Sempre (Forever Series #1)(62)

Her mama’s eyes widened with panic at the sight of the toy. “Where did you get that? You have to give it back.”

“No, Mama.”

Her mama stepped out of the stall and tried to take the doll. “Give it to me. You know better.”

“No.”

“Haven Isadora, give it to me right now!”

She held it behind her, shaking her head wildly. She wasn’t overjoyed anymore. Now she was heated. She had never had a toy before, and no one was taking this one from her—not even her mama. “No, it’s mine! Mine! She gave it to me! Not you!”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My angel, Mama. She gave me a present!”

Her angel. Haven had dreamed of her for years, the beautiful woman in white that glowed under the hot desert sun. She strained to conjure up the image of her again when a throat cleared nearby, ripping Haven from her thoughts. She glanced up, seeing Carmine right beside her.

She set the doll down and shut the drawer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

He was quiet as her nervousness grew. She chewed on her bottom lip, afraid of his reaction. His hand shot out toward her abruptly. She flinched, but he merely brushed his fingertips across her mouth, pulling her lip from between her teeth.

“You’re gonna make yourself bleed if you keep that shit up,” he said as he reopened the drawer. “My mom used to make these dolls for the kids who came to the center she worked at. Most of them moved around a lot, so they didn’t have a lot. She said the dolls were easy to keep up with since they’re small.”

Easy to hide, too. Haven had kept the doll concealed for years without her master knowing.

“She always thought personal was best.”

“She’s right,” Haven said. “It is.”

He sighed, gazing at the little doll. “A few months ago, I would’ve disagreed with that.”

“And now?”

He closed the drawer again. “Everything’s different now.”

21

Haven lay across her bed, clutching a pencil as she sketched on the top paper of a pile in front of her. She paused, surveying the gray lines, before balling it up and tossing it on the floor.

She had been at it for hours, the floor littered with balls of white paper. She felt guilty for wasting so much. Paper was made out of wood, and although there wasn’t a lack of trees in Durante, they weren’t to be taken for granted. Trees lived and breathed, enduring so much and still surviving, growing stronger and bigger no matter the conditions.

Was it silly to think so highly of nature?

She put the pencil aside and gathered up the crumpled pieces of paper, tossing them into the trash can before heading downstairs. It was a Friday in the middle of December, Carmine’s last day of school before winter break. Christmas was fast approaching, and all Haven could think about was her mama in Blackburn. She remembered the look in her eyes as she would sit in the stables and gaze at the ranch decorated in lights, wishing she were a part of something bigger. She would never admit it, but at Christmas, her mama didn’t want to be on the outside looking in.

Haven knew the feeling well, and now she was torn—sad for not being with her mama but excited about finally being a part of it all.

The DeMarcos didn’t decorate much, except for a flimsy fake tree put together out of a box, but Haven helped Carmine string on the lights. A few colored ornaments had been added in the days that followed, and Tess hung mistletoe in the doorway.

Dr. DeMarco’s presence had been scarce during the past weeks. Most nights he didn’t come home until after the sun had risen and only stuck around long enough to shower and change clothes. Haven didn’t ask any questions, but she found it odd he left her on her own so much.

Did he finally believe she wouldn’t try to run again?

She still cooked every night, even though Dr. DeMarco usually wasn’t around for it, and she started eating at the table with the family. The nights Dr. DeMarco came home he never acknowledged her. She would occasionally catch him giving her uncomfortable looks, like he was preparing for something to happen that never did.

Haven had grabbed a soda from the kitchen and taken a sip when a car pulled up outside. The familiar Mercedes parked near the porch, and Dr. DeMarco headed straight into the house. His voice filtered inside as he stepped into the foyer, his phone to his ear. He shrugged off his coat, and his eyes fell upon her. His gaze lingered there as he ended the call.

“Can you go to my office? I’ll be up in a moment.”

He posed it as a question, but it wasn’t negotiable. She nervously made her way to his office and sat in the chair across from his desk. The room was silent, except for the ticking clock on the wall behind her, and it seemed like forever before she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Her heart beat erratically as he neared, and she held her breath instinctively when Dr. DeMarco stepped inside.

He stopped in front of her, holding a large cotton swab and a plastic container. His knees cracked loudly as he crouched down in front of her, the harsh sound making her wince.

She watched him warily as he smiled, something off about his expression. There was a hint of worry, maybe even a bit of aggravation, but it was mostly sadness, which surprised her. She stared at him, wondering what made him that way, but she couldn’t ask. It wasn’t her place.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.