I tossed and turned in bed, immediately frowning when I saw several fluorescent star stickers stuck all over the ceiling. Even those, my aunt had salvaged from the past, and truth be told, I didn’t know where the hell she’d gotten the money for all that. The only thing I knew for sure was that none of it had the effect it once did.
Yes, staying with Camillo meant accepting death. But that was exactly what I had become the moment I pulled the trigger and executed those children.
Lord, have mercy on my soul, because I felt no remorse whatsoever. On the contrary. There was a terrifying certainty whispering to me that if I had shown mercy to that family, sooner or later, Camillo would have ended up paying the price.
I was a terrible person, I realized at that moment. Even Camillo lived with remorse for executing his infant son, but not me. I had no regrets. To me, a threat was a threat, regardless of age or identity.
That was exactly what I had promised myself: I would never again be afraid to protect those I loved. I wasn't afraid when Camillo was shot. I wasn't afraid to pull the trigger to avenge him. I wasn't afraid to choose the most terrible path to ensure the safety of the man I loved.
Now, the question arose: would my aunt be able to forgive me if she knew what I was capable of? Or even Oliver, with his shady past? The answer, I knew, was no. They would see me in a different light. They would even be afraid of me.
Of what I might do.
Olivia, however, if she knew… my best friend would put me behind bars. Our friendship would end if she even dreamed I had been capable of touching a single hair on a child’s head. Because she was better than me. At one time, I believed she was better physically and socially; after all, Olivia had always been the popular girl and had become a resoundingly successfulwoman. However, the years had proven to me that it wasn't about appearances.
It hadneverbeen.
Olivia was simply a better person. She was the kind of beast who growled but didn’t bite. If she saw another human being in trouble, she’d come to their aid. She’d stop her car to save coyotes and arrive late to appointments to help some old man carry his groceries. If we were walking through a park and she saw a wasp drowning, she’d risk her fingers to save the creature.
She was the kind of person who’d die to do the right thing. I, on the other hand, was the kind of person who would kill to protect what was dear to my heart.
Aunt Lizzie could comfort me with her understanding words, and so could Oliver, but I knew my friendship with Olivia might not have any more chapters. Even if we kept talking, even if we kept seeing each other, there would always be a chasm between us, woven by that secret. She would never understand it. I could never reveal it to her.
After tossing and turning in bed, my soul torn between my love for my family and my love for Camillo, I slipped out carefully and went down to the living room. In the dark, alone with my loneliness, my bare feet guided me to the fireplace and the picture resting on it.
Lester.
I had loved him so much, and part of my heart still did. Yet I wouldn’t change a thing that had happened; I felt deeply guiltybecause I understood how vital Camillo was in my life and how Lester—my dear Lester—had been reduced to a memory.
I ran my fingers over the picture. I hoped that he, wherever he was, could forgive and understand.
“He wanted me to recover your childhood memories, Honeybee.” The whisper behind me made me jump. I spun on my heels and found Aunt Lizzie standing in the darkness. As she approached, I saw she was smiling. “He wanted you to have a place to return to.”
“Who, Aunt Lizzie?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
She pressed her lips to my cheek and hugged me gently.
“Your Don Corleone,” she replied with a soft laugh. “When his lawyer came to handle the paperwork to transfer the house into my name, he made it a condition that I never sell it and that I restore it as closely as possible to what it was in my brother Paul’s time.”
As soon as I heard that, my eyes filled with tears and I had to bite my lower lip to hold them back. I clung to my aunt as longing coiled around me like a snake.
“A few days after I accepted, the lawyer informed me that all the renovations would be financed by them, and he brought me that picture of Lester you see there.”
“I don’t understand why he did all this if he was just going to send me away,” I confessed, my voice thick with emotion.
My aunt stepped back a little and cupped my face with her soft hands, which smelled of bubblegum. “Because he loves you in his own way.”
I sniffed back my tears and straightened up. “I’ll wait, just like you asked. Until December,” I said, even though the decision was tearing at my insides. “But I want you to promise me something too, Aunt Lizzie.”
“What, Honeybee?”
“Sell the house,” I blurted out. Even in the darkness, I could sense Aunt Lizzie’s shock. “If you want to, sell it. A house is just a house. What makes it a home are the people we love and our memories of them. Papa’s never coming back. And you don’t deserve to be stuck in Silver River because of me.”
“Honeybee… I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” I was firm, taking her hands in mine. “You’re pregnant. You’re going to start a family with Oli. And I’m not included.”
“Don’t ever say such nonsense again, Daisy Peonia Mary Parker!” she scolded, pinching my chin between her fingers. “You will always be my family. I know… that you have a mother…” Her voice trembled and I blinked, surprised by her emotion. “Even so, you were my first daughter, Daisy. I love you as one, though I understand that your real mother is—”
