retribution trumped justice and personal pleasure forced out kindness and love.
But love wasn’t gone. It was in Lorenzo’s eyes, in his words, in his kisses, in his caresses. But love couldn’t save people. Love couldn’t make a relationship work. Love remained in her heart, but people didn’t stay: people changed, people left, people died.
“I’ll leave town for awhile if that’d make it easier for you.” Lorenzo stood.
Lita hugged her knees. “No. Please, don’t leave. It’s just…a lot to take in.” She wanted to believe in Lorenzo. She did believe in him. He could change.
“I’ll be fine now.” He walked to the window and leaned against the side.
Lita rose, her body aching as if she’d spent the day pushing her father’s wheelchair around town, and the night cleaning their little house. She walked to him, placed her hand on his back. He didn’t move.
“Lita, go. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
He pressed his hand against the wall. The muscles in his shoulder tightened. “I want to be alone.”
She didn’t believe him. “But—”
“Just go.” He hunched his shoulders, moving away from her.
“Will you come over tomorrow, please?”
“Yeah,” he rasped.
Her head throbbed—her heart screamed to stay with him, but her mind told her to give him space, and give herself time to process what he’d told her. She touched his back once more. He stayed rigid. She padded out, tugging the door shut behind her. She’d get Sal; maybe he could help Lorenzo.
When she reached the ground floor, she sat on the bottom stair. Pulling a compact from her purse, she freshened her makeup. La grazia dell’ amore was unpredictable, mysterious, but she knew it would find Lorenzo. She rose to find Sal.
Chapter Six
Lorenzo started up in his bed. His sheets twisted around him. His head ached, his body tight with tension from the usual nightmare. The one where he was restrained—and he couldn’t protect Lita, couldn’t reach her in time.
He sucked in a few deep breaths. He climbed from bed, stretching. His shoulders eased, his calves loosened. Nothing held him any longer—not anything he couldn’t cut and free himself from. The nightmare had to end.
He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. Soon, steam billowed out. He glanced at himself in the fogging mirror. Today, he could be there for Lita, like she’d asked. And today, he’d start to be the man he could be, a man she’d be proud of. Even if she decided they could never be together, she’d know he loved her.
***
Lorenzo waited outside the door at Grandpop and Vincente’s house up the street from Uncle Enzo’s. He turned to look at the palm trees and iron gate. He couldn’t see down the block, where Lita was.
“Vincente.” Lorenzo nodded to his cousin Vincente, who opened the door, dressed for church. Vincente and his Grandpop, Lorenzo’s great uncle Vittorio, usually arrived home from church at this time. “Grandpop around?”
“Yeah. He’s in his sitting room.” Vincente motioned Lorenzo to walk with him. “Heard about your father. You doing okay?”
Lorenzo stared at his cousin’s back. Vincente was a bit shorter than Lorenzo, but he was more powerful. He could take a man down with one well-timed punch. When Lorenzo needed trusted backup, Vincente was the first person he called.
“I’ve got business to discuss with Grandpop.” Lorenzo followed Vincente through the door down the hall. He hated this, asking for help. The men in his family didn’t ask for help. But he had to, this time.
“Want me to leave?” Vincente glanced at him. He had the shrewd eyes of Uncle Enzo and Grandpop—deep set, focused, sometimes eerily calm.
“Up to you. Might need backup, though.” Lorenzo rubbed his hands.
Vincente clapped him on the shoulder. They walked in.
Grandpop turned off his TV and steepled his hands. “Lorenzo. My condolences. What brings you here?”
“Thanks. I
But love wasn’t gone. It was in Lorenzo’s eyes, in his words, in his kisses, in his caresses. But love couldn’t save people. Love couldn’t make a relationship work. Love remained in her heart, but people didn’t stay: people changed, people left, people died.
“I’ll leave town for awhile if that’d make it easier for you.” Lorenzo stood.
Lita hugged her knees. “No. Please, don’t leave. It’s just…a lot to take in.” She wanted to believe in Lorenzo. She did believe in him. He could change.
“I’ll be fine now.” He walked to the window and leaned against the side.
Lita rose, her body aching as if she’d spent the day pushing her father’s wheelchair around town, and the night cleaning their little house. She walked to him, placed her hand on his back. He didn’t move.
“Lita, go. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
He pressed his hand against the wall. The muscles in his shoulder tightened. “I want to be alone.”
She didn’t believe him. “But—”
“Just go.” He hunched his shoulders, moving away from her.
“Will you come over tomorrow, please?”
“Yeah,” he rasped.
Her head throbbed—her heart screamed to stay with him, but her mind told her to give him space, and give herself time to process what he’d told her. She touched his back once more. He stayed rigid. She padded out, tugging the door shut behind her. She’d get Sal; maybe he could help Lorenzo.
When she reached the ground floor, she sat on the bottom stair. Pulling a compact from her purse, she freshened her makeup. La grazia dell’ amore was unpredictable, mysterious, but she knew it would find Lorenzo. She rose to find Sal.
Chapter Six
Lorenzo started up in his bed. His sheets twisted around him. His head ached, his body tight with tension from the usual nightmare. The one where he was restrained—and he couldn’t protect Lita, couldn’t reach her in time.
He sucked in a few deep breaths. He climbed from bed, stretching. His shoulders eased, his calves loosened. Nothing held him any longer—not anything he couldn’t cut and free himself from. The nightmare had to end.
He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. Soon, steam billowed out. He glanced at himself in the fogging mirror. Today, he could be there for Lita, like she’d asked. And today, he’d start to be the man he could be, a man she’d be proud of. Even if she decided they could never be together, she’d know he loved her.
***
Lorenzo waited outside the door at Grandpop and Vincente’s house up the street from Uncle Enzo’s. He turned to look at the palm trees and iron gate. He couldn’t see down the block, where Lita was.
“Vincente.” Lorenzo nodded to his cousin Vincente, who opened the door, dressed for church. Vincente and his Grandpop, Lorenzo’s great uncle Vittorio, usually arrived home from church at this time. “Grandpop around?”
“Yeah. He’s in his sitting room.” Vincente motioned Lorenzo to walk with him. “Heard about your father. You doing okay?”
Lorenzo stared at his cousin’s back. Vincente was a bit shorter than Lorenzo, but he was more powerful. He could take a man down with one well-timed punch. When Lorenzo needed trusted backup, Vincente was the first person he called.
“I’ve got business to discuss with Grandpop.” Lorenzo followed Vincente through the door down the hall. He hated this, asking for help. The men in his family didn’t ask for help. But he had to, this time.
“Want me to leave?” Vincente glanced at him. He had the shrewd eyes of Uncle Enzo and Grandpop—deep set, focused, sometimes eerily calm.
“Up to you. Might need backup, though.” Lorenzo rubbed his hands.
Vincente clapped him on the shoulder. They walked in.
Grandpop turned off his TV and steepled his hands. “Lorenzo. My condolences. What brings you here?”
“Thanks. I
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