The gravel swallowed up the last comment, but Mitch heard it and laughed.
“Brando,” my father called. “A word in my office, son? And Scarlett, lock that demonic cat up before she kills someone. I mean it, lil’ girl.”
“That ass stepped on her tail!” I said. “She had every right!”
My father ignored me—I seemed to be invisible today—and disappeared back into the house, presumably going for his office.
“And almost knocked your daughter down,” Mitch mumbled.
“Say that again,” Brando said, head tilted, reminding me of Sampson when he heard a noise the rest of us couldn’t.
“Nothing,” Mitch said, rolling himself closer to the door. “He came in uninvited and stepped on Jet’s tail. Next time he’ll wait until he’s welcomed in.”
The Stones’ visit hadn’t warmed Brando in the slightest. He nodded to Mitch and then to me, and then left me without a word to meet my father in his office.
Mitch watched me from the doorway as I turned the dribbling water off—not fast enough to flood the yard, but enough to have made a muddy puddle. My fuzzy slippers were soiled, so I left them by the door, going barefoot.
“You have nice feet,” Mitch said. “I like the bony ones.”
“You are so weird, Mitch Lewis.” I smiled. “Thanks for not telling Brando about—what happened. He doesn’t need that right now. The sheriff and his merry nephews are out to get him.”
“What’s new?” Mitch said, staring off into the distance. The sun was on the downfall, spreading its soft, gold radiance over the Cane River behind the house and through all of the oak trees, filling in the gaps between leaves. “But if he would’ve succeeded, I would’ve ran him over with my wheels and held him there until Brando came along.”
I nodded once, and then narrowed my eyes at him, the words bursting free. “You saw Jet attack him! You didn’t even bother to help!”
He laughed. “I was sorry that Brando intervened when he did. I looked forward to watching you blast him with the hose.”
“You sneak!” I said, but I couldn’t help laughing.
“Keep still!” Mitch mimicked me, waving one hand in the air like a maniac, attempting to point his fake hose here and then there with the other. “Keepstill,dammit!”
I collapsed on the rocking chair Eunice had left out earlier, next to Mitch’s wheelchair, and we both fizzled over with laughter. I wiped my eyes, pulling my knees against my chest, letting my bony feet hang over the side of the chair. “Life,” I sighed.
“Yeah, life,” Mitch said, but with a different tone. Sadness tinged with—thankfulness? It was an odd combination.
I reached out and took his hand as we found solace in our surroundings, in the momentary peace that marked another day successful. Even if that meant all of us had lived to see another sunset—nothing more, nothing less.
“Before you came along, Fausti never fought back.”
It took me a moment to regroup and look at him. I had been watching as the wind shimmied the leaves, the gold sparking every so often in blinding shots of star-shaped light.
“Never fought back?”
“Yeah, he never fought the sheriff or the Stone family. His nephews weren’t as interested in blood as they are now. After Romeo, it upped the game some. But the sheriff treated Brando like the diseased bastard of the devil. Brando stood there, chin up, shoulders squared, like he deserved it.”
It broke my heart to think of all the times the sheriff had taken out his resentment of Luca on Brando. From the bits and pieces Mitch had told me over the years, he had always made hurtful comments to him, even when he was a kid. After his son was killed and Brando was spared, the treatment became worse, even dangerous at times.
“The Stones couldn’t provoke him before. That’s where the sudden interest in you comes in. The man has one weak spot, and the enemy hones in. But because of that, things have changed. I’m glad to see the sheriff has backed off—there were times I was close to being incarcerated because it was hard to stand there and watch it.” He cleared his throat. “You changed a lot, kid.”
We were quiet for a while; I refused to think too deeply on the subject, where Mitch was reliving it through jaded memories.
“What Stone said, about Brando and the women—there’s a difference. You have to know that, kid. He never cared before. You think he told another woman what to do? Or became jealous when she went out with someone else—or talked to another man? Or even lifted his chin in defiance to Stone’s treatment because a woman was present? I met a new man after he fell in love with you. A crazy bastard, but still new.”
“Lucky me,” I said. I squeezed Mitch’s hand before he could respond. “I mean it when I say it, Mitch. Iama lucky woman. I know it.”
“Good,” he said. “Because he knows what a lucky bastard he is. God kept me here to keep you people in line. Without me, where would you all be?” He backed up some. “You think the cake is ready?”
I nodded. “Eunice probably has it slathered in cream cheese icing.”
