Chapter 6 - The Open Road
Three days later, the morning sun was bright and warm as I loaded the last of our belongings into the trunk of a sleek, silver sedan parked outside the grand entrance of the Duca estate.
Emma sat in the back seat, buckled securely into her booster seat, happily chattering away to her gray rabbit while holding a chocolate croissant Mrs. Costa had pressed into her hands at the last second.
I closed the trunk with a firm thump and turned around.
Lorenzo stood on the wide stone steps of the portico. He wore his usual dark coat, but his hands were bare, resting calmly at his sides.
“The bank draft is in the glove compartment,” Lorenzo said as I walked up the steps toward him. “It covers your mother’s remaining medical debts, clears your apartment lease for the next two years, and provides a comfortable cushion while you decide what university program you want to enroll in.”
I stopped a few feet away from him, looking up into his face. The rigid walls he always kept around himself seemed softer now, the harsh edges of his dangerous world receding into the background.
“I can't accept all of this, Mr. Duca,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction. “It’s too much.”
“It is not a gift, Clara,” Lorenzo said firmly, taking a step closer. “It is back pay for hazard duty, corporate consulting, and keeping a very dangerous house clean.”
A small smile broke across my face despite myself. “And what about my cleaning job?”
“Terminated permanently,” he replied, a faint, rare smile touching his lips. “I hear the local library in Franklin is hiring a junior archivist. They don't require you to scrub blood off Persian rugs, and the hours allow you to pick your daughter up before dark.”
I looked back at the car where Emma was waving enthusiastically out the window, pressing the gray rabbit against the glass.
“Thank you, Lorenzo,” I said, using his first name for the very first time.
“Thank you, Clara,” he answered softly. “For bringing a little bit of light into a very dark house.”
He reached out, his bare, scarred hand extending toward me. I didn't hesitate. I reached out and took his hand, shaking it firmly, feeling the strength and the history in every rough line of his palm.
A moment later, I climbed into the driver’s seat of the silver sedan, started the engine, and pulled away from the grand iron gates of the Duca estate.
May you like
In the rearview mirror, I watched the imposing stone mansion grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind the rolling green hills of Tennessee. Beside me, Emma was singing a nonsense song to her rabbit, the golden morning light streaming through the windows.
For the first time in years, the road ahead of us was wide open, bright, and entirely our own.
