Chapter 31

Sarah paced in her empty classroom, wringing her hands in her skirt. Would she really tell him? Yes. I really will tell him. She stopped pacing and planted herself in her desk chair. She shifted her gaze to the clock on the wall—three o’clock. Fifteen minutes until everything could change.

Ugh! With a huff, she heaved back in her chair. How do I tell someone I’m infertile, anyway? Maybe Anna’s shirt idea wasn’t half-bad.

Her phone dinged—another text from Eduardo.

—Got here a little early. Take your time. I’ll wait out front—

A weight bore down her chest; her secret slowly suffocated her. She pushed away the feelings and retrieved her sketchbook from her desk. Turning to a recent drawing of Eduardo and Lucia, she traced the outline of their matching eyes with her fingertips. Diamond-shaped white specks, carefully placed, indicated the light bouncing off their fudge-like eyes. The exaggerated graphite strokes of their crinkled smiles captured the fondness between them. Sarah stroked Lucia’s cheek, a dimple etched in her pudgy, velvet skin.

Sarah picked up her pencil and hastily sketched in a silhouette between them—hers. Eduardo already had a family, and if she wanted to be part of it, she would need to reveal the truth. Her figure took shape on the page, and Sarah smiled. With each stroke of the pencil, the weight in her chest lifted. When her face was sufficiently sketched in, she tore out the page and tucked it inside her purse. For luck. She took a deep breath and headed for the door. Before she reached it, the door swung open.

Mr. De Luca sauntered in.

Sarah froze. “Mr. De Luca, I didn’t expect to see you again.”

He shut the door behind him.

“Where’s Lucia?” She looked past him to the door. Did any teachers remain in the building? If she screamed, could they hear her through the closed door?

“With her mother.” He crossed the room. His gaze darted from her, to the window, and then back again.

Sarah backed up, and she searched in her purse for her phone. She grasped it—thank God—pulled it from her purse, and punched Eduardo’s contact.

But Mr. De Luca lunged forward, snatched the phone from her hand, and placed it on a student desk. “Talking on the phone isn’t nice when you have guests, Ms. Miller.”

He scanned her body like a predator surveying his victim. What if he was a predator? Sarah retreated, creating distance between them. She fidgeted her shaky hands and realized she’d left the phone on the desk by De Luca. Dammit!

“You should have taken my offer.” He stared. “You’ve only made the situation worse by talking to Sister Maria. Now, Roberta is even more determined to remove Lucia from this school.”

Sarah surveyed the room for an escape. Apart from the door, which Mr. De Luca blocked, the way out was through the tiny window above her desk. She’d never wished for a petite frame more than she did now.

Mr. De Luca flashed his black eyes. As he took a step toward her, the right side of his lip curled upward. “This is the last time I’ll extend my offer.”

Sarah halted. “I haven’t changed my decision.” She spoke in a firm voice.

His mouth shifted from a grin to a smirk. “That’s all I needed to know.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Sarah relaxed her shoulders; his smirk may have been sour but the change in behavior was as if someone flicked a switch. She let go of the stagnant air burning her lungs.

On the desk, the phone dinged.

Mr. De Luca whipped around, lurched for the phone then raised his upper lip in a snarl.

“Your boyfriend. You want to talk to him?”

Nodding, Sarah approached and held out her hand.

Mr. De Luca deepened his sneer and smashed her phone on the floor. He grabbed her forearm and shoved her against the desk. “Who do you think you are?” he said through gritted teeth.

Pain shot through her hip. “Stop!” She pushed him with her free hand.

He grabbed that, too and slammed her down on the desk.

Sarah opened her mouth to scream.

“Shut up!” He smacked her face.

A sting rushed her cheek, and a metallic taste coated her tongue—blood. Sarah clawed at him with her free hand and lifted a leg to kick him.

Shifting his weight, he pinned her to the desk and pressed his scruffy face against hers.

How stupid of her to think she could match his strength. Again, she screamed, thrashing her head from side to side.

De Luca released her left arm to cover her mouth with his hand.

With her arm free, she found a resurgent strength. She pushed against his chest with all the energy she could muster.

He stumbled backward.

“Get off her!” Eduardo shouted in Italian.

A relief washed over her. Her body sagged. Thank God, Eduardo came.

De Luca screamed something back in Italian.

Sarah had neither the strength nor desire to translate. Her body drooped and shook, and she leaned against the desk for support.

Both men hurled obscenities at each other.

Eduardo, who stood several inches taller than his opponent, grabbed De Luca’s shoulders and threw him against the wall. He gripped De Luca’s shirt with one hand and pressed his other against De Luca’s throat. Anger raged beneath Eduardo’s Italian curses, and his skin turned a new shade of burnt orange.

“Ascolta!” shouted a shrill voice.

Exhaling a sigh, Sarah turned. Thank, God, she’d come.

Sister Maria stood in the doorway. “What is this?” She spoke in rapid Italian.

Eduardo loosened his grip. He and De Luca both spoke simultaneously, gesturing with their hands.

Sister Maria held up a palm and turned her gaze to Sarah.

The line between Sister Maria’s eyes read of concern. Sarah sat on the desk, wiping the blood from her lip with one hand. “Mr. De Luca.” Her voice quavered. “He tried to…”

The words wouldn’t come out—she didn’t want them to. Judging by the expression on Sister Maria’s face, they didn’t need to.

****

For minutes—or was it hours?—everything was a blur. Faces blended with bodies. Black robes mixed with blue polizia jackets. They all huddled around Sarah: Sister Maria, Eduardo, Anna, and even Sister Angelica. Their voices were distant, as if she were submerged underwater, the sounds coming through in muddled bits and pieces.

“Are you hurt?”

“What happened?”

Sarah moved her lips, but no sound surfaced. Her lip stung, and she touched her fingers to the wound. A rough scab scratched her fingers. She shifted her fingers to her cheeks and winced. Her left cheek throbbed.

Sister Angelica brought her ice.

Anna wrapped her petite arms around Sarah. “I’ll ruin him. I’ll friggin’ ruin him.”

From her fetal position, Sarah didn’t laugh nor did she say a word.

Eduardo enfolded her in his embrace.

Why did his gentle touch bring no comfort? Why couldn’t she stop trembling?

“Sarah, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her tighter, nuzzling his face in her hair. “Leonardo,” he growled and stomped his foot. “Stronzo! How could he do this? How could he hurt mia bella cigna?” He shifted, moving his mouth close to Sarah’s ear. “He’ll pay for this, Sarah. I promise you, he’ll pay.”

A blue jacket pushed through. “Ho bisogno di una dichiarazione.”

The words skidded off her brain, incomprehensible.

“A statement,” Eduardo translated. “He needs a statement.”

Sarah blindly stared at the police officer.

He spoke in too-fast Italian.

“He needs you to come to the station,” Eduardo said.

She just stared at the man’s uniform: the brass buttons, the shield patch on his sleeve, and a white belt—a floppy loop where the handcuffs should have been. Was Mr. De Luca in the handcuffs?

“Sarah,” Eduardo said softly. “We have to go with him.”

Sarah searched the room, but Mr. De Luca wasn’t there. The cacophony of murmurs around her faded into background noise, and in its place sounded Mr. De Luca’s voice, harsh and forceful. “You whore!”

She shook her head, freeing herself of the memories, but she couldn’t. She relived the scene in her mind, as if she were in two places at once.

I must get away—must leave here. I must get away from him.

Eduardo rested hands on her shoulders. “Sarah, please say something. Please.”

His voice was pinched. Sarah stared into his concerned gaze, hoping his care would take away her pain. But her hands shook and her wounds throbbed. “I want to go home.” Her voice came out in a whisper.

He rubbed her shoulders. “Of course, I’ll take you home.”

Sarah dropped his gaze. “No, not your home—D.C. home.”