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“Can we talk?” I look behind me, scanning the street nervously. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Of course, come in.” She ushers me inside, but not before looking up and down the street, as if ensuring we’re not being watched, before closing the door. “We were just preparing Thanksgiving dinner for tonight. Come on, we can head into my office.”
She leads me down the hall, past a living room, where several people laugh and play games, and the kitchen, where we made cookies last time, and down another hall to a door she opens, flicking on the light. It smells like home in her house.
The scents of pumpkin pie and turkey fill the air with an inviting warmth that contrasts with the cold tension in my chest. It’s a sensory reminder of the life I long for, the domestic tranquility I’ve been denied for so long.
As we step into Sara’s office, my gaze flits to the comfortable chair where I’ve poured out my soul before. The room feels like a sanctuary, where secrets are revealed and protected. My heart aches, knowing that within these walls, I must confront the tangled mess of emotions that have brought me here today.
Sara motions for me to take a seat, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “What’s on your mind, Charlotte? You look like you’ve been through a lot.”
I don’t sit gracefully in the seat. Instead, I fall into it as Sara shuts and locks the door behind her. “I give Desmond a half hour tops,” I say, my nerves making my voice tremble.
She sits in the chair beside me. “Charlotte, you should be resting.”
“I know. I just need you to help me work through something.” There’s a pleading quality to my voice. I adjust to a more comfortable position so I can look her in the eye as I talk.
“I think I know why you are here,” she begins.
“You do?”
“Joseph Bonanno and Jani Stevenson,” she says, giving me a sad smile. “I’m sorry you had to kill your friend.”
I pick at the threads of the scrubs I stole from Dom’s office. “Yeah, well, it is what it is,” I reply, even though that’s not why I’m here. “Why didn’t Desmond tell me about Joey?”
“Let me ask you a question first,” she says, glancing at the door as though she is breaching his trust just by talking to me. “Why didn’t you ask him instead of coming to me?”
I sigh, the weight of the truth pressing against my chest. “Because I’m scared of what he’ll say, and what it might mean for us.”
Sara nods, understanding in her eyes. “You’re afraid of the answers.”
“Yes,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. “But I can’t keep running from the truth. I need to face it, no matter how painful.”
Sara leans forward, her gaze steady and compassionate. “Charlotte, facing the truth is the first step toward healing. It takes immense courage to confront our fears, our past, and those we care about, but it’s also necessary for growth and finding peace within yourself.”
She places a reassuring hand on my arm. “You’re not alone in this journey. You have people who care about you and want to support you through it. Desmond loves you deeply, and even though it’s frightening to face the unknown, remember that love can conquer the darkest corners of our minds.”
I take in her words, letting them sink in, and try to grasp onto the hope they offer. “But what if the truth changes everything? What if it shatters what I’ve built with Desmond?”
Sara’s expression softens. “Truth has a way of revealing what’s real and what’s strong. If something withstands the truth, it will remain, and if it doesn’t, perhaps it wasn’t built on the right foundation.”
She leans back, giving me space to absorb her words. “Charlotte, no matter what happens, you have the strength to navigate through it, and remember, you have choices. You’re not defined solely by your past or the actions you’ve taken.”
I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of fear and determination. With Sara’s guidance, maybe I can find the courage to face the truth, confront my fears, and ultimately find a path to healing and love.
“I also don’t know if he’d tell me the truth,” I admit, my vulnerability making me bare my inner turmoil. The weight of unspoken secrets presses on my chest, suffocating me. “Brooklyn arranged a marriage between Desmond and Jani, but she was in love with Sal’s son, someone I didn’t know existed.”
Her outburst at the mansion makes more sense now. It was never about Desmond, but what hedid.
Sara’s eyes reflect the complexity of the situation. “Many of the older generations don’t admit they sired children out of safety for them,” she says, her voice tinged with a mix of understanding and sorrow.
“I just assumed he didn’t have kids because he was in love with Brooklyn,” I confess, the bitterness of betrayal seeping into my words. I tug on a strand of fabric, the threads slipping through my fingers, mirroring my tenuous grasp on the truth. “I feel like Desmond betrayed me by not telling me.”
“Do you think he was keeping you safe?” she prompts gently, offering a different perspective that catches me off guard. “Jani loved Joey but wanted more,” she adds, encouraging me to consider the intricacies of human emotion.
She stops abruptly as the front door slams open, making the house vibrate with Desmond’s wrath, the sudden intrusion jarring our conversation. “You really should talk to Desmond about this, Charlotte.”
“I don’t know if I should stay. I don’t know if I can move past this,” I admit, my uncertainty a heavy burden on my shoulders. I reach out and grip her arm, seeking solace in her guidance.
