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It takes less than a second to recognize her. She’s aged a little, but her kind brown eyes and motherly smile greet me when she answers the door.
“Mi bella, Sophia.” Tears erupt from her eyes and she covers her mouth. “Sophia,” she says again, holding out her arms.
“Mama.” I rush into her arms, hugging her so tightly I fear I may crush her frail body.
“Mi sei mancato.”
That’s my heart telling her how much I’ve missed her.
A younger man steps up behind her and I let go of my mother. “Sophia?” he says.
It takes me a bit longer to recognize my younger brother, Piero. He was so young when I left home, and now he towers over me, a man standing before me.
“Piero.”
“No, Phillippe. This is Piero.” Another man steps up behind Phillippe and they look exactly the same.
Piero was the older of the two, nearly ten years old when I left town.
I hug both of my younger brothers and I stare past them into the house. “Where’s Aida?” My sister was only a few years younger than me. I stare harder, waiting for her to come around the corner.
“She’s in the yard. She’ll be so happy to see you.” I’m just so happy to be here with them.
Dean made this happen, for me.
I push my way through the house, searching out my best friend—my sister. I walk through the house, not really paying attention to the pictures of us when we were kids hanging on the wall. I almost stop at a family portrait of when my father was alive. We were all so happy in the painting.
No, I keep moving toward the back door off the kitchen, wanting to see Aida.
She’s in the garden, tending to mother’s rose bushes. I remember the way we would prune roses for hours when we were little, our fingers cut from the thorns.
Aida’s long dark hair blows in the wind and she senses me staring at her. The rest of my family and Dean stand behind me, not quite coming outside.
Aida shields her eyes from the sun, trying her best to figure out who I am.
I step closer. “Aida, it’s me.” Tears flood my eyes. “Sophia.”
She stands and moves at warp speed until we’re embraced in a tight hug. I never thought I’d ever see my family again. I’d tried myself to find them many times. I can never repay Dean.
Later, when we’re all sitting around my mother’s kitchen, after one of the best home-cooked meals I’ve ever had, Dean’s phone rings.
I face him, watching his lips purse as he listens to the person on the other end of the phone. It doesn’t look like good news, and I worry for a second it’s news about Bishop. We haven’t given up our search for him, but our trail’s gone cold.
“It’s Sebastian,” he says. “Bishop’s got Mia.”
I stand from the couch where I was wedged between my sister and mother. “Where?”
Dean shrugs, but his eyes are filled with concern. “Not sure,” he says quickly, returning to answer Sebastian on the phone with a ‘We’ll be there.’ He hangs up.
And I blink up at him.
“Ready to kill Bishop?”
