chapter fourteen
Lucia shivered in the cool air of the church, the dimly lit interior forcing her eyes to adjust. Stopping right in front of the holy water font, she gently dipped her finger in and crossed her forehead. She blanketed all of her emotions and feelings in a thick layer of numbness. She did not want to feel this way. She didn’t want to feel anything. She didn’t want her pain to rise to the surface and bubble over, spilling on everyone she loved. She didn’t want it to affect Nonna, JJ, or even Noah. Despite how angry she was with him, if she didn’t do something soon, she was going to combust.
Last night, she’d slept fitfully and agonized over the day to come. It was the anniversary of her brother’s death, six long years since his murder. How fitting that last night she’d remembered more of that ill-fated day than ever before.
She could recall being happy at Coney Island, eating hot dogs and riding fair rides. She had consumed more funnel cake than any human being should. Her brother had teased her, laughed with her, and won prizes for her. It was a perfect day until everything changed.
She’d gone to the bathroom, and in the span of time it took to wash the powdered sugar from her fingertips, she had washed away weeks of a happy and lighthearted mood. From the moment she’d returned to his side, Rafe’s demeanor had gone dark, dour, and desperate. He’d been frantic to leave, frantic to get somewhere else. He’d begun to talk so quickly that Lucia couldn’t understand him.
He’d been full of anger and what looked a lot like fear. The whole time in the car, he’d apologized. Kept saying how sorry he was. She knew his worried look, firm brow, the restless tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel.
Rafe only fidgeted that way when he was nervous. He’d been worried about something and Lucia didn’t like it. Something had been wrong. She remembered Rafe giving her a gun. The gunshots. Her brother going down. The weight of the gun in her hand as she pulled the trigger. But when she tried to remember the face of the man she shot…nothing. Nothing but a dark, empty hole in her heart and memory. It haunted her. From the moment she’d fired that gun, her next clearest memory was of herself wrapped in blankets the next morning.
She’d woken on the couch in excruciating pain, her muscles so cramped that she hadn’t been able to move them. Then Nonna told her Rafe had died the day before.
Her grandmother hadn’t told her what had happened or how she’d gotten home though. Months later, based on what others had asked her and what the Feds had told her family, she’d realized that her brother had taken her somewhere that warm summer afternoon and had then been shot.
The police had found her in the Hamptons, several miles from the location, huddled under a payphone that she had used to call for help. They’d found her frightened, shaken, and in shock, and they had taken her home. She’d been covered in blood.
Lucia crossed over to the vestibule where the lit candles were. All lit in prayer for the sick, the lost, for those not yet born. She automatically put her stick in the flames and picked a non-burning candle to light. She whispered a quick prayer to a God she wasn’t sure she believed in anymore. At the very least, a God she could no longer trust. After all, he had taken her brother.
In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Noah hovering in the doorway, shadows covering his face, as if he were afraid to step forward. Yeah, he better be afraid. She was still angry with him because of the things he’d kept from her and the interference in her life. And damn it, she could tell he was hiding something even now. The way he had been so frantic when he picked her up from Nonna’s yesterday. Normally, she would have poked, prodded, and teased him until his mood improved. This time, their relationship hung in the balance. It was time for him to apologize, and she wasn’t going to let it go until he did.
Nonna brushed her hand on Lucia’s shoulder. Lucia could see her lips moving in silent prayer. She looked at her grandmother and Lucia knew she had been wrong. Wrong to let Rafe go, wrong to stop digging.
She had been trying to do what was right, to do what everyone had encouraged her to do daily. Nonna, Rafe, even the guys at Blake Security were always pestering her about her job, her love life, and her future. What did she want to do next? As if they were attempting to fill her life with so many things that she had no time to dig into Rafe’s or what had happened to him. It would be wrong to let it go. It would haunt her forever until she found out the truth.
With her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder, she turned her attention back to the candles.
“Go on, tell me, Lucia. What did he do now?”
Lucia turned to Nonna. “What do you mean?”
Her grandmother rolled her eyes. “I have been watching the two of you bicker and squabble since you were a kid. Normally, you argue, work it out, then minutes later you two are laughing like loons. This looks serious. Yesterday, today, the look in your eyes…it’s not annoyance or irritation, it’s hurt. You look hurt baby.”
Lucia didn’t want to get into it. Not here anyway. Not when her heart should be filled with questions about her brother, not when she should be focused on her fury at what happened.
“Just the usual, overprotective nonsense,” she replied.
For a moment her grandmother was still, quiet, then she softly said, “You could do worse than him, Lucia. I know I’ve been pushing you to find a nice Italian boy. One who would take you on trips far from New York. One that would give you other things to think about like babies and travel. Take you to a vacation house in Hawaii. I’ve been wrong about that. Maybe Noah Blake is the kind of man you need.”
Lucia turned to face her grandmother. “What are you talking about? I don’t need Noah. I’m twenty-one years old. I don’t need a man. I’m not trying to find love or settle down. This is my life; I’ll figure it out.”
Nonna nodded and squeezed her hand, “Well in that case, there are worse men to figure things out with. Besides, he’s the kind of man who’ll protect you.” Nonna shook her head. “I used to think he had too many shadows, that he was too much like your brother. Now I realize he’s exactly the kind of man you need. Nice Italian boys like Antonio won’t know what to do when the real trouble comes calling. Noah is the thing that trouble fears. He’s the kind of man that would give his life to protect yours. He’s good for you, and the two of you need to work out whatever you’ve got going on.”
Lucia turned back to the candles. “It’s not that easy. You can’t trust someone who does nothing but lie to you all the time.”
Her grandmother’s voice was soft when she spoke. “You can’t always see it, but sometimes those lies are really there to protect you.”
Noah stayed on the periphery of the entryway. He was neither inside, nor outside. Today being Sunday, most of the guys were off. But Noah had asked for a little extra help, just in case. Ryan and Dylan were out front; Ryan was posted at the front door. Dylan stayed in the car, watching the entrance, acting as surveillance.
Jonas was inside, sitting in the front corner, observing everyone that came in. Oskar was standing near the middle pew, his shrewd eyes watching everything, especially Lucia.
Noah was no stranger to Catholic mass. When Rafe was still alive, he’d occasionally dragged him along to Sunday mass with Lucia and Nonna. Noah hadn’t minded so much back then, especially since a big Sunday dinner came with Sunday mass, and he’d been a growing boy with no family. So he’d figured he could survive church for a morning or two.
Even before then, he hadn’t been completely unfamiliar with Catholic practices. A few of his foster parents had tried to incorporate the church into his life. The problem was just that he was bad to the core. None of the teachings had stuck.
As Noah shifted, standing just to the right of the holy water font, his eyes pinned on the one woman he shouldn’t want.
Father Patrick Haney slid up to him. “Noah.”
“Hey, Padre.” He nodded.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here. You came more often when you were younger.”
Noah rolled his shoulders. “The Padre” made him nervous. He worried that given his profession, the old man could see straight to his soul.
“Yes, well, that was before Rafe,” Noah responded.
The Padre nodded silently. “Yes, but just remember, with or without Rafe here, your soul is up to you.”
“There you go again, assuming I have one to save.”
The father smiled, his cheeks pushing his eyes up until they crinkled into little slits. “Even the darkest of us have some good. Just like the best of us have some dark.”
Noah watched as patron after patron walked up to the holy water and crossed themselves. One little boy pushed both his hands inside, then shook the water off. Noah swore that he felt a droplet hit his hand and it had warmed his skin. As if holy water knew who it was dealing with.
“Hey Padre, what does it mean when holy water burns your skin?” He stared down at his hand. “I’m, uh, asking for a friend.”
Noah was only half-kidding, but the old priest turned his knowing eyes onto him. “It means you’re being healed.”
Noah could only watch in disbelief as the padre marched away from him to speak with Lucia and Nonna. That old priest must be crazy, he thought. Nothing was capable of healing Noah. He knew what he was.
What had happened at the FBI office yesterday had shaken him. He’d put Matthias in that situation, and it didn't sit well with him. He was supposed to be protecting the kid, not exposing him to threats.
Last night, Noah had tossed and turned on Lucia’s couch as he dreaded today, the guilt eating at what was left of his conscience.
And of course the tension with Lucia was killing him. She still wasn’t talking to him, and it made for sleepless nights and nightmares he couldn’t shake.
Nightmares of an idealistic kid and the family that he had torn apart forever. No one knew the padre was 100% wrong. There was no healing for him. There was no redemption, only duty. Once Lucia was safe, he had to stay the hell away from her because everything he touched turned to ash.