Shortly after she arrived, Kathy announced dinner. The delicious fragrance of Kathy’s spaghetti and meatballs filled the dining room as she brought serving dishes to the table. There were bowls of noodles and spaghetti squash noodles for those who were watching carbs. A big bowl of salad was handed down the table, as were baskets of garlic bread and bowls of freshly grated parmesan cheese.
No one took the seat on the other side of Zavi in case Rocco decided to join them. He didn’t, of course. The phantom of his empty seat was like having a great elephant in the room. Mandy cut Zavi’s food and chatted with everyone as if her world wasn’t in a complete meltdown. Kit and Ivy sent her surreptitious looks, as did Angel.
None of them believed her “I’m okay” routine. Not even Zavi.
When dinner was over, Mandy and Greer helped Kathy clear the table, while Wynn and Angel put the leftovers away. Zavi came in and sat at the counter, snagging another mini-cannoli that Ivy had spent the afternoon making. Everything seemed so normal. Mandy looked around the room, thinking they were all blissfully unaware of the great iceberg her ship was about to hit.
Waiting for what was coming was killing her.
Zavi wiped his mouth with his hand, then wiped his hand on his chest. “You know what, Zavi?” Mandy said. Rocco’s boy looked up at her as Wynn slipped the cannoli tray away from him. “I think it’s time for a bath and a story.”
Casey brought in another stack of dishes. “Will you get me when you start the story, Aunt Mandy? I love listening to you read.”
“Sure.” Mandy wiped Zavi’s hands, then led him out of the kitchen. She wondered if Kit or Ivy had asked Casey to play with Zavi more to keep him distracted. It was a thought that warmed her heart and eased some of the pressure she was feeling. Having family nearby so that they could help when it was needed was something she’d not had for a very long time. Not until she met Rocco and his team.
*
Rocco stood in Mandy’s old barn, watching the sunset. By now, everyone had probably begun dinner. He’d asked Wynn to sit with Zavi and help cut his food if Mandy didn’t come back over. He should have known not to doubt her. She was rock solid. Always. At least until this afternoon when she’d left. “I need you to pick Zavi and me. I need you to think of us more than you think of your past.”
As if he had any choice at all in the matter; he was a father first, and everything else after.
He looked at Mandy’s new garden. The pink and orange colors of the sunset softened the hard edges of the newly landscaped space. He hadn’t visited it yet, despite her many invitations to do just that.
She’d said it was a memorial garden, but hadn’t said who it memorialized. Maybe her parents or grandparents. He’d watched the construction from his place there in the barn, irritated by all the strangers crawling over her property.
He also hadn’t missed how often Angel had hung around. Maybe that was for the best. Mandy would have someone strong and honorable to care for her when he was gone.
As fast as he thought that, his mood soured from bad to wretched.
He hated the idea of leaving, hated thinking about another man touching Mandy and raising his kids. Any man can raise your kid. That’s her choice, Angel had warned him. Rocco shouted out loud, angered by the decision he faced: be here for his living family, or exit to be with his dead baby.
That was a helluva choice for any man. And it was tearing him in two.
Shouting felt good, so he did it again. There was no one to hear him, no one to try to help him. He was beyond help. This was a choice only he could make—the hell with the deal he’d made with Kimble. He remembered holding Zavi earlier that morning, feeling his breath hitch as he lay slumped on his chest, sleeping from the exhaustion his fit had brought. What would Rocco’s exit do to him? Unlike Mandy moving just one house away, when Rocco left, he’d never come back.
Maybe Kadisha hadn’t abandoned their baby in heaven. Maybe up there she was more in touch with her true self, the heart of what mattered.
Shit. Kadisha was still eating his soul.
He fingered Dr. Kimble’s cartridge in his pocket. He wished he hadn’t given his bullet to the shrink. But it wasn’t as if he’d have to ask for it back, despite their agreement. He had a whole box of rounds.
Rocco turned from the broken window and went down the rickety stairs. He made his way over to Mandy’s memorial garden in the pale lavender light of the day. The fountain’s gurgle became louder the closer he got, a soothing sound he went toward like a sleepwalker, helpless to fight its pull.
There was only one entrance to the circular garden, though until the outer shrubs grew, it could be entered anywhere. Rocco went around to the front so that he wouldn’t upset Mandy by walking through one of the beds. Like it mattered.
Like any of it mattered.
He was going to lose his soul no matter what he chose.