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She nodded in a daze. “Okay.”
He pulled onto the road. The rain bombarded the car, wind gusting and thunder cracking, making Haven jump every so often. She zoned out and couldn’t focus, slipping further and further into a trance. She was too exhausted to stop and think, acting on impulse out of desperation.
When the cab stopped, she handed some cash to the driver without counting it first. She got out, standing on the curb in the pouring rain as the vehicle pulled away. The brick building in front of her was shabby, the blue GREYHOUND sign barely visible through the storm. Buses idled in the side parking lot while a few people lingered inside the brightly lit lobby, waiting.
Haven didn’t have the slightest clue where to start. Her body shook as she approached the thick glass window in the building, dripping water all over the grimy tile floor.
The lady sitting in front of a computer eyed her peculiarly. “Can I help you?”
“I, uh . . . I need to go to Chicago.”
Reaching into her pocket, Haven pulled out a wad of cash—twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, a ball of fives and ones, and a handful of loose change. She laid it all out on the counter, everything she had left in her pocket.
The lady counted it out, carefully unfolding the damp bills. “There’s a bus that leaves here in about four hours for Chicago.”
“Do I have enough?”
The lady smiled, punching it into her computer and printing out a ticket. “With ten cents to spare.”
Haven took the ticket, dropping the spare dime in an empty coffee cup that a homeless man held as he sat against the wall nearby. She quietly walked over to an empty metal bench, lying down on it as she waited. Four hours, she chanted in her head as she closed her tired eyes. Just four more hours.
* * *
Sleep viciously pulled her away, deep in the throes of another surreal dream. The lightning that crashed outside the bus station translated as gunfire, pulling her into the middle of the warehouse shootout again. On and on it went, a cycle of violence she couldn’t escape. She thrashed around on the hard bench, whimpering in her sleep, until someone shook her awake.
She sat up abruptly and her eyes fell upon the familiar man beside her. She scanned him quietly for a moment, blinking a few times, thinking if she waited he would fade away with the dream. “Dr. DeMarco?”
He sat back against the hard bench with an exasperated sigh. He, too, was drenched from the storm, his wet hair slicked back on his head. His eyes, dark and expressive, avoided her for a long moment.
His proximity put her on edge, his presence alarming. Her heart pounded furiously as confusion set in. “How did you know . . . ?”
“Maura and I tried to run away once,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “We made it as far as the bus station, too.”
Haven eyed him warily. “I’m not running away.”
He ignored her declaration. “What you’re doing is dangerous. So many things could’ve gone wrong . . . could still go wrong. You have the right to go where you want to go, but this just isn’t smart.”
Haven moved over a bit, settling on the bench a few inches from him. Her eyes scanned the building for a clock, finding one above the ticket window. Three and a half hours had passed. Her bus was scheduled to leave in thirty minutes.
“Do you remember the day I took you to the hospital?” he asked. “We sat in my office. I told you Carmine was naïve and impulsive.”
“Irrational and volatile,” she whispered.
“Carmine’s always done things without thinking, and I was worried he’d do the same with you. I honestly thought he’d take you and run, because he’s my son. Because he’s so much like me. But he didn’t. For probably the first time in his life, he considered the consequences.
“I’ve lost a lot, you know. I lost my wife, but before that I lost my life. I gave it away by initiating. That’s the world Carmine belongs to now. They tell him where to go and what to do, and if he doesn’t . . . well, you know what happens when people disregard orders. He doesn’t want you subjected to that, and I agree with him. I believe Chicago’s the last place you should go, but if you decide you really want to, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Haven looked at him with surprise. “You’ll help me?”
“Yes, but not today,” he said, his expression serious. “Carmine needs time to figure things out, and quite frankly, so do you. Don’t you agree?”
She stared at him, unsure of how to answer. “I guess so.”
“After you’ve given life a chance, if you still want to go to Chicago, I’ll make sure you get there, even if it’s the last thing I do. But before you can choose to be with Carmine, you have to understand what you’re giving up.”
“But—”
Dr. DeMarco raised his hand to silence her. “If you can’t do it for yourself, at least do it for Carmine. Show everyone he was right about you, that you’re the person he believes you are. Prove everyone wrong who threw you aside, and prove Carmine right, because he needs it.”
