He stopped in front of her, holding a large cotton swab and a plastic container. His knees cracked loudly as he crouched down in front of her, the harsh sound making her wince.
She watched him warily as he smiled, something off about his expression. There was a hint of worry, maybe even a bit of aggravation, but it was mostly sadness, which surprised her. She stared at him, wondering what made him that way, but she couldn’t ask. It wasn’t her place.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered.
She obliged, and he ran the cotton swab along the inside of her cheek. He stood when he finished, placing the swab into the container as he leaned against his desk. “You don’t look—”
His words cut off abruptly when his phone rang. Dr. DeMarco closed his eyes. “You’re excused, child.”
Haven went straight for the family room, sitting on the couch and longingly gazing at the flimsy tree. The boys arrived home from school, their animated voices ringing through the house. Her eyes fell upon Carmine, and he winked as he sat in a chair across the room. Dominic grinned and plopped down beside her, so close he practically landed in her lap. He flung his arm over her shoulder. “What’s up, Twinkle Toes? Did you miss me while I was at school?”
“Uh, yes,” she said. “I guess.”
Carmine shot him an annoyed look, and Dominic laughed, pretending to whisper. “I think my brother’s a wee bit jealous.”
Haven heard footsteps coming downstairs and went to pull away, but Dominic held on to her. Dr. DeMarco walked into the room, his brow furrowing when he looked at them. “Don’t let Tess see you. You’ll start a war, and I’d hate to have to step in.”
Dominic laughed. “Whose side would you take?”
“I didn’t say anything about taking a side. I have a policy of staying neutral.”
“Okay, but let’s say you were betting on it,” Dominic said. “Who would you put money on?”
Dr. DeMarco sighed. “Are you asking who I think would win in a fight?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
Carmine groaned across the room.
“Well, Tess is good at cheap shots, but the child has a knack for survival. She’s not helpless either, as Squint can attest to. Tess is used to having help, while the girl’s used to trudging through it alone. One on one, I have to say she’d take Tess easily.” Haven’s eyes widened, stunned he would say that. “But don’t tell Tess. She might try to prove me wrong.”
“I wouldn’t tell Tess that if my life depended on it,” Dominic said. “She’d kick my ass.”
“She could probably take you, too,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I know the child could.”
Haven’s cheeks reddened as they looked at her. “Uh, I don’t know about that, sir.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. I certainly don’t.” Haven stared at him, unsure of what he meant, but he looked away without elaborating. “I have stuff to do, so I probably won’t be home until tomorrow. Have a good night.”
He walked out, an awkward silence lingering in his wake.
“That was fucking weird,” Carmine said before turning to his brother. “And get your damn arm off my girl before I break it.”
Dominic leaned in her direction again. “Told you he was jealous.”
“Whatever,” Carmine said. “And what’s wrong with you? Who would win in a fight? What kinda question is that?”
“It was a good one,” Dominic said. “But why are you mad? He picked your girl, not mine.”
They were listening to music later that night when Carmine blurted out something that caught Haven off guard: “What do you want for Christmas?”
What did she want? She had never thought about it. “I don’t expect anything.”
“Well, you’re getting something.”
“But I can’t get you a present.”
“You already gave me my present, Haven. You. Best gift ever.”
She sighed as he lay down beside her. “I still wish I could buy you something.”
“I don’t need anything,” he said, “but there will be plenty more holidays in the future for you to spoil me rotten.”
Hope swelled through her. Christmases. Presents. A future. It was all too much to fathom. “Do you guys have big celebrations?”
“We used to when I was young, but now it’s just us. My aunt Celia always comes for a few days. Other than her and her husband, we don’t have any family. My grandfather’s dead, and we don’t see my grandmother. She has dementia or something. I don’t really know.”
“What about your mama’s family?”
He was quiet. She wondered if she had asked the wrong question, but he finally spoke in a soft voice. “I don’t know of any. She immigrated here.”
“Have you thought about finding them?”
“No,” he said. “They never came looking for my mom, never wondered what happened to her, so why should I care about them? Hell, I didn’t know she was born in Ireland until I saw a stack of government papers in my father’s office a few years ago.”
“Does it make you sad that you don’t have a big family?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really think about it. I figure I have enough.”
“I used to dream about having a big family,” Haven said. “I used to pretend like I had one. Mama said I was always having conversations with imaginary people. I used to even talk to an angel.”
“Like with wings and a halo and shit?”
“That kind of angel, yes, but she didn’t have any of that,” she said. “Mama said angels watched over me and someday I’d be one, so I imagined them as people. My angel told me about life. She said I could be free like her when I grew up and have anything I wanted. I guess she didn’t want to crush me with the truth.”
Carmine pulled her closer to him, burying his face in her hair. Despite it being early, Haven was exhausted. She was on the brink of falling asleep when she heard Carmine’s quiet voice. “You can have a big family, colibri. She wasn’t lying to you.”
22
When he was growing up, Christmas had been Carmine’s favorite time of year. He loved everything about the holiday—watching Rudolph and Frosty and It’s a Wonderful Life, singing Christmas carols and playing Jingle Bells on the piano. Magical was the only way Carmine could describe it, but even that word didn’t do the experience justice.
After his mom died, though, it changed. He lost interest in most things in life, but especially holidays. Christmas reminded him of her, and all he felt after she was gone was grief.
It was now Christmas Eve, and for the past week Carmine had watched Haven get into the holiday spirit. He hadn’t seen such enthusiasm for it since his mom’s last Christmas. A part of him still wanted to forget it all, push it aside and go back into his hole, but a bigger part of him couldn’t help but be happy. He had finally found his light in the darkness, the spark that snuffed when his mom died reignited in Haven.
But Carmine feared the light would go out on him again.
Carmine’s nerves were on edge as he drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, steadily watching the clock, hardly able to pay attention to the television. After about twenty minutes, a car pulled up out front, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Haven go rigid. The front door opened and Vincent’s voice ricocheted through the house, followed by soft feminine laughter.
Aunt Celia.
Dominic jumped up, picking Celia off the ground to swing her around. She glanced at Carmine once Dominic set her back on her feet. “You look more like her every time I see you, kiddo.”
She didn’t have to specify—Carmine knew what she meant. He hugged her, not bothering to respond. It was the truth, and Celia was the only person not afraid to talk to him about his mom.
Celia pulled back. “Have you been good?”
“I haven’t blown anything up lately, if that counts.”
“It’s a start.”
Vincent cleared his throat, his eyes focused on Haven standing in front of the couch. She stared at the floor as she picked at her fingernails. Seeing her look so frightened tugged at Carmine’s heart.
Celia approached her. “Haven?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Celia said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Haven’s voice was barely audible. “You too, Mrs. Moretti.”
“Call me Celia, dear. Mrs. Moretti is my mother-in-law and quite the wicked witch, at that.”
Haven’s eyes widened as Vincent laughed, but he shook his head, not interested in sharing whatever he found funny. He shared a knowing look with Celia, the corner of his lips still fighting to turn up.
“Anyway, I’m hungry and exhausted from traveling,” Celia said, “so don’t expect me to be good company tonight.”
Haven’s eyes darted to the clock. “I should make dinner.”
She started out of the room, but Vincent stepped in front of her. A look of fright flashed across her face as she gasped, and he held his hands up when she recoiled.
It was a train wreck. As much as Carmine hated it, he couldn’t do anything but watch it unfold.
“Relax, child,” Vincent said. “I was going to tell you not to worry about cooking.”
Haven wrapped her arms around her chest. “May I be excused then, mas—uh, sir?”
Carmine cringed at the exchange.
“Yes, you’re excused.” Haven bolted out of the room before the words were completely out of his mouth, and he shook his head. “I should’ve figured.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Celia said. “It didn’t cross my mind.”
Carmine watched them suspiciously. “Couldn’t have known what?”
A small surge of panic coursed through Carmine when his aunt let out a surprised laugh. She could read him easily, and he hadn’t considered that beforehand.
“It doesn’t matter,” Vincent said, turning away. “We’ll deal with the girl later.”
Carmine didn’t see Haven again that night. He hung out in the library in hopes she would surface, but dawn broke with no sign of her. Giving up, he went downstairs and sat at the piano, ghosting his fingers over the keys in the darkness before hitting the opening notes of Moonlight Sonata. He played for a few minutes, the mellow tones swallowing him whole, until a floorboard creaked behind him.
Cutting off midnote, he swung around to see Haven. Her wild hair hung loose, framing an exhausted and solemn face. He patted the piano bench, inviting her to join him, and she sat down.
“You really play beautifully.” She gazed at the keys as he played again, picking up on the same note he’d stopped. “Is that the only song you know?”
He rounded out Moonlight Sonata. “I know a few more. Not as well as I know that one, but I can play a bit of the others.”
“Are they all sad?”
“No.”
