Chapter 32

Sarah huddled in the corner of her childhood bedroom in the US—her soul, a cavernous pit. No light penetrated the damp, jagged walls of her mind. Nothing alleviated her torment: not chamomile tea, not Choctella, and not her fuzzy slippers.

She forced herself to her feet, her knees aching from her prolonged crouch, and crossed to her dresser. She turned off the whirling ballerina nightlight. Hollow blackness surrounded her.

“Sarah,” her mom called from somewhere in the house. “Come down and eat something.”

Foggy with jetlag, Sarah plodded down the stairs. She found an overcooked chicken breast and mushy peas set on the dining room table. When was the last time she’d eaten? Yesterday? The day before? Who knew?

She floated into a chair and poked at her food. At the best of times, Mom’s cooking was about as enticing as a jar of baby food. With no appetite anyway, she didn’t feel guilty pushing away the plate.

Mom sat at the table. “I told you this job was a bad idea.” She jabbed a fork into her own food. “Look at you. Just look at you.”

Sarah turned her attention to the window. A light snow fell, and the sun cast the last of its rays off speckles of silvery ice. She shivered.

“You should’ve stayed here with me,” Mom continued. “Kept your old job and met someone else.” She leaned a forearm on the table. “Maybe I was wrong about Eduardo. Maybe he isn’t that great after all.”

Shoving back from the table, she glared at her mother. “This isn’t his fault.” She stalked into the kitchen, yanked open the cupboard, and found a box of sugary cereal. She stuffed a handful into her mouth.

“You won’t finish your dinner?” Mom called from the dining room.

“I’m going to bed.” The box hugged to her chest, Sarah climbed the stairs.

Mom called her name.

Sarah drowned out her voice with crunches. She couldn’t take this haranguing by Mom now—not while she kept thinking about…She blinked away the thought, entered her room, and stashed the box of cereal under her bed. Desperate for sleep, she slipped beneath the covers. But as soon as she closed her eyes all she saw was the image of the haunting scene. De Luca scratched her cheek with his scruffy chin, the acrid saliva of his kiss turned her stomach, and his fist struck her cheek.

Sarah whimpered and curled into a ball. What would have happened if Eduardo didn’t come? A mixture of half-chewed, corn-puff squares and bile mounted in Sarah’s throat. She knew exactly what would have happened.

Her phone dinged, and she stared blankly in the direction of the sound. Anna and Eduardo were kind enough to get her on the plane to D.C.—the least she could do was return their calls. She picked up her phone. Her texts were full of a days’ worth of messages saying:

—How are you?—

—I miss you—and

—When are you coming back?—

She pictured Eduardo’s sympathetic eyes and felt the warmth of his comforting embrace. She snuggled deeper into her fleece blanket. As she reread his messages, she felt a soft light glow inside her.

—Miss you too—

She hovered her thumb hovered the Send button, and a voice inside stopped her. When would she see him again? She erased the message and tossed her phone to the floor. She trudged to the bathroom, found a bottle of Sleepquil, and took a generous swig. Would she see him again?

****

The numbers on the alarm clock changed. Her phone rang. Sarah alternated between hot showers and stolen sips of sleep medicine from the medicine cabinet. After some time—hours? days? Did it really matter?—Meredith visited.

Sarah met her at the dining room table, where her mother left a steaming pot of Earl Grey.

Meredith greeted her with a bear hug. “How are you?”

“Hanging in there.” Sarah reached for the tea. “Where are Steven and Amber?”

“With Brian.” Meredith eased into her seat. “I can bring them by later. I wanted to see how you were doing first.”

“That would be nice.” Sarah poured milk in Mom’s dainty teacup and raised it to her lips. The redness of her hands matched the flower embellishment on the cup. How many times did she scrub these hands? She traced her gaze along her arm. A faint bruise tarnished her left forearm. She set down the cup, tugged on her sleeves, and hid her hands under the table.

Meredith popped a mini-muffin in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of tea. She held Sarah in a steady gaze. “Your mom thinks you’re on drugs.”

The words were as calm as if she remarked on the weather. Sarah pursed her lips. “I figured she’d say something to you. Just like her not to confront me herself.”

Meredith widened her eyes. “So, it’s true?”

“I don’t think Sleepquil counts as drugs.”

Meredith frowned.

Sarah rubbed her chafed hands then her forearms. She felt De Luca’s hands on her and smelled his musky aftershave. Again, she lifted her cup. If only she could spike it with vodka or antihistamines—hell, anything to erase the memory. “I’ll stop,” she said. “I promise. As soon as I stop seeing him—stop feeling him—when I close my eyes.”

“Oh, Sarah.” Meredith smacked the table. “You’ve got to make that bastard pay.”

Sarah’s hands shook. Her teacup rattled on the saucer so she set it down.

“You will press charges, won’t you?” Meredith asked.

How could she press charges? She’d have to give a statement—would have to give a detailed account of the scene she wanted so badly to forget.

Meredith exhaled audibly. “I know this is hard, but you can’t run forever—can’t keep downing sleeping pills.”

Sarah winced. “Sleepquil, not sleeping pills. And I’ve only taken it for a few days.”

“Five. Five days. Five days that he’s been out there—he could hurt someone else. What about his wife? What about Lucia?”

A prickle ran over her skin. “Lucia,” she whispered.

“What did you say?”

Lucia was in the house with him. She might even be alone. De Luca could…could hurt her. Sarah jumped to her feet and clasped Meredith’s shoulders. “Lucia. I’ve got to protect Lucia.” She rushed to the hall closet and yanked it open.

Meredith followed. “Sarah! What are you doing?”

Sarah pulled out her suitcase, only just recently unpacked. “I need to get back to Rome. Now.”

****

“We have everything we need,” the detective said in Italian. He smiled at Sarah. “You did great.”

Eduardo wrapped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, tucked her bangs behind her ears, and kissed her hair.

Sarah leaned into him. His warm chest was the only glimmer of comfort in the sterile police station.

“I’m so proud of you.” He led her to the exit.

Sarah smiled but didn’t reply. Going straight from the airport to give her statement seemed like the best idea, but now, her aching legs made her doubt her decision. If she didn’t get into bed soon, she’d topple over.

Eduardo placed her in the passenger seat of his car with a gentle touch. He walked around and got into the driver’s seat then paused with the key in the ignition. “I should tell you something.” He turned the key, and the engine purred. “Roberta…she’s decided to leave De Luca.”

The statement awakened Sarah more than three pots of black tea could. She gripped Eduardo’s forearm. “Thank God.” The color in Eduardo’s hazy eyes melted back to their warm chocolate hue.

He cupped a hand over hers and cocked a brow. “I didn’t realize you’d taken up the faith.”

Sarah laughed. Her first laugh since… She pushed aside the thought and soaked in Eduardo’s attention. Calmness settled over her, as if life breathed back into her soul.

Eduardo pulled out of the parking spot. “Lucia will spend more time with me now. If all goes according to plan, I can modify the custody agreement.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Sarah moved a hand to his thigh. “I’ll help you.”

“I hoped you’d say that.” He flashed a smile and sped down the road.

Sarah took in his cheeky grin. Would she finally find happiness?

****

Sister Maria graciously gave Sarah the rest of the week off, and she spent the next three days with Eduardo, relaxing and redecorating Lucia’s room. Or rather, Eduardo lounged on the couch or experimented in the kitchen while Sarah changed the paint in Lucia’s bedroom from beige to pink and replaced her drab cream comforter with a frilly pink one instead. Eduardo’s modern, minimalist decor had no place in a nine-year-old’s bedroom.

Sarah returned to work on the same day Lucia was due to come for her first long stay. She escorted Lucia home from school so Eduardo could get in an extra hour at the office. The flat was quiet when Sarah arrived with Lucia.

“Papa told me.” Lucia raced straight for her room.

Sarah followed, biting her lip. If only she knew Lucia would like the design.

“Miss Sarah!” Lucia ran to the mural of instruments and musical notes. “It’s beautiful!” She ran her hands over the wall, prancing from violin to piano and quarter note to half rest. She turned to face Sarah. “Did you paint this, Miss Sarah? Did you? Did you paint it for me?”

Lucia smiled with eyes as full of life as the notes dancing on the wall. Warmth flooded her chest. She nodded.

Lucia ran toward her.

Kneeling, Sarah wrapped her arms around the girl. If a heart could melt, Sarah’s would have done so at that moment.

Pulling back, Lucia ran her fingers over the pink ruffles of the new comforter.

“Do you like it?” Sarah studied the girl’s face. “Your father was worried my choice was too frilly.”

Lucia hopped on the bed, and the river of blankets swallowed her up. “It’s perfect!” She reached across to her nightstand and strummed the pink crystals hanging from the lampshade. “I bet he just loved these.”

“Actually…” Eduardo’s voice boomed from the doorway. He strode across the room and fingered the pom-poms that decorated the curtains. “I think these are my favorite. They remind me of Sarah’s cheeks.”

A smile set on her face, Sarah snatched up a pillow from the bed and tossed it at Eduardo. He had to spoil this moment with Lucia, didn’t he?

Lucia giggled.

Eduardo ducked, and the pillow flew over his head. “I was only kidding—” He began.

Another pillow, this one on target, cut him off.

“Lucia!” Sarah said.

Laughing, Lucia rolled on her bed.

Eduardo adjusted his glasses and wagged his finger. “Is this what you’re teaching my daughter these days?”

“You started it,” Lucia stomped a foot.

Eduardo crossed to the bed and ruffled Lucia’s hair. “Have you said thank you to Miss Sarah? She was determined to make this your space.”

“Grazie, Miss Sarah. Thank you.”

“You’re very lucky, Lucia.” He scooped her off the bed, nestled her under one arm, and then looped his other arm around Sarah’s waist and drew her in. “And so am I,” he whispered.

Later that night, Sarah helped Eduardo tuck Lucia into her bed.

Eduardo sang her a lullaby and kissed her cheek.

As she exited the room, Sarah flipped off the light.

“Tonight was amazing.” Eduardo leaned back onto the couch.

“Yes.” Sarah fell into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close as he rested his cheek on her hair. “You’re like a mother to Lucia.”

Sarah sank deeper into his embrace. His chest was warm, and his breath tickled her brow. Mother. Would she finally be a mother? But… She flicked her gaze upward. A deep smile lit Eduardo’s face. But would Lucia be enough for Eduardo?

He ran his fingers down her spine, lowered his mouth, and skimmed his lips against hers.

Goose bumps erupted on her skin, but her mind wandered. Should she tell him now about her past? Should she reveal her infertility?

Eduardo lifted her chin. “Sarah,” he said in a hushed voice. “I love you.”

The words were as welcome as any she ever heard—three simple words. Could she put those words in jeopardy by revealing her truth?

She ran her fingers through his hair and decided to reveal a different secret instead. “I love you, too.”