“Did I what?”
“Did you confess to Father Benedict?”
She frowns. “Of course. He’s the parish priest. What? Why are you both looking at me like that?”
Before either of us can say anything, the door opens and Darla bustles in breathlessly. “Oh, hi, Finch! It’s great to see you sitting up like that! How you doing?” she asks brightly, and then turns to Cee. “The doctor’s coming to give an update on your husband, Mrs. D’Amato, and I thought—”
Celia bursts out of her seat and is halfway to the door before she remembers Bubbles and turns back to Luca.
He shakes his head. “You go. I’ll look after the baby.”
After Darla and Celia leave, Luca stands there staring at the door, absently bouncing on his feet as he soothes the baby.
“Luca,” I say, my voice breaking. It seems to rouse him, and he crosses to the stroller to lay Bubbles down again, tucking her in with gentle hands. “Luca, look at me.”
I almost wish I hadn’t asked him to when he turns around. His face is filled with grief and rage and regret. And I say the same thing to him now that I said last time I was laid up in a hospital room.
“Don’t kill Celia.”
He rubs a hand across his mouth, rasping it over a two-day growth.
“Luca. She didn’t know. And besides…it wasn’t just her.” He raises an eyebrow at that, like he’s asking a question, but can’t trust himself to speak. “I remember now. What happened before the bomb.”
I don’t know how to tell him this, but I have to. He has to know that Frank and Celia are the weak links in this chain of our Family—and our family.
Because the whole thing is becoming clear to me now. Why Sam Fuscone was sitting there with Father Benedict, a man who hears all the secret sins of his parishioners. I never stopped to wonder exactly why Fuscone was there that day. But now I know.
He was there for information.
Information that he could pass on to his Donovan connections, toGus, not Maggie. Because I think what Gus told Frank has the ring of truth to it: Gus wants control. Exactly what his problem with Maggie is, I don’t know, and I don’t really care. But Fuscone is an old-school homophobe and misogynist, and if he had to deal with the Irish, I’ve no doubt he’d prefer to deal with a man.
And so Gus could drop suggestions from Celia’s confessions into casual conversation with Frank, like he knew all about what was going on with the Morellis. Play on Frank’s disgruntled envy, his feelings of displacement, his grudges. Cross-check the little things that Celia might have inferred with all those non-confirming confirmations Frank was giving out…all the hints he would have sprinkled through his drinking sessions.
All the ways Frank and Celia could have unwittingly helped Gus and Fuscone make things difficult for the Morelli Family.
I lay it all out for Luca, even though it feels like I’m betraying my own family to do it. But he has to know.
Andhehas to decide what to do about it.
For maybe the first time, I’m thankful that Luca is the Boss. That I don’t have to take on the responsibility here. Make the choice.
“Don’t,” I say, nevertheless. “I’m telling you, Luca. You can’t…”
He shakes his head. “I know what Ishoulddo. I know what I’d do if it were anyone else. Anyone else at all.”
My ears go cold. “We have bigger problems to deal with first,” I remind him, as though delaying his decision will make it any easier.
Luca nods slowly. “That’s true. We have a number of more immediate concerns.” I feel such a sense of relief I’m glad I have a fricking catheter in. Something glints in the low light and I look to the side, at my wedding ring lying there in a dish. I hold up my hands, still bandaged, and try to clench them under all those wrappings. It hurts.
Luca sees what I’m trying to do and puts his hand on my wrist. “You had some burns on your hands, that’s all. But it’s not as bad as it looks. They’ll take the bandages off tomorrow, and then the ring goes back on.” I nod. “You…still don’t happen to remember where the bomb was?” he asks gently.
“That part’s still blank. Luca, what are we going to do next?”
He looks down at me, eyes like steel. “Why, we’re going to carry on Howard Donovan’s legacy. We’re going to cut out the rot. Remove the Donovan clan as players inourgame for once and for all. But to do that…”
I wait, uncertain.
“To do that, I’ll need to swallow my pride. Seek help.”
