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23
Haven sat on the edge of her bed, feeling out of place. She’d never spoken to Celia before last night, had merely seen her in passing, but her presence made those two worlds converge. Her old life, the one of pain, was mixing with her new life, where she’d finally started to feel comfortable.
It made her uneasy. She wanted that feeling to go away.
There was a light tap on her door. Her stomach felt queasy as she gripped the knob with a sweaty palm. Opening it slowly, she was alarmed to see Celia. “Can I speak to you?”
Haven nodded. Celia took a seat on the bed, and Haven tried to stop her hands from shaking as she sat beside her. “I wanted to tell you a story. Would you be opposed to that?”
A story? “No, ma’am.”
“Back in the seventies, when I was around eleven, an underground war ignited between, uh, groups. Safe houses were set up around the country for men to get their families out of the line of fire. This place was one of them—it was where my father sent us. It also happens to be where we met my husband, Corrado, and his sister, Katrina. Our fathers were friends. Vincent and I never liked Katrina. She’s an evil twit who gets pleasure from hurting people. I’m sure you know that.”
Haven nodded. It was true.
“Corrado was the opposite of his sister. He stayed out of the way and kept to himself. One day we were all out by the creek, and Katrina was throwing rocks at me. Corrado just stood there and watched. We thought he was a pushover. Vincent wouldn’t stand for it, though, and threw a rock back at her. Smacked her in the face and left a big welt.”
Despite herself, Haven smiled.
“Katrina tattled and my mother was about to whip Vincent when Corrado spoke up out of nowhere. This little boy hadn’t said a word for days, and the first time he opened his mouth, he spoke with such authority. He said, ‘You shouldn’t hit him.’ He said a person shouldn’t be punished for protecting their family. My mother was so surprised that she let Vincent go.”
Celia laughed to herself. “That’s my husband. When he speaks, people listen.” She paused. “You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I just want you to know I’m not like the people in Blackburn . . . my husband isn’t like them. We too deal with people we don’t want to. It’s something you understand when you involve yourself with a man in this life. They do horrible things—things most women would be ashamed of their husbands doing—but we know it’s ingrained in them, just as things are ingrained in us. I’ve accepted Corrado for who he is, as I’m sure you accept Carmine, bad attitude and all.”
Haven was alarmed at the mention of Carmine and tried to keep her expression blank. “I accept both of the DeMarco boys.”
Celia smiled. “I’m sure you do, Haven. I don’t worry about Dominic. Despite everything, he’s pretty well adjusted, but Carmine’s unique. He has a gentle soul underneath that ugly armor he wears, and it’s nice that someone finally cracked through it.”
Her heart pounded frantically. “He’s . . .” She didn’t know what to say. “. . . different.”
“Yeah, he is,” she said. “Although I think what you mean by that isn’t the same as what I mean. But anyway, I should start dinner.”
Haven jumped up, having forgotten about dinner. It was the reason she’d gone downstairs so early in the first place. “Oh no, I should’ve already done it!”
“Relax. Christmas dinner’s my gig. I look forward to it every year. Your job’s to enjoy yourself today.”
* * *
After Celia left, Haven headed for the door when Carmine burst into the room, holding a small present. He headed straight for her, no hesitation in his steps. He caught her off guard, and she took a step away, the backs of her knees hitting the bed.
He stopped in front of her, forcing the gift into her trembling hand. “Open it.”
It was hard for her to find a spot to start since he had used so much tape, but she managed to tear a corner. After the paper was off, she stared at the thick blue book with Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary and Thesaurus written on the front. “This is for me?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I remember you said you needed a thesaurus. And I know you were joking, but I thought, you know . . . it might be useful or whatever.” He sighed. “I suck at this gift thing.”
She stared at him as he rambled, realizing he was nervous. “Thank you.”
“It’s not what I wish I could give you . . .”
“It’s great, Carmine.”
She walked to the other side of the bed and briefly reconsidered what she was doing, but he’d put himself out there and she wanted to do the same. “I drew something for you.”
A smile spread over his face. “I thought you forgot our deal.”
