Both of her hands had a hold of mine now, just like Sal did the night before, the same terror in her eyes. “Angelo, who is talking to me?”
I told the men staring at me with so much alarm my heart was pounding, immediately reverting to my home language, “She won’t let me go.”
“Don’t try. Talk to her. We need her to remember.”
Had I not been holding a desperate hand who needed me, I would have fallen to the ground. Isabella had lost her memory. No wonder she felt alone.
I looked down at the haunted blue eyes that I was sure were once marvelous, and placed my other hand over her shaky ones. “What does… the person you’re hearing sound like?”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears as her voice softened. “Little girl.”
My gut soured. “What is she… saying to you?”
Isabella closed her eyes and focused. “She is asking… ‘What do you see in the clouds today—” Frustrated, she shook her head and groaned, “I can’t remember!”
My father gestured for me to keep trying, so I asked, “What did you say… in return?”
Still with her eyes slammed shut, Isabella licked her scarred lips that flared out in a dominant manner. “Umm… I said, ‘I see the angel of the night, waiting for the sun to fall, so he can come down to Earth and find his Scarlett and take her away—” She jolted, her eyes snapping open. “Oh no.” She scurried away from me and out of her chair so fast my father and Mr. Rossi had to rush to get out of her way. She backed away, horror owning her face as she grabbed at her chest and stomach. “Scarlett.”
Mr. Giordano came rushing out of the house as fast as his aging body would allow. “What happened?”
Isabella glared at him and sneered, “What happened? You made a deal with the Devil that cost me!” Shockingly, she switched to Italian and raged, “The men who raped me, daily, still have my child!” This broken and tortured woman looked to the sky and screamed, “Scarlett!”
Yes, this woman just remembered… she had a child.
It had taken Isabella Giordano a full year of being off of drugs—as her addiction had been the result of a control tactic—and time to physically heal from all the mistreatment, for her mind to start to return. The coincidence that it was I who helped trigger her first memory would soon be understood to be no coincidence at all.
Due to my father’s successful retrieval of Isabella, he would be leaving again to search for another missing Giordano.
When he informed me that his departure had been requested by Mr. Giordano, he was pale, but he stood with proud shoulders. I wondered why he appeared ill. I wondered what he was about to face in this rescue attempt.
This time, Mr. Rossi was to join him. Apparently, he had previously traveled for years to find Isabella, but returned home due to a loss.
Lying in the dark, I stared at our bedroom ceiling. The moon shone through the window between the beds, almost like a guide for me and Sal to meet in the middle.
I said, “Sal, when you pointed to the Heavens and said ‘he’ chose me to be your best friend, you are not speaking of God, are you?”
Also lying on his back, staring at where I just pointed, his own fingers laced and rested on his chest, Sal solemnly shook his head.
“I would never wish for a soul to wander the Earth, but maybe, since he chose me, he wouldn’t return, knowing I am here.”
The moonlight made it easy to see the tear slip down my best friend’s cheek. His painful whisper was like none I had heard from him before. “My brother.”
My body wanted to fold in half at Sal’s pain. It stabbed me. Sal was the closest person in my life and would always be. I didn’t move. I didn’t show weakness to his grief. I stayed strong. “I will always honor his choice… and be grateful he picked me.”
More tears fell as Sal nodded. His jaw tightened as he made a fist. He pulled it hard to his chest as a silent vow.
I made a fist and hit my chest, too.
In the morning, Sal and I left our bedroom to find both our fathers in the living room with packed bags. My father lifted his chin and locked his hands behind his back as Mr. Rossi approached us.
Mr. Rossi, swallowing, told me the danger he was about to face. “I am leaving you two to be the men of the house.”
Sal and I gasped. This was an enormous honor. So much so that I took a step back, shaking my head. “No, this is your home, Mr. Rossi. This should be Sal’s honor.”
Mr. Rossi smiled at me. His smile grew as his son took a step back, acknowledging that this was my home, too.
As my father had, I lifted my chin, showing I was prepared to take on my adopted family’s trust with the respect it deserved.
Shoulder to shoulder, Sal and I listened to instructions, while in the kitchen, Mrs. Rossi sniffled. I worried for Mr. Rossi’s safety. I assumed my father was safe, that God wouldn’t take him from me, since I had already lost my mother.
After Sal and I promised to abide, my father motioned for us to follow him outside, giving Mr. and Mrs. Rossi some privacy. Before the front door closed all the way, I saw a glimpse of the love they didn’t show often in front of us. I had viewed Mrs. Rossi as a woman in an apron—a mother—a soul guider. I had never seen her as a lover—a woman that a certain man would die without having her in his arms. I had never realized how she wasn’t only valuable to Sal and me. She truly steered the ship—our three lives—into Holy directions. That morning, I realized my mother and Mrs. Rossi had been made of the same cloth. That my aunt had been the same. I realized I had been one of the lucky ones to have had three marvelous women in my life, all with the same goal—to make me into an honest man.
As the door closed, I silently promised to make them all proud.
“Angelo,” said my father, “since we are leaving you with the responsibilities of a man, I will now speak to you as one.”
Feeling as if I was growing leaps and bounds within minutes flat, I replied, “Yes, sir.”
“There is not enough time to explain all that we, Mr. Rossi and I, are going to face, but to sum it up, it is a tragedy, of epic proportions, taking place all around the world. It is the same crime from which we rescued Isabella. There is no guarantee Scarlett is still on this Earth, but we must try.”
Already so concerned for someone I had never met, I nodded. “Do you know who to look for? Do you have any idea how old Scarlett might be?”
“These are all intelligent questions that tell me you will be a great addition to our team.” He exhaled. “Angelo, there may be a ten-year-old little girl out there, somewhere, suffering—” His eyes closed. Once collecting his wits, he continued, “I need your help.”
“Of course! I will pack a bag—”
He beamed with pride. “Thank you, but the places I must witness are not for a child.”
I took offense and leaned back, lowering my voice. “I thought you were speaking to me as a man.”
He dipped his chin. “You are correct. Forgive me for wanting to prevent fuel for your imagination.”
“It is already racing.” It was. I was imagining many things but not what I was about to be told.
“Alright, then here it is. I visit places where I have made contacts, either through the internet or word of mouth, where I can purchase people.”