Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Anya

B ertrand assures me that the wound is superficial when I call him on the phone.

“I’m so sorry, Bertrand. Is there anything you need, anything at all I can do for you?”

“Got everything I need right here,” he says. “More importantly, how are you? I saw the news. That’s some tragedy, girl.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” I hesitate. “Are you, um, going to lay charges?”

“I reckon you’ve got enough on your plate. Besides, it’s not the first time a patient attacked me.”

“I really don’t know what to say.”

“You just take care of yourself and that baby. I’m glad you’re both alive. How’s your husband?”

I swallow. “He’s going to be fine.” Changing the subject quickly, I say, “I’ll come see you as soon as I can. I’m going home today.”

“There’s no need, but I appreciate the thought. You have more pressing matters to focus on.”

“I’d like to see you.”

He chuckles. “I’m not going anywhere. You know where to find me.” A pause follows before he continues. “Any news about your mother?”

“Nothing from the police.”

“I hope they’ll find her soon.”

“Me too.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Take care, Bertrand.”

“You do the same now, Anya.”

The doctor examines me in the afternoon, signs my discharge, and sends me home with painkillers and anti-inflammatories.

Dante drives me.

It’s difficult to leave Claire and Saverio behind. Every fiber of my being protests at putting distance between us, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t stay at the hospital when they already don’t have enough beds for their patient demands. There’s also a lot to deal with at home and preparations to be made, so I soothe myself with the knowledge that I can visit them twice a day.

Livy welcomes me with a home-cooked dinner when I walk into Saverio’s house. She already moved into one of the guest bedrooms. When we’ve tidied the kitchen, which mostly involved her doing the work and me feeling guilty, we retire to the lounge to make a list.

“We’ll need a wheelchair ramp for when Saverio comes home,” I say. “Dr. Loter said it may take a while before he can walk on crutches, and even then, he’ll tire. The wheelchair will be indispensable for a while.”

Livy cracks open a can of stout. “Bathroom renovations will be necessary.”

“Saverio is fiercely independent,” I muse. “I could help him, but I doubt he’d want that.”

She pours the beer into two glasses. “You won’t be able to carry his weight. What if he slips and falls? Unless we ask Dante to move in for a while?”

“Saverio will definitely not accept help from Dante or anyone for that matter.” I write bathroom renovations next to point two on my list. “Bathroom work is unavoidable. We need rails on the walls and in the shower.”

“Maybe you can change the guest toilet and shower downstairs and move to the first floor for a while. That way, you don’t have to install an elevator.”

“Won’t work.” I bite my nail as I reflect on the logistics. “I want him to have access to the whole house. Being trapped in a limited part of it won’t make him feel at home.”

She pushes a glass my way. “In that case, that’s point three.”

I put wheelchair elevator on the list. Damn, we only have a month to get the house ready.

Tapping the pencil on the notepad, I say, “He’ll need space for physiotherapy.”

Livy looks around. “We can move some furniture out of the lounge.”

Too open. Saverio is too proud to have an audience.” I chew on my pencil as I think. “I can rearrange the sofas and coffee table to make space in his study.”

She takes a sip of her drink and pulls a face. When she puts down the glass, she has a white mustache on her upper lip. “We need an appointment with a dietitian. With only one kidney, he needs an adapted diet.”

I write that down before pointing the pencil at her glass. “What’s with the Guinness?”

“Drink it,” she says. “It stimulates the production of breastmilk.”

I eye the dark brew with the thick foamy layer on top. “My supply is fine, thank you.”

“Breast pump,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Claire is going to need all the immunity she can get from your milk.”

A lump gets stuck in my throat. “Saverio already got one.”

She leans over and pats my hand. “Let’s concentrate on that list.”

She’s right. Focusing on what needs to be done will prevent me from breaking down.

“Security,” I say. “Can you shoot?”

“Harvey never wanted me to handle a gun.”

“Well…” I write shooting range in capital letters next to point five. “You’re starting tomorrow.”

After staying next to Sav’s bed and getting my dose of kangaroo care with Claire, I summon Saverio’s driver, Kevin, and spend the rest of the morning visiting the families of the deceased and injured men. When I return from the club where I did a quick inventory and spoke to an insurance company broker, Tersia is having tea with Livy in the lounge.

Livy stands when I enter. Thank goodness she’s wearing a yellow maxi dress with a purple orchid print and a magnolia flower hair clip half the size of her head. I was worried the incident at our wedding had ruined her spirit forever.

Giving me a bright smile, Livy says, “I’ll let the two of you catch up. I have a load of washing in the machine that needs to be put into the dryer.”

My smile is grateful. She moves around me, giving my shoulder a squeeze on her way to the door.

When she closes it softly behind her, I turn my attention to Tersia. She sits on the edge of her seat, clutching a cup between her hands and wearing a strained expression. She looks as stylish as ever in a white silk blouse and black maternity pants. Her round belly draws my gaze. I swallow when I think how close they came to death and that I put them in that situation.

“Are you all right?” I ask, taking a seat opposite her.

She bites her lip and nods.

“Tersia, I don’t know where to begin apologizing.”

A pained look comes over her features. “I don’t even know where to start in forgiving you.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, hanging my head.

“Yes, you should be.” When I lift my face, she’s watching me with a stern look. “If you’d told me what risks were involved, I would’ve been able to make an informed decision.”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen. Not at a wedding.” Clutching my hands in my lap, I say, “It never happens at weddings.”

“Only at yours.”

I wince.

“I guess that says a lot about how badly those people want your husband dead. And you. Or were you just collateral damage? It tells me exactly how dangerous Sav truly is.”

“I wanted to protect you.”

“Richard knew.” She puts down her cup. “He just didn’t realize the extent of it.”

“How is he?” I ask carefully.

“He doesn’t know I’m here. If he did, he’d probably have a heart attack.”

“Then why did you come?”

“I like you. I didn’t want to throw away our friendship without giving you a chance to explain.”

“I didn’t choose this, Tersia.”

“But you chose Sav, and with that choice came consequences. As my friend, it was your responsibility to inform me of those consequences. For God’s sake, Anya, did it ever cross your mind that in not saying anything you took away my choices?”

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else I can say. “I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

She sighs. “Believe it or not, I understand. It’s going to take Richard a while to come around though. Despite what happened, you’re my friend. I was worried sick about you and Sav.” She moves her gaze to my stomach. “How’s Claire? Livy told me. It’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.” I clear my throat. “The pediatrician is happy with her progress.”

“I admire Sav for what he did. I’m sorry for what happened to him, but I’m glad he saved you.”

“Where do you want to go from here?”

“I want honesty.”

“I can’t always give you that. You understand why.”

She looks away.

Silence stretches while she considers my answer.

After a beat, she gets to her feet. “That’s not going to work for me. I can’t put my family’s lives in danger, and if you can’t be open with me, I won’t have the facts to assess the risks.”

I follow suit. “I understand.”

Her smile is apologetic. “I didn’t take your call because I didn’t want to do this over the phone.”

I drill the toe of my sneaker into the carpet. “’Kay.”

She walks around the table and pauses next to me. “I hope everything will work out for you, and I really hope Sav will be fine.”

“Thanks,” I say, following her progress to the door with my gaze.

It feels like that day when Zack, the security guard at the firm, told me he didn’t want to be associated with me. Yes, Saverio didn’t give me a choice before. But I always knew the day would come that I’d have to choose. And from now on forward, I always choose my husband.

Livy walks into the entrance just as I see Tersia off.

“It didn’t go well,” Livy says with sympathy when I close the door.

“No.”

“It’s not easy being on the outside.”

I’m not sure it’s easier on the inside.

The door opens again.

A guard sticks his head around the jamb. “Mrs. De Luca, there’s a woman outside who says she’s your mother.”

Livy and I look at each other quickly.

“What does she look like?” I ask.

He holds up his phone and shows me a photo.

I blow out a shaky breath. “Send her in.”

“Anya,” Livy says with a note of worry in her voice.

“Don’t worry.” I open the door wider and fix my gaze on the stocky woman who marches up the driveway. “I won’t let her take advantage of me this time.”

“Well, knock me over with a fucking feather,” my mom says as she stomps up the steps, tipping back her head to gawk at the house. “This place is fucking huge. Looks like a palace.”

“Mom.”

She stops in front of me.

I don’t step aside to let her in. “What are you doing here?”

Pulling her eyes into slits, she cranes her neck to the side and looks over my shoulder. “Look who the cat dragged in. Hello, Olivia.”

“Mary,” Livy says in a toneless voice behind me.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” I say.

“Aren’t you gonna invite your mama in?”

“How did you get here?”

She grins. “Hitchhiked.” She drags a sly gaze over me. “You look good. Expensive.”

“You haven’t answered my question, Mom. What are you doing here? Why did you break out of the center?”

She adopts a shocked expression, but her acting is poor. “Saw the news.” Slamming her thigh, she cackles like a hen. “Bam! That must’ve been one big fucking explosion.”

“I’m fine.” My tone is dry. “Thanks for asking.”

“Oh come on.” She rolls her eyes. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Is that why you stabbed Bertrand?”

She shrugs, her grin in place. “How else was I supposed to get to my little girl? You could’ve been dead.”

Livy scoffs.

“You could’ve called me,” I say.

“Bah.” My mom waves a hand. “Don’t make such a fuss over nothing. Bertrand is a tough guy. Fucking asshole deserved more than a cut in the arm. He’ll survive.”

“I should call the cops.”

“On your own mother?” she shrieks. “What kind of a daughter are you? Here I am out of concern, worrying my poor stomach into barfing, and this is the welcome I get.”

“Cut the crap, Mom. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

She scratches her chin. “I need money and a place to crash.”

“You can’t stay here.”

“What?” Her upper lip curls. “Are you going to throw me out on the fucking street? Don’t you give a damn what happens to me?”

“I do, which is why I pulled a lot of strings to get a place for you at the center.”

Spreading her arms, she says, “I want another chance. I changed. I swear it. I thought you were minced meat. Made me realize shit. Made me realize what I’d been missin.’ So there I was, bawling my eyes out, thinking I need to make this right.” She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “I want to live with you again. Just for a while. You can test-drive it, see how it goes.”

“Here’s the deal, Mom. If you go back to the center and prove that you can stay sober and clean, we can discuss your living arrangements. Until then, you’re on your own. It’s your choice.”

Livy makes a sound of agreement.

“Fucking lethal,” my mom says, placing a palm on her heart. “You cut me to the bone, baby. I swear to God, you know how to bleed me.”

“That’s my offer.” I cross my arms. “Take it or leave it.”

“That’s low,” she says, looking wounded. “Fucking low.”

“I’ll pay for another week at the center. If you haven’t returned there when that time is up, I’ll tell them they can give your place to someone else. And then you can forget about asking me for help again.”

“Jeez,” she says, taking a step back. “Never thought you could be so cruel.”

“Think it over,” I say, closing the door in her face.

Livy looks at me with pride. “You did the right thing.”

Maybe, but it doesn’t hurt less. Turning my own mother away is one of the most difficult things I’ve done.

“Do you think she’ll go back?” I ask, uncertainty gnawing at me. Because if something happens to her, I’ll never stop blaming myself.

“Who knows?” Livy sighs. “Whatever she decides, it’s out of your hands. You’ve done as much as you could.” Her voice turns wary. “One thing is for sure. If she does come back to live with you, none of us will sleep easy.”

“Oh, she won’t be living here. If her psychologist deems her in a healthy enough state of mind to leave the center, I’ll get her a place of her own. If she doesn’t want to stay alone, I’ll move her into a retirement village where she’ll be between people of her age.”

“I’m glad you’re thinking straight. You don’t need this on top of everything else that’s happening.”

Livy is right. As usual, my mom is making a mess of things, and the timing couldn’t be worse.

Blowing out a long breath, I get my phone to inform my mom’s psychologist of the turn of events.