14. Delphine

14

delphine

The emergency waiting room at the Mount Halsey General Hospital is silent and somber as we wait on the news. Even the little ones can’t bring themselves to make a peep. Dante’s asleep in my lap while Dominic and Serena sit glumly on either side of me.

Stitches and Sasha took Bryce down the hall to grab a treat from the vending machine. Neither Salvatore nor Dad have stopped pacing the room.

I run my hand over Dante’s curls in a soothing motion. His breaths come out gently, wispy sounds that would normally make me smile. Collapsed in my lap, he can sleep just about anywhere.

But even the usual peace that my toddler would bring me can’t be found tonight.

My head’s riddled with thoughts about Marcel and the operation. The doctors said it’ll be a few hours before we know his status. The bullets struck him deep in the abdomen, partially piercing his kidney.

If he does make it out of surgery, he won’t be released for days. Then will come the long road of recovery.

All because he fell in with the wrong crowd and Paulio Belini decided to use him against us.

I rise up from my chair and then carefully lay Dante down so he can continue napping uninterrupted. The two-year-old barely notices a difference, snuggling up against the cushion of the chair and tugging on the blanket he’s wrapped up in.

I stop at Salvatore’s side. “I’m going to go for a walk. I need some fresh air.”

“Both of you go,” Dad interjects. “I’ll watch the tiny tots.”

Salvatore links his hand with mine and leads the way out of what’s begun to feel like a torture room. There’s so little air it feels stuffy and unbearable. We exit out a side door to make it into one of the hospital’s courtyards.

“He’ll make it out, Phi,” Salvatore says. “You heard the doctor. It only partially pierced his organ.”

“It’s a close enough call. I just can’t believe he’d get mixed up with the Belinis. After all he’s said about you being in the lifestyle.”

“Normally, the bird squawking the loudest has the most shit to unload,” Salvatore says plainly. “Meaning your brother—love him as much as you do, Phi—was projecting onto me. He was the one living the kind of lifestyle he wasn’t proud of.”

“I didn’t think it was possible. Not after being raised by our DA father.”

“That’s probably what made him more curious. Isn’t that what drew you to me? The fact that I was off limits?”

I sigh as we stop at the wooden bench under a tree and take a seat. “This feels different. Me falling for you was organic. He’s sought out one of the worst crime families and gambled away his entire inheritance. For what reason?”

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask him,” Salvatore admits. He grabs my hand that’s resting in my lap and gives it a reassuring squeeze, his touch warm and firm. “But we’ve survived again, Phi. What did I tell you?”

A small smirk almost tugs at my lips. “We can get through anything together.”

“I should’ve been more excited for the holiday. More enthusiastic about spending time with you and the kids, celebrating Christmas.”

“Jon, I get it. It’s a difficult time of the year for you. I should’ve been more considerate of that instead of trying to be so over the top with the festive stuff.”

“The kids love it. If it were up to me, Christmas would be some thirty minute occasion of giving them presents and turning them loose to play with their toys. I wouldn’t think to do decorations and play in the snow and sit by the fire drinking hot cocoa and looking at the Christmas lights. All things they’ve loved. All things that will stay with them for the rest of their lives.”

My heart swells at his loving words. I lean into his side and rest my head on his shoulder. He responds by slipping his arm around me to draw me even closer.

“Want to go check to see if there’s an update on your brother?”

I nod, inhaling more fresh air to calm my spirits.

When we return to the waiting room, we find Dad speaking to one of the ER nurses. Stitches and Sasha are doing their best to cheer up the kids, having brought back an armful of snacks from the vending machine.

We approach Dad and the ER nurse.

“He’s out of surgery,” she says. “He’ll be ready for visitors soon. Adults only until he’s transferred to an inpatient room.”

We turn toward each other.

“You both go,” Salvatore says. “I’ll stay behind with the kids.”

“We’ll watch them,” calls Stitches from the other side of the room. “All three of you go. We’ve got this.”

We take Stitches and Sasha up on their offer and follow the ER nurse to the post-surgery room they’ve placed Marcel in until they move him to the room he’ll be staying in.

It’s clear from the moment we walk in that Marcel’s barely lucid. His eyes are squinted half shut and his round features contorted into a near grimace. He seems to barely recognize us as we walk through the door and gather on either side of his bed.

“How are you feeling, son?” Dad asks.

“Like… I was… shot in the gut,” he croaks in a hoarse voice.

I move over to the rolling table to grab the pitcher of water and pour him a glass. He can hardly incline his head to take a sip as I hold it up to his chapped lips.

“You scared us,” I say.

“I scared myself,” he mumbles.

“Son, what the hell happened?” Dad puts his hands on his waist and gives a solemn shake of his head. “If you were in financial trouble, you know you could’ve come to me.”

“Or us,” Salvatore adds. “I would’ve helped you out. A man with your business knowledge? I could’ve found you a spot in my organization. Something that fits your background.”

I can’t help glancing lovingly at Salvatore. It amazes me how he can be so forgiving and understanding when he recognizes it’s important to me; he knows how I love my family and offers them olive branches even when sometimes they don’t deserve it.

After how Marcel has treated him, he would be within his rights to never speak to him again.

Yet here he is, offering him help.

I wrap my arm around him and nod at what he’s said. “Jon is right, Marcel. We would’ve helped you.”

Tears leak out the corners of Marcel’s squinted eyes. He tries to dab at one, though his hand-eye coordination is still off and he ends up pawing himself in the face. “I didn’t feel like I could. Ever since… ever since Mom passed… you all are always together… and then… then there’s me.”

“Son, you separated yourself all those years you were traveling,” says Dad. He extends his hand to grip Marcel by the shoulder. “You’re welcome home anytime you want. We’ll be there for you.”

“All of us,” I add.

More tears slip down the sides of Marcel’s swollen face before he nods. “Where’re the kids?”

“In the waiting room with Stitches and Sasha,” Salvatore says. “Don’t worry, they can’t wait to see their uncle. We’ll bring them back tomorrow once you’re moved into your room. It sounds like you’ll be staying here for a while so you can recover.”

“I need it,” Marcel says. “It’s been a long Christmas.”

I smile and share looks with the other two. “Trust me, we all agree.”

It’s way past the children’s bedtime, but we decide to make an exception considering it’s Christmas. We stop in the local town and scoop up the kids from the backseat of the town car, holding them close as we decide to go for a walk to see the Christmas lights.

The wind’s brutal and cold and the roads are empty and dark, but that’s what makes the snowy scene before us even more magical.

Dominic, Serena, and Bryce rub at their sleepy eyes and then gasp in awe at the bright twinkling lights stretching on as far as they can see. Even Dante stirs from where he’s asleep against my shoulder.

My heart has never felt fuller. It’s the kind of Christmas moment I’ve always dreamed of for our family.

As Salvatore mentioned earlier, it’s a moment the kids will remember for the rest of their lives. A moment none of us will ever forget.

“Mommy, Daddy, look! It’s Santa Claws!” Serena shouts, thrusting a tiny finger in the air. She’s pointing across the street at a home with decorations on the slanted roof. There’s a life-like replica of Santa Claus and his nine reindeer approaching the chimney.

Salvatore laughs and plucks Serena off her boot-clad feet. He holds her up so she can stare in wonder at what she believes is Santa Claus. “Sure looks like him,” he says. “Do you want to go over and say hi, Rena?”

She shakes her head, eyes as wide as I’ve ever seen them. “No, Daddy… he’s busy.”

“You’re right. Probably delivering last-minute presents to little boys and girls.”

“That’s not Santa,” Dominic says, folding his arms. Then he squints across the street. “It’s not him… right, Bryce?”

Bryce shrugs from his side. “If it was, he wouldn’t tell us. That would ruin his secret identity!”

I can barely contain my laugh, my eye catching Salvatore’s.

“Alright, it’s freezing out. Back to the car.”

We turn as a family and retrace the way we’ve come down the snowy, twinkling street. It’s another hour before we make it home to the cabin where we’ve been staying, but once we arrive, we lay the kids down to rest for the night.

The door to our room shuts behind us as we share a kiss, grateful we were able to salvage Christmas after all.