Unforgotten

by Kristen Heitzmann

  Definite strain in her forehead. The letter shook. He clasped her withered hand. “Stay with me, Nonna.”

  But her tears came. He slipped the letter free and put it with the envelopes into the box. He took it out of her lap, leaving her personal things beside her, though she seemed to have forgotten them altogether. Her trembling lips worked, and she whispered, “Marco,” with such confusion and despair it gripped his heart.

  Why were they doing this? What was the point? Did God delight in bringing His creatures low? Angry, Lance jerked his chin up. No more strokes, no more shocks, no more pain, Lord. Your burden is not light. Couldn’t He see it was crushing her? I’m taking this yoke. Lay it on me and give Nonna peace.

  Again, he felt hollowed out, but this time he wrestled in his mind like Jacob with the angel. It’s between you and me, Lord. And he was not letting go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Over the next three days, Rese watched the way Lance’s family cared for Antonia, allowing her the dignity of things she could do for herself while providing what she needed. Couldn’t she do that much for Mom? She might not know what the doctors and nurses knew, but if the new drugs provided some peace and clarity to Mom’s troubled mind, she could give her a home again, a family, even if it was only the daughter she hadn’t wanted to keep.

  Though Antonia had slept almost constantly the past few days, between naps there was always someone checking in and children presenting drawings and stuffed animals and wounded fingers to be kissed. Rese knew all this because Lance now kept their door and Antonia’s open. He wanted to be instantly available to read or sit or listen, though she seemed to have put him off again. Maybe they were done and Lance just hadn’t realized. Or she was gearing herself up, as he said, getting back her emotional stamina.

  Rese sighed. His patience was admirable, but they were through the second week, and though she had cleared the next, she would need to give the three reservations in the last week of June enough notice to find alternate lodging if necessary. The inn might have been full if she hadn’t suspended reservations, but she couldn’t worry about that. Lance had to tie up his loose ends so he could focus on their business. She had to see that he didn’t lose sight of that.

  A passel of children scuffled through Antonia’s door across the hall, hushing each other and giggling. Rese could now identify which ones went to which parents, and even knew their names. But when Nicky separated from the group, ran in and climbed into her lap, it sent a glow through her she couldn’t hide.

  Lance shook his head. “I’ve been replaced.”

  Rese smiled. “There are some things quarters can’t buy.” But she was as surprised as Lance.

  Nicky snuggled in, sending waves of warmth right through her.

  “Nice, ay, Nick?” He ruffled the toddler’s hair. “I like that spot too.”

  New waves of warmth. “Don’t you have something to do?”

  He leaned back and cloaked her with his gaze, a slow smile.

  Vinnie came and rapped a knuckle on the doorjamb, the scent of cigar smoke curling in around him.

  Lance only tipped his chin. “Whatchu need, Vinnie?”

  “Nothin’. I came to see your girl.”

  Lance raised his brows.

  His girl. Rese turned her attention to Vinnie. “Yes?”

  The old man shuffled over. “That shelf you did for Dom. What’s the chance I get one too?”

  She smiled. “Came out nice, didn’t it?”

  Lance crossed his arms, looking from her to Vinnie.

  She could imagine what he was thinking. “I’ll have to run it by Roman.”

  “Don’t take no. I got more stuff than Dom, and better stuff too. His old trophies?” Vinnie blew through his lips. “I got a signed Sinatra doll.”

  Rese nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And three albums, all signed. Those shouldn’t be in a box.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “I gotta go.” He turned to Lance. “You oughtta marry that girl.”

  Lance shrugged. “I’m working on it.”

  “Working.” Vinnie fanned both hands down at him. “What’s to work on?”

  “Only got one shot left.” Lance flicked a glance her way, causing just the reaction he intended, she was sure. “Can’t waste it.”

  Vinnie flapped his hands again and walked out.

  “Lance …” This was as good a chance as any to get a progress report, but Monica came to fetch Nicky, and then Jake, Tony and Gina’s oldest son, arrived with a battered guitar case. As he set up to play with Lance, she guessed it was as much to soak in time with his uncle as for instruction. Watching them, she felt the rightness of Lance’s influence.

  Would he ever want to leave? Would they ever let him? If she felt torn, how must it be for him? But she should be running her business and making decisions for her mother’s care. She had responsibilities too.

  And she missed Baxter. She missed the way he flopped his head in her lap with a look that said, “Where have you been?” when she sat down beside him. She missed the super-soft fur between his ears, and the way his paws curled around her arm when she rubbed his belly. And though Michelle thought the dog was content without Lance, Rese knew something came alive in him for his master that none of them could touch.

  It was the same thing that came alive in her. She watched him awhile with Jake, then stood up. “I’m going for a walk.” Maybe she’d find Star, and when they came back Lance would be packed up and ready to leave. Antonia would wave good-bye, and all the others, too, with tearful hugs and kisses. Rese felt a pang. Would she actually miss them?

  Outside, the trees were in full leaf, the ground patched with shade and sunshine, the air swirling past storefront restaurants scented with sauces, cheeses, and exhaust. People greeted her, and she laughed to think she’d once wondered if she needed Mace. Though the neighborhood bordered one of the worst parts of the city and things happened after dark that had to be ignored, on this golden afternoon it was an enclave of safety, of relationships, of life.

  There was Carmine, nose healed, sitting in a plastic chair outside the candy store with another gent, chatting and watching the street. There were Joe Palese and Vinnie Avenzzana having clams on the half shell squeezed with lemon. There were the pasta shop owners washing their window and talking with the almost centenarian resident priest from the church across the street.

  Near the corner, a stocky man in an apron smoked a cigarette and watched her approach. A stockier woman stepped out the shop door and smacked his arm. “What are you looking at, old man?”

  “A woman is as old as she looks. A man isn’t old until he stops looking.” He winked as she passed.

  In another life Rese might have taken offense, but these people were genuine. And crazily enough, she felt real too.

  What if Lance wanted to stay? Could she make this place home? She passed the little shops stuffed with knickknacks, the religious bookstore, and a half dozen food purveyors. If Lance was with her, every single proprietor would have called out a greeting.

  Yes, she could live there, but what about Mom? The inn? Star?

  Across the street, she stopped outside the church and looked up. The architectural design drew the eyes and heart upward. But when she’d pointed that out, Lance had shrugged. “That’s right, but Christ is also here on the street, sleeves rolled, laboring in the kingdom.”

  “Then why hasn’t it worked?”

  “Renovation,” Lance had said. “A new way inside the old.”

  And Chaz had called it “a situation of weeds and wheat,” necessary until the given time when their labor would bring in the harvest and the chaff would be burned. She was starting to see how faith was simply life.

  As she stood there, distracted from the street kingdom by the beauty of the stained-glass window, Sofie came out of the church and paused, then came down to her. “Hi.”

  Rese returned the greeting. “I was just walking.”

>   “Can I come?”

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Heard anything from Star?”

  Rese shook her head. She hadn’t expected to. “Sometimes she’s gone for weeks, even months.”

  “So it’s a pattern.”

  Rese watched a brown-striped finch hop along the sidewalk, then take wing. “Lance thinks she wants to hurt herself. That somehow it makes her feel better.”

  Sofie nodded. “That’s a clinical condition that usually indicates deep-seated issues.”

  “She has issues.” Didn’t they all? Rico was right that it came down to what you did with it. Yet … what if Lance and Chaz were right? What if it was some evil that drove her? Like Walter whispering in Mom’s head. Rese shuddered. “I should have stopped her.”

  Sofie touched her arm. “You couldn’t.”

  Rese turned, surprised to find Sofie piercingly transparent.

  “People set their course, and all the loved ones in the world can’t change it. It has to come from here.” She pressed a hand to her heart, and two beats later said, “Six years ago I tried to take my life.”

  Rese stopped. Having survived a murder attempt, she could hardly imagine trying to take her own life. But when Sofie kept walking, she made her feet move.

  Sofie crossed her arms. “Everyone knew the reason, but no one saw the hurt that was killing me. I kept face, you know, smiling at all the kisses and hugs and assurances. ‘Time will heal.’ ‘You’re better off.’ And some less than kind. ‘If you spit in the sky, it comes back in your face.’ ” She laughed, then sighed. “The thing is, you can’t know Star’s pain unless she shows you.”

  She had shown her, again and again all the years of their growing up. And Rese had held her and soothed her and told her it was all right. But it wasn’t all right, or she wouldn’t still be running from it, or to it, as Lance believed.

  “I wish she’d come back. We can’t stay much longer.”

  “So Lance is really leaving?”

  Sofie knew about the inn; why would she ask? Rese nodded. “As soon as he’s done here.”

  “He’s the best of us,” Sofie said.

  “He thinks he’s a screw-up.”

  She laughed. “I know. But he’s special.” She turned her face to Rese. “Do you love him?”

  Rese swallowed the ache in her throat. She had tried to deny it, but how could she? Everyone he knew loved him. How had she thought she wouldn’t?

  ————

  Holding Celestina is touching heaven. This life, this wonder Marco and I have made! He took the night train to be here in time, and now here she is, and he is too.

  Marco presses his lips to my cheek. “Are you all right, cara mia?”

  “How can you ask? Look at her.” But I’m touched that he’s thinking of me when his daughter just came into the world. How Nonno would have smiled. And Papa. My tears catch in my throat, and Marco covers my mouth with his, loving away the loss, leaving room only for joy.

  He is my strength. My love and my life. I can almost forget. Almost …

  Antonia looked up as Rese and Sofie came in together. She received their kisses, Sofie as natural as breath and Rese who’d been so stiff before.

  “Monsignor offered Mass for you,” Sofie said.

  “Buono.” Antonia nodded. Who knew, maybe it mattered.

  “Anna and Mary Elizabeth send their prayers.” Sofie sat in Lance’s chair. Antonia had come to think of it that way during their journeys through her life. It was selfish to keep him so long. She should finish with Marco’s pages and be done with it.

  Sofie filled her in on people who had worshiped with her most of their lives. They all sent their prayers. She listened and smiled. But as soon as Sofie had finished, she turned to Rese, who stood back as unobtrusive as a post. “Get L … ance.”

  Rese nodded, then when she had left, Antonia turned to Sofie. “She h … as L … ance’s heart.”

  “Maybe,” Sofie said.

  ————

  Lance paused in his instruction when Rese came in and told him, “Antonia wants you.”

  She seemed reluctant to interrupt, but he and Jake had spent some productive time already.

  “Good.” Jake shook his hand like a rag.

  “You lost your calluses.” He didn’t need to say it. Jake’s fingers spoke for themselves. His own were callused for life, but Jake’s were tender enough to need reminding.

  Jake frowned. “What’s the point?”

  Lance shoved his arm. “Whatchu mean what’s the point?”

  Jake pushed him back. “You’re just gonna leave again.”

  “There’s no guitar instructors in Manhattan?”

  Jake shrugged.

  “What’s with this attitude? Where’s your hunger?” He wanted more than adulation. He wanted Jake to grab something for himself.

  “Why should I learn from some dork when you could—” Jake shook his head. “Never mind. Go see Nonna.”

  “When I could what?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Lance set his guitar in the stand. “I could what, Jake?”

  “Take me with you.”

  Lance rested his forearms on his knees and studied his nephew, Tony’s son, already showing the blocky shoulders and large hands. Eyes way too old for his years, like all the kids of the victims, knowing the face of evil before they could grasp the concept.

  “Your mom needs you, Jake.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Come o-on. You know she does.”

  “Who cares.” He glowered. “She’s got that guy now.”

  Lance raised his brows. “What guy?”

  “She’s seen him twice. Some doctor she works with.”

  Lance glanced at Rese. She’d asked him how he’d feel if Gina moved on, if he would blame her. “Twice is hardly serious,” he convinced them both. “Unless you’re a Michelli.” He grinned. “Then it’s locked up.”

  Jake scowled. “Their mouths were locked up.”

  “You spied?”

  Jake flounced back on the couch, letting the guitar slide flat on his lap. “They were right out on the porch.”

  “And your head was hanging out the window?”

  Jake gripped his arms across his chest. “So what if I looked? She’s my mom.”

  “So she deserves some respect. You don’t spy on her.”

  “She shouldn’t suck face on the porch.”

  “Well, maybe she didn’t want to suck face in front of you.”

  “He’s a dork.”

  “How do you know?”

  “A doctor?” His tone dripped scorn.

  Yeah, well, next to a cop … Next to Tony … “First, you don’t know it’s anything serious. Even if they’re sucking face,” he added when Jake started to argue. “And if it is, you still can’t run away.”

  “You did.”

  Lance frowned. “Would Tony Michelli have run away?”

  “Dad would’ve punched the guy’s lights out.”

  True.

  “But Dad’s not here.” Jake’s voice cracked.

  “So think like him.”

  “Punch him? Break his glasses?”

  A doctor with glasses. Kissing Gina. “You can’t punch him. Tony was fair. You gotta be fair.”

  Jake’s chest rose and fell beneath his crossed arms. “I don’t want a new dad.”

  “So tell your mom how you feel.”

  Jake looked away.

  “What?”

  The boy swallowed. “She’s sad, you know? I don’t want to make it worse.”

  There was the Jake he knew. “She’d want to know it’s hard for you, Jake. Maybe you could work out a plan. Get to know the guy.”

  Jake pushed the guitar aside, scowling.

  “Besides, if it’s hard for you, it’ll be hard on your brothers too. You need to think of that. Tony always looked out for me.”

  Jake was listening. He might not like what he was hearing, but he heard it. Lance stoo
d up. “Now go see what your cousins are doing.”

  Jake had developed a walking speed of near inertia, but he obeyed. When he’d closed the door behind him, Lance joined Rese, locked their fingers, and said, “Wanna suck face?”

  She snorted, but he saw the pulse flutter in her neck and kissed it. Then he took hold of her mouth. Gina was moving on, and Rese had told him to live his life. Now seemed a good time to start.

  “Antonia needs …”

  “I know.” But he had needs too. He slid his fingers into the soft layers of her hair and deepened his kiss. Didn’t she know, didn’t she care that life was too short? That one day you could be there, and the next you were gone?

  When he said he loved her, he meant it, but she didn’t want to hear it, so he wouldn’t say it again. He would just— Desire slammed him so hard he staggered. Now. Why not? But he drew back, breathing hard, and it was almost anger that frayed his voice. “You’re hard on the heart, Rese.”

  “Lance, I …”

  He pressed his fingers to her lips, unwilling to hear her excuses. “I have to go.” Because every fiber screamed to take her into his room and make her love him before it was too late. He walked out, using every scrap of strength he had.

  ————

  Heart hammering, Rese stared after him. She was going to say she loved him until he stopped her. Now the words lodged in her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used them. She wasn’t even sure she had answered Mom that night; she’d been so afraid.

  Dad neither required nor desired the words. Their companionship was on the job, the excellence they achieved together, the unique challenge of each project, the deep satisfaction of completion. Beyond that … there had really been nothing. Two people in their own worlds sharing the same space. He couldn’t keep something like Mom secret and have any relationship with her at all. Or maybe he just wanted to be left alone.

  Lance was always present. Even with his head down, guitar across his lap, pencil in his mouth, working out a melody and lyrics; even focused, he drew her in with a glance or a smile. When she was in her carving zone, she hardly acknowledged him, hardly realized he was there. It had become her way to shut out the world, to forget the guys and their resentment, or whatever she didn’t want to think about.