Page 31 of Pocketful of Us

Romi

Ithought I saw the devil in my dreams last night, but it turned out that I was only remembering fragments of my past. Remembering a man who had cloaked himself in shades of light to conceal the true darkness of his soul.

My father.

All day, I had tried to shake the horrible dream from my mind, but it wasn't easy. I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than my father and what he was up to now. I could only pray that Sketch was somewhere safe. That his father had taken him to a hospital far away from Pocketful.

Before our revelation in the bathroom, I was free to wander the estate, left alone to my own devices, but now, Raffaele never let me out of his sight.

If he needed to leave the estate, I had to go with him.

If I stepped outside for some fresh air, he was five steps behind me.

If a doctor visited, he was right beside me.

If I needed to use the bathroom, he stood outside.

It was almost like we were joined at the hip.

Paranoid was an understatement for the man's behavior, but I really couldn’t blame him. My father had betrayed him in the most despicable way, shattering his faith in the people around him and making it impossible for him to trust a single soul.

His presence was stifling, his demands overwhelming, but I didn’t complain.

I was grateful not to be dead.

And besides, we had two common interests.

His son.

And said son's child growing inside of me.

When he wasn't following me around, he was interrogating me on every memory and sliver of information I could give him about Sketch.

For most of our conversations, I did the majority of the talking. They usually consisted of him asking me question after mundane question about Sketch, and I dutifully answered each and every one. Raffaele's ranged from what his son's favorite movie was, to his height, hair and eye color now that he was eighteen. How well – or not so well – he did at school, and the sports he played.

Raffaele Toretto hung on every word I said, listening intently to every miniscule detail I could provide him that related to Sketch, and, luckily for him, I had plenty.

"We have a visitor," Raffaele announced, strolling into the kitchen where I had been attempting to keep down a bowl of pasta. It wasn't coming easy to me, though. Every morning for the past week, I had woken with terrible nausea that had lasted well into the evenings.

Food was the last thing on mind.

"Hmm," I mumbled, playing with my uneaten food, entirely uninterested in having a visitor in a foreign country where I couldn't speak the language. "Unless that visitor is Sketch, I really don’t care." I knew he was looking for him. It was the only reason I was remaining calm. Weirdly enough, I trusted Raffaele. I was banking my entire future on him finding his long-lost son and bringing him back to me.

"Close," Raffaele replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tailored suit pants. "It is Christopher."

"Columbus?" I tossed out, bored.

"Capaldi," he corrected, causing me to drop my fork and almost fall off the stool I was lazing on. "Now come, Ramona. I have a feeling that you will want to hear what he has to say."

* * *

Beaten and bruised to a pulp, it took me several moments for my mind to register the weathered looking man standing in the foyer as Mr. Capaldi. He looked a shadow of the man he used to be, with his nose clearly broken and his face swollen and purple. Two of Raffaele's well-dressed soldiers stood on either side of Mr. Capaldi, both armed with guns and ready to fire at their boss's order.

"And the prodigal cousin returns to the scene of the crime," Raffaele said coldly, folding his arms across his chest. "Fifteen years too late."

Mr. Capaldi bowed his head. In shame or respect, I couldn’t be sure. "Cousin," he whispered almost reverently. "You're home. I didn’t know – couldn’t believe it. I had to see come for myself."

"And now you have," Raffaele replied flatly. "Seen me, that is." Unfolding his arms, he shoved his hands back into his pockets. "Now, was there anything else you wanted to see before I put you down for being a traitorous bastard?"

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