Sempre: Redemption

46

This is completely unnecessary,” Haven grumbled, gazing out the darkly tinted side window. Buildings whipped by at a steady pace as they drove through the streets of Chicago, the scenery a blur in the darkness.

“Mr. DeMarco disagrees, ma’am,” a voice said politely from the front seat.

“Calling me ma’am is unnecessary, too,” she said, glancing at the driver. She noticed he was watching her in the rearview mirror, nervousness written on his face. It was obvious he was new, not wanting to mess up his first chance to prove himself.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he responded, his voice low as he averted his gaze.

She smiled softly as she looked back out of the window, the irony of the situation not at all lost on her. It astonished her how much had changed, their lives altered in ways they never would have imagined at the beginning. Haven often thought about everything that happened to lead them where they were, curious how things might have turned out had the circumstances been different. She knew it was senseless, because it was impossible to change anything, but she couldn’t help but wonder.

No matter how many times she thought it through, it always went back to a single event that had been the start of it all—the murder of her grandparents.

Grandparents—she doubted she would ever get used to saying it. She never considered a family outside of her mother. Carmine offered to explain what he knew, promising he would be more open with her in the future, but it was actually Corrado who told Haven the whole truth. He relayed stories he had heard about the type of people they had been, a strong family full of pride. Corrado said they had been overjoyed to have a daughter. It was startling to hear about her mother’s beginnings and to learn how much she had been wanted . . . how much she had been loved.

“Ma’am?” Haven glanced back over at the driver and saw he was watching her again. “There was an accident on Highway 41 that blocked northbound traffic. I had to take a detour, but it’ll only be a few minutes longer.”

She glanced at her watch, faintly making out the time in the darkness—a quarter past ten in the evening. “Okay.”

“I apologize for any inconvenience.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “And please, call me Haven.”

She gazed back out the window for the rest of the trip. He didn’t speak again until he pulled up in front of the large white house, parking the limo along the curb. He got out and glanced around cautiously before opening her door. She climbed out of the car. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

She shook her head, knowing it was pointless to correct him again, and pulled out some cash. He tried to refuse her tip, saying it was an honor to drive her, and she rolled her eyes as she stuffed the money in his coat pocket.

The house was dark and silent, nobody home. Haven kicked her shoes off right inside the door before heading into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring some water into it from the faucet. Leaning against the counter, she took a sip as her eyes scanned the kitchen. There were used paper towels on the table with some cups sitting out, and the dishes definitely hadn’t been done during the day. Part of the counter was covered in crumbs and an empty jar of peanut butter sat beside the sink, the lid halfway on with a dirty knife laying beside it. Something sticky had also been spilled, the floor in desperate need of mopping.

She sighed as she looked away from the mess, her eyes drifting toward the calendar on the wall. It was chaotic, writing scribbled all over it and days crossed out, but nothing stood out more than one date at the bottom.

June 29

The square was circled with a red marker and Haven smiled as she read the words neatly written in the box: wedding. It had been a year since they had found their way back together, and in a mere five days they planned to make it official.

Marriage. It was still hard to believe they had come that far. It hadn’t been easy because they couldn’t wrap themselves in a bubble like they had done in Durante. They had to be a part of that world, had to integrate themselves into it and discover where they fit. It was occasionally a source of conflict as they sought to find balance between them as a couple and them as individuals, but it wasn’t so bad that they couldn’t work through it together. They disagreed on details, like how to be safe, and while she sometimes found it overwhelming, she tolerated a lot of what Carmine wanted. She would never get used to the bodyguards or car services, but she knew it was a small price to pay for Carmine’s peace of mind.

Because peace of mind was something Carmine rarely got.

Haven took another sip of water before setting the glass down on the counter. She started to walk away but hesitated, turning back around and grabbing the glass again. She put it in the dishwasher and quickly gathered the other dishes that had been left laying around. The sticky floor would have to wait but the rest she couldn’t walk away from, because despite everything that was different, some core things still remained the same.

Like Corrado had said: Cambiano i suonatori ma la musica è sempre quella. The melody’s changed, but the song remains the same.

Carmine took a deep breath to steady himself, inhaling the scent of greasy cheese and spicy pepperoni. His stomach rumbled, churning ruthlessly. He couldn’t tell if it was actual hunger or purely his frazzled nerves.

He stepped into the busy pizzeria and spotted Corrado sitting alone at a table along the side. Carmine’s gaze remained focused on the shiny, checkered linoleum as he approached his uncle, ignoring the intense look he received from the register.

“Corrado,” Carmine greeted him. “I mean, uh, sir.”

Corrado didn’t bother looking up. He simply kicked the chair out across from him as he pulled a piece of pizza from the small box on the table. It smelled strongly like onions and peppers and sausage.

Carmine’s stomach churned harder. Definitely nerves.

He took a seat, trying to avoid smelling the food by breathing through his mouth. Neither spoke as Corrado ate, casually slouched in the chair as if he had not a care in the world. After he finished, he closed the empty box and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m listening.”

“I . . . well, I mean, we . . .”

“We?”

“Haven and I,” he clarified. “We wanted to know if—”

“Why isn’t she here?” Corrado asked, cutting him off. “If she has a problem, she’s more than capable of coming to me herself.”

“She had a school thing tonight.” Carmine sighed. “It’s not a problem anyway. It’s more like a favor.”

“You call me up and say it’s important—so important I take time out of my dinner for you—and it’s because you want something?”

“Yes.”

“This better be good.”

Carmine took a deep breath, cringing as he inhaled the scent of the food, and forced the words from his lips before he lost the nerve. “You know we’re getting married tomorrow . . .”

“Of course I know,” he replied. “I received my invitation and made plans to come. I am still invited, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Okay, then. There’s no problem. I already made sure to clear your schedule for the weekend, so you shouldn’t have any problems consummating the marriage.”

Carmine cringed at his wording. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? I’m getting impatient.”

“We want to know if you’ll give Haven away.”

Corrado stared across the table at him, unmoving, barely blinking, as if he hadn’t heard Carmine speak at all. He had, though, and after a minute or so he slowly shook his head, as if trying to process the words. “Give her away.”

“Yeah, you know, walk her down the aisle when we get married.”

“I know what you mean, Carmine.”

“Her dad, well . . . you know. And I’d ask my dad, but well . . . you know.”

Corrado had killed them. Carmine didn’t say it out loud, but they both thought it.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Carmine’s eyes widened. He had expected a staunch denial. “No shit?”

“Language.”

He blanched. “I mean, uh . . . so you’ll do it?”

“Yes.”

Carmine smiled, relief settling in, but it wasn’t near enough to calm his frazzled nerves. Just being within a block of that building put him on edge.

“You’re fidgeting,” Corrado pointed out. “Were you that nervous to ask me?”

“No,” he replied. “I was, but that’s not my problem.”

“Then what is?”

Carmine stared at his uncle, baffled how he could seem so comfortable. “It doesn’t bother you to be here?”

“Why would it?” Corrado eyed him with confusion. “I eat here all the time.”

“Yeah, but . . .” He leaned over the table, whispering. “. . . his kids.”

Corrado had killed them, too. Both of them.

Corrado’s eyes drifted past him toward the front register. Turning, Carmine eyed the owner, John Tarullo, curiously. He only vaguely recognized the man from when he was a kid, remembering eating here a few times with his parents. He knew it had been John, though, that saved him that October day. He owed him a lot—his life, to be precise—but Carmine could hardly stand to look at the aging man.

He was a walking, talking, unhappy fucking reminder of everything Carmine had been through.

Sensing the attention—or maybe it was purely coincidence—John chose that moment to look at the two of them. His expression remained stoic, strictly business, but Carmine could sense the deep sadness in his dark eyes.

“I did what I had to do,” Corrado said. “Had I let them live, had I let them continue as they were, my family would’ve been jeopardized. So no, it doesn’t bother me, but losing one of you? That might.”

Corrado stood, heading for the door, and nodded politely to John Tarullo before disappearing outside.

After taking a shower and putting on some comfortable clothes, Haven made her way downstairs and saw the light on in the kitchen. Carmine stood in front of the refrigerator with the door wide open, glaring inside of it, home from wherever he had been while she was at school. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell.

“Can’t find anything?” she asked.

“Nope.” He shut the door, his eyes scanning a takeout menu stuck to the front of it with magnets.

“I can make something,” she offered. “You have to be tired of eating out.”

He chuckled in amusement, cocking an eyebrow suggestively. “Depends on what I’m eating out.”

“Pervert.” She could feel the heat rising into her cheeks, knowing it was useless to try to hide it.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said playfully.

“I do.” There was no use denying it—he knew Haven well.

Carmine laughed as he turned away, his attention going back to the menu. “I’ll just order Chinese. It’s late and you shouldn’t have to cook, especially considering you already cleaned the kitchen once tonight. Don’t think I didn’t notice that shit. I could’ve done it, you know. I would’ve.”

“I know you would’ve,” she said truthfully. Carmine never did certain things, like laundry or mopping, but he was good at picking up after himself. He didn’t enjoy it, but he did it for her. “I didn’t mind it.”

“Well, thank you.”

He grabbed the cordless telephone from the wall and dialed a number quickly. “Yeah, I need a delivery. The name’s Carmine DeMarco,” he said when they answered, pausing briefly as they looked up his name. “Yes, that’s me. I need an order of the pork mu shu wraps, some Mongolian beef, the kung pao chicken, and two orders of your won ton soup. I don’t know, large? Oh, and some egg rolls. How many come in an order? Two? Is that it? That’s a fucking rip off.”

He glanced at Haven, raising his eyebrows. “Did I miss anything?”

“Uh, no.”

“Yeah, that’s it. And don’t forget the fortune cookies,” he said into the phone, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean you don’t have any fortune cookies? You’re a Chinese restaurant. You have to have fortune cookies. What? No, I don’t care if they’re complimentary. Don’t give me that bullshit. I don’t feel fucking complimented right now. Find some.”

He ended the call, slamming the phone down on the counter, making Haven flinch. He pulled open the freezer door and looked inside. Haven knew immediately what he was doing, having acted on impulse out of frustration. He stared at the empty spot where the vodka bottle had once been stored before slamming the door again and opening the refrigerator.

Haven grabbed the can of Coke from his hand and gently rubbed his back. “Fortune cookies aren’t that serious,” she said, nudging him aside to grab a glass from the cabinet. Carmine leaned against the counter and watched as she made a cherry Coke. “You don’t even eat them. You think they taste like cardboard.”

“Yeah, but you do,” he replied. He fidgeted and appeared agitated, rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants anxiously. “You like them.”

She smiled softly as she handed him his soda. “Well, thanks for thinking of me, but it was unnecessary. Just like sending that limo for me was unnecessary.”

“Maybe the cookies weren’t, but the limo was definitely necessary,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “You couldn’t walk home.”

“No, but I could’ve taken the bus,” she replied. “I kind of like it, anyway. I never got to go to school and ride the bus or anything. Makes it feel authentic.”

He stared at Haven doubtfully. “You weren’t taking the bus home.”

“Why? It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he retorted, raising his voice. “The bus stop isn’t close to the house so you’d still have to walk in the dark.”

“It’s just a few blocks over,” she replied, hoping to reassure him so he would calm down. “It would’ve only taken a few minutes if I cut down the alley by—”

Haven stopped speaking abruptly when it struck her what she was saying. Carmine stood frozen, his body rigid. The bus stop was near the old theater a few blocks away, down from where Carmine’s piano recital had been held that October night in 1996. The alley was the one Carmine had taken with his mother, the one he hadn’t gone near since.

“Okay,” she conceded. The odds of something actually happening to her were slim, but once again it was more about his peace of mind. “No bus at night, but I still want to take it during the day.”

“You’re the only person I know that prefers public transportation,” he grumbled, not happy with her compromise but he didn’t disagree.

“I just don’t see the point in driving if I don’t have to,” she explained. “And limos are too flashy. I like fitting in but you sending a car to pick me up from class doesn’t help that. If it gets late and I can’t take the bus, I’ll call a taxi.”

Carmine laughed dryly. “And you say I’m stubborn.”

“You are stubborn,” she said. “Maybe you’re just rubbing off on me.”

It was quiet for a moment before his lips curved into a smile. “Yeah, I’ll rub something off on you, all right.”

“Oh God,” she groaned, shaking her head as she looked away from him.

He chuckled at her reaction before sighing, resigned. “No taxi, but I can make it more low profile. They have cars that aren’t as conspicuous. If I feel like I need to send a car, I’ll send one of them. Otherwise, whatever, I guess the bus is fine.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “You’re good to me, you know.”

He rolled his eyes and started to respond but was cut off by his cell phone ringing. Without a moment’s hesitation he bolted from the room.

There was a knock on the door eventually. Carmine reappeared and stepped outside. Haven’s curiosity got the best of her, so she made her way to the kitchen to peek out the window. Her brow furrowed when she saw Carmine standing on the front step with two men, neither of whom she recognized. They all seemed tense, the conversation between them serious—business, she assumed. Her heart rate quickened as it usually did when she witnessed him at work, a bit of fear naturally brewing inside her.

Carmine suddenly glanced in the direction of the window, his expression hardening when they made eye contact. She stepped out of his sight, not wanting to anger him, and looked toward the street when a car pulled up to the curb. The two men briskly walked past the window and Carmine opened the front door, heading straight for the office again as the deliveryman approached the house with their food.

Before he could knock, Carmine came back out with his wallet and opened the front door. “Your total is $47.75.”

“Christ, that’s fucking expensive,” Carmine muttered. Haven strolled toward the doorway of the kitchen and paused, watching as he thumbed through his cash. He pulled out a fifty and handed it to the guy, hesitating before grabbing another five dollar bill. She smiled as he handed it to him for a tip before grabbing the bag of food and shutting the door.

“You shouldn’t be so nosy,” he said when he spotted Haven standing there.

“I wasn’t being nosy. I was just curious.”

“Same damn thing,” he muttered under his breath before adding, “Just be careful, okay? You know that shit makes me nervous.”

Haven grabbed a soda from the fridge for herself and picked up Carmine’s cherry Coke, following him into the living room. They settled onto the couch and ate dinner, chatting casually as they watched television. After they were full Carmine put the rest aside, pulling out a white paper bag and opening it. He laughed as he poured the contents out on the coffee table. Haven looked in shock at the dozen fortune cookies, reading the writing on the clear plastic covering them. They had ordered from Satay, but the cookies came from a place called Ming Choy.

“You scared them into buying fortune cookies from another restaurant.”

“I probably should’ve tipped more for that shit, huh?” he said, unable to hide his amusement. He grabbed one of the cookies and tossed it on her lap before picking up another for himself. He took the cookie out, breaking it apart quickly to pull out his fortune.

“The important thing is to never stop questioning,” he read before tossing it down and grabbing another. “That’s just fucking stupid.”

She laughed and pulled her fortune out. “Your dream will come true when you least expect it,” she said, reading the strip of paper as she took a bite of the cookie, earning a grimace from Carmine. “My dreams already came true: family, friends, school, marriage. Couldn’t ask for much more.”

“You aren’t married yet, tesoro.”

“I know.” She smiled as she gazed at the scrap of paper. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

The next afternoon, Haven stood in front of an antique full-length mirror, taken aback by her reflection.

Her hair was curled, the top half pulled back, as a small gold tiara kept her veil in place. Her white dress was simple, one shouldered and long with a train in the back, and she had on a pair of high heels. It wasn’t flashy but it was undoubtedly beautiful, the way she had always envisioned it.

Tears stung her eyes as her thoughts kept shifting to her mother. Haven missed her terribly and wished she could be there, imagining how proud she would be to see her at that moment. It was everything she wanted for her, everything she told Haven she would find in the world. Once upon a time she had doubted her, thinking it was impossible, but now it was becoming real.

The door behind Haven opened and she glanced behind her as Corrado walked in. She quickly turned away from him, nervous, as Corrado nonchalantly paused behind her in the mirror. He was quiet for a moment, his silence doing nothing to ease her anxiety.

“Principessa della Mafia,” he said finally, his voice calm. “When Vincent first confessed to me who you were, I told him I couldn’t see it. I said you didn’t look like one of us.”

Haven fidgeted, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it hurt.

“I see it now,” he said, staring at her reflection in contemplation as the corner of his lips turned up into a smile. “I don’t know why I couldn’t see it before.”

His declaration caught Haven off guard. She gaped at him and he cleared his throat, still uncomfortable with anything even remotely close to affection. “I’ll give you a moment.”

He walked out without another word. Tears pooled in Haven’s eyes when she heard piano music start up, thoughts of her mother returning. She recalled when she saw her that final time in Blackburn, remembering the last words she ever spoke. She said she would always be with her, in her heart, and the world was a better place with Haven out there in it. She wanted her to live her life, to be happy and follow her dreams, and that day she knew exactly what her destiny was: Carmine.

“Thank you, Mama,” Haven whispered into the empty room, giving one last look at her reflection before grabbing her bouquet of white roses. She joined Corrado in the hallway, taking his arm as he held it out to her.

He led Haven into the church and they paused at the beginning of the aisle, giving her a moment to take it all in. Her vision blurred from dizziness, the sight before her overwhelming. The pews were packed full of people, some of whom she didn’t recognize, and they all stood up the moment they entered. She knew a lot of them weren’t there for her, the members of the organization and their families, but she didn’t mind. They came for Carmine, and out of respect for the man beside her.

Haven glanced toward the front, her eyes falling upon Carmine. He stood frozen in spot, a look of wonder on his face. Haven lost the battle against her tears, a few streaming down her cheeks as they started down the aisle.

Corrado let go of Haven when they reached the front, nodding at Carmine before making his way over to the front pew with Celia. The music stopped and the priest said a brief prayer, followed by a collective shuffling as everyone sat back down. Haven handed Tess her bouquet to hold as Carmine continued to stare at her, happiness radiating from him in waves. She scanned him quickly, something she always did when she saw him . . . always looking for injuries, making sure he remained intact, and she laughed when her eyes fell upon his feet.

“Nike’s?” she whispered. “What happened to your shoes?”

His smirk grew. “I forgot them.”

Her tears continued to fall. He quickly brushed a few of them away while the priest started addressing them. “Carmine and Haven, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“Yes,” they said simultaneously.

“Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

“Yes,” they said again, not even having to think about it.

“This isn’t customary, but the bride and groom have asked to be able to speak and the church has happily agreed to grant their request.”

The priest glanced between Carmine and Haven curiously and she cleared her throat, trying to get the lump that was forming to disappear. “The first time you asked me to marry you was three years ago. You told me it didn’t have to be that day, or the next day, or even that year. You just wanted me to swear I would when I was ready. I said yes, of course, and I meant it with everything in me. We were young and maybe we were naïve, thinking we had it all figured out, but one thing I never doubted was that we were meant to be.”

Haven paused to wipe her cheeks as more tears spilled from her eyes. “When I first met you I wasn’t sure what to think. You were nothing like anyone I’d ever met before. The things you made me feel were scary, and I wanted nothing more than to stay away from you, but I couldn’t. I was drawn to you. You gave me hope. You believed in me and helped me, and most of all, you loved me. Me. Out of all the people in the world, you picked me. I was used to being overlooked, used to being invisible, but you saw me. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you. I love you, Carmine Marcello DeMarco, and I want you to know I’m ready now. I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Sempre,” he whispered, choking on the word. He was trying to keep his composure, not wanting to crack in front of so many people.

“Sempre.” Haven meant it with every fiber of her being. He was hers forever.

“I’m sure you remember our first encounter, the morning in the kitchen in North Carolina, and what a disaster it turned out to be,” Carmine said. “I didn’t expect anyone to be there. I dropped my orange juice and you started to clean it up, trying to help, and I, uh, well, you know what I did.”

Haven smiled sadly at the memory. He had been so angry back then . . . so broken. Carmine still had cracks in him, scars from where he had once shattered, but he was holding himself together now and that was what mattered.

“What you don’t know, though, is that as we sat like idiots in that puddle of juice, all I could think about was how beautiful you were. How beautiful you are. You were scared and confused, and I know I wasn’t helping that, but underneath it all you were just beautiful, Haven. You had me the very first time I laid eyes on you. I remember thinking later that morning you were going to complicate my life.” He paused as he laughed to himself. “And complicate it you did. Everything I knew, everything I believed . . . all of it went out the window. You turned me upside down and made me feel again. You saved my life, even though I didn’t realize it needed to be saved. I thought I was fine, that I didn’t need anyone else, but I was wrong, because I do. I need you. Christ, I—”

Haven’s eyes widened as the priest inhaled sharply. Carmine stopped talking, realizing what he had just said. “Shit,” he spat instinctively, stammering. “This is a god—”

Haven knew what he was going to say before the word slipped out and clamped her hand over his mouth before anyone else heard. He stared at her cautiously with panic in his eyes. Haven smiled softly, so he wouldn’t think she was upset, and he visibly relaxed. When she removed her hand, he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. She kissed him back, parting her lips and softly moaning as his tongue came into contact with hers.

“Not yet, man,” Dominic said, grabbing Carmine and pulling him away. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

The priest cleared his throat, and Carmine let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Father.”

“Would you like to finish?” he asked.

“Uh, no.” Carmine shook his head. “I think I’ve said enough.”

“So since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church,” the priest said, obviously wanting to get the service over with. Carmine grasped Haven’s hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing gently.

“Carmine, do you take Haven to be your wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honor her all the days of your life?”

“I do.”

“Haven, do you take Carmine to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honor him all the days of your life?”

“I do.”

“You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide.”

They exchanged rings at his word and her hand shook as Carmine slipped the simple gold band on her finger, the one she knew belonged to his mother. She gazed at it, emotion overwhelming her when the priest declared them husband and wife.

“Now you kiss,” Dominic said, nudging Carmine. Haven glanced up again and saw Carmine glare at his brother before focusing on her, his face lighting up with love. He grasped her chin gently and leaned forward, her eyes drifting closed as their lips came together.

His kiss was sweet but there was passion behind it . . . passion she looked forward to feeling for the rest of her life.