Sempre (Forever Series #1)(15)

She followed him into the family room, where he picked up a cordless telephone. “I had a phone installed in case you need anything when I’m away. Speed dial number one goes directly to my cell phone. If I don’t answer and it’s an emergency, speed dial number two is Dominic.”

“Is Carmine number three?” The words flew from her mouth before she had enough sense to restrain them.

“Yes, but any trouble you encounter won’t be as bad as the trouble that follows my youngest. So if you need anything, call the first two.”

“Okay.” She stared at the phone. “How do I do that?”

Sighing, Dr. DeMarco gave some quick instructions on how to place a call. A flurry of thoughts hit her as she listened, but Dr. DeMarco cut them off. “I’ll know any time it’s used, so don’t get any bright ideas like calling 911.”

Her brow furrowed. “Who’s 911?”

He stared at her as if he thought she might be joking. “Let’s just say calling 911 is the last thing you want to do, child.”

Dr. DeMarco left, and those words ran through Haven’s mind as she wandered the empty house. She ended up in the family room after a while, standing in front of the white telephone again.

Picking it up, she turned it on like Dr. DeMarco had shown her. She hit the 9 button before pressing the number 1, her finger hovering over the 1 again. She stood there, her heart pounding rapidly, before pressing the button to turn off the phone.

She did it three more times before placing the phone into its cradle and leaving the room, too frightened to press the last number.

* * *

The sun was setting when Haven ended up in the library. She came across some paper and swiped a few pieces, finding a pencil before eagerly running to her room. She lay down in bed and sketched, her mama’s face emerging on the paper. With no pictures, Haven was desperately afraid she would forget what her mama looked like, afraid her memory would fade with time.

Drawing came naturally to Haven. When she was little, around the age of seven, her first mistress, Monica, gave her paper and crayons. It was the first time she’d given her anything, and it turned out to be the last, but Haven cherished the gift until the last shred of crayon disappeared.

As she grew older, she’d sneak supplies from the ranch house, but afterward destroyed all evidence so no one would find out. She usually folded the sketches and stuck them in her pocket, burying the papers the first chance she got.

Haven lost track of time as she immersed herself in the drawing of her mama, and it was nearing midnight when the sound of music captured her attention. It was earlier than the other nights. Curious, she set the drawing aside and crept to the door to peek out.

Carmine sat in the library, holding a tan acoustic guitar. Darkness obstructed Haven’s view of his face, but the glow from the moonlight illuminated his hands as he plucked the strings.

She took a few steps forward, entranced as the music smoothed out and grew louder. It swirled all around her, goose bumps springing up as the melody seeped into her skin. Her stomach fluttered and limbs tingled, warmth spreading throughout her body. She closed her eyes, reveling in the foreign sensation, until the music stopped.

Haven’s eyes snapped back open, and she could see his face then, still partially encased in the shadows. He frowned, staring at her with questions in his eyes, but she had no answers to give.

Turning on her heel, Haven ran back into the room and closed the door, pressing her back against it as the music started up once more.

* * *

The next morning, Carmine woke up earlier than usual and grabbed a bowl of cereal, his footsteps faltering in the family room. Dominic sat on the couch reading a Sports Illustrated, and Haven was beside him, neither of them speaking.

Before Carmine could utter a single word, Haven leaped to her feet and scurried away. He watched her retreating form before taking the seat she’d vacated. “She acts like I’m diseased and she’s gonna catch something by coming near me.”

Dominic nodded. “I noticed.”

“I haven’t done anything.” He paused. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“You don’t realize how abrasive you come off,” Dominic said. “It’s the way you look at people.”

Carmine shrugged. There wasn’t anything he could do about that. “Whatever. There’s obviously something wrong with her.”

“Have you taken the time to ask her what it might be?”

“Haven’t had a chance,” he said. “Like I said, she runs from me.”

“Well, maybe if you took an interest in her, she wouldn’t act sketchy around you.”

“Is that what you did—took an interest?” Carmine asked. “I’m not sure Tess would be happy about that.”

Dominic shoved him, spilling some of his cereal. “I was nice to her, bro. You should try it.”

Carmine brushed some of the stray Lucky Charms from his lap, glaring at the wet patch where the milk had soaked into his pants. “Asshole.”

* * *

Vincent DeMarco was an easily recognized man. The people in Durante knew him as the talented doctor and the dedicated single father, the wealthy bachelor women rigorously pursued. He’d accumulated a few wayward gray hairs, but he looked younger than his forty years. He was like his father that way. Antonio DeMarco had died at fifty when he looked more like a youthful thirty-five.