Sempre (Forever) (58 page)

“Oh, we don't want that,” Carmine said. “I mean a diploma.”

Haven stared straight ahead. “Diploma?”

“Yeah,” Carmine said. “It’s just a piece of paper, but it means you know enough to complete high school. You can get into some colleges with it.”

Her eyes widened. “I can get one of those? A GED?”

“Yes,” Carmine said.

“If you want one, that is,” Vincent said. “It's up to you.”

Haven blinked back tears, and Carmine realized how big of a deal it was to her. His father, the man she saw as a master—the one who controlled her life—just told her something was up to her.

Haven tried to speak, but no sound would come out when she opened her mouth, so she just nodded instead.

“It’s settled then,” Vincent said. “I’m sure you can find some practice work online to prepare her. Anything more and you’ll have to wait for the documents.”

Vincent turned his attention back to his laptop, the conversation over. Carmine opened the door and was about to leave when Corrado’s voice stopped him. “Carmine, I’d like a moment with you.”

He turned back around and shut the door after she left. “What?”

Corrado came toward him, and Carmine tensed when he grabbed his arm. Ripping the Rolex from his wrist, Corrado’s eyes lingering on the tattoo underneath it. “
Fiducia Nessuno
. Trust no one. For someone who believed that enough to permanently mark his skin with it, you’re quite gullible.”

Corrado pulled out a pocket knife and turned the watch over, popping off the back. With the tip of the knife, he pried something tiny out of it that sat on the tip of his finger. He handed it to Vincent, who eyed it with interest. “GPS.”

Carmine stared at it, dazed. “He chipped me? Why?”

“Because he can,” Corrado said. “Experimentation. Intrigue. He likes keeping tabs on people. Testing people.”

Vincent opened his top desk drawer, placing the chip inside. “You can go now, Carmine.”

Corrado held the watch out to Carmine, but he shook his head as he headed for the door. “Keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

The moment he stepped into the hallway, Haven flung herself at him. He stumbled a few steps but managed to keep his balance as she leapt up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He clung to her tightly so she didn’t fall.

Haven buried her face in his neck, her hands finding their way into his hair. Carmine was stunned into silence, unable to do anything but stand there and hold her.

She let go after she calmed down, trembling, and dropped back down to the floor. Her eyes were red from tears. “Thank you.”

“You’re the one who has to do the work. I just had the idea.”

“But you cared enough to suggest it.”

“Well, you’re welcome for that. How about we get some breakfast now? Or, uh… lunch?”

He glanced at his bare wrist and groaned.

“What happened to your new watch?” Haven asked, looking at his old one on her wrist.

He shook his head. “You don't even wanna know.”

Carmine pulled the cake out of the fridge when they made it to the kitchen. Haven watched as he cut a large slice. “I don't think that counts as lunch.”

He chuckled. “Says who?”

She shrugged. “So you like the cake?”

He nodded, grabbing a fork to take a bite. “Italian Cream cake’s my favorite.”

“Is it really?”

He smirked, taking another bite. “It is now.”

Haven laughed as Dominic strolled into the room. “Whoa, I can’t believe you’re eating without me. That’s foul.”

Shrugging, Carmine hopped up on the counter as Dominic cut a massive piece for himself. Soon the rest of the family joined them, Corrado and Celia getting pieces and standing off to the side while Dr. DeMarco grabbed a bottle of water. He closed the fridge door and turned to look at them, his gaze shifting toward the cake.

“Have you tried some, Dad?” Dominic asked.

“No.”

Dominic cut another slice and slapped it on a plate, holding it out to his father. “You should. It’s melt-in-your-mouth good.”

“I’d rather not,” Vincent said, eyeing the plate with distaste.

Dominic shrugged. “Your loss, but I tell you—this is the best cake I’ve ever had. The cannoli the other night was good, too. Hell, and dinner. She’s a great cook.”

“Yeah,” Carmine said. “Probably the Italian in her.”

He tensed when he realized what he’d said and noticed his father had the same reaction. Vincent opened his water and took a drink as Carmine tried to think of something to say to shift the conversation elsewhere. Before he could, Dominic laughed. “Must be. You know damn well she has Carmine’s
full-blooded
Italian in her all the time.”

Carmine’s muscles went rigid, and Vincent started coughing as he choked on his drink. Celia snorted, trying to hold back her amusement, but Dominic didn’t bother containing himself.

Dominic’s laughter died down as Vincent caught his breath, looking at him with disapproval. Carmine waited for him to say something, but he just shook his head and walked out.

After he was gone, they burst into another round of laughter. Haven looked at Carmine with confusion. “I thought you were half-Irish.”

Carmine opened his mouth to answer but closed it again, shaking his head. There was no way to explain it without embarrassing her.

*  *  *  *

Carmine sat on the piano bench in the family room later that night, ghosting his fingers over the keys. After a moment he pressed down, randomly playing a few notes.

Haven stepped into the room, wiping her hands on her pants. She’d been washing dishes from dinner, having forced him out of the kitchen by saying he distracted her too much. “You’re playing.”

He motioned toward the bench beside him. “Join me?”

She sat down, and he ran through a sloppy rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” while she watched. He was winding down the last few notes as he glanced at her, noticing she had tears in her eyes. “You shouldn’t cry so much.”

She smiled. “They’re good tears.”

“I’m glad, but still… you keep crying and you might get dehydrated or some shit,” he said, shrugging when she laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

She cupped his cheek with her palm as she leaned toward him. Their lips met, the kiss soft but full of passion.

“Damn, hummingbird,” he said when she pulled away. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“I love your playing.”

“I’m not that good,” he said. “I only took two years of lessons when I was a kid. I know maybe four songs.”

“It sounds good to me,” she said. “I like the guitar, too, but the piano sounds so pretty when you play it.”

He laughed. “Well, do you wanna learn?”

“No. I like it, but I don’t think, you know…”

“Ah, come on. If you can scale a tree, you can play a song.”

“Okay,” she said nervously. “I don’t want to mess up your piano.”

“Don’t be silly. You won’t mess it up. Besides, what’s mine is yours. You can touch it anytime you want.”

She looked at him teasingly, a smile on her lips. “Can I?”

“Absolutely,” he said, scooting closer to her. “Anytime, anyplace.”

She laughed as he ran his hand up her inner thigh, and she pushed him playfully. “Not now, not here.”

He held his hands up. “Fine, let’s play some piano then.”

Her hands shook as he helped her through the bars of the song twice. She gave it a try on her own then and messed up on the third note, but she was persistent. It took awhile before she was able to run through the simple notes, and it wasn’t close to being harmonious or smooth, but the smile on her face made every second of frustration worth it for Carmine.

She tried to play it again and messed up after the first few notes, groaning. Attempting to continue, her fingers pressed down on the keys when a voice rang out behind them. “Mozart?”

Carmine nearly fell off the piano bench when he swung around. “Christ, Corrado. You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

He raised his eyebrows and repeated his question. “Mozart?”

“Uh, I guess you could say that. He did some variations on it.”

Corrado’s attention shifted to Haven. “
Mi ricorda tua madre
.”

Reminds me of your mother
. The words made Carmine blanch. “What?”

Corrado just stood there, looking at them but not elaborating on his statement. After a moment he spoke again. “
Sei felice
?”

Carmine nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Haven stared down at the floor, and Carmine realized she didn't understand a word of what Corrado was saying. He couldn’t even imagine what sort of translations she was conjuring up in her mind.

“I love her,” he said, wanting to ease her worries. “More than anything.”

Nodding, Corrado walked away without another word. After he was out of sight, Carmine turned back to Haven. “Do you wanna play some more?”

She shook her head. “What did he say?”

“He asked if I was happy with you. Nothing of importance.” He groaned after the words rolled from his lips. “Not saying that’s not important, or that you aren’t important, because you are. I’m just saying it’s not a big deal or whatever. Well, I mean, it is a big deal, but—”

Haven covered his mouth with her hand to shut him up. “I get it, Carmine. I love you too.”

*  *  *  *

Night fell, the house as still and silent as a graveyard. Vincent sat in his office, glaring at the plate on his desk. The small sliver of cake was just enough to taste it, but the thought of taking a single bite made his stomach churn.

Maura always made Italian Cream cake. It had been her favorite.

He fingered the small gold band around his neck, his pinky finger barely fitting halfway through it. The metal was startlingly cold against his skin but not as cold as Vincent felt inside.

After another minute of staring at the cake, he picked up the plate and tossed it into the trash. It hit the bottom of the empty wastebasket with a loud clank, and Vincent didn’t give it another thought. He slipped the necklace under the neckline of his shirt again, concealing it, and picked up a stack of papers on his desk.

X-ray’s, consultations, broken bones, stitches. Diseases, rashes, infections, viruses. It was all so depressing, one awful diagnosis after another, but Vincent preferred it to the morose thoughts swimming in his head.

For as many lives as he’d destroyed, as many people as he’d watched die, there were countless others that he’d saved. And as exhausted as he was, he knew somewhere in the mound of files in front of him had to be another patient that could take the sting of death away.

If only for a little while.

*  *  *  *

The next day, for the third morning in a row, Carmine woke up all alone. He pulled on a pair of pants before moseying toward the stairs, pausing in the middle of the library when he heard Haven’s laughter coming from Dominic’s room. Walking over to the door, Carmine knocked when he realized it was locked.

“Go away!” Dominic yelled. “We’re busy in here!”

Carmine’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean you’re busy?”

“I mean, we’re busy, bro,” Dominic hollered. “My turn. I’m gonna hit it good and proper to show you how it’s done.”

There was a pop before Haven yelped. Carmine started banging louder on the door. “You better let me in before I break in.”

“Maybe we should let him join,” Haven said.

“No! He’s always monopolizing your time and this isn’t Monopoly, twinkle toes. This is my chance to have a turn with you.”

Carmine grabbed the doorknob, wiggling it. “Open the door.”

“Sorry. Come back when I’m done with her.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Trouble, man,” Dominic said. “Nothing but some trouble. Come here, Haven. Give me your hand and let me show you how to work it.”

Carmine shoved the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Why are you touching her? What are you showing her?”

“Do it harder,” Dominic said, ignoring his brother. “Yeah, like that. No, wait, where are you going, Haven?”

“I’m going to let Carmine in,” she said. “Maybe he wants to play.”

“Aw, man, he ruins all the fun.”

“Carmine doesn’t ruin anything,” she said pointedly as the lock clicked and the knob turned, the door opening. Carmine’s brow furrowed when he saw his brother relaxing on the floor with his legs spread out in front of him.

“I told you.
Trouble
. We’re playing Trouble,” Dominic said, pointing at the board game on the floor. “Or we were until you barged in. Always jealous. You already called dibs on Mario, you cheating motherfucker. You can’t give us this?”

“I don’t cheat, you do,” Carmine said, nodding toward the game. “Finish playing, baby, before he has a temper tantrum.”

Haven plopped back down beside Dominic, who threw his arm over her shoulder and made a kissing face. Carmine rolled his eyes and shut the door, refusing to let his brother get him riled up.

Anymore
.

Carmine grabbed the remote to his brother’s TV and flipped through the channels for a few minutes while they played their game. Settling on some news, his mind drifted for a while until Haven’s voice rang out, her words startling him. “I know him.”

She pointed at the TV. On it was a picture of an older man with gray hair and a headline that said “Local Doctor Missing.” Carmine turned up the volume in just enough time to catch the report. “…was last seen leaving his office at around eleven fifteen on the evening of the second. His car was located a few hours later in the French Broad River, but there was no sign of the doctor or any indication of what may have come of him. If you have any information on the disappearance of Dr. Morte, please call our tip line.”

He turned the volume back down as the story switched to one about new traffic patterns, and Dominic laughed. “Dr. Morte. That’s some Kevorkian shit. How do you know him?”

“He’s the one your father took me to,” Haven said, her attention turning to Carmine. A knowing expression flashed across her face when the reality of it dawned on her. Dr. Morte wasn’t missing. He was dead. And now they knew where Corrado had been that night.