Sempre (Forever) (85 page)

He turned to the bed then, his blurry, tired eyes inspecting the numerous machines. The steady hum of the ventilator drowned out most every noise, but the tube that had been taped in Corrado's mouth the past two weeks was no longer there. He'd gotten a tracheotomy overnight, a tube now running straight into the front of his throat. The site of it made Vincent's stomach sink.

More complications. One after another. It seemed Corrado couldn't catch a break.

He'd been dead on arrival, but a young ER doctor refused to write him off. After a valiant attempt, they'd managed to get Corrado's heart beating again. It had remained steady since then, but the oxygen deprivation affected his brain. He was in a coma, his body giving no indication of whether it ever intended to wake up.

Vincent stood there and watched for a while, feeling helpless and entirely to blame. He couldn't bear to think of what would happen if Corrado never regained consciousness. But even if he did, Vincent was plagued with the possible side effects. There could be massive brain damage, seizures, or paralysis. If he woke up, he may never be the same.

And that terrified him more than the man dying.

Celia stirred, her eyes opening and meeting Vincent's right away. She sat up, stretching. “How long have you been here?”

“Just a few minutes,” he said. “I would’ve come sooner, but the girl woke up.”

Optimism shined from Celia. It felt so out of place in the dismal hospital room. “Did she? How is she?”

“She’s… alive. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her.”

“I bet Carmine’s relieved.”

“He doesn’t know,” Vincent said. “He was at Sal’s.”

Celia cringed. “How did you explain that to her?”

“I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s time for Carmine to handle things on his own. Time for him to be a man.”

“You sound like Dad,” Celia said.

It was Vincent’s turn to cringe, but he kept his opinion about that to himself. “It's after seven. You should go home and get some sleep.”

“I already slept.”

Stubborn woman
. “In a bed, Celia. Dozing in a chair doesn't count.”

“Says who?” she asked, climbing to her feet. Just like every other morning, she pressed a kiss on Corrado's forehead.

“Says everyone,” Vincent said. “If you keep it up, you'll end up in a bed on the floor below, committed for exhaustion.”

She waved him off. “Don't be ridiculous, Vincent. I'll go home when he can go home.”

Vincent's chest constricted as he watched his sister care for her husband, lovingly smoothing his hair and fixing his hospital gown. “What if that doesn't happen?”

Celia's shoulders stiffened. “Don't say that.”

“You have to consider the possibility that he might not wake up.”

Anger flared in her dark eyes. “He'll wake up.”

“Yes, but... what if he doesn't?” Vincent asked. “Corrado wouldn't want to be lying in a bed like this. He wouldn't want to be cared for.”

“He'd want to live, and he will. He's getting stronger every day.”

His sister sounded so certain, but he knew too much to succumb to her hopeful words. “The longer he's unconscious, the less likely it is he'll—”

“I know,” Celia said, cutting him off. “I've heard the doctors, but they don't know Corrado like I do. He'll come out of this.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because he told me he would. When he left the house, he said he'd come back to me. Corrado has never broken his word.”

*  *  *  *

Haven awoke again to a bright room, squinting from the harsh light filtering in from the window. She groaned as she turned away from the sunlight, her hand coming into contact with a body in the bed beside her. Carmine was asleep, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace. His right arm was wrapped from his fingers up past his elbow with an elastic bandage.

Clenching her jaw, she fought back the cry that threatened to come out as she rolled onto her side, the needle in her arm pulling when she reached toward Carmine. She hesitated an inch from his face, not wanting to disturb him, before running her fingertips along the bridge of his nose. There was a small bump on it that hadn’t existed before, and she knew firsthand where something like that came from.

She caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair as she familiarized herself with him again. He stirred, grumbling incoherently before his eyes drifted open. He jumped, nearly falling off the bed, and she quickly pulled her hand back.

“Shit, you’re awake!” he said. A smile spread across her face at the sound of his voice. She fought back her emotion, but it was too much to handle. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and he wiped them away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Wait, what am I thinking? Of course you’re hurt!”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said. “You’re hurt,
tesoro
. Do you know how much you scared me? I thought I was going to lose you! When I woke up in that car and saw you were gone, I thought my life was over. But I swore I’d never give up, and I didn’t. I couldn’t even think about going on if you were dead.”

“I’m not dead,” she said through her tears.

“Yes, but—”

“No buts,” she interrupted. “I thought I was going to lose you, too. I begged them to leave you alone in the car.”

“You begged them?”

“They were going to kill you.” Her voice cracked as the memory resurfaced. “I told them I’d go with them, that I wouldn’t fight as long as they let you live. I would’ve given up anything.”

“You would’ve sacrificed yourself for me?” he asked, his expression serious. “You’d throw your life away if it meant I’d keep mine?”

“Yes. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“You know I would.”

He tried to pull her into a hug, but it wasn’t easy maneuvering around their injuries. They both groaned and cringed from pain, his bandaged arm making the embrace awkward. “Your arm,” she said, nuzzling into his chest.

“The bone fractured when I was shot, so they had to splint it.”

She tensed. “You were shot?”

“Yeah. It’s not that serious, though.”

“Not serious? Someone shot you!”

“Yeah, Nunzio did.”

She gasped. “Oh God, where is he?”

“Relax, he’s dead,” Carmine said. “Him and the rest of them.”

“They’re dead?” He nodded. “All of them?” Another nod. “And you aren’t?”

He cracked a smile at her question. “Last time I checked,” he said, reaching for her hand and pressing it against his chest, over his heart. “I think it's still beating.”

“It is.” She smiled as she stared into his eyes—eyes she worried she'd never see again. “I missed you.”

“
Mi sei mancata
,” he said. “I’m glad you’re awake now.”

“Where were you earlier?”

He didn't respond right away. “I had an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.”

“That’s the same thing your father said.”

“Yeah, well, there you go. We should probably listen to him.”

She gawked at him. “You're a rebel. Since when do you listen?”

“I never did before and look where that got us,
tesoro
. I figure it’s time to start, since he seems to know what the hell he’s talking about.” He paused. “Sometimes, anyway. Other times I still think he’s full of shit.”

She laughed at his response. They both lay quietly, holding onto each other as she tried to clear the fog that settled in her brain. Her memory was sketchy, an odd tension mounting in the room as a result. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I was just worried…”

“Well, stop worrying.” His voice was firm. “You need to focus on getting better.”

“You sound like your father again,” she said, his evasive answer doing nothing to calm her fears.

“Apparently I’m more like him than we thought.”

“You’re nothing like him,” she said. “You’ll never be like him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

She glanced at him, wondering what he meant by that, when there was a knock on the door. “Speak of the fucking devil,” Carmine said.

Dr. DeMarco walked in. “It’s not nice to talk about people.”

“It’s nothing I wouldn’t say to your face.”

Dr. DeMarco laughed. “Very true, son. You’ve never been one to hold your tongue.”

“Isn’t that part of my charm?”

“I wouldn’t call it charm,” Dr. DeMarco said. “Your mouth gets you into trouble just as often as it gets you out of it.”

“Haven’s never had any complaints about my mouth,” Carmine said playfully. She blushed and jabbed him in the ribs. Even though her touch was light, Carmine clenched his teeth to muffle a cry.

“He has a fractured rib that’s still healing,” Dr. DeMarco explained when she eyed Carmine peculiarly. “It would be fine by now if he’d learn to take it easy.”

She felt guilty for hurting him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Carmine said, turning his attention to his father. “Is there something you needed?”

“I just got back from the hospital and wanted to check on her before I left again,” he said. He grabbed Haven’s wrist to check her pulse before feeling her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m still mixed up, but I feel better than I did. Just tired.”

“You will be for a while as your body heals,” he said. “I want you to try to eat something. Clara can bring you some chicken broth.”

“I can get my own,” Haven said. “Miss Clara shouldn’t have to do it.”

“Nonsense, child. You are far too weak for that right now,” he said, shaking his head. “Plus, you know as well as I do that she’d be happy to do it for you. From what I’ve heard, she’s been cooking for you since you were about two feet tall.”

“That's different.”

“How so?”

“I was just like her then.”

Dr. DeMarco paused what he was doing. “You know, that's the first time I've ever heard you acknowledge your freedom,” he said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a smile. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about, but be sure to get some rest today. Carmine can get you something for the pain. I know he knows where the narcotics are, considering he’s been popping them like candy for weeks,” Dr. DeMarco said as he headed for the door.

Haven stared at the door once he was gone. “He seems strange.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’s a bit scary. He’s resolved these days, like he has some fucking grand plan to save us all.”

“Do we need to be saved?”

“Don't we always?”

Rhetorical question. Of course they did. “Is he working at the hospital here now? He said he was there.”

“No, he was just seeing about something.”

“What?”

He sighed. “Christ, you're full of questions. It's not something you need to worry about. A lot's happened.”

All of his answers only led to more questions. “Like what?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said. “You just woke up.”

“But I need to know. I can’t lie around, wondering what happened. I’ll worry myself sick and never get better.”

“Fine,” he said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but whatever. I’m not gonna fight with you about it.”

“Thank you.” She listened as Carmine recounted waking up in the car. He explained what had happened in Durante, tears flowing from her eyes when he broke the news that Nicholas hadn't survived. Her mind drifted through scenarios, and she got lost in her thoughts. Carmine’s words drifted into the background until he said something that caught her off guard. “Arrested?”

He sighed and stood up, running his left hand awkwardly through his uncombed hair. It obviously hadn’t been cut in over a month, strands covering his neck and spilling over his forehead. There was a slight curl to it at such a long length. “Yes, and for bullshit reasons. The feds raided with warrants for my father and Corrado, and some egotistical agent named Cerone decided to throw me in jail along with them. That’s why it took us so long to get to you.”

“I can’t believe you went to jail,” she said. “How did you find me? My chip?”

“I wish,” he said. “It wouldn’t work, and they were in jail,
tesoro
. I knew it would be at least another week until they could get out, and I didn’t know if you had that long to wait. I had to do something. I had to do whatever it took to find you.”

“What did you do?” she asked, suspicious of his cryptic words. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

He shook his head. ”It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. Why do you keep saying things don’t matter?”

“Because there are some things you shouldn’t know right now.”

“You can't mean that,” she said. “We aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. You said we’d tell each other everything.”

“I know, but things change. There are some things I can’t tell you... some things I won’t be able to tell you. It’s shit you won’t wanna know, Haven. And I realize that doesn’t make sense right now, but I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“How can I not worry? What do you think you can’t tell me?”

He started to respond, but the ringing of his phone silenced him. Groaning, he pulled it from his pocket and shot her a nervous look as he answered. “Yes, sir?” His tone was even, his demeanor instantly shifting. “But I don’t... yes, fine. I get it. I’ll be there.”

He sighed as he hung up and sat back down beside her. He took her hand, lightly placing a kiss on the back of it. “Nothing is more important to me than you,
tesoro
. I'd give my life for you.”

“You’re scaring me, Carmine.”

“Don’t be scared,” he said. “I was desperate, baby. I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t live if you died. I needed to know you were alive. I needed to see you, and now that you’re safe, I can’t regret it. It sucks, and I know it’s not what any of us wanted, but seeing you here, I know it was worth it.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said, letting go of her hand. “I have to go.”

“Go?”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t be gone long,” he said. “We’ll talk when I get back, but I don’t have time now. I can’t be late.”

“You can’t be late for what? Tell me what you did, Carmine!”