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“I’m a man who makes mistakes, a man who doesn’t expect to be forgiven for them, but a man who does expect his children to be respectful,” he said sharply. “If you want to talk this out using our anger, we can, but I hoped we could discuss it like adults.”
Carmine hesitated. “Fine.”
“Now, are you going to apologize for throwing that in my face?”
Carmine scoffed. “I’ll apologize for saying it when you apologize for doing it.”
* * *
Vincent and Carmine were seated as soon as they reached the restaurant and both ordered the first thing on the menu. After the waiter brought their food, Vincent turned to his son. “I want you to listen carefully, Carmine. What the two of you have is harmless right now, but I don’t want to hear about it. You may care for the girl, but she isn’t yours. You’re probably going to hate me for saying this, but I’m in control. The first time she neglects what I tell her, I’ll put a stop to it all.”
Carmine clenched his jaw as his anger boiled over, and Vincent held his hand up to stop the impending explosion. “I’m not going to harm her, but I’ll send her away if you force my hand. I’m not giving you my blessing, but I’m not forbidding it either. I’m smart enough to pick and choose my battles, and I have more important ones to fight right now.”
He stared at his father. “Fair enough.”
Vincent turned his attention to his food. “I just wonder if you know what you’re getting into.”
“Well, I’m kinda sorta hoping the asshole who owns her won’t own her forever.”
Vincent’s eyes snapped in his direction. “That’s a nice piece of information to have, but it wasn’t what I was talking about. Why do you think I asked you to teach her to drive, Carmine? Why I asked you to take her grocery shopping?”
ughed. “It’s where I keep the old me.”
She sat down on his bed with her drink as he pulled out a small box, digging through it briefly before pulling out a black picture frame. She took it from him carefully, her gaze resting upon a photo of a woman with bright red hair and eyes the same color as Carmine’s.
Haven couldn’t breathe. It was the face she had seen repeatedly in her dreams, the angel in white that glowed in the sunlight. Emotion ripped through her, her voice a broken whisper. “She’s an angel.”
Carmine took the frame from her, but instead of placing it back into the box, he set it on his desk. “She is,” he said quietly. “Now, anyway.”
* * *
Dreams filtered into Haven’s sleep that night. It was a dark, cloudless night, the glow of the moon illuminating the scene in her mind. She was back in Blackburn again, a fresh-faced little girl with nappy hair, trying to squeeze by to see out of the stables. “What’s going on, Mama?”
“Nothing that concerns you, baby girl,” her mama said quietly as she tried to shoo Haven away. “Go lie down.”
“But I’m not tired,” Haven argued. “Please, Mama? I want to see.”
“Nothing’s happening,” she said. “It’s all over.”
Haven gave up on trying to go around, instead getting on the ground and scurrying between her legs. She could faintly make out the outline of a car with the trunk open. On the ground beside it, motionless, lay a person. “It’s Miss Martha!”
“Hush,” her mama said. “You don’t want them to hear.”
“Sorry, Mama.” Haven tried to whisper, but she couldn’t help herself. She watched as Miss Martha was placed into the trunk, her eyes closed like she was sleeping. “Where’s Miss Martha going?”
“Away from here,” her mama answered.
“What’s away from here?”
“A lot,” she said. “There’s a whole world out there.”
“Is Miss Martha going out there to the world?”
“No, Miss Martha’s gone to Heaven.”
“What’s Heaven?”
Her mama sighed. “Heaven’s the greatest place you can imagine. People don’t hurt anymore when they go to Heaven. There’s peace there. It’s beautiful. Everyone’s beautiful.”
