J. Darhower - Sempre - Redemption

The girl was tough as nails. If you asked her dad, he would say she came into the world screaming and hadn’t shut up since.

Usually bold and unrestrained, Maura was uncharacteristically quiet as she stood in front of her mama in the yard.

Reaching over, her mom grabbed Maura’s hands and pried her fists open, surveying the bloody scrapes. Wordlessly, she led her into the house, taking her straight to the kitchen and sitting her on the counter beside the sink.

“You know better than to run off like that,” she said quietly, washing out her daughter’s wounds. “We have to know where you are at all times.”

“I forgot,” she said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know, but you have to remember.” Her mama paused, sighing. “It’s not safe otherwise.”

Not safe seemed to be her parents’ favorite thing to say.

“I’m sorry. Really, really, really sorry.” Maura stared at her with wide eyes. “Really, Mama.”

A smiled tugged her lips. “I believe you, sweetheart.”

A throat cleared behind them. Her dad stood just inside the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t know if I believe you. You didn’t throw in enough ‘reallys.’”

“Really, Daddy!” Maura said, nodding so furiously she nearly knocked herself off the counter. “Really, really, times twenty-nine hundred thousand million.”

“And how many is that?”

Maura opened her mouth to reply but only offered silence. She looked to her mama after a moment for an answer. “Mama?”

She laughed. “It’s a lot.”

“A lot,” Maura agreed, turning back to her dad. “It’s a lot, Daddy.”

Her mama excused herself as her dad strolled over to the counter, stopping in front of Maura. She gazed at him with her big green eyes, hesitance with a tinge of fear lurking in them.

She thought she was in trouble.

“You know, you scared your mother,” he said. “She hates it when she can’t see you. She’s afraid you’ll go missing.”

“Forever?” Maura asked. “Like those other people Mama talks about that no one sees?”

He nodded. “She’s scared you’ll disappear.”

Maura stared at him, her forehead scrunched up as she processed his words. “Where would I go if I disappear?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “You’d just be gone.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to see you and Mama?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t wanna disappear, Daddy.”

He chuckled. “We don’t want you to, either.”

“But why do people?” she asked. “Why does anyone disappear? Why don’t we find them?”

“They’re hidden,” he said. “Sometimes it’s forever, but sometimes, after a few years, someone finally sees them and makes it their mission to save them.”

“Like Mama!” she declared, her face lighting up as she put together the pieces. “Grammy Maura saved Mama, right? That’s what you say!”

“Right,” he said. “And before that, your grandfather saved your grandmother.”

Her bright expression dulled a bit. “But then they disappeared again.”

“They died,” he said. “That’s different. We know where they are.”

“Where?”

He sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t know. Heaven, I guess? But they’re still with us, too. That’s what I meant. We carry them around in our hearts.”

“Are they with Grammy Miranda?”

“Yes. They’re all together up in Heaven, doing whatever the fuck people do there.”

Maura’s eyes widened as her mouth formed an ‘o’ in shock. “You owe money for the swear jar! Four quarters!”

His brow furrowed. “How do you figure?”

“You just said a swear! And outside you said two swears! Four quarters!”

“Bullshit,” he said. “That’s only three.”

Maura smiled, whispering, “That was four, Daddy.”

He grabbed her when he realized she had tricked him, tickling her sides. Giggles erupted from her, filling the kitchen with the sound of carefree, childish laughter. She grasped at his hands, kicking her small feet, and nearly nailed him in the crotch. He clutched her tightly, pulling her off the counter and swinging her around in a circle before setting her on her feet.

Taking her small hand in his, he led her outside and pulled her over toward the giant tree at the corner of the house. “Your mother used to climb this tree, you know.”

Her eyes widened. “No way!”

“Yep,” he said. “She climbed it like a champ.”

He picked Maura up, pushing her toward the tree. She grasped the closest branch and pulled herself up, wiggling out of his arms. She climbed up onto it, fearlessly scaling it, and sat down against the thick trunk a few branches away. Her dad stood just below her, watching and waiting, but giving her enough space to explore on her own.

Fireflies flickered in the yard as the sky darkened. She reached out and caught one of the bugs, giggling.

“Daddy, maybe it is the same,” she said, letting the bug go. “Maybe the people who disappear are just like Grammy Maura and Grammy Miranda and Papa Vincent. If I disappeared, I’d still be in your heart like them, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s the same.”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “They’re gone, and I know that. I know they’re never coming back. But your place is right here with your mother and me. Don’t you ever forget that. If you disappeared, I’d tear the fucking world apart until I found you again.”

Maura stared down at him inquisitively, pondering his words. She seemed satisfied after a moment and started to climb again, peering down at him after settling on another branch.

“Five now, Daddy,” she said. “That was five swears.”

To my mama, who looked at me after finishing Sempre , a serious glint in her eyes, and said, “Corrado Moretti better not be dead.” This book (especially the opening line) is dedicated to you. I only wish you were still here with us so you could read it. I miss you.

How do you adequately thank the people who have so greatly impacted your life? I’d buy you all a round of shots if I could (Grey Goose, of course. Carmine would insist on it.). This wouldn’t be possible without YOU, the readers. Out of all the books in the world, I’m extremely grateful that you took a chance picking up mine.

My family is extraordinary, every single one of them. To my spawn for being so well behaved and understanding; to my father for his constant support and enthusiasm; to my brother and his family for always being there for me; to my aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, who I like to pretend don’t read the sex scenes. I love you all.

So many people have been here from the beginning of this journey, notably Traci Blackwood, who tirelessly went through my words again and again, enduring characters wearing invisible watches and standing still as statues. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. To Sarah Anderson, who spends countless hours in writing sessions with me and somehow manages to make sense of my ‘wonky finger syndrome’ when I wish her “Good Loki” instead of “Good Luck” (eh, it works . . . #TeamLoki).

To all of my Twitter and fandom friends, both old and new, who tolerate my incessant rambling and error-ridden postings. It would take me forever to name you all, but you know who you are. You guys see me at my rawest and still stick around. You should be sainted (or maybe committed, I’m not entirely sure). Never let anyone belittle what you love. Read books, write fan fiction, camp out at premieres, and attend cons. Do what makes YOU happy, no matter what others may say. Your passion should never be a source of embarrassment. Fly your fangirl flag with pride. Life is too short for all the negativity.