“Frank didn’t want you to know he was here. Um. The first time, when he got shot. We were trying to keep you safe.”
“Don’t you think Iknowthat? I hate myself that I’m so angry about it. But I’ve had no one I could talk to this whole time, and even Father Benedict has been suspended from Our Lady and no one will tell mewhy—” She breaks off, taking deep breaths in an effort to hold off another batch of tears and fanning her hands at her face.
That’s news about Father B. I’m about to tell her that the guy was an asshole who didn’t care if my brains got splattered as long as it wasn’t in his office, when the door opens and Luca comes in holding two vending machine cups of what I know is revoltingly weak coffee.
The look of relief on his face when he sees me struggling to sit up almost makes me collapse back on the bed again.
He sets the coffees down, comes straight to me to hug me, kiss me on the forehead, and cups his hands around my face. “You are never, ever, going anywhere without me ever again. You hear me?”
He’s only half-kidding.
“You can’t keep me locked away in a box my whole life,” I murmur into his mouth as he kisses me gently. Another second and we might have to make Celia face the wall or something. But Bubbles is starting to fuss again, so at least her attention is distracted.
“Icankeep you safe, though,” he says. “And after all that shit with Father Benedict—”
“What?” Celia says, looking over from where she’s picking up Bubbles again. “What about Father Benedict?”
Luca sighs. “We’ll tell you all about it later.”
But something’s working around in my head. Something about Father Benedict. And Sam Fuscone.
And Celia.
“Why can’t you tell me now?” she demands, and Bubbles starts crying for real. “She just won’t settle,” Celia says, and her eyes well up again. “Like she knows her Daddy’s in danger.”
Luca crosses to her and takes the baby. “Sit down and drink that,” he tells Celia, nodding at one of the coffees. “Lots of cream and sugar.” He fishes in his pocket with the hand not holding a baby, and pulls out a clean handkerchief. “Here, Cee,” he says gently.
Celia wipes her face and blows her nose while Luca, his eyes on me the whole time, cajoles the baby into happy silence. He reaches with one hand to grab some fresh Kleenex and cleans my face for me, too.
“Do you remember what happened, angel?” he asks once Bubbles is quiet again.
“Not really. It’s still fuzzy.”
“The guards said you called Hudson in right before the bomb went off. Do you remember why?”
I shake my head. There are pieces, fragments of memory, Frank was so angry, but so was Marco…so wasI…but I can’t piece it together.
“The bomb?” Luca tries. “Where was it?”
I think hard. All I get is a feeling.Panic. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”
“Never mind. What’s done is done. And I’m glad you’re awake again, baby bird. It felt unnatural to see you lying therenottalking.” He smiles so I know he’s only kidding. But I can’t smile back.
“Marco,” I say, and my eyes sting again.
Luca’s own eyes get suspiciously watery then, but he buries his nose in Bubbles’ cotton-candy puff of hair and closes his eyes for a moment. “I will remember his sacrifice for the rest of my life. And I won’t let it go unavenged. Shh-shh,” he adds, as the baby mewls.
I lie there, half-conscious, watching, feeling soothed just like Bubbles is by Luca’s voice.
I hope Brother Frank will be alright. Celia will stick by him no matter what, but it’ll be tough for her with a young baby if her husband can’t help out. Like Aidan O’Leary said, we’ll have to watch out for Cee’s mental health. I’ll have to be a better friend to her, let her dump her shit on me when she needs. My mind wanders to what Cee said just before.No one I could talk to…Father Benedict…
And then I remember shards of the conversation with Frank. Uncle Gus. The Irish. Frank giving away information that it seemed like Gus already knew…
“Celia.”
She looks up from her handkerchief. “What?”
“Did you…”
