Sempre: Redemption

2

The black Mazda RX-8 sped along the worn gravel road, twisting and turning as it penetrated deeper into the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Haven clutched the passenger seat as the car haphazardly weaved through the dense forest.

“Are we lost?” she asked hesitantly as she stared at her boyfriend. Carmine was slouched in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio. Sunglasses shielded his eyes from her, so she couldn’t tell if he was paying any attention to the road.

“No.”

Haven glanced out the windshield, squinting from the early morning sunshine. Things looked the same in every direction—nothing but endless trees surrounding them. How could he know? “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She shook her head. Stubborn. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

She started to grow frustrated when he jerked the wheel to the left, nearly skidding off the narrow road. Her seatbelt locked in place, tightly confining her in the seat, as she inhaled sharply. Before she could let out the scream that bubbled up in her chest, Carmine pulled beside a fence along the road and cut the engine, turning to her with a satisfied smile. “See, not lost.”

Haven shook her head and surveyed the area. At first it appeared to be nothing unusual, a small gap in the trees with a cabin set a few yards away, until she spotted the faded white sign in the distance. LANDELL CHRISTMAS TREE FARM, it said in green hand-painted letters. Excitement stirred inside of her, but it was quickly crushed when she read on: OPEN NOVEMBER 22 TO DECEMBER 22.

Although it felt as if time had stopped for the two of them, the calendar told a different story. It was December 23 already, a month since they had returned to the small North Carolina town of Durante in an attempt to get back to their lives . . . in an attempt to regain a bit of normalcy and piece together their relationship. Dealing with the fallout of her kidnapping had been a struggle, but they took it day by day . . . minute by minute . . . second by second.

“They’re closed, Carmine,” she said, frowning as they got out of the car. She shivered and wrapped her coat tighter around her to ward off the cold. “Yesterday was the last day.”

Carmine opened the trunk and pulled out an ax, slinging it over his shoulder. “I know.”

She watched, mouth agape, as he climbed the wooden rail fence surrounding the property and leaped to the other side. “Isn’t that breaking and entering?”

He held his free hand out to help her over. “More like trespassing.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One’s a misdemeanor,” he said. “The other’s a felony.”

Haven sighed and started to respond, but his look pleaded with her not to argue. Hesitantly, she conceded and took his hand. Carmine helped her across the fence, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s Christmas, and this is what Christmas is all about.”

“Trespassing?”

“No, picking out trees and decorating them with colored balls and other frilly shit. It’s about mistletoe and presents and lights and stars and family and eggnog. A lot of fucking eggnog, but without the egg and the nog and the other shit they put in with the alcohol. It’s disgusting.”

“So the meaning of Christmas is . . . rum?”

He laughed. “Sure.”

“And here I thought it had something to do with religion.”

Carmine slid his eyes to her. “Technicalities, tesoro. Just technicalities.”

Together, they walked through the tree farm. Haven would occasionally stop and point one out, but each time Carmine seemed to find some fault with it. Too short or too tall, too thick or too thin, too many branches or not enough needles. He disregarded them because of their color, refused trees because of their shape, and simply scoffed when she suggested they look at the pile of leftover precut evergreens.

“How about this one?” she asked after a while, stopping in front of a tree a few inches taller than her. “Do you like it?”

Carmine hardly even looked. “It’s too bare.”

Haven’s brow furrowed, unsure as to what he was talking about. The branches appeared full to her. “So finicky.”

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Do you see any others?”

“Uh . . .” She glanced around, randomly motioning toward another tree a few feet away. “What about that one?”

Carmine scanned it. She awaited his complaint, sure he would find a flaw in it, but he smirked instead. “Perfect.”

She was surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why? Don’t you like it?”

Haven shrugged. Every single one of them looked the same to her—just like the hundreds of others they had passed along the road on the way. “It’s fine with me.”

Letting go of her hand, Carmine studied the tree, deciding how to go about taking it down. Haven watched him for a moment, the scene surreal, and burst into laughter when he took his first swing. It barely even sliced the thick bark.

Carmine’s groaned. “What’s so funny?”

“This is going to take you all day,” she said. “We should’ve just picked one that was already chopped down.”

“That’s cheating,” he said. “Just because it’s the easy way doesn’t mean it’s the best way. Sometimes it’s better to put in the work.”

Haven thought coming to a tree farm was cheating itself, considering they could have taken one of the small ones from the backyard, but she thought better of pointing that out. His frustration mounted with each swing of the ax, and she didn’t want to make it any worse.

He whacked the trunk repeatedly, the blade eventually cutting through the wood. Despite the cold temperatures, by the time the tree tilted Carmine was huffing and drenched with sweat. It gathered along his forehead, ran down the side of his face, and dripped from his chiseled jaw. Haven watched him struggle in silence, a familiar pang of guilt deep down inside of her gut. It was always subtly there, lurking, violently striking when she least expected it to, like a startled viper fighting for its life. It viciously gnawed at her, poisoning her insides and conjuring up intense feelings of shame when she was reminded of what he had done.

This boy—this stubborn, selfless, stupid boy—had given himself to the Mafia. He had handed control of his future over to the men they hated most in exchange for her life. For her safety. And he had done it so easily, so quickly, like he didn’t have to think about it at all . . . like sacrificing for her came just as naturally as breathing.

The act had left him fractured, and Haven was still trying to come to grips with the fact that it might be a long time before he was whole again. And as grateful as she was to be alive, as blessed as she felt to be standing there, picking out a Christmas tree with the boy she loved, she was also angry. Not at him—not anymore. That anger had been unfounded. She was mad at herself now, and at the universe, because no matter what she did, she couldn’t help Carmine. She was helpless to his plight. There was no way for her to end his torment. No way for her to save him.

Once again in her life, Haven felt powerless.

So she stood by silently, continuing to watch, terrified of looking him in the eyes one day and seeing regret. Frightened that someday, he would turn to her and she would see her worst fear playing out in his face: that she hadn’t been worth it.

Eventually, the evergreen toppled in Haven’s direction. She jumped out of the way at the last second, the tree nearly hitting her.

“Sorry, tesoro.” Carmine dropped the ax and pulled his black long-sleeved shirt up, exposing his toned stomach as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “That was a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

He grinned proudly as he lugged the tree toward the car. She picked up his ax, surprised by how heavy it was, and followed behind. He threw the tree over the fence like it was no trouble at all and helped her to the other side.

“What are we going to do with it?” she asked.

“Tie it to the car and take it home,” he replied, taking the ax from her. He tossed it in the trunk and pulled out a coil of rope, holding it up to show her.

“Are you sure?” she asked as Carmine grabbed the tree and shoved it on top of the car. The branches scraped against the shiny black paint. She couldn’t imagine they would get it home without causing some damage.

He sighed exasperatedly. “Of course I’m sure, Haven. What is it with you and that damn question today? Don’t you trust me anymore?”

She was taken aback by his question. She hadn’t realized she had been repeating it. “Of course I trust you! I was just . . . double checking.”

“Well, I guess questioning me is always better than saying okay,” he replied, positioning the tree and tying it down. It hung over all sides of the small vehicle, blocking half of the front windshield and most of the back. “I still mean everything I say.”

“I know,” she said. “I believe you.”

Carmine tugged on the evergreen, making sure it was secure. Satisfied with the job he had done, he motioned for Haven to get in the car, but she didn’t budge.

“So, what’s theft?” she asked. “A misdemeanor or a felony?”

Carmine stared at her for a moment before the question sunk in. Instead of answering, he pulled out his wallet and counted out some money. He hopped the fence and jogged over to the building, slipping the cash under the door for the tree they had cut down.

“Theft?” he asked when he returned, smiling sheepishly. “What made you think we were stealing something today?”

Haven had been right.

Tiny scratches sprinkled the roof of the car, a more noticeable jagged gash down the center. Carmine ran his pointer finger along it. “Fucking tree.”

“Is it easily fixed?” Haven asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “I just hate seeing my baby abused. We should’ve taken my dad’s Mercedes. The scratches would match the mark you put on his side mirror.”

Haven smiled at the memory of her first driving lesson. “I prefer riding in yours.”

“Do you?” Carmine asked, looking at her with genuine curiosity. “You like the Mazda?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s nice. Feels warm and familiar. Besides, I’ve never been thrown in the trunk of yours.”

Carmine blinked rapidly, gaping at her, before turning without a word to where the tree lay in the front yard. He grabbed it by the trunk and dragged it toward the house, leaving a trail of fresh pine needles behind him.

The next few hours were a flurry of activity. Vincent joined them in the family room with a tree stand and a box of decorations, and the rest of the family started showing up later in the day. They had just gotten the tree up straight and the lights strung on it when Carmine’s brother, Dominic, burst through the front door, home for winter break from Notre Dame. He threw his bags down in the foyer and rushed right for them, tackling Carmine to the hard wood floor. He playfully ruffled his hair before scooping Haven up in a hug. “Twinkle Toes!” He swung her around in a circle. “I’ve missed you, girl.”

“You just saw her a month ago,” Carmine grumbled, standing back up. Pain shot down his spine as he stretched, and he cringed. “And hello to you too, motherfucker.”

Dominic laughed, setting Haven on her feet before shoving his brother. Carmine stumbled again, falling into the tree and knocking it crooked. “I missed you, too, bro. Glad to see you.”

Carmine rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance at his brother’s antics, but a small involuntary smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t deny he missed the lightheartedness that usually accompanied Dominic’s presence. Carmine always envied that—his brother’s ability to ease any situation. They could have certainly used it the past month as everyone tiptoed around, walking on eggshells and ignoring reality, in fear of accidently hitting the red button that set off a nuclear disaster.

Carmine’s future, Haven’s past, Vincent’s charges, Corrado’s health . . . the words Carmine longed to say were always there, on the tip of his tongue, but they never made it through the meaningless chatter. They were always talking, but no one ever fucking said anything.

It wouldn’t stay that way, though, and Carmine knew it. As long as the rest of the family was around, their bubble invaded, the issues wouldn’t be ignored. They were about to be thrust front and center, whether they liked it or not.

Half filled with relief, the other half of Carmine was terrified. Rocking the boat opened up the risk of it capsizing, and if that happened, he couldn’t guarantee that someone wouldn’t drown the second they hit the water.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be him and Haven.

Celia and Corrado weren’t long behind Dominic. Carmine had placed the last ornament on the tree when there was a light tap on the front door. Before anyone could react, it opened and Celia’s voice rang through the house. “Knock, knock!”

They, too, dropped their bags right inside the foyer. Celia swiftly made her way into the family room, hugging the boys and Haven before focusing on her brother. Her voice was loud and cheerful, love pouring from her words as she greeted each one of them. Corrado, on the other hand, only made it as far as the doorway, where he watched them interact in stone cold silence.

Carmine eyed him warily. He hadn’t seen Corrado since the warehouse, when he watched him collapse in a pool of blood. He had never felt particularly close to his uncle, fearing him more than genuinely caring for him, but something else existed now. Something bigger. Something stronger. There was a deeper respect, almost an admiration.

For the first time in his life, Carmine felt like he could relate to the man.

Corrado, however, showed no sign of it being mutual. His continued muteness, even after being greeted by Vincent, relayed a deeper message than any words could say. He remained motionless and aloof, as if he had nothing to say to any of them. His skin was paler than usual, his body frail to the point he was almost skeletal, but there was still darkness in his features that seemed to have grown harsher during the weeks.

If anything, he was more terrifying.

Corrado’s eyes found Carmine’s after a moment, so dark they were nearly black, with not a single flicker of emotion registering. It sent an uncomfortable chill down Carmine’s spine, the affection he had started to feel quickly replaced once more with apprehension. Carmine wondered if Corrado could sense it too, because he turned away. He limped slightly as he grabbed their bags again and disappeared upstairs without having uttered a single word.

Carmine had no idea what to say, and Vincent and Haven appeared just as speechless, but as expected, Dominic let nothing slip by. “Damn, we can’t even get a hello?”

Celia smiled sadly. “Don’t take it personally. He’s still getting his bearings. Give him some time and he’ll come around.”

From the look on Vincent’s face, Carmine suspected his father didn’t believe that.