Chapter 15 - The Morning We Stayed at the Island
I remembered the tile cold through my socks that morning. It was the same kitchen, the same daylight coming hard through the tall windows, the same island between us. The vase was still there but the flowers had gone brown at the edges. The fruit bowl had only three oranges left. My bunny sat by my knee on the rug where I'd left it.
That morning I was Lucia again in the way that mattered. Not grown up thinking back. Just me in my light floral dress, my sisters on either side of me in pink and lavender, our white socks lined up even.
Dad stood across the island from us. Dominic. His hair wasn't slicked back perfect. His black shirt was wrinkled at the collar and I could see the rose on his neck move when he swallowed. He didn't look stern then. He looked tired.
The maid stood near the sink in her black dress with the white collar. Her apron was folded over her arm instead of tied. She hadn't run. After everything, she hadn't packed like he'd told her to.
The sheriff's card sat on the marble next to the oranges. Dad kept looking at it.
He reached to his right waist first. I watched because I'd watched that spot for weeks. The dark shape under his jacket. He lifted his jacket slow so we could see his tattooed hand, and he pulled the gun out by the grip with two fingers, careful, like it was hot. My older sister grabbed my sleeve.
"It's okay," he said. His voice was low. He didn't look at the maid. He looked at us. "I'm putting it away."
He walked to the pantry where the small safe was behind the cleaning bottles. He knelt — actually knelt the way the maid had knelt that first day — and punched the code in. I heard the beep and the click. He set the gun inside on top of some papers and shut the door. He spun the dial and stayed there a second with his forehead almost touching the wood.
When he stood up his hands were empty. He held them out a little so we could see.
The phone rang.
We all jumped. Dad pulled his cell from his pocket and checked the screen and breathed out through his nose. "It's him," he said to the maid.
She nodded. "Answer it here."
He did. He put it on speaker and set it on the island. "This is Dominic," he said.
The sheriff's voice was thin and flat through the speaker. He said he was ten minutes out with a deputy and a lady from the county family office. He said he needed statements finished and he needed Dad to come down to the station after.
"Yes, sir," Dad said. "I'll be here. I won't leave." He paused. "I want it noted I secured my firearm in the house safe. You can take it when you come."
There was a quiet on the other end, then the sheriff said noted, and stay put.
Dad ended the call. His hand shook a little when he picked the phone back up. He tried to hide it by sliding it into his pocket.
The maid stepped forward then. She smoothed that folded apron over her arm. She didn't kneel. She stood beside the island where we could all see her face.
"I'm not fired," she said. It wasn't loud. She said it to Dad but she was looking at us. "I talked to the county lady yesterday. If it's all right with your aunt in Fresno until things are decided, I'll stay. Not as — not like before. Just until you're placed. Someone they know. Someone you've seen in the kitchen."
Dad opened his mouth like he was going to argue about image or orders, then closed it. He nodded once. "Please," he said. "Stay until then."
My sister in pink let out a breath she'd been holding. The one in lavender leaned into the maid's side and the maid put her hand light on her hair and didn't pull away.
Dad came around the island slow. He stopped a foot from us so he wasn't looming. He crouched down so his eyes were level with mine. I could see the stubble and the red in his eyes.
"Lucia," he said. "What you said that day. About Mommy." He stopped and swallowed. "You weren't wrong to be scared. You heard a fight. You saw me not help fast enough."
I held my bunny tighter. Its ear was damp where I'd been holding it.
I remembered what the papers had said in plain words the lady read to me. Mommy's heart. The medicine on the counter. The fight the night before and Dad waiting too long to call because he didn't want anyone in the house, because he thought she was just upset. By the time the ambulance came, it was too late. He didn't shoot. He didn't hit. He chose himself first. That's what killed meant.
"I thought you used the gun," I whispered. It was hard to say with my sisters listening. "I thought —"
"I know," he said. "That's my fault. You saw it on me and you put it together. I'm sorry I made you carry that."
My lip trembled. I didn't want to cry in front of everyone again. The maid knelt a little now, just enough to be near.
"I forgive —" I started, and stopped. I looked at my sisters. Pink was crying quiet. Lavender was staring at the rug like she was ashamed for being scared of Dad that whole week and hiding behind me.
I reached out and took each of their hands. "It's okay you were scared," I told them. My voice shook. "I was too."
Lavender squeezed back. Pink nodded.
Dad didn't touch us until I nodded. Then he put his big tattooed hand very lightly on top of our three joined hands. It was warm. It didn't cover my bunny. I kept that in my lap.
"We'll say it right this time?" I asked.
May you like
He nodded. "Yeah. We'll say it right."
Outside a car door shut. Gravel crunched in the driveway. The sheriff was here. Daylight kept coming through the windows and hitting the tile and the island and the bunny's pale fur, and none of us moved to run from it.
