Page 31 of The Deadly Candies

“But you helped Carmelo? You couldn’t have hated Ricci’s,” Debbie said.

“I didn’t know who Carmelo was until it was too late. I had already fallen in love with that kid.” Mama Stewart mumbled.

Debbie’s voice trembled. “Matteo saved Kathy. He’s not like them. Carmelo is sweet, he’s innocent.”

Mama Stewart leaned in. Her whisper is fierce. “Emilio was sweet once, too. He saved me once, too. But savin’ ain’t the same as lovin’, child. Once they get a taste for vengeance, and they mix it with love, that anger in them competes with everything good in them. I heard what Cosimo Ricci did to Carmelo, that sweet boy. Broke him inside and out. The men, Matteo and Carmelo, will never forgive it or forget a father’s lesson. They will become their father. It is the way it is. Matteo is now a man who knows violence… It’s the only love language he’s got to give you.”

Debbie shook her head. “Stop saying that.”

“The highs will be so good, you’ll forgive anything. And Matteo will love you, with everything. But it’s the lows, baby, the lows, that drag you so deep into the abyss, and you’ll never be the same. And if he wants you, if this is the day he says it to your face, there is no escaping,” Mama Stewart warned.

Debbie remembered Matteo’s pain and torment over his family. How desperate he was for love. And though she had not planned to initially, she had to reconsider what felt right for her. “You, like my mama and daddy. You’ve been so hurt and disappointed in life, you talk to us like there is no future. Each day, things change for us coming up behind you. Not fast like we want them to, but they change,” Debbie reasoned. “We don’t have to have your curses. We deserve a chance to be different than you.”

Mama Stewart lowered her face in shame. “I’m trying to warn you, silly girl.”

“Matteo is not evil. And I’m not stupid!” Debbie said with the upward toss of her chin.

“I want a room,” Debbie announced in defiance.

“A what?” Mama Stewart’s eyes flashed upward.

“A room, a place for me and Matteo. Tuesday is our day until the end of summer. I can pay. I want us to be able to have a safe place for him to be free, and for me too. We are smarter than Kathy and Melo. We aren’t you and Emilio. We different. We gone be different. He is not his father,” said Debbie. “Right now we friends. We need to be friends without everyone judging us.”

“Rentin’ the room… ain’t for friends.” Mama Stewart sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked shaken from telling her story. It was as if she unearthed a hurt so raw that there was no defense left in her.

“You think Kathy’s the first girl to beg me for a ‘safe place’ and I failed? They all start like you—eyes full of tomorrows. Then the tomorrows come, and then all they can wish for is yesterday.” She gripped Debbie’s shoulders, her voice serious. “You rent a room with him; you trade your mama’s prayers for a man who’llalwayschoose the Family over you. You ready to pay that price?”

Debbie stared into her eyes and swallowed hard. “What if I’m the one who changeshim?”

Mama Stewart’s laugh was bitter. “Honey, I had the same hope for Emilio as I watched him marry another woman, but come to my bed on their wedding night and take me over so hard and good that I had the silly idea I was married to him too. Now I serve pie to the man’s son who killed him. My own boys, brothers I raised to be men have families of their own but act as if I’m dead for becoming his whore. All I can do for penance is help women not be me. Not make the mistakes I did. And if they love a man who they shouldn’t give them a safe place to be free.”

Mama Stewart let her go. She yanked open the door, the diner’s noise rushing in like a tide. “Four dollars a week. Cash. Trouble comes; you’re gone. No tears, no second chances. And no Mama Stewart with a gun to keep your people or his from dragging you out of here. I’m done trying to cure stupid.”

As Mama Stewart left, Debbie turned back to the sink. She caught her reflection again, wide-eyed, lips still burning from Matteo’s kiss. For a heartbeat, she saw Kathy staring back.

“I’m not you,” Debbie whispered. “We just friends. We can be friends and nothing bad happen.”

12

Butts, Mississippi (Six Days Later)

Kathy pushed open the screen door, its familiar creak a welcome sound after a long day. The scent of fried okra and collard greens wafted through the house, mingling with the faint tang of Big Mama’s rosewater perfume.

“Baby, I left you a plate on the stove,” Big Mama called from her room, her voice warm and steady as the runoff from the Mississippi River.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kathy replied, kicking off her dusty shoes by the door. Her feet ached, but her heart was light. Ely had taken her for a drive after work, showing her the progress on the school’s new roof. It was coming along, beam by beam, nail by nail. A small victory, but a victory all the same.

“Oh, and you got a letter from my baby,” Big Mama added. “It’s on the table.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Kathy’s voice lifted with joy. She’d been waiting for this. Debbie’s letters were a lifeline, a thread connecting her to Harlem, to the family, to the world she’d left behind. She hurried to the kitchen, her stomach growling at the sight of the plate Big Mama had saved for her—fried chicken, collards, and a golden square of cornbread. Kathy lifted the tin cover, the aroma rising like a promise. She slid the plate into the oven to warm, then turned to the table.

The letter sat there, crisp and white against the worn wood. Kathy’s fingers trembled as she picked it up. Just holding it made her feel closer to Debbie, to home. She ran her finger under the seal, careful not to tear the paper, and unfolded the pages.

Kathy,

I hope things are getting better for you. I know it’s hard, but you’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know. I’m so proud of you. I miss you so much it hurts sometimes. Your ma and pa are doing okay. They were smiling at each other yesterday. I think your ma’s back with him now, not sleeping in your room anymore. That’s good news, Kathy. What we need is for them to be less angry, for things in Harlem to go back to normal. Then you can come home. Your ma was talking about Christmas, about the gifts she’s planning for you. I think she’s got a plan to get your pa to bring you home. Hold on, Kathy. Just hold on.

Now, I’ve got some sad news. I found out what happened to Carmelo. I know you’ve been waiting months to hear if he was alive, if he was out there trying to find you. A week ago, I took a job with the Italians. I needed the freedom more than the money. It’s hard being watched every time I make a move in Harlem—not just by Uncle Henry’s men, but by everyone. They see your crimes as my crimes, too. With José gone, I needed something to do. Somehow, I convinced them to let me go to Queens and work for the Espositos. That’s where I saw Matteo.

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