrapped with a white napkin to keep it warm, was a fresh loaf of home-baked Italian bread. It was truly a simple meal, but hearty and completely in the tradition of their heritage.
"This is delicious, ma'am," Heath said to Mrs. Carnevale. "Really. One of the best meals I ever had."
Drew beamed at him from over her glass of water as Mrs. Carnevale smiled modestly and waved a hand dismissively in the air. "Oh, thank you," she said. Then she pointed at him. "You make sure you eat," she warned. "I know you're an athlete of some kind and you need a good meal in you."
"Yes, ma'am," Heath said obediently.
"So, Heath, you follow baseball?" her father asked, sipping at his wine.
"Yes, sir," Heath replied.
"Yeah? Who do you like for the playoffs?"
"Well, being born and mostly raised in Pittsburgh makes me a Pirates fan automatically," he answered, and smiled when Mr. Carnevale made a noise of distaste and waved him off. "But for the playoffs I'd have to say Yankees all the way."
Drew had been holding her breath, realizing she'd neglected to coach him on the proper baseball teams, but luckily he'd picked the right one.
"Damn right, Yankees all the way," Mr. Carnevale said, nodding his head firmly. "What do you think about the Red Sox?" It was a test.
Drew kicked and stomped Heath's foot under the table, harder than necessary, and he glanced over at her. She kept her eyes on her plate but shook her head quickly, clearing her throat.
Heath picked it up immediately. "Nah, not a Sox fan, sir," he said. "Not my cup of tea."
"Mine either, and that's 'cause they suck," her father said bluntly, happy as always to advertise his hatred of the baseball team. "Bunch of degenerates, they are."
"Degenerates, Daddy?" Drew asked, raising her eyebrows. "Really?"
"Hey, Heath," Vince said. "Saw you on ESPN about the Smackdown thing in a couple weeks. You ready for that?"
Heath bobbed his head. "I think so," he replied. "Been workin' hard, trainin' a lot."
"What's that?" Uncle Gino asked. "This Smackdown thing."
"A tournament, Uncle Gino," Vince replied. "A big MMA tournament."
"What the hell is this MMA crap?" Uncle Gino demanded.
"It's like fightin', Unc," Ryan chimed in. "Like martial arts and boxing all in one. The guys, they beat the shit out of each other in cages. It's better than wrestling!"
"Oh, fightin'," Uncle Gino said. He glanced at Heath and nodded. Drew wasn't sure if it was with approval or merely acknowledgment; her uncle had always been a big fan of boxing.
"When is this tournament?" Mr. Carnevale asked.
Heath glanced back toward him. "In a couple weeks, sir," he answered. "End of the month. It's in Buffalo."
"I gotta see one of them things, one day," her father said musingly. "Is that gonna be on TV?"
Heath nodded again. "Yes, sir. It'll be on ESPN."
"I'll have to tune in, maybe watch you fight," her father said. "I always liked the fights, myself."
The conversation went on pleasantly, and Drew gradually started to relax. Heath seemed to be perfectly comfortable. He had a lot in common as far as interests went with Ryan and Vince, and even promised to work with them in the gym if they ever wanted to come by. Her father was warming up more and more to him, and even her sisters seemed to be sort of behaving themselves. They teased her occasionally and poked fun at her, but Drew knew they were just being her big sisters. She knew that they both liked Heath.
Her mother forced Heath to eat a second plate, which made Drew's own full stomach churn, but Heath barely batted an eye. When everyone was done eating and bemoaning how full they were, Drew's mother started clearing off the dinner plates.
"I'll help, Mom," Drew said, getting to her feet. She picked up her and Heath's plates and carried them into the kitchen, returning for her sisters' dishes and then her brothers-in-law's dishes.
She had slid into her seat again when her mother came out. "Drew has made a delicious-looking tiramisu," she announced. "Who wants dessert and coffee?"
"Mom, give us a minute," Nik groaned, patting her stomach. "We're still hurtin' here!"
"Sit down, sweetheart, take a load off," her father insisted, gesturing to her chair. "Come on."
"All right," Mrs. Carnevale relented and slipped into the seat. She reached across the table to pat Heath's hand. "I worry about you young single men," she said. "Not eatin' like you should, no one to take care of you. I packed you some food to take home."
Heath smiled. "Thank you, ma'am," he said politely. "I appreciate that."
"So, Heath," her father said again, and Drew sighed, already growing tired of hearing that phrase. "Tell me about your father."
"Daddy, that's kind of a touchy subject," Drew said.
Mr. Carnevale lifted his hands and gestured to Heath. "He's a man, sweetpea. He don't need to you answer for him. Heath, is that a touchy subject?"
Heath glanced at her. "It's okay," he said. He turned back to her father. "He's a retired Marine. He trains me occasionally, he trained me for Ultima
te Warrior. He's a recovering alcoholic."
"That's good," Mr. Carnevale said with a nod. "Very good. How long?"
"Three years," Heath replied.
"And your mother?"
"She's passed away, sir," he answered quietly.
"Sorry about that," Mr. Carnevale said sincerely.
"Yes, very sorry to hear that," Mrs. Carnevale added, shooting him a sympathetic look.
"Thank you, ma'am," Heath said. "She had been sick. In a lot of pain. It's a good thing she went when she did."
"And your brother?" Mr. Carnevale said. "You two had to fight each other. You have a good relationship?"
"We didn't, sir," Heath said honestly. "But we're working on things now. I have a sister-in-law, two nieces. Never would have got to know them if I didn't give Connor a chance."
"That's right," Mr. Carnevale agreed. "That's good. Family is the most important thing."
"Yes, sir," Heath said.
"Dessert? Coffee?" Mrs. Carnevale said, getting another chorus of groans.
"Yes, yes, sweetheart," Mr. Carnevale said. "If it makes you happy."
"Drew, help me with your tiramisu," her mother said, patting her knee. Drew got up and followed her into the kitchen. "It's been in the fridge this whole time, along with the chocolate shavings," her mother added. "If you want to add those and serve it up."
Drew got down the dessert plates as her mother began on the coffee. She dished out portions of the dessert then carefully sprinkled the chocolate shavings on top.
"You know, sweetheart," her mother said, drawing her attention. "I really like that boy. He's so polite. Seems so quiet and respectful. He's good to you?"
Drew smiled. "Yes, Mom," she replied. "He is."
"Does he…" She stopped and swallowed. "Does he know?"
Drew sighed quietly. "He knows," she said softly. "I told him."
"Oh, honey," her mother said emotionally, and Drew turned around.
"It's okay, Mom," she said gently. "He was really understanding, really nice about it."
Her mother nodded and patted her again, tears glistening in her eyes. Drew knew her attack had hurt both of her parents to their cores, possibly more than it had hurt her, if it was possible. She realized it had to be excruciatingly painful for a parent to have to witness their child being brutalized in that manner and be completely helpless to it. She knew that it had been an enormous struggle for them to watch as Drew had healed physically, but not emotionally. Her father had been the one to pull the plug in New York; she needed a change of scenery, he'd said, and they had family in Pittsburgh. Drew had been too damaged to care where they went or if they stayed, but she had found herself growing fonder of Pittsburgh than she could ever have imagined. She liked her comfortable little life, living in Little Italy, working in the café. She would be happy to spend the rest of her days in this city—if she could only get her studio. Her parents had been ecstatic when she'd seemed like she was coming around after the move, perking up and coming back to life. But she knew they still had their moments, usually in private and not around her. At this stage, seeing her mother still so hurt and upset by what had happened to her hurt her more than thinking about the actual attack itself. She grabbed a couple of plates and leaned in to kiss her mother on the cheek before heading back into the dining room.