Sempre: Redemption (45 page)

After her breathing was under control, she opened her eyes again and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Grabbing the small black cell phone, she dialed the Chicago number and listened as it rang. “Corrado Moretti. Leave a message.”

Haven pushed back the nerves that always accompanied the call. The words escaped her lips, the burn in her chest dulling as another sensation settled in. Through the shock, through the horror and fear, she felt the
resolve
.

“I’m coming to Chicago.”

Haven left her apartment under the cloak of darkness, taking only a small bag of clothes. She locked up before making her way down the block to the nearest parking garage, taking the elevator up to the third tier. She spotted the black Mazda parked precisely where she had left it almost a year before. The thick layer of dirt and dust covering the paint concealed the scratches still adorning the top.

It took nearly every penny she had in her pocket to pay the parking fees and fill up the gas tank for her trip.

Her heart ached as she drove out of the city, thoughts of Dr. DeMarco infiltrating her mind. Unlike so many times before, when the incident where he had punished her would spring to mind, all she could think about were the good moments: the time he had given her the picture of her mother, the holidays, the sound of his laughter, and the look of pride on his face when Dominic graduated. She thought about the food he had given her and how he had handed over his keys so she could learn to drive. He hadn’t even been angry when it was returned with a scratch.

It seemed as if more than a year’s worth of memories flooded Haven, and with them came the tears. Dominic’s words ran through her mind, ones he had spoken down by the river in Durante.

“I already lost my mom to this life,”
he’d said.
“I don’t want to lose him, too.”

Dominic had made Haven see that it was okay to want more in life. He had helped her face her worst fear. It was only fair she would be there to help him face his.

H
aven sat in the car along the curb, her stomach churning as she stared at the blue door of the old house. She had only seen it once before, sitting on the bottom step with Carmine by her side. More than a year had somehow passed since that day . . . more than a year since she had laid eyes on him. She wondered if he would be happy to see her, or if he would be angry she came.

So many scenarios flooded her mind as she got out of the car and made her way across the street. She tried to push back her anxiety as she stepped on the porch, but before she could even knock her name was called from down the street. Her vision blurred, her heart rate skyrocketing as she turned around, watching Corrado’s leisurely approach. “Sir.”

“I’m glad to see you’re well.” He eyed her intently, a serious expression hardening his face. Haven immediately grew paranoid, wondering if it was wrong for her to be there.

Panic crept through her at the prospect that she could be in danger. “I didn’t know if I should come.”

“It was nice of you to show up,” he said as he stepped closer. “I apologize for not calling. By the time I had a chance, you’d informed me of your intention to come, so I assumed someone else told you.”

“I saw it on the news,” she said quietly. “They said there was a massacre.”

Corrado scoffed at the word. “It was hardly a
massacre
. If it was, no one would’ve survived, but Carmine and I walked away.”

“Carmine?” she gasped, horrified. “He was there?”

“Yes,” Corrado said. “And as you can probably guess, he isn’t taking it very well. After Maura’s murder, he didn’t speak to anybody for a long time. It seems he’s dealing with his father’s death the same way.”

“Oh God.” The burn flared in her chest as her eyes filled with tears. “He saw them
both
die.”

“He did.”

“Is he, uh . . . ?” She motioned toward the door behind her. “Is he home?”

Corrado shook his head. “He’s already gone to the service with my wife.”

“Oh.”

“You’re welcome to join me,” Corrado said. “I’m waiting on the car service to pick me up. Plenty of time to meet them at the cemetery.”

Haven looked down at herself, eyeing her wrinkled shirt and dirty jeans. She had had them on since yesterday morning, having not taken the time to change before leaving. “I don’t really have anything with me to wear.”

“God doesn’t care what you wear, Haven,” Corrado said. “It wouldn’t matter to Vincent, either. But if it would make you feel better, I’m sure there’s something in my wife’s closet that would suffice.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Haven furiously shook her head. “I couldn’t impose like that.”

Corrado let out a sharp bark of laughter. “As much as I’ve already done, a change of clothes is hardly an imposition.”

That silenced her immediately.

“Come,” he insisted. “No excuses.”

Haven quietly followed him to his house and upstairs to the bedroom he shared with Celia. She glanced through the closet, pulling out a plain black dress she found in the back. It was slightly too big but fit better than she expected.

She borrowed a pair of shoes, too, some simple black heels that pinched her toes, a size too small but good enough for the moment. She did little else to prepare, in and out in less than twenty minutes.

Corrado waited downstairs for her, peering out the front door at the black town car parked along the curb. They climbed into it, and Haven shifted anxiously around on the leather seat.

“I’ve tried,” Corrado said quietly a few minutes into the drive. “I’ve done everything within my power for Carmine, but it seems to be beyond my reach. He’s too stubborn and reckless. The way he’s going, he’s doomed.”

Doomed
. That word rippled through her, a cold chill striking her bones. “You’ve given up on him?”

“It doesn’t matter . . . not when he’s already given up on himself.”

Before Haven could respond, Corrado’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out, letting out a long exhaustive sigh as he answered the call. “Moretti speaking . . . Yeah, it’s all settled. I’m certain it’ll go according to plan.”

He hung up quickly, slipping his phone back away as his attention once more turned to her. “Is this visit temporary, or do you need to retrieve your things from New York?”

She blanched. “Well, I . . . I don’t know.”

He turned away from her, his eyes focusing straight ahead. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

The long, gold-toned casket stood out strikingly on the grassy knoll, a makeshift memorial of colorful flowers surrounding it on all sides. A crowd of mourners gathered, dozens of people dressed in their most expensive black clothing, their heads bowed and gazes cast away, as if avoiding having to face reality. Sorrow and misery wafted around them, the atmosphere stifling with pain lingering in the air.

Haven paused a few yards away from the service, her knees weak. Dr. DeMarco’s cold body lay in that box, his heart no longer beating and the life expelled from him. He was gone, never again to open his eyes and see another day.

The air seemed to be forced from Haven’s lungs at the thought, dizziness blurring her vision. She took a few steps to the side to lean against a tall maple tree in order to catch her breath as Corrado continued on, infiltrating the crowd. She scanned them as she composed herself, catching brief glimpses of Celia and Dominic, but the others were shielded from view.

She wanted to go closer, desperate to see Carmine, but her feet wouldn’t move no matter how hard she tried to make them.

“Vincenzo was a loyal man,” the priest declared, clutching a Bible to his chest as he stood behind the casket. “He was a husband and a father; a son and a brother. He wasn’t a perfect man, he made mistakes, but
no
man is perfect. We all sin; we all fall victim to temptation. Vincenzo was no different.

“Greed, lust, gluttony, sloth, wrath, envy, pride—the seven cardinal sins. He struggled with them, trying to balance the good and evil in his life, and many times he failed. But just because he succumbed to evil doesn’t mean he
was
evil. Vincenzo visited me often before his life came to an end. He expressed remorse for all of the hurt he had caused, and because of that I am certain of one thing—despite his flaws, Vincenzo Roman DeMarco was a true Man of Honor.”

Sobs rang out from the crowd, but Haven couldn’t decipher who they came from. When the priest finished a few minutes later, mourners took turns placing long-stemmed red roses on top of the casket, one by one saying their final good-byes to the man inside. Haven caught a glimpse of Tess and Dia, but the family stood in the front and remained mostly blocked.

Haven picked at her nails nervously as the crowd dispersed, chipping away at the pale pink polish when Carmine finally came into view. He wore a black suit, his hair slicked back and head bowed as he stared into the massive hole in the ground. People spoke to him as they passed, but he didn’t acknowledge them. He just stood still, a cold marble statue, unmoving and unwavering, looming in the pathway as everyone moved around him.

She watched Celia rub Carmine’s back before she and Corrado walked away. Corrado steered her in Haven’s direction, her footsteps faltering as a look of surprise passed over her face. She smiled warmly as she approached, pulling her into a hug. “You look great, kiddo. It’s been
way
too long.”

“Thank you,” Haven said quietly as she let go, seeing Celia’s face was flushed, her makeup was smudged from crying. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Celia.”

“Me, too, sweetie,” she whispered, glancing back over at Carmine, frowning, before looking at Haven again. “Go on,” she said, motioning toward him. “Make sure he gets home safely, okay?”

Corrado put his arm over Celia’s shoulder, nodding at Haven in approval before leading her away. Haven remained in place for a moment as she stared at Carmine, wondering if she even knew the person in front of her anymore. He seemed so different, from his stance to the way he was dressed, all of it foreign. His slumped shoulders screamed with defeat, as he stood seemingly oblivious to anything in the world around him.

Haven took a few steps in his direction but stopped again when he broke his stance, grabbing a rose from the closest display and slowly approaching an adjacent grave. He crouched down in front of the headstone and laid the rose on the ground before running his fingers along the words engraved on the worn white marble.

Haven started his way again, her curiosity fueling her, but stopped after a few steps when realization struck. He had once told her his mother was in Hillside.

Her heart pounded rapidly as she suddenly felt like she was invading his privacy. The memory of him sitting in front of his piano, slumped down and crying on the anniversary of her death came to mind. Pain ripped through her chest.

She immediately took a step back.

Carmine must have sensed her movement, because his body stiffened at that moment, his shoulders squared and head held high as if on alert. Something in the atmosphere shifted—the afternoon sun disappeared behind a thick cloud, encasing the cemetery in gloomy shade. A cool breeze blew through, ruffling Haven’s dress and causing a shiver to run the length of her spine.

It felt like it happened in slow motion as Carmine turned in her direction, their eyes locking across the way. She finally saw his face, taking in the deep frown on his lips and dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. His blank expression changed as he stared at her, distinctive emotions flashing across his face that matched the ones surging inside of her. Shock, disbelief, confusion, desperation, fear, longing, hope, sorrow, grief . . . all of it hit Haven at once as she stared at the broken boy she had once given her heart to—a heart she had never quite got back.

She loved him, just as much as she ever had, and when she saw that same feeling reflected back at her, it all came together. Because despite everything that was different, despite everything that felt unfamiliar, despite the pain and heartbreak, the love was still there.

Finally, something felt
right
again.

He hesitantly took a step toward her, his movement causing Haven to break into a run. She kicked her shoes off in the grass as she sprinted in his direction, shaking and crying as she rammed right into him. He braced himself in an attempt to keep his footing and wrapped his arms around her, staggering a few steps from the force of the collision. His body violently shook as a strangled sob tore from his chest.

Neither spoke, the lump in Haven’s throat making it impossible for anything to escape but cries. She closed her eyes as he held her, reveling in his familiar scent and body warmth. Despite how vulnerable she knew he was, how shaky the ground was beneath his feet, she felt secure in his arms, like all of her wandering had come down to that moment, in that place, where she finally felt like she was home again.

He
was her home. He always had been.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood between his parents’ graves, clinging to each other, all of their hurt, and pain, and heartache expelled through each shuddering breath, each salty tear staining their cheeks. It could have been minutes or hours, but it felt as if time had stopped for them once again.

“La mia bella ragazza,”
he whispered, his voice cracking.

The words sent a pang of longing through her body, and she closed her eyes as the electricity of his touch coursed through her veins. “Oh, Carmine.”

He pulled back to look at Haven, his face wet with tears and hair a disheveled mess. She reached up to run her hand through it, cringing as her fingers got tangled in a stiff nest of hair product. “Your hair.”

A sad smile lifted the corner of his mouth, and although he didn’t respond, she knew he understood. He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks, her eyes fluttering closed from his touch. He ran his fingertips down her jaw, his hand gently exploring her face, before he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

Wiping his tears, Haven explored his face much like he had hers, eyeing the small mark on his cheek peculiarly as she ran her pointer finger across it. She had never seen it before. “You have a scar.”