Page 47 of Broken Rules
Her grandmother beamed. “You can call me Nonna.”
Damien clasped the old woman’s offered hand.
Nonna tugged on him. “Come down here so I can see you properly.”
Damien leaned over, bringing his face closer to the old woman’s.
A smiled played at her lips as she scrutinized him. “You remind me of someone.” Her gnarled hand cupped his cheek. “It’s in your eyes.”
“Who?” Savannah asked.
“I can’t think of who,” Nonna said before waving her hand dismissively. “Let’s have some ice cream.” She held out her arms to Savannah. Having shrunk to below five feet and never having weighed more than a hundred pounds in her life, Savannah scooped Nonna in her arms, carried her over to her dining table, and placed her in one of the cushioned, high-backed chairs. Then she headed into the small galley kitchen and grabbed the gallon of pecan and caramel praline ice cream from the freezer and scooped out three servings. When she stepped back into the dining room, Nonna was scrutinizing Damien’s palm.
“Nonna has psychic abilities. She read palms during the depression to earn extra money,” Savannah explained, flashing Damien a thank you-for-humoring-my-grandmother smile.
“What do you do for a living?” Nonna asked absently while she traced the lines on Damien’s palm.
He raised his brows in question to Savannah.
“Go ahead,” Savannah said, knowing that in the morning Nonna would forget ever meeting him.
“I’m a thief-for-hire,” he said simply.
“That explains why I see so much shadow.” She trailed her thumb across his palm, but then she gasped and slammed her other hand on the table. “Sister Maria’s favorite pupil! That’s who you remind me of. She showed me his picture once. You have the same eyes.”
“Sister Maria?” Savannah asked. “I don’t remember ever meeting her.”
“Well, if you hadn’t stopped going to church when you were twelve, you might have,” Nonna scolded before continuing, “She led the church choir on Sundays, but she was also a teacher at the children’s home in town.”
Damien cleared his throat, drawing both their gazes. But his eyes did not lock with Savannah’s. It was her nonna’s gaze that he held.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Nonna asked softly.
He nodded.
“What?” Savannah exclaimed.
“I lived in a children’s home not far from here,” he answered.
Nonna smiled. “Sister Maria spoke of you often. She adored you.” But then a soft gasp fled Nonna’s lips. “Oh my, I remember she told me that you had been abandoned at birth.” Her brow furrowed, creasing her forehead. “You were thrown away.”
“What?” Savannah gasped.
Damien’s face showed no emotion as he nodded. “I was discarded in a dumpster and saved by a homeless man who heard me crying.”
Tears stung Savannah’s eyes. “You...you said were abandoned, but I never thought...” her voice trailed off. She couldn’t say the words out loud. Her mind was racing and her heart breaking. She met Damien’s gaze. “You were thrown away.” Tears rushed down her cheeks.
He gently squeezed her hand to comfort her. “I told you I was abandoned as a child.”
“I know, but I had assumed you were left on a doorstep or something.”
“Tears cannot undo the past, Savannah,” Nonna told her as she continued to inspect his palm. “You grew into a strong man, educated, well-traveled.” Then her smile faltered. “You’ve risen out of shadow but you’re still afraid of the light.” Her voice trembled. “You’re broken, aren’t you?”
He reached across the table with his free hand and patted Nonna’s arm soothingly. “You can’t break what was never whole.”
Savannah wanted to go to him, to pull him into her arms and hold him as if he were still that abandoned child, but he wasn’t that child anymore. His emotionless face told her that he didn’t need her comfort, nor did she want to upset Nonna by causing a scene. She choked back her tears before asking Damien, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He was waiting for you to remember,” Nonna said knowingly. Then she said to Damien. “Sister Maria told me the story about you and the little girl. That was Savannah, wasn’t it?”
