“Well then God’s next employee review is going to be unsatisfactory.” A moment of silence on her end, punctuated by the hospital intercom. “I’m sorry, honey. That was rude.”
Giulia swallowed laughter. “No, it was funny. What happened to him?”
“I’d rather you come down here. It’s complicated.”
The moment of laughter evaporated. “All right. Give me half an hour.”
“I knew you’d do the right thing. See you soon.”
Giulia hung up and said to the anxiety on the faces of her staff, “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to scare you. My brother’s apparently done something worthy of workers’ comp.”
“Why didn’t they call your sister-in-law?” Sidney’s smooth forehead wrinkled. “They’re doing okay with marriage counseling now, aren’t they?”
“Define ‘okay.’ He purged her from his wallet. When they saw his last name the only person they thought to call was me.” She rubbed her temples. “At least they didn’t call the kids.”
“You’re going to see him? He does nothing but scream at you.”
If Zane had been one of her nephews, she’d have patted his hand in encouragement. “You’re speaking your mind. Higher Human Interaction Level achieved.” She glowered at him a moment later. “Don’t ruin it by getting embarrassed. Yes, I’m going. I’m overdue for one of his holier-than-thou lectures on my sinful life.” Her smile was unsuccessful. “Maybe it will make him feel better. I’ll be back by two, I hope.”
Eight
Vandermark Memorial’s Emergency Room parking lot at noon resembled the bumper car ride at the State Fair. The lot was too small, the asphalt cracked, the lines faded, and two adult males were playing musical chairs for the spot closest to the doors.
Giulia drove down the farthest aisle and parked in the second to last space. She took her time walking inside. The more buffering between her ears and Salvatore’s self-righteous hate, the better.
She couldn’t make the walk last long enough. The double doors into the emergency room whooshed open sooner than she wanted. She stepped into cool air saturated with public address system announcements, disinfectant, and several voices giving orders.
Giulia wished she were less familiar with the emergency room.
The nurse at the intake desk trapped the phone between her ear and shoulder to wave Giulia over. As she approached, the nurse stopped typing, thanked the caller, and hung up.
“Do I see a baby bump? I do.”
Giulia’s hand went to her belly. “I should’ve bought maternity clothes last month.”
“They’ll make it so much easier to breathe. I don’t know why I waited so long to give in my first time.” She pressed a button and said twice into the receiver, “Aida to intake desk.”
The main doors slid open again and two EMTs wheeled in a stretcher. One carried an IV bag attached to a very unhappy old man.
“I’m supposed to be kicking my granddaughter’s butt at chess, you quacks. There’s nothing wrong with my heart. My wife’s trying to give the kid an unfair advantage.” He tried to yank out the IV, but both EMTs restrained his arms.
Giulia and the nurse grinned at each other. One of the EMTs slapped paperwork on the desk.
“Mild heart attack. Refused treatment until his wife put on a big weepy act. We need to get him into a room so a doctor can lay down the law.” His voice pleaded even though his face showed no emotion.
The nurse tapped keys. “Seven’s free.” She pressed a different button and the doors marked “Hospital Staff Only” swung inward.
“You’re a goddess.”
“I keep forgetting my halo at home.”
The EMTs wheeled the still-griping grandfather through the doors. A nurse in white pants and a Hello Kitty smock dodged the gurney and smothered Giulia in a hug. Since Aida could’ve been Serena Williams’ body double, Giulia’s five foot five frame never stood a chance.
“Honey, you’re radiant.”
Giulia wriggled her head back and looked up into the nurse’s eyes. “Since when are you into Hello Kitty?”
Aida released Giulia. “Birthday present from my niece. The sick kids love it. Come on with me.”
The doors closed behind them as they entered a wide hallway. The disinfectant was more overpowering back here. Machines beeped from every room. Two nurses and a doctor hustled into room seven behind the EMTs. The PA system paged doctor after doctor. Wheeled multi-tier carts stacked with supplies protruded from the walls.
Aida led Giulia to the end of the hall and turned left. “In here. He’s hooked up to a roomful of machines. You know how intimidating it all can look, so take a breath.”
Salvatore topped Giulia by eight inches, but the circle of beeping, ticking, dripping machines reduced him to Munchkin dimensions. The crib-style sides of the bed didn’t help. Clear tape held IV tubes in his arm and more tape on his cheeks kept a fat breathing tube anchored to his mouth. His brown hair was mashed against the pillow and his tan merely made his sunken eyes appear corpselike. For the first time since he broke his leg playing football at age nine, he looked helpless.
Giulia’s first thought was, At least he can’t spew another hate-filled sermon at me. Her conscience prodded her the next second, but it also acknowledged the truth of her reaction.
Aida hushed her voice. “You never mentioned a brother.”
“We don’t exactly get along.”
“While I wrap my head around someone not getting along with you of all people, you’ve figured out he’s in a coma.”
Giulia nodded. “What happened?”
“My favorite pair of EMTs brought him in so I got the scoop. He fell off a ladder and hit his head on a cement floor.”
Giulia dragged her gaze from the machines. “They saw it happen?”
“No. His construction crew told them. He was on a ladder in a basement with his head in a drop ceiling. He had pieces of frayed wire in his hands and some idiot threw the old circuit breaker switch. He got a hundred twenty volts. He jerked away, which translates to falling backwards ten feet straight down.”
Giulia cringed. “You said no one rode in the ambulance with him?”
Aida adjusted the IV drip and said to the EEG machine, “He doesn’t seem to have many friends.” She unhooked the clipboard from the foot of the bed and wrote a note.
The sun hit the brick wall opposite the window. Beneath the fluorescents illuminating the room, Salvatore’s skin faded to the color of undercooked pie crust.
“He doesn’t have any friends.”
“Here.” Aida handed her a scuffed black wallet. “I kept it for you to see before we put it in the safe.”
Giulia opened the leather trifold. Twenty-three dollars, to be exact. His electrician’s license. His driver’s license with an eight-year-old photo. Giulia remembered the Fourth of July picnic when he passed it around for the family to see. Everyone laughed at his haircut. He’d done it himself to save money and botched it.
She shook off one of her last happy family memories and opened the side flap. Laminated prayer cards from their parents’ funerals. Last year’s school pictures of the kids. Their perfunctory smiles increased her anger.
“Is he divorced?”
Giulia choked. “Oh, no. That would be an offense against God.”
Aida kept finding measurements to adjust. Giulia changed the subject. “Where was he working?”
“One of those redevelopment projects. Remember the Ben Franklin Hotel on Cardinal Boulevard?”
“That wreck? I thought it was condemned.”
“Eagle Developers snapped it up. I heard it’s going to be senior apartments.”
The PA kept up its relentless paging. Between the hallway noise and Salvatore’s machines, Giulia would’ve paid good money for three minutes of silence. She snapped shut the wallet.
“My brother is convinced he’s a better Catholic than the Pope. His wife left him earlier this summer, but they’re in counseling now. The kids…” Giulia looked with horror at a calendar on the wall. “When does school start?”
“Tomorrow. My nieces and nephews Skyped me last night to show me all their new clothes.”
Giulia shuffled sideways between the bed and two machines to reach her brother’s ears. “Salvatore, coma patients are supposed to be able to hear even if they can’t respond. Listen up: I’m taking care of the kids for their sake, not to help you. Understand?”
She felt Aida’s stare and turned with a smile. “My sister-in-law left her husband to join a Doomsday Prepper cult. She discovered the leader was brewing homemade hallucinogens and escaped to me for help. I might have judged her for deserting her children, but I know the lengths to which Salvatore Falcone can drive a rational human.” She moved on. “The bit about unconscious people hearing what’s said to them is the only fact I know about comas. What chance does he have?”
Aida pointed to the EEG machine. “His brain waves are quiescent right now, but earlier they spiked twice. Activity is always a good sign. His skull sustained a two-millimeter crack when his head hit the floor, but no brain swelling has occurred so far. The doctors want him to wake up before they open his head. A few bone slivers may have broken off.”
Giulia stared at her silent brother. “Will he ever wake up?”
Aida put a comforting arm around Giulia’s shoulders. “No one knows, and that’s the truth. He could wake up tonight. He could stay like he is now for a week, two weeks, a month, six months.”
Giulia leaned against her friend for a moment. “Family. You know what his situation means?”
“You’re going to say a Novena for his recovery? It’s called a Novena, right?”
With a short laugh, Giulia stood on her own feet. “He wouldn’t accept it from me. No, it means this is my circus and these are my monkeys.” She patted her belly. “Frank and I are about to get a crash course in kid wrangling.”
Nine
Giulia called Frank from the Nunmobile and summarized the situation.
“Cac naofa.”
“I agree with the sentiment if not the language.”
“‘Holy shit’ doesn’t even qualify as objectionable language nowadays. Also, you’re right. We can’t leave the kids by themselves. What about your sister-in-law?”
“I’m not even sure where she lives. I’ll call your brother tonight. Thank God he’s also their marriage counselor.”
Frank’s voice became cheerful. “This will be our dress rehearsal for when we have a half-dozen kids of our own.”
Giulia made a face at the phone. “Number one, let’s make it through our initial offspring first. Number two, I know how good Catholic families think, so expect strong objections from me if everyone assumes one of our children is automatically earmarked for the clergy. We are not chained to the ways of our Italian and Irish ancestors.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll call you in a couple of hours.”
Giulia waited for the post-lunch parking lot pinball game to end. An SUV missed clipping the bumper of a Lexus by the width of a human hair. The language from both drivers eclipsed Frank’s mild Irish profanity.
When it became safe for responsible drivers to venture into the aisles, Giulia called the office.
“Guys, I won’t be in for the rest of the day.”
“Oh my God, what happened to your brother?” Sidney’s voice echoed through Zane’s speaker phone.
“He’s in a coma.”
“He can’t yell at you then.”
Giulia snorted. “Thank you for making me laugh. Correct. However, he hasn’t let his wife near their kids since their one group marriage counseling session.”
Zane muttered something Giulia couldn’t make out.
“Zane?”
He cleared his throat. “I know you told us about how he goes on and on about how his wife broke all his Draconian rules so she isn’t worthy and all that garbage. But isn’t forgiveness supposed to be an important part of Catholicism?”
“It is.”
Sidney jumped in. “Your brother pushed your sister-in-law to her limit and she walked, but she’s got her head on straight now. The next step is supposed to be where they do the whole forgiveness thing and work at being a family again. Because kids.”
Giulia conveyed her shrug in her voice. “In a perfect world, yes. In this world, not so much. My sister-in-law works in the front office of her church, but she lives in a studio apartment, if I remember correctly.”
“You’re taking the kids,” Zane said.
“Three kids in your little Cape Cod?” Sidney said. “We give you permission to take tomorrow off.”
“Not happening, but I have to drive them to school. They’re all under fourteen and can’t stay on their own. When I get them successfully started on their first day of the school year, I’ll head to my sister-in-law’s work to loop her in on the situation. Then I’ll talk to our new clients.” She worked out the timing in her head. “Maybe not in that order.”
“So we’re taking on the nuns as a client?” Zane said. “I also vote to sign up every client who wants us to hunt ghosts. Right, Sidney?”
Sidney’s echo took on a shade of reproof. “Zane and I will be having a long talk after we hang up.”
“Are you two reminding me what bickering siblings are like?” But Giulia smiled at the phone as she said it.
“Your hardworking staff is always ready to help.”
“Perhaps I should look into boxing lessons for your Christmas presents.”
To her surprise, neither of them laughed.
“Ms. D., what a great idea. My workout routine would benefit from a change up.”
“Zane may be onto something.” Sidney’s voice was thoughtful. “Jessamine’s too little for serious swimming and I’m way too young for Bingo Lady arms.”
Giulia threw up her hands. “Zane, please send me an email so I don’t forget. I’ll see you tomorrow morning late.”
She typed in Salvatore’s address and began her journey to the Falcone circus.
Ten
The Falcones lived in an average two-story house on an average suburban street. Cottonwoods and maples lined both sides of the street. The houses varied only in their color of vinyl siding and the flowers planted to cloak the cement blocks of the basements. Chemically treated lawns added their unnatural shade of green to the mix. Kids played hockey in the street, basketball in the driveways, and minuscule chalk artists created masterpieces on the sidewalks.
Knowing what lurked behind her brother’s beige siding, the comparison to the fallen robot-like planet in A Wrinkle in Time came to Giulia with too much ease.
She parked in the driveway. The sound of a lawnmower came from out back. Salvatore’s house dared to differ only in its front door decoration. Other houses sported summery wreaths of flip flops or seashells or flowers. The Falcone door attacked the neighborhood with a three-foot tall bronze crucifix. Verdigris blossomed in Christ’s armpits.
Giulia’s first relief was not discovering a door knocker disguised as the crown of thorns. Her second was the normal ding-dong when she pressed the doorbell. She’d feared hearing the first notes of “O Sacred Head Surrounded.”
Her eleven-year-old niece Cecilia opened the door wearing an adult-sized apron over a calf-length white skirt and high-necked shirt.
“Aunt Giulia? What are you doing here?”
“Are you going to invite me in?”
Cecilia hesitated. “I don’t know if I should. Dad will have a cow.”
Giulia put her hand on a non-crucifix part of the door and pushed. “I’m coming in anyway.” Cecilia backed away as Giulia closed the door behind her.
The front hall was spotless. The a
ir smelled of lemon furniture polish. A doily on a half-circle table appeared to be starched. The classic Veronica’s Veil trick painting hung above the table. Facing it square, she saw the veil stained with blood and sweat. When she moved to one side, the tortured face of Christ appeared on the veil.
Giulia had always hated this painting. When she and Salvatore were small and visiting their grandmother’s house, he’d creep into her room at night holding it in front of his face. She’d always known when he was in her room, even asleep. Yet every time she saw that haunted face of Christ looming over her in the moonlight, she’d shriek the house down.
One of the benefits of nuns giving up personal possessions: She was still Sister Mary Regina Coelis when their grandmother died. She couldn’t inherit the painting.
Cecilia fidgeted with the doily. “Aunt Giulia, Dad keeps weird hours sometimes. He likes to make sure we’re not wasting our time.”
Giulia translated: Salvatore kept his kids in a constant state of fear.
A rail-thin boy a few inches shorter than Cecilia walked down from the second floor. “Cece, we need more floor polish.” Carlo, the middle child, stopped on the bottom step. “Who are you?”
A second boy came into the hall from somewhere at the back of the house. Pasquale, the oldest by one year, was the only one with any meat on his bones. Giulia recognized the family body shape. His teenage growth spurt would kick in any day now.
All three kids were sweaty and red-faced. Strands of hair clung to their necks and foreheads. Grass clippings stuck to Pasquale’s pants and shirt.
“Who are you?” Pasquale said.
Cecilia stepped between them. “She’s Aunt Giulia, dummy. I showed you her webpage on the computers at school, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Nice to finally meet you, Aunt Giulia, but you can’t stay here. Dad won’t even let us say your name in his house, so go away, okay?”
Carlo stayed on the bottom tread. “Yeah, Dad will freak out like he did last summer when Cecilia snuck over to your house after Mom ran away. He’ll blame us for letting you in.”
Nun After the Other Page 3