: Chapter 11

In the week since our wedding, I’d made sure I worked the day shift so I was there at night when Sara was home. I barely slept at night, so I heard Sara right away when she called my name. I was so stunned to hear my name that I rushed over into her bedroom in only boxers. Usually, I made sure to wear at least a shirt and sweatpants in the apartment when she was around.

Sara perched on the edge of her bed, trembling. A small bloodstain was visible on the linen behind her, and blood also dampened her white silk pajama pants. She stared at me with wide, shaken eyes. “I need my mom. Can you call her?” Her phone was on the floor beside her feet. Judging by the trembling of her hands, she’d probably dropped it.

“Sure,” I said as I crossed the room in two long strides and picked up the phone. I quickly called Liliana who would be over within five minutes.

“What can I do?” I asked the moment I hung up.

Sara stared up at me. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I don’t want to flush it down the toilet. I can’t.”

The tears began flowing down her pale cheeks. I had trouble understanding what she meant until it finally dawned on me.

“Don’t. We can bury it.”

She shook her head slowly. “I can’t see it. I just can’t.” Sobs wrecked her shoulders, and I just wanted to go to her and console her. Fuck, I wanted to kneel by her feet and press my head against her belly. I wasn’t even sure why.

“I’ll handle it,” I said. I’d dealt with so much blood and worse in my life, so I would do this for Sara.

For a long time, we just looked at each other. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but a silent understanding passed between us.

The lock turned.

“It’s me!” Liliana called.

“Bedroom,” I called back.

She rushed in, then briefly froze when she saw Sara on the bed before she hurried over to her and helped Sara get up. Romero briefly glanced in, but then he retreated with a heartbroken expression. I stayed where I was, only watched as Liliana helped Sara into the bathroom. More blood trailed down Sara’s legs now, tinging her pants red. I turned away when Sara got undressed and listened to the sound of the shower being turned on. The water didn’t drown out Sara’s sobs or Liliana’s words of consolation.

I peered up. Sara huddled in the shower with her mother by her side as water spilled down on both of them. Sara’s eyes were closed, and her head leaned back. The water made it hard to see her tears, but the pain on her face was like a punch in the gut. Blood and water mingled on the marble surface of the shower.

I waited silently for two hours, bearing witness to Sara’s pain, physically and mentally, and wondered if this was my punishment. I fucking deserved it, but Sara didn’t deserve any of this misery. It made me incredibly mad, so fucking angry at the world.

Eventually, I stared at the floor because my rage at the universe became like a roaring fire that threatened to burn everything down.

When the sound of the water turned off, I looked back up. Liliana had wrapped Sara in a towel and helped her toward the bed. I took gauze from the bathroom cabinet and carefully picked up the remains of our baby, wrapping them up. I briefly closed my eyes because they burned. The warm fog probably triggered my eyes. I got up and carried the gauze into my bedroom, where I kept a beautiful antique ivory jewelry box with intricate flower carvings Mom had given me for this occasion. I hadn’t understood when she’d given it to me a couple of days ago, but now I did. I opened it and put the gauze inside, then closed it. I stared at the beautiful box, glad it was white and not made from wood like a coffin.

“Fuck,” I breathed and stared up at the ceiling.

A knock sounded, and Liliana poked her head in. “Sara would like to bury… bury the baby now.” Her face was tearstained too. She glanced from my face down to the box in my hands.

“Is it in there?”

I nodded.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Where does Sara want to bury it?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“There’s an old oak in the woods behind my parents’ house. I used to go there when I wanted to be alone.”

She smiled. “That sounds like a peaceful place. I’ll ask Sara.”

“Do that.” My voice was croaky, and my throat felt dry.

Thirty minutes later, Liliana and Romero helped Sara into my truck. She was pale and shaky, but she refused to see a doctor. Romero and I exchanged a glance. After the burial, we’d have to convince her to see our doc. It was still dark outside when we started the drive. I’d called my parents and told them we were coming to the house and why, then hung up before Mom could try to console me.

Sara and Liliana sat in the back while Romero sat in the front with me. He held the jewelry box in his lap.

When we pulled up the driveway, Mom and Dad waited on the porch with gaslights as it was still dark.

Together, all of us walked toward the oak tree. When we arrived, the sun rose over the treetops, lighting up the spot where I planned to bury the box.

I grabbed the shovel from Dad and began to dig into the hard ground. Soon, I had to use the pickax to make progress. Nobody said anything as I worked on the hole. Eventually, when I deemed it deep enough that it would be safe from being dug up easily, I straightened. Romero still held the box.

“Can I?” Sara asked, motioning at the box, her chin wobbling. Romero handed it to her. She peered down at it, then up at me with anguished eyes. She took a step toward the hole and almost broke down. I grabbed her arm to steady her and helped her the rest of the way. She fell to her knees in front of the hole and slowly lowered the box into it. She touched her fingertips to the lid and closed her eyes. Then she looked up at me with a small nod.

My fingers on the shovel tightening, I picked up the first scoop of earth and began to fill the hole while Sara knelt on the icy ground. When I was done, I released a deep breath. Liliana touched Sara’s shoulder. “Come. You’ll catch a cold.”

Sara gave her a look that made it clear she had half a mind to lie down beside the grave and not get up.

I clenched my fingers around the handle of the shovel.

“Come, love,” Liliana said again, and this time, she managed to pull Sara to her feet. Slowly, Sara dragged her gaze up from the grave, and our eyes locked. My grip on the shovel tightened even more at the deep pain in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

I gave a terse nod.

“I think Sara will spend the night with us,” Liliana said.

I had expected it, so I nodded again. I could feel Mom’s eyes on me, but I didn’t return her gaze.

“You can have our spare car,” Mom said. “The keys are in the ignition. It’s the red truck.”

I was relieved I wouldn’t have to give them a ride home. I could tell Sara wanted to be with her parents.

Romero, Liliana, and Sara left together, but I stayed beside the grave, supporting my weight on the handle of the shovel. The cold had penetrated my body. I couldn’t even feel my fingers or toes anymore, but I didn’t want to leave yet. It was utterly silent around us—no chirping birds, no barking, and no sounds from the nearby road. It was as if life had ground to a halt at that moment, and it seemed only fitting.

Mom approached me. She was wrapped in her thickest winter coat and UGG boots, and still shivered due to the unrelenting cold. She touched my hand. “Let’s go in. I’ll make us an Irish coffee and warm up some cinnamon cookies.”

Dad pried the shovel from my cold fingers. “Listen to your mother.”

“I should head back home. I have to work in two hours. The ride will be excruciatingly long in rush hour.”

“You won’t go to work today. Luca will understand,” Mom insisted.

I laughed bitterly. “I’m an Enforcer, Mom. Do you think a bit of flesh and blood will bring me to my knees?” My heart clenched at my words, but I kept glaring at my mother, willing my words to become true.

Mom shook her head with a sad smile. “I birthed and raised you. I held you when you cried when you were little. Don’t think I don’t see when you’re breaking inside. If this was how you just described it, you wouldn’t have buried it the way you did. Lie to yourself if it helps you, but I can see the truth!”

I gritted my teeth and looked away. I turned my back on the grave, shoving my fingers into my pant pockets.

Dad gave me a stern look. “I’m still the Head Enforcer, and I’m telling you, you’re not working today. End of story. I’ll handle Luca.”

I stalked back toward the house. The sound of steps crunching told me my parents were right behind me. When I entered the house, warmth flooded my body at once. Bacon pressed up beside me, wagging his tail gently, not his usual boisterous self.

After kicking off my shoes in the mudroom, I headed into the kitchen and sank down on a chair. Bacon leaned against my thigh, and I petted his warm back and head.

Mom came in shortly after me. She didn’t say anything and began to prepare an Irish coffee and the cookies. I watched silently. Mom sat across from me and put her hand on mine. “Things will get better.”

“You believe in Karma, Mom. Maybe this is Karma’s way of paying me back. Nobody would argue that I deserve it.”

Mom gave me a stern look. It was a look that made even Dad pause. “You deserve happiness. End of story.”

It was our first Christmas as a married couple. It should have been our first Christmas as soon-to-be parents and a soon-to-be family. Instead, we were two almost strangers pretending to be more than that.

It’d been three weeks since I’d lost the baby. Three weeks that had opened up a world of pain to me I hadn’t thought possible. Worse than the sadness over what I’d lost were the rare moments when I wondered if maybe there was a good reason for it, that it would make it easier for all of us to forget what had happened. Those brief moments always sent me into a cruel downward spiral of guilt.

“Can you take a look at the Brioche buns for me?” Mom asked, tearing me from my thoughts. I nodded, opened the oven, and reached for the baking sheet. I let out a hiss and jerked back as searing pain shot through my fingers.

Mom immediately grabbed my hands and put them under cold water. “You need to use pot holders!”

“I know,” I said. The door flung open, and Dad, Flavio, and Maximus entered the kitchen, ready for a fight.

“What happened?” Dad inquired, scanning the kitchen as if attackers were hiding somewhere.

Maximus came toward me, his face tight with concern, and sheathed the gun he’d drawn. To see him this ready to defend me was nice.

“I was lost in my thoughts and burned myself,” I explained when he scanned my red fingers that had begun blistering.

“Do you have burn salve?” he asked Mom, who sent Inessa to get it.

Maximus searched my eyes with worry and suspicion.

“I was lost in my thoughts,” I repeated. He had been constantly watching me since my comment that I wondered if physical pain would help with the anguish I felt.

“Okay,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he believed me. The number one reason I’d never hurt myself was that I knew how hard Mom and Dad would take it.

After Mom had treated my wound with burn salve and unnecessarily dressed it in gauze, we finally gathered around the dining room table. The lights from the Christmas tree illuminated the room, and the sight of the many presents made Alea and Inessa squeal in delight.

Maximus had agreed to celebrate Christmas morning with my family. I wouldn’t have minded if we’d split up for the festivities, but I hadn’t brought it up. Maximus had been trying to help me since the miscarriage, and I didn’t want to offend him.

“Is this the first time you’ve celebrated Christmas morning away from your family?” Mom asked Maximus curiously as we all loaded up on food.

Maximus handed the plate with the smoked salmon over to Inessa who passed it along with a look of disgust. She hated fish. “Yes, I always made sure to be home from work by the time Christmas morning rolled around.”

I bit my lip, wondering if I should have suggested splitting up. I didn’t want to be the reason Maximus missed his family on Christmas. He didn’t need to feel obligated to me. I was happy as long as I was with my family. He met my gaze. “But I think marriage is a good reason for new habits.”

I gave him a small smile, then focused on my own plate. I hadn’t taken much. I still had to force myself to eat most days. I rarely felt true hunger, but I didn’t want to let Mom’s filet Wellington with venison loin instead of beef go to waste. It was too delicious for that. Mom always turned our breakfast into a luxury brunch, which lasted forever and stuffed you to the max.

Later, we settled around the Christmas tree. I dropped on the comfy sofa, letting Inessa and Alea storm the presents. They were still less restrained regarding this part of the holidays.

When you grew older, some of the magic of Christmas got lost, and after what happened this year, I didn’t feel any magic at all.

Maximus reached for an envelope perched atop a pile of presents and handed it to me. I gave him a surprised look. For some reason, I hadn’t expected him to get me a present. The past few months had been such a whirlwind that I hadn’t thought about buying him anything. I’d already bought the presents for my family in September as I always did because I preferred to be prepared. I really hoped it was only a Christmas card so I wouldn’t have to feel bad over not getting him anything.

I took the envelope and opened it. The card was a photo of a collection of vases and tableware from my favorite pottery artist. Her pieces were incredibly beautiful and excruciatingly expensive.

I had exactly one mug from her, and I only used it on Sunday to enjoy my favorite cup of Earl Grey tea. I opened the card, and my mouth fell open. It was a voucher for a private pottery course with her. In the past, she’d done pottery group courses, but back then, I hadn’t been confident enough in my abilities to book a course. When I’d finally felt like I might be worthy to do pottery in the same room as her, she’d stopped giving them. I supposed she’d become too successful and didn’t have the time anymore.

“Someone told me that you do pottery and that this is your favorite artist, so I asked her to spend a whole day with you and teach you.”

“She agreed?” I asked, aghast.

“I didn’t threaten her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said firmly. “But money can buy almost anything.”

I hadn’t done any pottery since I’d lost the baby, and even before then, after the capture, I’d only tried it twice and given up both times, practically fleeing the pottery wheel. When I’d done pottery in the past, I’d allowed my thoughts to roam free as my fingers formed the soft clay. I had daydreamed and run through imaginary scenarios of my future. Letting my thoughts run free now seemed hazardous and foolish.

Maximus regarded me silently.

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. It was a great gift, one the old Sara would have been ecstatic about, and hopefully future Sara would one day be too, but current Sara was terrified.

Maybe this could be my way of reclaiming the old Sara?

Maximus and I were invited over to his parents to celebrate the next day. I hadn’t seen them since the small funeral, nor had I visited their home or the old oak tree.

Snow covered the ground as we pulled up in the driveway. Barks rang out as dogs gathered at the fences, some of them jumping against the mesh. Their hot breath created clouds of fog around their wide-open maws. I lost count of how many dogs there were. The last time I’d been here, I hadn’t even noticed them. Everything had been deadly quiet.

Maximus opened the door for me and helped me climb out. He always did, but usually immediately released me once I was safely on the ground. This time, he held my hand and squeezed.

“Are you afraid of dogs?”

“I’m not afraid, but I have a healthy dose of respect, especially of dogs like this.” Most of them were huge and muscly beasts, with sharp teeth and scarred faces. They had been in dog fights, a fact that made me even warier of them.

“Most of them have a brutal past. It takes lots of work to help them overcome their fears and aggressions.”

“I admire you for it. Have there been dogs you couldn’t help and had to put down?”

“I personally haven’t have to do it yet. But Mom had to kill two dogs when I was seven and Primo was five. He was playing with me on our playground when two dogs managed to break through the old fence. I was up on the monkey bars when they both pushed him to the ground. I jumped down to help him just when Mom came running out of the house. One pushed me down and sank its teeth into my shoulder. Primo and I tried to protect our faces and throat because that’s where they can do the most damage. Mom had a gun but because the dogs were on top of us, she couldn’t shoot them. To this day, I don’t know how she summoned the power but she wrangled the dog who was on top of Primo to the ground and slit its throat before she stabbed the dog who was on top of my back several times.”

I stared at Maximus in horror. I hadn’t noticed a scar on his shoulder, but I had never seen him naked.

“She didn’t hesitate. Both dogs could have easily turned on her and killed her.”

“I would have gladly died if it meant saving you and your brother,” Cara said. She stood on the porch behind us, rubbing her arms against the cold. She wore a beautiful teal colored cashmere set, long flowy pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

“That’s what mothers do,” I said with a small smile, even though the words rekindled the deep ache I felt.

Cara came down the three steps and loosely wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “Come in. It’s cold. Dinners ready.” She steered me inside and I was glad that she’d taken the incentive and bridged the distance between us. I’d worried things would be awkward because of the past.

Primo sat at the table but got up to greet me with a brief hug. I gave him a grateful smile for not walking on eggshells around me. The table was loaded with bowls and small serving plates filled with tortilla wraps, pickled onions, roasted corn, salsas, guacamole, queso fresco and many more things.

“We always do tacos on the second,” Cara said as she motioned for us to sit down. Growl gave me a nod in greeting. Then he took a dutch oven with steaming meat out of the oven.

“Dad always prepares the Carne Asada.”

“He’s always been a perfectionist when it comes to his taco beef,” Primo said with a smirk.

Maximus chuckled.

“It’s perfect,” Growl said as he put the beef on the table. It smelled delicious.

“Let us be the judge,” Maximus said.

This was so different from how we celebrated at home that I didn’t feel homesick, which was great. I took a bite from my taco and smiled. “It’s really good.”

I wasn’t a huge meat eater, but this was comfort food at its best.

“This is the only thing Ryan can cook, but it’s utter perfection,” Cara said. I always stumbled over the name Ryan when Cara used it. Everyone else called him Growl because his voice was like a growl due to an injury to his vocals cords, which was still marked by the scar at his throat.

The atmosphere was relaxed and easygoing, surprising me.

“We always take a walk through the forest after dinner to help digestion,” Cara said. “Do you want to join us or would you like to stay inside with Maximus?”

“I’ll join you, but I’m not sure I have the right clothes for a walk.” I was in a satin dress and wool tights. My wool coat was pretty but not designed to withstand below zero temperatures for long.

“I can give you something of mine to wear if you don’t mind.”

I followed Cara to the master bedroom. We didn’t talk as we rummaged in her wardrobe until she pulled out a thermal shirt, thermal jacket and thermal pants. “I know it’s not as pretty as what you wear now but it’ll keep you warm.”

I shrugged. I changed into the clothes then went out into the hallway where Cara waited for me. Scratching and soft whines came from the two doors down the hallway.

“Maximus’s dog Bacon and our four dogs are locked in there because we weren’t sure if you were okay with dogs.”

I flushed. “Maximus has a dog?”

Cara pursed her lips. “Yes. He’s had him for three years.”

“I didn’t know. And he left him here because of me?”

Cara touched my shoulder. “He left him here because Bacon is used to living in a house with a big yard. He’s not a city dog.”

“I made Maximus move to the city.”

Cara shook her head with a kind smile. “He made the choice because he wants to make it work between you.”

Heat rose into my cheeks.

“What are you doing up there? We’re being roasted in our clothes down here!” Primo shouted.

“Let’s not make them wait,” I said before I actually had to talk about the state of my marriage. Cara and I headed downstairs. Growl wrapped his arm around Cara as we strolled through the dark forest. Maximus and Primo carried big torches that illuminated our surroundings. The soft crackling of the fire gave me a sense of comfort.

I wondered if I should bridge the subject of his dog. He’d never mentioned him to me. I felt bad that he’d left him behind to move to the city for me.

“Your mom mentioned Bacon,” I said casually.

Maximus’s face remained stoic, the flickering lights from the flame accentuating his strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. “He’s happy here. And I visit him at least once a week. He wouldn’t be happy in the city. Even though he’s my dog, he’s always been part of our family and has always lived in this house, so it’s not like he’s not still home.”

I nodded. I was glad that Maximus hadn’t taken the dog with him. I was wary of dogs, had always been since one had thrown me to the ground by accident when I was a little kid. Still, I hated the thought of being the sole reason for their separation.

“Maybe one day if we ever have a house outside the city, we can get a dog,” Maximus said.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t imagine moving farther away from my family. I couldn’t imagine ever feeling like Maximus was my family. Not after losing our baby…

My heart clenched as it always did when the memory of my loss came uninvited.

“Aren’t you coming?” Growl asked, turning around to us.

I had ground to a stop without realizing it and so had Maximus.

“Let’s head left,” Maximus said. His parents who had been about to go right stopped. My gaze sought the old oak that the light of the torch barely reached. Now I knew why Maximus didn’t want to go right.

“I’d like to go right. Alone.”

Maximus stepped closer to me. The heat from the fire banished some of the cold the sight of the oak had created in my inside. “Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?”

I hesitated. My first impulse was to say no. “I don’t want to talk. I just want to…” I wasn’t really sure what I wanted. To some people, it was probably incomprehensible why I’d insisted on a burial for a fetus that didn’t even qualify as a “real” baby yet. As if sadness could be measured by weeks.

“I’m the last person who wants to talk about feelings, trust me,” he murmured, and together we made our way toward the oak tree. As we came close enough for the flames to illuminate the ground in front of the tree, my breath halted. A beautiful wood-carved cross sat atop the small grave.

“Did you…?”

Maximus nodded. “When I was younger, I spent many evenings carving. It’s been a while but I did the best I could.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for not ridiculing my wish for a grave.”

Maximus frowned down at me. “Every loss needs an outlet. I hope it helps you cope with our loss.”

Our loss. I had rarely considered it as such. That Maximus felt that way made me feel better. I didn’t ask what he did to cope. We had already been talking more than I’d intended.

Silence fell over us, and I allowed myself to feel the full intensity of my sadness, something I’d fought every day in the past three weeks.