Page 48 of Bride By Initiation

I cry, "What are you hiding from Mom and me?"

Mom steps forward and puts her arm around me. "Zara, I know all about your father's past. I don't know where you got these, but this isn't your business."

Dad interjects, "These photos are dangerous for you to have. I want to know who gave them to you."

I shout, "I want to know why you're with Abruzzos!" A tear drips down my cheek, and I'm so tired of my father not being able to tell me the truth of where he was for fifteen years of my life. And I can't stand how my mom thinks it's okay. It's not enough to tell me he did it to protect us.

He replies with the same thing he always does. "We've gone over this multiple times. Your mother hid her pregnancy, and you, from me because she didn't think it was safe. I agree with her decision. So I was away and you were protected."

"It's true," Mom insists.

I shake my head. "It's not a full answer. I want to know the whole truth!"

"Zara," Mom warns.

"You're laughing and happy in those photos," I shriek at Dad.

My father fumes, "You should not have these. Whoever gave them to you is dangerous. I'm not going to ask you again, Zara. This is not a request. Who gave these to you?"

"They showed up on my doorstep."

The color drains from his face. "Someone knows where you live."

"It doesn't matter," I claim.

"Of course it matters!" Dad cries out.

Mom puts her hand on my arm. In a soft tone, she requests, "Please answer your father."

I shake my head. I know where they came from. John, Sylvia, or somebody associated with them left those photos at the front desk. But I'm not telling Mom and Dad anything.

"Think, my preciousfiglia," Dad insists.

I don't answer him. Instead, I question, my voice cracking, "Who's the woman and the baby?"

"None of your business," he replies.

Mom looks surprised. She blurts out, "What woman and baby?"

Dad hadn't gotten to that photo yet, but he didn't even flinch when I brought them up.

My gut spins. I put my hand over it, feeling ill. "Do I have a sister? Are you married?"

His eyes turn to slits. "I will not answer questions about my past. It is not your business, and it is unsafe for you to know."

"Luca, what woman and baby?" Mom repeats.

"Show her," I demand.

Dad scowls at me.

I reach for the photos.

He shoves them back in the yellow envelope, demanding, "I want to know who gave these to you."

"Luca," Mom says, more emotion filling her voice.

"Tell us. We deserve to know," I order.

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