Dare (10 page)

Chapter Twelve

Ariella watched Joe leave. The front door shut. She glanced at Sophia. “Sophia, I’d like to talk.” She drew herself up. She’d put on a brave mask when all she’d wanted to do was crumple into Joe’s arms and cry all her unshed tears.

Sophia shook her head. “Another time.” Her voice choked. She brushed her hands on her skirt and walked out.

Her cheeks stung, as if Sophia had slapped her with her rejection. She turned to Grandpop. “I don’t want this—stress and strife.”

Grandpop threw up his hands. “What family doesn’t have stress and strife? We’ll pull together.” He placed his hand on her arm. “Joe’s right, you need to forgive yourself. We’re all here. You and Layla are safe.”

She closed her eyes a moment. The tears disappeared, threatened rain that never falls. Joe was right, in so many ways. “Joe’s my safe place. I want to create that for him.”

“He’s a lucky man. You tell me what I can do.” He patted her arm gently and dropped his hand.

“I expect you’ve already been doing plenty.” The Christmas gifts, Joe happening to be there when he, Becca, and Pete had taken Layla out…

He shrugged. She hugged him. He hooked her arm under his. “You ready to join the others?”

She nodded and they strolled out to the living room. She warmed again, seeing how at home Layla was. Everyone took her in as part of the family. Almost everyone. Sophia hung back from the group. She motioned to her husband and whispered to him. He nodded.

“Sophia and I better get going,” Carlo said. “We’ll see you soon.”

They exchanged hugs with Lorenzo, Lita, Enzo, Celeste, Becca, Pete, Gina, and Vincente. Carlo bent down at Layla’s level. “Nice to meet you, Layla. Hope we’ll see you soon.”

Layla shook his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Joey’s dad.”

He smiled, but this faded when he stood and met his wife’s pained expression. At least Carlo seemed to accept her and Layla like the rest of the family did. Her cheeks heated. Sophia had been Mamá’s best friend. She was Joe’s mother. Ariella hadn’t been able to face everyone at eighteen, but now she had to make things right with Sophia, for herself, for Joe. Ariella met them at the doorway to the hall. “Sophia, can I take you to lunch this week? So we can talk.”

Sophia glanced at Carlo, who had his hand protectively on Sophia’s lower back, much like Joe had done for her earlier. Sophia closed her eyes a moment. When she opened them, she nodded.

“Why don’t you come to lunch in a couple of days? I think a private place would be better.”

“Thank you. Can I bring anything? How about my mom’s pineapple empanadas?”

Sophia touched her throat, fingering her delicate cross necklace. “That would be nice, thanks. See you at twelve-thirty?”

Ariella nodded. It was a start. Carlo gave her a smile as he passed, ushering Sophia out.

“You’ve become quite a woman,” Grandpop said in a quiet voice. “That’s all the repayment I need.”

She leaned her shoulder into him for a moment. She watched Lorenzo, Lita, Angelo, Enzo, Celeste, Gina, Vincente, Becca, and Pete, who were all chatting with Layla—family. She lifted her head, a new lightness radiating from her toes, through her legs. She wasn’t tensing to run, or anticipating danger. She and Layla were safe.

Grandpop moved toward the refreshments on the coffee table and made himself a small plate. He sat in a wingback armchair near the fireplace, overseeing the grouping like the family patriarch.

“Ariella, won’t you sit here and tell us how you’ve been?” Celeste created a place between her and Enzo on the long sofa.

Ariella sat between them and inhaled slowly. She breathed in belonging, family, home. She could realize her dreams. If she dared to risk her heart.

***

A couple of days later, Ariella stood outside Sophia and Carlo’s, a plate of empanadas in hand. She shifted her feet. Becca, who was still on vacation, was watching Layla. The three had formed a real friendship, something Ariella had missed, that sisterhood.

She glanced at her outfit, which she’d chosen carefully: boots, light grey slacks, a muted burgundy blouse, and a long sweater. Her cross necklace flashed from atop the conservatively closed blouse. Her necklace had been Mamá’s. She squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.

After a few moments, Carlo opened the door. She let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Ariella, good to see you again.”

No smile accompanied his words. She didn’t move. She needed to do this. She gripped the plate.

“Come on in.” He waited for her to enter then shut the door. He touched her shoulder. “Sophia told me what’s going on. I hope we can resolve this—what’s past is past.” His voice, and expression, softened. “Let’s go. Sophia’s in the kitchen.”

She nodded. Her mouth dried, a too-floury pie crust. The kind of relationship she dreamed of needed family support, not division. She believed Joey needed that too. Whether he wanted a serious relationship was another question. She hadn’t heard from him, but Grandpop had said he was busy with work. And he probably needed space to decompress. She and Jorge had talked sometimes about cops, after she’d told him her dreams, and her hopes about Joe. Jorge had dated a cop once, and he knew many through his work as a prosecutor and then a private practice criminal lawyer.

She followed Carlo into the kitchen. It hadn’t changed much since high school. The oval pecan table near the windows covered in colorful curtains, the hutch, the rows of counters and white cabinets, and the island where bread-making had been done, and snacks put out, and kids gathered around. Sophia stood by the stove. Ariella’s shoulders eased down, remembering happier times.

“Ariella’s here,” Carlo said.

Sophia turned and tried to smile, but it was only a slight quirk of her lips. “Ariella, thanks for coming. You could put those on the table if you like.” She picked up the casserole dish she’d been taking out of the oven and placed it on a hot pad on the table. “I made the chicken and rice casserole recipe your mom had given me.”

Ariella nodded. Mamá and Sophia had been fast friends. They’d sat in this kitchen for hours, cooking, sewing, talking, and organizing programs for the church, especially the women’s group.

Carlo touched Ariella’s shoulder. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please, some water.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

“Let’s sit,” Sophia said, motioning to a chair.

Ariella slid into the seat, where Mamá had sat countless times. Carlo set a glass of water in front of her. She sipped it, the coolness easing the tightness in her throat. Carlo then set a salad on the table and sat next to Sophia, between them. The red gingham curtains were drawn back. Ariella studied the bare branches of the tree out back. Soon, it would bud with new growth.

“We’ll say grace then eat,” Carlo said in a quiet voice. He said a quick prayer before serving the food.

Ariella ate a few bites. She hadn’t had Mamá’s
arroz con pollo
since…the night before they’d died. She set down her fork and took a sip of water.

“You okay?” Carlo asked.

She nodded. “Just brings back memories, being here, and this.” She motioned to the casserole. “It’s delicious, Sophia. Thank you.”

Sophia’s eyes softened, the tightness in her features almost gone. “I miss her. She was my best friend.”

“She used to say you were her sister,” she whispered. Which had made Sophia’s coldness to her after her family’s deaths that much more painful.

Sophia bowed her head, her eyes closed. Carlo encircled his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder.

“She was so worried about you,” Sophia said, her voice wavering. She leaned into Carlo. “I judged you. I let my own pain and past get in the way of doing what your mom would have wanted me to do. I’m concerned about my son, but it’s past time I honored her memory by accepting you.”

“I understand. I’m not proud of some of my choices. I can’t change them. But I can change by letting go of the shame. I’ve asked for forgiveness and I’ve felt some peace about it. Joey’s helped me with that. He’s a good man. I want to make a new life, a life I can feel proud of, one my parents would have been glad about too.” She took her handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

“Did you embroider that?” Sophia asked.

“Yes.” She held it out. “Mamá did this side.” She fingered the delicate floral stitch-work. “And I did this part last year.” She turned it and showed the vines she’d stitched around the edges. She’d kept all the handkerchiefs Mamá had given her packed away in a thin fabric case, only pulling them out last year. It had brought her some healing, comfort, to add her stitches beside Mamá’s.

“Beautiful,” Sophia said. “Your mother would have been proud.”

“Thank you.” Ariella paused, fingering the thin fabric. “I’m so grateful for your family, for how they accepted my family, and how they’re welcoming Layla and me. I have the career I’ve wanted. I have Layla. And I’ve worked hard to be the best woman I can. But I want family too. Can you give me a chance, Sophia?” She kept her gaze steady, hoping.

Sophia glanced at Carlo then met Ariella’s gaze. Her look was tender, but her mouth still held a tight wariness at the corners. “Yes. If you can forgive me too.” Carlo rubbed her back.

Ariella rose and Sophia met her with open arms. They hugged. Sophia’s back was tense so Ariella pulled away.

“You still don’t want me to be with Joe, do you?” She tried to keep her voice soft, but her no-nonsense lawyer tone hardened her words. But she preferred to have things out there.

“It seems he’s not listening to me… But, no. I think he needs someone…softer, a helpmate. His job is so stressful.” She sat back down.

The front doorbell rang. Carlo walked out to answer it.

“I know. I want to be that person for Joe.”

Other footsteps joined Carlo’s sounding from the hall. Ariella turned.

Joe and Carlo walked in. Joe wore his uniform and he was a handsome sight in the dark navy pants and shirt. Her chest felt lighter, because he was here.

“I’ve been thinking about you all,” Joe said. “So, when Dad and Grandpop called me about this lunch, I thought I’d drop in during my break.”

“Have you had lunch?” Sophia said.

Joe shook his head and sat next to Ariella. Carlo set a plate in front of Joe, who served himself some food.

Joe began eating. Ariella smiled at him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure, thanks. Just water.” He watched her as she rose.

She went to the cabinet, got a glass, filled it, and walked back to the table. She set Joe’s glass down, and sat again.

Sophia glanced at Ariella and then at Joe. “Joe, honey, I’m sorry. You’re my son and I’ll always worry about you, but I know you’re a man now.” She fingered the tablecloth.

Joe looked at her. He stood, went to Sophia, and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

Sophia nodded and patted his hand. “Eat your lunch. I know you don’t have long.”

Joe smiled at Ariella as he sat back down. He ate a few bites. His radio went off. He listened for a moment. “Gotta go.” He waved to his parents and kissed Ariella’s cheek. “See you on New Year’s?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She caressed his arm as he walked away. Things were resolved with Sophia. And Joe had wanted to see her. A fizzy feeling lifted her. Things were working out, just like Joe said.

***

After dinner that night, she and Layla sat in Grandpop’s small living room with him, watching
Miracle on 34
^th
Street.
Layla seemed to have fallen asleep on Ariella, who had her cuddled next to her. Nico, the security guy, stepped into the room, frowning. He glanced at Layla.

“What’s going on?” Grandpop said in a quiet voice.

“Reports that a guy in Joey’s unit’s been shot. I can’t find out if it’s him.”

Layla stiffened against Ariella, her breath stopped for a moment. She must have not really been asleep.

Grandpop leaned forward. “Find out.”