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Suddenly, hazy memories focused.
My mom shoving me into the van we were living and traveling in when a small group of men had started whistling and saying things I didn’t understand.
Then my mom coming back in with blood on her arms.
“Mama,” I’d gasped.
“Oh, Mama just fell and cut her arm,” she assured me.
It never occurred to me back then that she’d never cleaned or dressed a wound. There’d been no bandages, no cuts, no scars.
Another time, we’d gotten a flat on the side of the road in the middle of the night when I’d been ten or eleven. She’d gotten out to try change it. Then a car had pulled up. A Good Samaritan, surely. A man who parked in front of us, then walked back toward our car, looking at me through the dashboard, then going toward the back of the van.
I’d heard talking.
Then a hard thump.
Then nothing.
Mom came rushing back into the van.
“You know what, my darling girl? I think we can make it to the next town on this tire still,” she’d said, all cheer. And maybe I hadn’t been able to see the tension around her eyes as she smiled. And perhaps I’d mistaken that stain on her shirt as oil or grime from the car. And not what it really was. Blood.
“Mom,” I said, voice small. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I never wanted to dull that light in your eyes, my sweet girl,” she said, reaching out with a mostly blood-free hand and touching the side of my face. “If I could shield you from the ugly in the world, I was going to. Now, it seems, I get to pass that job onto this fine young man here,” she said, shooting Nino a smile.
“I’m afraid I’ve brought this ugly into her world,” Nino said, shaking his head.
“By that logic, I’m to blame for all the risky situations Savannah and I found ourselves in during her childhood. Life happens. It’s how you handle it that matters,” she said, shrugging it off.
“You sure know how to handle it,” Nino said, and his gaze slid to the body on the floor quickly, before it went back to her.
“Anything for family,” she said, and there was a strange edge to her words I didn’t understand, but they had Nino’s eyes going thoughtful. “Isn’t that a motto for your particular kind ofFamily?” she asked, and it finally sank in.
She knew.
Sheknew.
“You knew about the… mafia thing?” I asked, voice a hushed sound, like it was some kind of secret while we stood in a literal crime scene where two men had been killed. One by my mom, the other by my boyfriend.
“Oh, my girl,” she said with a little sigh. “You had the attention of a very handsome Italian man in a designer suit with a fancy car whose entire family became patrons of our restaurant after you took a bullet for him. Yes, I knew about themafia thing.”
“But… why didn’t you tellme?” I asked, throwing a hand out.
“I didn’t want you to have second thoughts,” she said simply. “I had a feeling that this,” she said, waving between Nino and me, “was something special. I think I was right.”
“You were,” Nino confirmed. “And I’m really fucking sorry that your daughter got caught up in my mess.”
“You kept her safe, didn’t you?”
“I tried,” he agreed, nodding.
“And you’ll handle this whole… situation,” she said, waving toward the room in general.
“I will,” he said. And it was a promise. A vow.
“Then can I maybe go with my daughter back to whatever fancy place you have her stashed?”
