by Kate Hewitt
My mind did not drift so much this time. I sat very still and let the realizations filter through me, one at a time—Petar’s death, Nathan’s trust, Bosnia. With each one, I felt something in me, something that had been rusted and weary, start to strengthen. I did not want to become a ghost again. I would not. This time it was a choice I would make, that I would live out day by day. I did not yet know how, only that I would. I would not let myself be mired in the past yet again, drifting through my days, wherever I ended up.
That evening, Damien returned to visit, looking tired as he smiled. “You have some friends,” he said, and I looked at him in surprise.
“Friends?”
“Nathan West and Cathy Trainor, from Global Rescue. They are both arguing against you being deported, citing your record and reputation.”
I felt my spirits lift, just a little. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. So often these cases become emotional, and reason doesn’t always win out. I’ll know more soon.”
“Can I leave here?”
“I’m sorry, but not until they’ve decided. I hope to have news tomorrow.”
Yet again I was taken back to my cell, and this time my mind drifted once more back to Sarajevo. I wondered if our old apartment on Logavina Street was still standing. Had it been repaired after it had been hit by a mortar shell? Who lived there now? If I was deported, would I see it again? And what if I wasn’t? I could not go back to the Wests. I felt that deep within, a door softly closing shut. The association would be too painful for all of us; that period of our lives was surely over. There were some things you could not come back from, no matter how much healing happened, no matter how hard you fought for hope.
And yet what would my future be? Would I go back to my small studio in Astoria, resume working with Neriha, volunteering at Global Rescue, another twenty years of the same, on and on? No. I could not go back to that, either. I didn’t want to. I wanted, I realized with a wave of shock, a ripple of rightness, to go home.
Imperceptibly my heart stirred, like something worn and wounded flickering back to life. Home. Could I go there? Did that place exist for me, after all these years?
There was only one way to find out.
Twenty-Nine
Nathan
In the aftermath of Maria’s arrest, I felt as if an earthquake had shaken our apartment—the sauce-splattered pizza boxes, the dusty dining room littered with peels and shreds of wallpaper… the silence that seemed to go on and on.
Then, as if some invisible hand had pressed pause and now pushed play again, everyone sprang back to life.
“Daddy, what’s going on? Why are they taking Maria?” Ella asked, grabbing at my sleeve.
“What’s happened?” Ruby cried. “When will she come back?”
“Daddy…!”
I turned to Alexa. “Tell me what you saw.”
Her face was pale, her lips trembling. “She was talking to the man from the photos.”
“What?” I stared at her, uncomprehending. “How… how could she have been? How did you know? How did you see?”
“I recognized him.” Alexa’s voice was high and thin. “The photos from CCTV have been online all over the place. He was wearing the same clothes, he looked the same. I’m not dumb, Dad.”
“Alexa…” I pressed my thumb and forefinger to my eyes, hard enough to see flashes of light. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”
“What man, Daddy?”
“What photos?”
I knew I couldn’t have this conversation with Alexa with Ella and Ruby in the room. I also wanted to call the police, a lawyer, someone. I was reeling almost as much as I had after Laura’s death. Where was the manual for this situation? What were the three or five or ten easy steps?
“Everybody just hold on,” I said. “We’ll figure this out.” Because one thing I was sure of, one conviction I could and would not let myself shake, was that Maria was innocent. She had to be innocent. I couldn’t contemplate any alternatives.
Reluctantly, Ruby and Ella allowed themselves to be fobbed off with TV. I ushered Alexa into the kitchen and closed the door, determined to get to the bottom of this, even if that was a low, low place.
“Alexa, what exactly did you see?”
And so she told me, her voice and body both trembling, about how a man had approached Maria, how he’d looked familiar. How they’d talked, and then gone around the corner. How Alexa had followed them from upstairs, going to Maria’s bedroom and peering out from the fire escape, so she could see them four stories below, huddled against the wall. They were arguing. The man hurried off.
“And Maria was acting so strange,” Alexa continued. “Like she was in a daze, but also like she was scared. Didn’t you notice, Dad? Didn’t you see how weird she was being?”
“She was quiet,” I admitted numbly. “I thought she was just quiet.”
“She was always quiet. It was more than that.”
I drew a long, steadying breath. “So you called the police?”
“I called Lisa. You had her card. I saw it on your dresser.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That I thought I recognized the man. That Maria had been talking to him. I didn’t do it right away. I wanted to be sure, and I was.” She looked at me anxiously. “I was, Dad. I saw the pictures online, and he was wearing the same clothes. And when I talked to Lisa, she said they already had a lead. They said I was helping.”
And from that, they’d decided to arrest Maria. To break into our home and terrify my children. Couldn’t there have been a better way?
I was furious with the police, but I was also scared. What if there was more to this story than I knew or understood? There had to be, based on everything Alexa had told me, as well as Maria herself. I am so sorry, she’d said.
Why, Maria?
“I need to talk to the police,” I said. “I need to figure this out.”
“I did the right thing, didn’t I, Dad?” Alexa said. She was clenching her fists, biting her lips. “Didn’t I do the right thing?”
“Oh, Alexa, sweetheart.” I didn’t know what to tell her. “You didn’t do the wrong thing,” I said finally. “Of course not. If you were worried, if you suspected something, you were right to act on it. I’m just sorry you were dealing with all this alone. I wish you’d felt you could tell me. We could have talked about it, asked Maria…”
“Asked Maria?” Alexa’s voice rose on a shriek. “But she would have lied! She knew him, Dad. All this time she knew him. He was her brother. You heard her admit it. Her brother.”
Her words thudded through me. No, Maria. No, surely not…
* * *
The next morning, I asked Sarah to watch the girls while I went to the station. I didn’t know if we knew each other well enough for that, but this was an emergency, and she was both kind and willing, giving me a quick hug before I left the apartment.
As I walked to the street corner to hail a cab, I saw the papers, their lurid headlines. They’d condemned Maria already, hinted at some great conspiracy, seeming to relish the torrid drama of it, and yet everything in me resisted such a melodramatic version of events, and continued to resist as I spoke to Lisa and Tom.
“Your wife was killed by Petar Dzino, the brother of your nanny, Maria Dzino,” they informed me. “We believe they had been in contact for some time.”
“For some time? Since when?” I sounded aggressive; I realized I was angry, and not at Maria.
“Perhaps since he arrived in New York in September.”
“But you have no proof of that.”
Lisa’s eyebrow rose. “Do you not find it suspicious, that she ended up in your home?”
“No, I don’t find it suspicious, because I was the one who asked her to come there.” I thought of the first time I saw Maria at Laura’s funeral, how the director of Global Rescue had introduced her. And again, when I’d gone to the center, and looked for her, and asked her to hav
e coffee. I initiated everything. Maria never orchestrated anything. Of that I was absolutely sure. “What is Maria saying happened?” I demanded and when, rather reluctantly, they told me, I nearly exploded. “That’s the truth, then! Why can’t you see it? She didn’t know it was her brother until less than a week ago.” It made so much sense.
“She still didn’t come forward,” Lisa pointed out. “She withheld crucial information that could have led to his capture.”
“She was scared.” Of course she was. With her history, all that was at stake? She most likely had no idea what to do. I wished I’d seen it. I wished she’d trusted me enough to confide in me.
“Petar Dzino was seen near your home,” Tom pointed out in his gravelly voice. “He could have been a risk to your family…”
“Maria would never have let that happen.” I spoke firmly, but the words still chilled my heart. Petar Dzino had held a gun to my wife’s head and pulled the trigger. I could never forget that. Was I being naïve because I couldn’t handle any more pain? Or was I being right, for once? Standing up for something I believed in, fighting for someone I cared about?
“Or a risk to someone else,” Tom continued. “He was a known killer.”
“But Maria isn’t.” I was sure of that, with every fibre of my being. “I want the charges dropped.”
“That is not within your remit, Mr. West.”
We were back to Mr. now, were we? “The newspapers would be very interested to hear my side of the story, I think…” I began meaningfully.
Lisa and Tom exchanged looks. They hadn’t expected me to make it difficult for them. They’d counted on me being on their side, and I realized I wasn’t. I absolutely wasn’t.
“I also want to see Maria,” I said, and my tone did not allow for disagreement.
I saw her that afternoon. It had been an endless few hours, talking to officials, experts, lawyers, police. Trying to care for my girls, all of whom were grieving now for Maria too.
“Will Maria come back, Daddy?” Ruby asked as she scrambled into my lap. “Will they let her come back?”
I’d just had a phone call from Maria’s lawyer, and my heart was heavy, so heavy. Maria’s brother, Laura’s killer, was dead, and deportation seemed likely for her, but I’d still fight it, for my own sake as well as hers. “I don’t know, Rubes. I hope so.”
“I want her to come back.”
“I know. I do, too.” I didn’t realize quite so much until this moment, when her absence felt like a gaping hole in our lives. I wrapped my arms around Ruby. “Sometimes things don’t work the way we want them to. But no matter what happens, Maria loves you. I know that. And I love you, too.”
I glanced up to see Alexa standing in the doorway, looking stricken. My poor daughter hadn’t thought through this part of the story, how it would actually end. She’d acted out in anger and fear, and I didn’t blame her for it. She was a child, and she saw things in black and white, not the endless shades of gray I saw and understood.
“What’s going to happen to her?” she asked in a whisper.
“She might have to go back to Bosnia,” I said quietly. “But I’m trying to get it reversed, along with some other people who know Maria. If we vouch for her, maybe that won’t have to happen.”
“Bosnia? Why?” This from Ella.
“Because… the police want her to.”
“But what did she do?” Ella cried. “What did she do wrong?”
“Maria made a mistake,” I said slowly. “Because she was scared. She didn’t say something when she should have…”
Alexa let out a little squeak, and then pressed her lips together, shaking her head back and forth.
“I’m going to see her tomorrow. Maybe you could make her a card, Ruby? Ella?” I glanced at Alexa, but her lip curled, defiant again, yet still tearful, and she disappeared into her bedroom.
“Yes, let’s make her a card,” Ruby said, sniffing, as she wiped away her tears. “I’m going to make her the bestest card ever.” Her voice wobbled as she ran to the craft cupboard in the kitchen for paper and markers, glitter and glue, with Ella following behind, both of them eager to get started.
* * *
The next morning, with Sarah watching the girls again, I headed to the station, my heart like a stone within me. But when I arrived, I was told, rather abruptly, that Maria was no longer there.
“Where is she?” My voice rose. “What have you done with her?”
“We haven’t done anything with her,” a voice from behind me said. I turned to see Lisa. “The charges against her have been dropped, and the immigration service decided against deportation. She’s free.”
Free. I stared at Lisa in shock, unable to absorb it. “Just like that?”
She smiled wearily. “I don’t know if Maria sees it that way, but yes. Just like that.”
“Why? I mean, how…?” I realized how much I’d been bracing myself for the worst, because lately the worst had always happened. I didn’t feel ready for good news.
“The judge wasn’t convinced of any wrongdoing on her part. And, in the end, neither were we.” She paused. “I’m sorry for any undue strain we put you through. We had to investigate all possibilities…”
I accepted her apology with a nod. “You were just doing your job. I know that. But… do you know where Maria is? Has she left?”
“I’m here.”
I turned, shocked again to see Maria walking towards me from the waiting area. Lisa excused herself, but I was barely aware of her.
“Maria…”
She stood before me, looking smaller somehow, her hair stranded with grey, her eyes the same startling blue-green as always. She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry for everything, Nathan.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.” My voice was thick. “None of this was your fault.”
“I should have said something,” she murmured. “I know that. I always knew that. I was just so afraid.”
“I understand, Maria. Please believe me, I understand.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “You are so kind.”
“I’m not,” I blurted, and suddenly I felt as if I could break down, right there in the police station waiting room, with an indifferent sergeant at the desk and Maria in front of me, looking so sad and yet somehow peaceful. The way Laura had been, according to witnesses. “I’m not, Maria,” I said, my voice turning ragged. It felt like a confession.
“Nathan…”
“I’ve been so lousy about so many things,” I continued, reckless now, needing to say it all. “I’ve been so ambitious and arrogant and lazy and stupid… and now this…” Before I knew what was happening, a sob tore out of me, followed by another.
The grief that I thought had hardened inside me softened and spilled out as my shoulders shook helplessly and tears streamed from my eyes. I had never cried like this before; I’d kept myself from it, all these months. All these years. And now it was happening here, in a police station, with Maria. Because of Maria.
I was crying for her, and for Laura, and for my three daughters who were struggling on and on, and would have to for a long time. I was crying for myself, for the mistakes I’d made all along and the life I would no longer live, now that Laura was gone, and even for the boy I’d been, bounced from school to school, always looking for a home. Thinking I could carve one out myself, with ambition and hard work, and failing so badly, so many times.
And as I cried, Maria put her arms around me, her voice a soothing murmur. “It is good to cry,” she said. “It is good to cry. To cry is to heal.”
I wanted to believe her as I wept; I wanted to believe that something good could come of all this, even now. Especially now.
After a few moments, I eased back, wiping my cheeks, embarrassment rushing in. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened… I’ve never…”
“I know you’ve never,” Maria said with a small smile. “Trust me, Nathan, I know. You don’t need to be sorry.”
I gave a
little laugh of acknowledgement as I wiped the last of the tears from my face. “Alexa…” My daughter’s name bottled in my throat. Did Maria know she’d been arrested because of Alexa?
“Alexa,” she repeated softly. “Yes. I have a letter for her here, and also for Ruby and Ella. If you would give them to them. If you would be so kind?”
“Letters…” I shook my head slowly. “Maria, aren’t you coming back with us?” I could not conceive of anything else. She hesitated, and in her face I saw her answer. “But why not?”
“Nathan, it was my brother.” Her voice was gentle, sad.
“I know, but…” I trailed off helplessly. I didn’t really know anything.
“I have been thinking,” Maria said quietly. “When I thought I was going to be deported, I was thinking that perhaps it is time for me to return home.”
“To Bosnia?” I felt numb.
“Yes, to Bosnia. I ran away, all those years ago, because I could not face it all. I could not bear it, but perhaps now I can. I know I do not want to keep running.”
“But you have a life here.” You have us, I wanted to say, but I didn’t, because she was already shaking her head.
“No, I have never had a life here. Not really. I haven’t tried to have one.”
“But…” I didn’t want to tell Ruby and Ella and even Alexa that Maria wasn’t coming back, that they would experience yet another loss. “You aren’t going now?” I said.
“No, not now. But soon.” She smiled sadly. “I am so sorry, Nathan. For everything.”
“Can you at least come and see the girls?” My voice cracked. “Talk to them? They miss you…”
“Of course. If they want me to.”
“They do.” I thought of Alexa’s stricken face. “They do,” I said again.
* * *
We took a cab uptown, and when I opened the door of our apartment, I felt as if I’d been gone for two lifetimes. Sarah came to the door, looking concerned, her eyes widening when she saw Maria.
“I’ll just get my things,” she murmured, and she slipped out as the girls came running.