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“Grandpa says we have strong genes because our blood is well mixed.”
“You sure are a strong little girl.” I adjust her pillow. “Rest a little more. I’ll be back with dinner in a minute.”
In the kitchen, I heat up a tin of soup and prepare a tray that I take to her room. I feed her spoonfuls of soup until the bowl is half-empty and she says her tummy is full.
After she’s eaten, her strength returns quickly, but so does the fever. However, it’s not as scary as before. She’s more lucid. When she asks me if she can watch television with Beatrice and Alison, I know the worst is over. And when she asks if they can have popcorn, I’m overjoyed that her appetite is returning.
While she’s snuggled up under a blanket on the sofa in front of the television, I use the time to tidy the kitchen and start a load of washing. I check on her every five minutes, unable to quell my worry.
Before the movie is over, she’s tired again. I put her and the dolls to bed and settle in the chair next to her. For the first time since Sophie woke up with a fever, I allow myself to relax a little. Now that I’m no longer so anxious about the complications that can occur with measles, I let my thoughts wander. As I’ve done so many times in the dead of the night, I reflect on my own stressful situation.
Three days have passed. I have a two-day window before it will be too late for an emergency contraceptive pill to be effective. Will Angelo’s housekeeper, Heidi, return before then? I can’t count on my husband to get me the pill, and I can’t leave Sophie alone to walk to the village. Besides, I could still be contagious. I’m immune, but I can’t risk spreading the disease to a population of mostly elderly and frail people who may not have immunity. If Heidi doesn’t show up in the next two days, my only choice is to wait for my next period and pray that it will come. It can take anything between two and four weeks. If nothing happens after four weeks, I’ll take a pregnancy test to be sure.
The concern of that thought keeps me awake. I’m well aware that I’m burning myself out by not sleeping. At best, I’m dozing for an hour here and there in the chair. I can hardly take care of Sophie if I’m nodding off from exhaustion during the day.
Taking a deep breath, I chastise myself mentally. I’m overreacting. Having missed a few pills means I’m no longer protected against pregnancy, but that doesn’t mean I will definitely fall pregnant. But even as I tell myself I shouldn’t worry about something that may not happen, anguish burns like a hot coal in my stomach. The only thing that compels me to stay calm and not to go out of my mind is knowing that Sophie needs me. So I continue to watch over her, praying that Heidi will show up before my window of opportunity closes.
ChapterTwo
Angelo
Uncle Enzo stands in front of the warehouse outside Bastia when I get there, a troubled expression wrinkling his features. Gianni shuffles his feet next to his father, not meeting my eyes.
“Where is he?” I ask.
My uncle juts his chin toward the corrugated iron building. The old meat packing plant is abandoned, but I survey the surroundings, taking everything in with a glance. The men are stationed on the outskirts, watching the road. If anyone approaches, they’ll have ample time to eliminate the threat or alert us.
“Signing a deal with Powell was a mistake,” my uncle says. “I warned you, Angelo. You’re getting too greedy.”
His sour expression spoils my appetite, and it’s not even lunchtime yet. “You mistake greed for power. The deal was never about money. It’s about control.”
“We already control the sea routes between France and Africa. Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s never enough.” He of all people should know that. “My father built a kingdom. If he was here today, he would’ve done exactly what I’m doing. He would’ve created an empire.”
My uncle clamps his lips shut, but the creases on his forehead don’t even out. He’s always been the cautious one, the handbrake of the family. My father called him careful. I call him a coward.
I don’t dislike my uncles, but I don’t have any special affection for them either. My feelings toward them are neutral. Of late, I’m finding it harder to respect them. Maybe that’s because my father dealt with them. I never had to work with them directly. I merely had to tolerate them. The only reason they’re still a part of the business is because we’re of the same blood, and I owe them respect as members of our family. I owe it to my father’s memory.
Unable to stand another minute of my uncle’s whining, I address Gianni. “Where did you spot him?”
Gianni glances at me from behind his long fringe. “He was snooping around the warehouses on the docks, taking pictures with his phone.” He turns a phone to me and swipes a finger over the screen, scrolling through a collection of photos of the warehouses from different angles. Some images feature the fence and the gate. Others show the security team patrolling the property. “We caught him in the parking lot behind the boatyard.”
I nod at the man who guards the entrance. He pulls back the bolt and opens the door.
“Go on,” I tell Gianni.
He gives me a startled look.
Uncle Enzo’s nostrils flare with the sigh he blows out, but he commands his son with a resigned tilt of his head, indicating the building.
Gianni climbs over the raised threshold with palpable hesitation. I follow and shut the door. A battery-operated lamp stands in the middle of the floor, throwing a circle of bright white light over the concrete. In the middle of that circle, a naked man dangles upside-down from a ceiling beam. A rope secures his feet to the metal bar, and his hands are tied behind his back. The stink of sweat, urine, and blood hangs thick in the air, pierced with the faint smell of ammonia.
Gianni gags. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and slams it over his mouth and nose.
I go closer and inspect the man. Both his eyes are swollen shut. His cheekbones and lips are split. Bruises mar his face and neck. Blood dried on the lashes crisscrossing his back and torso. Uncle Enzo’s men did a number on him.
“Who’s there?” he croaks, straining his neck.
