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There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She vehemently shook her head, and he tossed the DVD into a drawer in his desk as she picked up a packet of pictures. Carmine pointed toward a drawer to show her where they went. “You can look at them if you want. I’m pretty sure everyone has clothes on, but no promises.”
He winked playfully as she pulled out the pictures. She flipped through them and smiled at the familiar faces, surprised to see Nicholas in a few of them. They all looked young and happy, but in most of them something was off about Carmine. His eyes were dull, the spark she was used to missing. He’d clearly been broken back then, the pictures telling a story no words could do justice.
She opened the drawer he had said they went in and froze. Sitting on top of everything was a tiny doll made out of tan string, no more than a few inches tall. It had short hair made from yarn, felt clothes glued to the body of what was clearly a little boy. She wondered why Carmine would have such a thing as she picked up the tiny doll, careful not to harm it.
Her chest ached as she gazed at it, remembering a time long ago when she had seen a similar one. She had been young, five or six years old, as she ran through the yard of the Antonelli ranch. Her bare feet kicked up dust as her laughter rang out, loud and blissful like the faint church bells they could hear on Sunday mornings. The tiny doll was clutched tightly in her hand, the long brown yarn flowing in the wind as Haven raced to the stables.
“Mama!” she yelled. “Look, Mama!”
Her mama sighed as she turned around, her face soaked with sweat. “I’m busy, Haven.”
“Look, Mama,” she said again, stopping outside the stall her mama stood in with the horse. Haven held up the doll, laughing wholeheartedly. She had never felt so overjoyed in her life. “It’s me!”
Her mama’s eyes widened with panic at the sight of the toy. “Where did you get that? You have to give it back.”
“No, Mama.”
Her mama stepped out of the stall and tried to take the doll. “Give it to me. You know better.”
“No.”
“Haven Isadora, give it to me right now!”
She held it behind her, shaking her head wildly. She wasn’t overjoyed anymore. Now she was heated. She had never had a toy before, and no one was taking this one from her—not even her mama. “No, it’s mine! Mine! She gave it to me! Not you!”
“Who gave it to you?”
“My angel, Mama. She gave me a present!”
Her angel. Haven had dreamed of her for years, the beautiful woman in white that glowed under the hot desert sun. She strained to conjure up the image of her again when a throat cleared nearby, ripping Haven from her thoughts. She glanced up, seeing Carmine right beside her.
She set the doll down and shut the drawer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”
He was quiet as her nervousness grew. She chewed on her bottom lip, afraid of his reaction. His hand shot out toward her abruptly. She flinched, but he merely brushed his fingertips across her mouth, pulling her lip from between her teeth.
“You’re gonna make yourself bleed if you keep that shit up,” he said as he reopened the drawer. “My mom used to make these dolls for the kids who came to the center she worked at. Most of them moved around a lot, so they didn’t have a lot. She said the dolls were easy to keep up with since they’re small.”
Easy to hide, too. Haven had kept the doll concealed for years without her master knowing.
“She always thought personal was best.”
“She’s right,” Haven said. “It is.”
He sighed, gazing at the little doll. “A few months ago, I would’ve disagreed with that.”
“And now?”
He closed the drawer again. “Everything’s different now.”
21
Haven lay across her bed, clutching a pencil as she sketched on the top paper of a pile in front of her. She paused, surveying the gray lines, before balling it up and tossing it on the floor.
She had been at it for hours, the floor littered with balls of white paper. She felt guilty for wasting so much. Paper was made out of wood, and although there wasn’t a lack of trees in Durante, they weren’t to be taken for granted. Trees lived and breathed, enduring so much and still surviving, growing stronger and bigger no matter the conditions.
Was it silly to think so highly of nature?
She put the pencil aside and gathered up the crumpled pieces of paper, tossing them into the trash can before heading downstairs. It was a Friday in the middle of December, Carmine’s last day of school before winter break. Christmas was fast approaching, and all Haven could think about was her mama in Blackburn. She remembered the look in her eyes as she would sit in the stables and gaze at the ranch decorated in lights, wishing she were a part of something bigger. She would never admit it, but at Christmas, her mama didn’t want to be on the outside looking in.
