“No.”

“Hm.”

“Doctor. I’ve never been down there. Those cells? What are they for?”

“You don’t have to concern yourself with that.” He removes the stethoscope from my chest, then his ears. “My concern is that these marks are fresh. Massimo is the only man with the right to punish you, and he’s been in your father’s office for hours.”

He must mean the office in the rectory, not the one in the apartment.

“It’s his office now.”

“True, true. Who took you down there?”

His eyes go over my head as the door opens. I turn in my seat to see Sergio in the doorway.

“What’s the hold up, doc?”

I’m on my feet before he’s even done. Dr. Palmeri clears his throat, ending in a hm that one might utter if they correctly predicted the weather. He gets off his stool and crosses to stand between Sergio and me.

“Mr. Agosti,” the doctor says.

“Doc.”

“Was it you who took Sarah down to see him?”

“Yeah. Massimo and I agreed on it. There some kind of problem?” Sergio further veils a veiled threat in casual humor.

“You’re not one of us.”

“That’s what you all keep telling me.” He brushes his hair back. “Give it time.”

The doctor lets out a quiet hm and removes his stethoscope before speaking.

“This woman is Sarah Colonia. She is the first daughter. She is untouchable. You handle her like that again and I swear by the Holy Mother of God, everyone will know it. I won’t have to kill you myself. You’ll be dead where you stand.”

Dr. Palmeri has never stood between a woman and the source of her injury. It’s shocking.

Sergio seems as caught by surprise as I am, huffing and looking at me, then the doctor. “So the Colonias never rough up their wives? That’s not what I hear. Just saying.”

“She’s not your wife. You’d do well to remember that the next time you think about laying a hand on her.”

Now I understand why the doctor is speaking so forcefully about something he’s been silent on before. Agosti isn’t one of us—not by birth or marriage. Either one would give him the right to do whatever he wanted.

Sergio smirks, then slaps the doctor on the bicep. “Got you loud and clear, doc. Loud and clear.” He turns to me. “Sugarcakepop? Let’s roll. You’re late.”

“I’ll escort her,” the doctor says.

“Honestly?” I try to stay meek and compliant while defending my competence. “You gentlemen are busy. I’ve been going to sewing circle since I was four. I can get there myself.”

I don’t wait for them to agree.

I’m passing the church kitchen when I hear my name.

“Sarah!”

I’m attacked by one hundred and twenty pounds of flesh and bone traveling at the speed of friendship.

“Denise.” I put my arms around her. She’s wearing a mourning dress for my father.

“I’m so happy you’re back.” She doesn’t let go, rocking me back and forth.