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An odd sensation overcame Haven when they pulled off the faded highway and up to the familiar plantation house. It wasn’t hurt or heartache, although it was deep within her chest, surrounding her heart and stealing her breath.
It wasn’t until Carmine muttered the words that it struck her. “We’re finally home.”
Home. She got it now. For the first time in her life, something felt like home. It was the place they had come together. It was where they had found love.
She finally knew what that word meant.
51
Settling back in hadn’t been easy. Memories haunted Haven’s dreams and continued to follow her during her waking hours. Flashes of faces, horrific screams, and scathing words constantly ate away at her, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure any of it was real.
She scribbled in notebooks again and sketched pictures of the images she saw in her mind. Her monster returned, taunting her with his scaly face and evil eyes. It reminded her that no matter where she went, that part of her life was never far away.
Carmine was just as distracted, nightmares infesting his sleep again. He would sneak out of bed at night, and sometimes she would follow, listening as he played the same song for hours on end.
They were two broken kids, desperate to be whole again, struggling to find balance in a world out of their control. What’s black and white and red all over? Carmine was, Haven thought. A soul savagely ripped in half, bleeding out for all to see. The yin and yang, the good and evil, the love and pain all at odds with each other. Two sides, two vastly different worlds, but someday they would merge as one. They had to.
Il tempo guarisce tutti i mali. Time heals all wounds.
* * *
Some things in life only happen once, the memories lasting forever. They are moments that alter you, turning you into a person you never thought you would become, but someone you were destined to be. There’s no magical rewind button in life, no take backs or do-overs to fix things you wish you could change.
If there were, Carmine would be eight years old again, demanding his mom wait for a car to pick them up. They wouldn’t wind up in that alley, and his mom would live to see another day.
He’d go back to sixteen and put his gun away instead of driving to his best friend’s house in anger. Bygones would be bygones, and there would be peace, instead of public rivalries that hurt everyone in the end.
He’d be in that kitchen at seventeen again, cleaning his spilled juice instead of frightening Haven so badly. He wouldn’t have passed judgment on the strange girl, and maybe he would have known what love was a little sooner.
There were many places Carmine would go back to, many things he would have done differently, but one thing he wouldn’t take back was what he had done to save her.
Sacrifice. It was something he learned from his mom, when she gave her life to save a young girl. He had learned it from his father, when he swore himself to an organization to be with the woman he loved. Even Corrado had put himself on the line, risking his safety to spare them more pain.
And he learned it from Nicholas, who helped a virtual stranger and got nothing in return. Nothing, that is, except a bullet to the chest, ending his short life.
If Carmine could go back, he would have truly apologized to him that day.
Life’s a struggle, and it would be easy if it came with an eraser, but it didn’t. What’s done is done, as hard as that was to accept.
Sometimes, though, people get second chances. They get more tries. It was too late for others, but Carmine was blessed with more time. Time to try to make things right.
“Carmine?”
Carmine glanced at his American history teacher, Mrs. Anderson, and felt the strangest sense of déjà vu at her expectant look. He had failed her class last time around and was back in it senior year, a requirement for graduation.
Not as if he counted on graduating. He had already missed more than a month of school.
“Yeah?”
“It’s your turn.”
Sighing, he strolled to the front of the room, the eyes of his peers fixed on him. They expected a show, but Carmine only had one thing on his mind.
Redemption.
“The Battle of Gettysburg was fought in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania in eighteen-something-or-other. The year doesn’t matter.”
Mrs. Anderson started to interrupt but closed her mouth when he continued. “They considered it the turning point of the war, and President Lincoln showed up to give his big speech. Who really cares what it was called? I don’t. After it was all over and the North won, Congress passed the thirteenth amendment to free the slaves. It outlawed owning another person—yada, yada, yada—but it was a waste of time. All of it.”
