“He did,” I said, voice strong. “He told me everything!”
“Tell me if that’s a man you can be proud of.”
This conversation was happening in two parts—one I understood right away. The other, the other was a mystery to me, but somehow I knew one fed into the other. He had joined the Coast Guard to prove something to the both of us. But the captain was right. He was atoning for something. Perhaps he would tell me. Perhaps not.
I could make what I understood better, at least. What I knew for sure had been weighing on his mind and heart—perhaps I’d inadvertently make the mysterious thing better, too, since it all seemed to be connected.
“You’re damn right!” I seethed. “I’m your wife—I know you, and when you set your mind to something, you see it through. You say what you mean and mean what you say. Youarea man to be proud of.Mine!I claim you every day of the week and twice on Sundays, I’m so damn proud. You didn’t fail that little girl. You did all that you could to save her. You fought for her beyond your own human limitations—like you fought for me. You didn’t put her in that boat, Fausti. And you damn well didn’t cause that storm!”
“End of conversation,” he said, and went to move past me, going toward the door.
Hell if he’d leave me alone in this cabin.
I stepped in front of him, blocking his exit. “Why can’t you say it?” My eyes refused to let his go. “Say it!”
Say it out loud and understand…
The tension grew even thicker with his temper—a mad swirl of anger and failure, of something he had repressed for so long that it turned itself into a trailing ghost.
He paced, running a hand through his hair. “She reminded me of you. And I couldn’t save her.” His jaw ticked, his fists balled and flexed. “Is that what you want to hear, Scarlett? Is that it? Or is that not enough?”
“That’s not all,” I said. “What did she do, Brando? Olive. What did she do to deserve to be on that boat? Or her parents? What did they do? If we all must pay for our sins in blood, what do we do to deserve it? None of us are free from sin, Brando! None of us! Not you. Not me. No one!”
“Fuck!” His eyes were truly mad, and it didn’t seem like he knew where to go. He felt trapped in his own skin. “Do you want the rest of my fucking blood? You’re bleeding me dry, Scarlett!”
“No,” I said quietly, ignoring the emotions strangling me. “But I want you to see…she’s not me. You can’t save everyone—you’re not perfect. You weren’t meant to be. And things happen that have nothing to do with our sins. Bad things happen regardless of who we are and what we’ve done. Even if it would’ve been my time to—”
He picked up his bag and hummed it at the wall. It collided with a solid crash that made me flinch. “Finish that sentence and I’m going to break.” His voice was so even that it was frightening, especially paired with his eyes.
I turned from him, going to take a seat on the bed, hiding my face. I didn’t want him to see me cry. His footsteps sounded not long after and his weight shifted the bed. His arm came around me, pulling me close. “Jesus. Scarlett. I’m—” His voice broke. “I’m—”
I cut him off by kissing him, frantic and awkward.
He pulled away. “I refused to give that to you. Not with all that you’ve been through.” He stood abruptly, but I caught his hand so he couldn’t go far. “That was my burden to give. Not his.”
“Brando,” I whispered, and waited for him to look at me before continuing. “Captain O’Malley didn’t expect your call. When it came, he knew something was wrong. When he looked at you, he knew. He remembered. You looked the same way when you jumped in that water, when you fought to save them, every single soul on that boat. He knew something happened by the way you were looking at me. I suspect our family and friends have seen you look the same way, when I—but they’ve never seen it in that context to understand like he has.”
And it’s time that someone comes for you.
I brought his hand to my face, his partially uncovered fingers so warm against the cool streaks on mine. “You are never a burden to me. Never. I am your wife—I feel all that you do, even when I can’t make sense of it at times. I want it. Need it. Do you understand me?”
I thought back, remembering. I spoke in Italian. “Everything we are, we are together. We hurt together. We heal together. I can’t be whole unless you are. It doesn’t matter if you speak your burdens or not, I carry them with me, my husband.” I had spoken those words to him on our wedding day, just one vow sealed by blood and the connection that existed between us.
A surge of sea wind purled through the cabin, stirring the netting around the bed. Some of the tension from him seemed to be carried out with it.
“I—I can’t imagine how hard that was for you. And I know remembering, reliving it must be…hollowing. But do you think you can talk about what happened? Can you confide in me?”
He gave me a long, narrow look. “Not now,” he said, his voice low.
I nodded, feeling all that he did. I had been mistaken. It wasn’t the wind that stole some of his burden—it was me. And I’d continue to steal it like a thief, if it meant he found an ounce of peace.
“Scarlett. I don’t have to struggle to remember. I can’t stop dreaming about it. When I refused to tell you, it was because it wasn’t her that I saw, it was you. Now it’s me. I’m separated and can’t get back to you. I see you in the distance. I’m too late to save you. My wife. My life.Mi sta uccidendo.”It’s killing me.
“What else?” I asked in Italian. “What else is killing you?”
“Me,” he said. “The sins of the father shall be visited upon the sons.”
“You think your sins have caused this? That we lost Matteo because of you?” When he said nothing, I continued. “If that was the case, every man alive would lose what they love the most. You didn’t do this. The devil did. Nemours.”
