“Do you have any scars?”
Not any I could remember. The only scars were the ugly internal ones that had been caused. The ones that scabbed over the hurtful times I buried. Eventually, the top healed, but the wounds always felt hollow, as if one push would expose them again.
“I do not think so.” I shrugged.
Remo wiped his hands on his pants, and towering over me, ran his hand over my head. It was not a casual search. He stuck his fingers deep underneath my hair, loosening my bun.
I cleared my throat, wanting to move my head but afraid his fingers were going to get tangled.
“There.” He stopped behind my ear, but far enough onto my scalp that a scar would be hidden.
My hand shot to the spot, and I stood, moving his. A slight scar marred the skin there. One I had never found before. It was faint, but curved. Faint, but…somewhat concaved.
Then I remembered Mariano asking me about it when he seemed to be memorizing every wrinkle and line of my body. I told him it was nothing. I had never even felt it until he said something, and even after, I forgot about it.
“I am not surprised.” I caressed the scar. “She has not liked me since birth. I am pretty sure she brought new meaning to the older sibling wanting to take the younger back to the hospital after I was born.” I laughed but it sounded…forced, even to my own ears.
Remo seemed to stand taller, his shoulders stiffening, his entire body going rigid.
I slapped my hand down on a box, and a rolled-up piece of canvas squished underneath it. I removed it and tried to straighten it out, then unrolled it. It was a sketch of a woman I had never seen before, but I resembled her. So much, it was quite eerie.
Remo looked between us. “I am certain you have found the woman you have been searching for.”
“Yes,” I breathed out, barely running my hand over her face. “I do believe you are right.”
Remo turned toward a sound, ready to protect. My grandfather walked up a second later.
“Ah.” He entered the room. He looked over the sketch. “You found her.”
“Your mamma,” I said.
“Sì.I sketched that of her myself.”
“Why haven’t you taken care of this?” I whispered.
He laughed a little, then shrugged. “Your grandmother did not get along with my mamma. Your father was not her favorite. He has resented her until this day. I thought it was best to keep whatever was left of her here. If your father knew this was here…” He shrugged, then left.
My eyes locked with Remo’s and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say,your family is just as ruthless as mine.
No kiddin’, as Atta would say.
For the next hour, Remo and I searched through the storage room, cleaning and sorting as we went, but there were no more traces of the great-grandmother who I resembled. Though I felt more…complete to find the connection, it would have almost been a relief to find I was not related to these people, as awful as that made me sound.
I decided not to dwell on it. Remo told me an Oscar joke—their cousin, another soldier, looked just like Oscar the Grouch—and I exploded with laughter as we headed toward the kitchen. We were both covered with dust but starving. It seemed like a long time since breakfast. When I cut the corner, I ran into Capri, the murderess sister.
Her eyebrows shot up, and a conniving smile came to her face. I had no idea where she had been for the last day or so, but it was clear to see she was in the same clothes she left in. Her hair was a mess, and so was her dress. She smelled like animal shit. I was going to point out the obvious, but she cut me off.
“Spending time alone with the help, ah?” She wiggled her eyebrows at me.
“No!” I took it down a notch. “Why did you try to kill me?” The question shot out as swift as a bullet from a gun.
A bullet she deftly dodged. “What are you talking about, you idiot?”
“You pushed me down the stairs.” Although I did not have proof, if she had done it, she would own up to it. Almost killing me was something she would be proud of.
She waved a hand. “You lived, unfortunately.” Her eyes met Remo’s before she turned them back to me. “I will not be able to say the same about the help, once your husband finds out how close you two are getting.Pity.” She plucked a piece of hay fromher hair. “I was just with your husband. I could have filled him in if I had known.”
“Fucking liar,” I snarl-whispered, and Remo took the sketch from me, setting it around the area he kept his weapon tucked. I had not realized I was flattening it with my grip.
