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THE ARRANGEMENT 23
Read this section to refresh your memory before reading book 24.
CHAPTER 21
The strangest things happen when you least expect them. I worried about Constance ripping my mother’s frail emotional state to shreds. I mean, the woman was barely talking. Mom retreated so far into herself to survive the terrors that met her daily for months on end. There was no break, no time to gather herself and rebuild her mental state during that period. The doctor warned me that she’d need a lot of patience and understanding. Trauma victims tend to behave differently, and the slightest thing could set her off and cause her to regress—a turn of phrase, a sight, or smell.
I walk on eggshells around her, but not Constance. At first, I berated Constance for it, but she didn’t listen to me. She explained, “Acting as if she’s broken will only keep her that way.”
Constance is a paradox of a person. She’s fierce and kind with my mother. I don’t understand how she’s both at once, but it doesn’t send Mom back to the darkness. I watch the two of them together and know they’ve shared more time talking than they let on. They seem to have more in common than a grandbaby and the misfortune of meeting the Campones.
When morning breaks, I’m green with nausea. I roll out of bed trying not to wake Sean. An eyelid opens, and a groggy voice asks, “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I tug on a robe and explain quickly. “Morning sickness. It’ll pass. Go back to sleep.”
Sean watches me for a moment. I feel awful, but his eyes say I’m a goddess. “I love you.”
I smile at him, wishing I could say more but then feel my throat tighten and rush to the bathroom. After that settles down, I decide that getting sick with something in my stomach would be far better than dry heaving.
I head down the hallway to the kitchen. It’s barely five in the morning, but there’s a light cutting through the darkness. When I round the corner and enter the room, the sight surprises me.
Mom is wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her dark hair is tugged into a high ponytail with wispy curls sticking out. There’s a dusting of blush on her cheeks, and a sweep of mascara on her lashes. Sleep is long gone from her eyes. She’s clinging to a cup of coffee, holding it in front of her and inhaling deeply. There’s a soft smile on her lips. She’s happy at that moment. There’s no need to wonder if it’s a fake attempt to be content just then. There’s something about the sweep of her shoulders and the light touch of her fingers on the mug that tells the story on her face is real. She’s far from all better—I’ve heard her wake in the night, screaming.
There’s a long way to go, for both of us. Restlessness woke me and it didn’t begin with morning sickness. Dreams churned into fear which twisted everything until I had a knife in my hand and watched Marty’s eyes become lifeless. The dream repeats every time I close my eyes. Out of all my sins that one I regret the most. I was wrong about him. Marty played his hand so well that I couldn’t tell which side he was on until it was too late.
Sitting opposite from Mom is Constance in her blood red dupioni silk robe. It has a floral pattern woven into the thick damask. Velvet lined lapels extend down to a thick scarlet sash tied tightly around her narrow waist. Constance’s hair is a mess, one side flat with the other side still kempt as if she slept on that one side all night.
They stop talking and turn to watch me. Mom smiles. “How’s my baby this morning?”
Constance smirks and adds, “You look awful. Saltines are on the counter.”
Mom glances at me again and corrects Constance. “She doesn’t look awful. Avery’s glowing.”
“Because she just vomited,” Constance replies with a flick of her eyes. “Make sure you brush and floss every time you wretch or your teeth will rot. Then the dentist will tell me he thinks your bulimic and the newspapers will have a field day and blame me.” She rolls her eyes and then sips her coffee.
Mom nods in agreement before she sees me still standing in the doorway and lifts her mug. “Do you want some coffee, honey?”
I shake my head and go straight for the box of crackers before sitting down next to both of them. I pull one out from the plastic wrapper and suck on it. Constance glares in disapproval. I glare at her and take the cracker from my mouth.
“Yes?” I dare her to say one more comment on dental hygiene or morning sickness.
“Nothing, dear.” She smirks at Mom and takes another sip of coffee.
I ask my mother, “What do you have planned for today?” I shove another cracker into my mouth and slouch forward. Constance’s perfect posture makes mine seem like an aerodynamic granny.
“We’re planning to go shopping. Constance made us an appointment at one of those little boutiques. I want a poet’s shirt with lace.” She grins broadly and wiggles her fingers just below her chin, indicating a lacey neckline.
Constance snorts. “You’re lucky that style made a comeback or we couldn’t be seen together. If I have a hippie friend, people will talk. Suddenly everyone will think I’ve gone soft.”
I laugh from behind my crackers, “No one will ever think that. Like ever.”
Constance puffs up, proud. “Well, it doesn’t matter what other people think.”
“Oh really?”
She eyes me. Her long tapered fingers and ruby polish are immaculate. “I’m completely serious. I earned my reputation protecting my family. You’ve done the same. People will define you in ways that are unbecoming. Just look at what the chatter about you—”
Mom must have kicked her because Constance suddenly stops talking.
I flick my gaze to Mom and then Constance, and then back to Mom. “Why, what are people saying about me?”
Mom tries to soften it. “Your parentage is being discussed, and the disappearance of your only sibling is creating gossip.”
“Ma, I don’t care what they think, but I still want to know. Vic was an abomination, and I’m not sorry that he’s gone. I guess that makes me a monster.” A frown twists my lips as I stare at my row of crackers.
Constance snorts. “A monster? You?”
I lift my eyes, not shying away from my thoughts. I know what I did. I’m just not certain who I am because of it. Confessing bluntly, I admit, “Yeah, me. I lost it that night. I let the beast off the leash.”
Constance starts laughing, and it's a high-pitched giggle. She presses her fingertips to her mouth after putting down her cup of coffee so that it won’t spill. She places a hand on my arm. “Your beast is not a monster. It’s a character trait many people wish they had. You’re the girl who stood up to Satan and walked away.”
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“Right, but at the same time, doesn’t the person who killed the devil become the devil?”
“No,” Constance snaps, entirely confident. “It’s not as if he were possessed by an evil spirit that now resides in you. Vic was a man, a deranged one, but his decisions were his own. His sins don’t flow into your hands.”
I realize that I don’t believe her. I twist in my chair, not liking this topic of conversation, but I manage to spit out what’s been keeping me awake. It’s a tiny thought, one that will fester and putrefy if remains unaddressed. “Vic became who he was because of me. If I hadn’t—”
Mom cuts me off, her hand suddenly on mine, possessive and assuring. “If you hadn’t been born? You can’t think like that. You did nothing to make him that way. Vic made his choices, and you made yours. You are not responsible for his actions. Sometimes people become so fixated on one thing. They think that their life would be better if this person didn’t exist. It poisons the well and seeps out into every aspect of their life. Blaming someone for your shortcomings is easy. Looking in the mirror is not. Avery, you spend more time examining yourself and your motives than anyone. You’ve tried to stay true to yourself, and you have. What do you care about more than anything?”
I swallow hard and blink back the tears in my eyes. “My family. But Mom—”
She pats my hand and squeezes. “And you saved yours. If you didn’t directly challenge Vic, I’d still be locked in that godforsaken basement. You saved me.” There are tears in her eyes. It’s the first time she’s talked about any of this with me.
Constance leans back in her chair and adds, “You saved my clan as well. That makes your loyalty unquestionable. You’re family, Avery. I hope you didn’t have plans on leaving because now you’re one of us. I meant it when I said that the other night. As far as I’m concerned, you earned the name Ferro.”
Tears well up and I start sobbing. Before I plaster my hands over my eyes, Mom and Constance exchange a horrified expression.
