She stroked my hair like she had done when I was a little girl then she opened her hand, presenting a half-moon-shaped, white-gold ear climber studded with diamonds.
My eyes widened. “It’s beautiful.” I gingerly touched my ear. It was still tender but I avoided touching it.
“Until you decide to have it fixed, you can cover it with beautiful jewelry.”
I picked up the earpiece. “I don’t think I’ll get it fixed. It’s a good reminder that I shouldn’t take anything for granted.” I held up the ear climber. “Can you help me put it on?”
I still hadn’t looked at the wound but I would have to if I put it on by myself.
Mom scooted closer, then very gently attached the earpiece to my ear. I bit back a wince as the jewelry touched my still tender ear. “It’s a good thing that you have more holes in your ear.”
I laughed. I still remembered how Dad had disapproved of me getting my ear pierced, but I always only wore elegant small diamonds so he made peace with it eventually.
“How does it look?” I asked.
Mom beamed. “Absolutely stunning. Go, see for yourself.”
I climbed out of bed and checked out my reflection. The earpiece perfectly covered up my missing earlobe. I touched it and smiled. This way I could keep the reminder but choose when I wanted to present it to the world.
I turned to Mom. “How did you get this done so quickly? Please don’t tell me Dad threatened every jeweler in New York last night to get it as soon as possible.”
Mom giggled. “No, no. I actually started looking for an earpiece like that when… when we found out that your ear got hurt.” She made it sound as if I’d had an accident that cost me my earlobe, and not that vengeful bikers had cut it off and sent it to my family. “But your dad would have threatened them all for you if necessary. He’d do anything for us.”
“I know,” I said. “I don’t blame him, you know. Please don’t tell me you and Dad fought because of me.”
Mom got up and came over to me. She touched my cheek. “I was terrified for you. And your dad blamed himself. I could see how much he hated himself for it. But I didn’t fight with him. We’re all part of this world. Your dad tries to protect us from it to the best of his abilities.”
“I always knew he’d save me. I never doubted it.”
“He barely slept. He and every soldier in his command searched for you day and night.”
Tears shot into my eyes but I didn’t allow them to fall. I didn’t like to cry, not even in front of Mom.
Mom, too, fought tears. She touched my arm. “Your dad said one of the bikers revealed the clubhouse whereabouts to him.”
I nodded. “Maddox.”
Silence spread between us as Mom searched my eyes. My voice had been off, even I could tell. I cleared my throat. “He and I got closer during my captivity.”
Mom didn’t show her shock if she felt any. It felt good to tell her. If anyone would understand then it was her. Mom believed in love against all odds, in true love. She’d taught me to believe in it as well. I’d clung to Giovanni, desperately hoping what we had would magically turn into the kind of all-consuming love Mom and Dad lived before my eyes every day.
I feared I’d now found it: the kind of love that left you breathless, that hurt almost as much as it made you feel good. It was a love I wasn’t sure I should pursue.
“Oh Marci,” Mom said, as if she could see all my thoughts.
“I wanted to use him so he’d help me escape and he basically did…”
“But you fell for him?”
Falling in love. I’d never really understood the term—as if love was something as inevitable as the force of gravity. As if it grabbed you and dragged you down with it. With Giovanni, it had been a logical choice. But what Maddox and I had defied logic. It went against everything he and I had believed in. It went against reason, against my family’s beliefs.
“Dad would never allow it. Not with a biker. Not after what Maddox did.”
Mom tilted her head in consideration. “I think the latter is the bigger problem. What about you? Can you forgive Maddox for what he did? For kidnapping you? For allowing others to hurt you?”
It was a question I’d often asked myself, already during my captivity and all the more in the hours since my escape. My heart and mind were at odds. I didn’t want to forgive him, but my heart already had. But I wasn’t someone who acted on impulse. I thought things through, weighed the pros against the cons.
Love didn’t work that way. But if Maddox’s love for me, or my love for him was toxic, I’d rather find the antidote as quickly as possible.