Page 105 of The Deadly Candies

She crossed the kitchen to press a kiss to her mother's cheek, then Aunt Claudia's. The women were tickled to have her back. Kathy couldn’t remember seeing Aunt Claudia smile so much. The simple domesticity of it all—her mother's chiding, the promised comfort of Big Mama's sweet potato pie when she got in the kitchen and started cooking—made her throat tighten. After months in Mississippi's cotton-scented darkness, these ordinary moments felt like miracles.

Upstairs, Kathy found her room transformed into a shrine of love. The same lavender sachets still nestled in her dresser drawers. Her Billy Holiday records stood neatly stacked by the phonograph. And on the bed—she gasped—lay a set of pale pink night dresses from Bergdorf's, the silk gleaming under the lamplight. Her fingers trembled as she touched the delicate straps. How good had the business been at the bakery since she’d been gone?

The shower steam carried the floral scent of Yardley's lavender soap, the luxury of hot water unending after months of tin tub baths. As she lathered the rich cream over her body. The memory sent heat pooling low in her belly. She toweled off quickly, the ache for him sharper now that she knew only a few miles separated them.

Pin-curling her hair before the vanity mirror, she caught her reflection—the Mississippi sun had darkened her complexion, brought out golden flecks in her brown eyes. She pressed a curl to her cheek, imagining Carmelo’s whispered praise:"Like chocolate silk, Kat. Just like I remembered."

Down the hall, Debbie lay curled like a child in Big Mama's arms, both breathing deep in sleep. Kathy smiled, easing the door shut. Her own bedroom welcomed her like an old friend—the faded floral wallpaper, the slight dip in the mattress where she'd spent countless nights dreaming of him.

She crossed to the window, throwing the curtains wide without care for modesty. Let all of Harlem see her homecoming. The night air carried jazz from the Theresa Hotel three blocks over, the syncopated rhythms mingling with distant laughter. She pressed her palms to the cool glass, drinking in the familiar skyline—the silhouette of St. Mark's steeple cutting the indigo sky.

* * *

Carmelo's knuckleshad gone white on the steering wheel. Twenty minutes idling in this shadowed spot near Striver's Row, and he'd nearly given up hope. Then, like the Blessed Virgin answering his desperate prayers, her bedroom light flipped on.

He slouched lower in the seat, heart hammering as Kathy's silhouette moved behind the curtains. Matteo's leather jacket creaked as he leaned forward, every sense heightened. When she finally drew back the drapes, the streetlamp caught her like a spotlight—her hair pinned up, robe slipping off one shoulder. Carmelo's mouth went dry. She was more beautiful than his memories, more radiant than all the drawings he had done of her.

"Christ," he breathed. Not daring to blink. If Henry Freeman’s men spotted him now, they'd leave his body in the East River. But seeing her smile at the Harlem night—unaware he was watching from the darkness—was worth every risk.

Then instinct took over. His hand found the headlight switch before his brain caught up. One flash. Two. The Cadillac's beams cut through the night like a signal flare.

Kathy froze mid-stretch. Carmelo watched her slender fingers clutch the windowsill, her body going taut as a bowstring—three more flashes.

When recognition dawned, her whole face transformed. One hand fluttered to her chest, the other pressing fingers to those perfect lips. The kiss she blew shattered him. It took every ounce of willpower not to leap from the car, scale the fire escape, and?—

No. Not yet.

He flashed the lights once more in promise—I'm here, I've waited, I'll keep waiting—before easing the DeSoto away from the curb. In the rearview mirror, Kathy leaned perilously far out the window, her robe billowing like a ghost in the Harlem night.

The steering wheel vibrated under his grip as he turned the corner. How had he known she'd come to the window? In the same way, he knew the exact curve of her smile when surprised. The same way his soul had ached these past months, sure as sunrise that she'd return to him.

Some loves were written in the stars before birth—no fathers, no wars, no color lines could change that.

* * *

"Morning, sleepy head!"

Kathy rolled over, expecting to find her mother curled beside her, but instead came face-to-face with Debbie’s grinning visage. Without hesitation, she pulled her cousin into a fierce hug, the two dissolving into giggles that shook the mattress for a full three minutes.

Morning light poured through the thin curtains, painting the room in gold. Kathy stretched, the featherbed beneath her like a cloud—so different from the lumpy cot in Mississippi. For the first time since boarding that Greyhound south, she feltsafe.

"I couldn’t wait to see you, Kat. Got so much to tell you,"Debbie whispered, propping herself up on one elbow.

"You were too busy clinging to Big Mama last night for us to talk!"Kathy teased, poking Debbie’s shoulder.

Debbie’s eyes began to water. Kathy hugged her. “Hey, I’m sorry. Don’t get upset.”

"I know, I know. But I missed her so much. She still lets me talk all night in her arms, just like when I was little."A tear slipped free, and she swiped at it roughly with the back of her hand.

Kathy sobered."Big Mama’s tough as nails, but all she talked about was getting to her ‘baby Debbie.’ Trust me, she suffered something awful on the trip up here just to see you and was glad to do it. We gotta take real good care of her before she heads back. The thought of us losing her, to her sugar, makes me shake sometimes.”

“Me too,” Debbie’s face crumpled. The tears came fast then, silent and heavy. Kathy pulled her close, the scent of Dixie Peach hair grease and Debbie’s familiar lavender soap filling her nose."Hey now, don’t cry,"she murmured into her cousin’s braids.

"It’s just—”Debbie hiccuped,“everything’s so mixed up, Kat. It’s okay, I’m okay. I just… It’s been so hard with you gone. I’ve been so confused. I don’t know why this is my life now. No college, no future, just protecting this baby from everyone. Can’t tell anyone the truth. What’s going to happen to us if Matteo…. if he decides he doesn’t want me? What if José decides he don’t want to do this with me? Then what? Maybe I should have just told the truth and went back to Mississippi to be with you and Big Mama. Maybe a hard truth is better than a convenient lie."

Kathy gripped Debbie’s hand under the covers.“Listen to me. Wefamily. You and me—sisters. Ain’t nobody letting anything happen to you and the baby. Whether Matteo or Melo stay or go, we got each other. This our child.”

Debbie nodded, sniffling, then abruptly changed the subject."Carmelo’s been real excited ‘bout you coming home."

---