Page 37 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

TRAINS TO NOWHERE

T he segregated train station felt gloomy and claustrophobic now that she was about to leave.

The "COLORED ONLY" signs seemed to loom larger, more menacing, as if the very walls knew she was about to cross back into a world that would never accept her love.

Carmine had paid the Negro porter handsomely to handle her luggage and ensure she received respectful treatment during the long journey ahead.

Here, Carmelo couldn't touch her, couldn't even stand too close. They weren't in Tremé among the Creoles who made their own rules, or in the Quarter under Sicilian protection. This was the Deep South, pure and unforgiving.

So he stood rigid beside Caesar, his hands clenched at his sides, dark eyes drinking in every detail of her face as if trying to memorize her for the lonely months ahead.

"Let me look at you one last time, ma chère ," Janey said, fussing over Kathy's appearance with maternal precision.

She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her traveling dress and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

"Now you call me the moment you're home safe.

We'll talk once a week—call collect, I can afford it. You hear me?"

Kathy's gaze drifted to Carmelo, her eyes already brimming with unshed tears. "I hear you, Auntie. And please watch over Willa. I'm terrified for her."

"I will, chère . Trust me. Might even bring her to Butt's myself for a visit," Janey said with forced lightness.

They both knew it was a beautiful lie. Willa was lost to them now, claimed by forces beyond their control. Just as fate had claimed Kathy's heart and given it to a man she could only love in stolen moments.

Desperation seized her—she started to move toward Carmelo, ready to defy the entire segregated South and throw her arms around his neck. But Janey must have recognized the rebellion building in her niece because she stepped swiftly between them, blocking her path.

"Get on that train right now, Kathy," Janey commanded, her voice carrying the steel of a woman who'd survived worse separations. "You don't want this kind of trouble. You had your time with him. You'll have it again. I’ll make sure of it.”

The tears came then, hot and bitter. When she dared look at Carmelo, she saw Caesar's restraining hand on his arm, holding him back with the strength of brotherhood and hard wisdom. Both stood on the knife's edge of breaking, their love and frustration radiating across the platform like heat waves.

She accepted her small traveling bag from Janey with trembling fingers and walked toward the rear of the train where the "COLORED" car waited. As she stepped up onto the metal block and climbed the narrow steps, she turned one final time to see her champion.

Carmelo stood there with tears of repressed rage and lost love gleaming in his dark eyes, his powerful frame still bearing the evidence of his recent battle. Despite his injuries, despite everything keeping them apart, he gave her a slight nod—a promise wrapped in sorrow.

In one act of defiance against the world that would tear them apart, she pressed her fingertips to her lips and blew him the kiss she couldn't give in person before disappearing into the segregated car.

She found the only window seat where she could still see them on the platform.

Carmelo walked along the length of the train until he spotted her face in the glass, and despite his chipped ribs and battered body, he stood tall through sheer force of will and love.

His smile was brilliant and heartbreaking.

She smiled back through her tears and pressed her palm flat against the warm window as the locomotive's horn bellowed its mournful song.

The great wheels began their slow, steady churn, and she watched helplessly as Carmelo, Caesar, Janey, and Carmine grew smaller and smaller until they were nothing but memories disappearing into the Louisiana heat.

The train carried her away from everything that mattered, back toward a life that suddenly felt like a beautiful prison she'd built around herself. But his smile lingered in the glass, and his love traveled with her.

"Need anything, Champ?" Caesar asked, settling into the plush velvet seat beside Carmelo, who had claimed the window seat overlooking the platform where they'd just left everything that mattered.

In the whites-only luxury car, they were grudgingly accepted despite their thick Brooklyn-Italian accents—Carmelo's newfound celebrity opened doors that would have remained sealed to two Italian boys from Queens just weeks before.

"How long is the ride back?" Carmelo asked, not really caring about the answer. The men who'd accompanied them to New Orleans had departed immediately after the fight, but Carmelo's hospitalization and slow recovery had delayed their own departure.

"Day and a half, maybe less. No transfers—straight shot home," Caesar said, adjusting his position in the comfortable seat. He pulled his fedora down to cover half his face, preparing for sleep.

"You talk to Matteo while I was laid up?" Carmelo asked. Bedridden for days, he'd been unable to speak with his brother directly, though he'd been informed that Debbie had given birth the very night of his victory. Another Ricci soldier had entered the family.

"Nah. He's hovering over Debbie like she might disappear if he blinks," Caesar mumbled from beneath his hat.

"Hovering... or loving?" Carmelo's voice carried a note of understanding.

Caesar lifted the brim of his hat, studying his friend's profile. "Melo. Can I say something you probably won't want to hear?"

Carmelo didn't respond, which Caesar took as reluctant permission.

"Forgive me if I'm stepping out of line here.

I know what you and Kathy have—I've seen it with my own eyes.

It's real, it's powerful. But you took sacred vows, compare .

Maria is a good girl, a decent woman. She adores you, tries to be the wife you promised to cherish.

Why not give her a real chance? Why not give yourself permission to find happiness in the life you actually have instead of the one you can't?"

Carmelo's gaze shifted slowly from the window to Caesar, his dark eyes carrying a warning that could freeze blood. "Never speak to me about Kathy and Maria in the same breath again. Ever."

Caesar raised both hands in surrender and gave a respectful nod. "Understood, fratello . My apologies." He repositioned his hat over his face and settled back into silence.

Carmelo forced himself to breathe, to coil the sudden rage back inside where it belonged.

But the damage was done—Caesar's words had slammed him back into the cold reality waiting in New York.

Maria. His wife. The woman who shared his name and his bed and deserved so much better than the shell of a man who returned to her and slept on the floor each night.

Carrying another woman's love in his heart like a sacred wound.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool window glass, watching the Louisiana countryside blur past in a green smear of everything he was leaving behind.

The weight of his choices pressed in, and for the first time since the train pulled away from the station, he allowed himself to truly hate what he'd done for dear Madre .

Seven Months Earlier

Carmelo:

[Kneeling in shadow, voice graveled with exhaustion]

"Forgive me, Padre… I have sinned. Two weeks since my last confession."

Padre Vicente:

[Behind the confessional screen, weary but alert]

"The Lord awaits your contrition, figlio mio . Speak."

Carmelo:

"I… I married a woman. Her name is Maria. Ah, Maria Romero. Last month at St. Michael's. Full Nuptial Mass, white dress, my father's soldiers stood as witnesses."

Padre Vicente:

[Sharp intake of breath]

" Matrimonio ? But your last confession spoke of Kathy—the girl in Harlem, who you lost for love?—"

Carmelo:

[Fist striking softly against the wooden partition]

"My mother. You know what happened to her. It was her final letter, her dying wish. Made me swear on her very soul, Padre. Said marry Maria or watch Kathy die. Said it was the only way to lift the black death order my father put on her family."

Padre Vicente:

" Dio misericordioso. You bound yourself sacramentally to save another's life?"

Carmelo:

"I bound myself to a lie. Maria sleeps in our marriage bed while I take the floor like a dog.

I wait until her breathing grows deep and steady, then slip in beside her—but I never touch her.

Can't touch her. Kathy owns my heart, every beat of it.

Maria? She's a deal between my father and me.

A sacrilege born from my mother's death. "

Padre Vicente:

[Voice tightening with concern]

"The Church recognizes no half-marriages, Carmelo. You stood before God's altar and exchanged sacred vows. The Sacrament binds you completely?—"

Carmelo:

[Cutting in desperately]

"I've been married before! To Kathy! We exchanged vows!"

Padre Vicente:

[Voice gentling]

"Not before God's Church, figlio ."

Carmelo:

[Voice breaking]

"We prayed together! We meant every word! A judge signed our certificate—it's legal!"

Padre Vicente:

[Steady, pastoral tone]

"A man of questionable character signed papers. God and His Church were nowhere present in that ceremony."

Carmelo:

[Raw with emotion]

"Do vows count when your heart is buried six feet under with your mother?

Huh! When you say ' I do ' but mean ' I must do it’?

Kathy doesn't even know about Maria. If she learns the truth, she'd think I betrayed everything we promised each other.

And maybe I did— Dio santo , maybe I did—but I had no choice. "

Padre Vicente: [

Long pause, rosary beads clicking softly]

"You seek… annulment?"

Carmelo:

"Can you annul a gun held to your head? My mother's soul, my father's blood on my hands? I want out, Padre. But what does God see? A married man honoring his vows? Or a sinner who damned one woman to save another?"