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“We were together,” she whispered. “That makes it perfect to me.”
6
Haven hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but her exhaustion was deeper than she anticipated. Emotionally drained, she drifted into unconsciousness within a matter of minutes.
Rolling over in the middle of the night, her arm dropped on the other side of the mattress. She felt around for Carmine in the darkness, sighing when she realized she was alone.
odded. “Yes, sir.”
“If you want to stay safe, stay out of the limelight,” he said. “Mind your own business, lay low, and never associate with the police. If a cop ever tries to question you, ask for your lawyer and call me. I don’t care what it’s about. And never invite one inside your home. Never.”
The color drained from her face, coldness running through her as she immediately thought of Officer Baranski. “I, uh . . . I didn’t know . . .”
“Didn’t know what?”
“An officer came by to ask about Nicholas. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to talk to him. Dr. DeMarco said I should answer his questions so he’d go away.”
Corrado stared at her. “Vincent told you to talk to the police?”
She nodded hesitantly. “He invited him inside.”
Corrado’s mask slipped, his brow furrowing briefly before he straightened it back out. “When was this?”
“Two days ago,” she said. “You were upstairs. It was right after you arrived.”
Silence permeated the room for a few minutes. Haven did nothing, terrified of what his reaction would be. He just stared straight ahead, unmoving, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was blinking she might have wondered if he were even still alive.
“You didn’t know any better,” he said finally. “No one explained it to you, but now you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
Corrado stood and without a word started to walk away. He made it as far as the doorway before his footsteps faltered. He lingered there for a moment as Celia approached from the foyer, smiling proudly. She had clearly been eavesdropping.
“Stay out of it,” he warned her again. “I don’t want you meddling anymore.”
* * *
Christmas morning passed in a blur. Carmine seemed distracted, distant, his eyes watching everyone as if he were waiting for something to happen, lost somewhere in his mind instead of being there at home.
Haven would occasionally catch him casting angry glares and hear heated whispered conversations when she was out of earshot. Confused, she asked a few times what was going on, but he merely smiled and told her not to worry.
Don’t worry. She had heard it so many times the past week that the phrase alone was starting to worry her.
They watched holiday movies and exchanged gifts in the evening. Haven got some books and art supplies, clothes, and a new pair of pink-and-white Nike’s. The festivities were quiet, almost gloomy in a sense. Something lingered in the room with them, infecting the air they all had to share. She wouldn’t call it misery, but it was certainly close—guilt mixed with sadness, confusion, and morose thoughts.
They sat down at the dining room table when dinner was ready, Carmine pulling out the chair beside him for Haven as Celia and Corrado took seats across from them. Dr. DeMarco cleared his throat and Carmine immediately grabbed Haven’s right hand as Corrado reached across the table, holding his out to her. She blanched as she stared at it, studying his extended hand. Other than a long jagged scar diagonally on his palm, nearly camouflaged by the natural creases and lines, it appeared unscathed. His nails were freshly manicured, the skin smooth with not a single cut or callus. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it surprised her—his hands appeared awfully clean for a man with a lot of blood on them.
Taking it carefully, so not to cause a scene, Haven bowed her head.
“Lord, thank you for the blessings on the table today, and for all the people gathered around it,” Dr. DeMarco said. “We ask that you help us to remain mindful of the needs of others and continue to bless us with love and forgiveness, happiness and peace, and most of all we ask that you help the innocent among us find the freedom they deserve. In Jesus’s name, we pray.”
“Amen,” they all murmured, letting go and raising their heads. Haven glanced at Dr. DeMarco curiously, surprised by his words, and he smiled softly when they made eye contact.
“Dai nemici mi guardo io dagli amici mi guardi iddio,” Corrado muttered under his breath as he picked up his fork.
Carmine laughed dryly. “Amen to that.”
They started eating but Haven merely pushed the food around on her plate as a tense silence once again overcame the room. Everyone cast glances at one another while avoiding her gaze. It was as if they all shared a common secret, one Haven was certainly not aware of. She fidgeted nervously as she listened to the forks clanking against plates, her appetite dissipating as her stomach churned from anxiety.
