The Broken One

by Cardello, Ruth

  “Mom told me you’ve saved as many people as you’ve annoyed.”

  Alethea averted her eyes. “That’s . . . one way to put it, I guess.”

  There was something different about Alethea in that moment, and it was unsettling. She seemed—unsure of herself? No, that couldn’t be. “Are you afraid you’ll botch this too?”

  “No. Of course not. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Alethea tapped her forehead lightly with her index finger. “Okay, yes. I’m scared. I can’t fuck up right now. I’m going to be a mother. I don’t want my baby to ever be on the outside of the family looking in.” “Auntie Alethea?”

  “Yes?”

  “You just said the f-word.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Don’t tell your mom.”

  “I won’t.” Judy stood up and hugged Alethea tightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. I just thought if anyone could find my father’s family it would be you.”

  “And I appreciate your faith in me.” Hugging her back, Alethea asked, “It’s never that simple, though. If we did find them . . . then what? They might be horrible people. Opening any door is always a gamble.”

  “Yes, but . . .” Judy stepped back and studied Alethea’s expression. “We could watch them for a while . . . Then, if they aren’t nice, we just don’t tell him about them.”

  “Why am I considering this?”

  “Because family is important, highlighted or not”—Judy shot her most persuasive smile up at Alethea—“and you love me.”

  “I do love you.” With a reluctant answering smile, Alethea said, “I’m in, but we end this if I come across anything shady. Deal?” She held out her hand.

  Judy shook it. “Deal.” She turned and folded up her diagram again. “You need to watch me again soon so you can update me on your progress.”

  Alethea laughed as she stood. “Absolutely. Good meeting. Now how about we go downstairs and watch a movie so I can maintain my cover as your babysitter?”

  After gathering up her work, Judy followed her out the door. Alethea went with her to her bedroom so she could deposit her papers. They were walking down the grand staircase when Judy asked, “Auntie Alethea?”

  “Yes?”

  “You already know where my father’s family is, don’t you?”

  Alethea smiled—neither confirming nor denying.

  So cool.

  I’m going to be like that someday.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  HEATHER

  It wasn’t my best moment. Not much used to shake my confidence. In college my housemates had consistently put me forth as the spokesperson whenever our landlord was upset with us—which happened more than I care to remember. People in authority don’t intimidate me; I learned how to take care of myself early . . . and that life was a lot easier when one didn’t break the rules.

  If I had to claim a weakness, I’d say it was that I had a problem saying no. I knew what it was like to have no one to turn to, and I couldn’t knowingly leave anyone else in that situation.

  That was how I’d ended up running with a wild crowd in college. Brenda and I had shared a room freshman year, and she had been a hot mess. If I hadn’t woken her, she would have slept through every one of her early-morning classes. She had been gorgeous, though, and that explained many of her problems. She had been constantly invited to parties, and there had always been a man trying to be her very special friend. It had looked exhausting.

  Despite how different we were, or perhaps because of it, we had gotten on well. When she’d moved out the following year, I’d gone with her into a crazy, bed-hopping-coed situation. One I had been part of and not at the same time. I hadn’t been a drinker and had spent most of my days in my room studying, but I still smiled when I looked back at that time. Brenda and I had needed each other. She’d kept me laughing, and I’d made sure the bills were paid on time. Oh yes, and I’d talked the landlord back into liking us each time he’d threatened to toss us out.

  That was me—the fixer.

  After college I had become one of the rare tax preparers who enjoyed poring over people’s prior returns for errors. I was not above doing some pro bono. Nothing felt better than finding a few extra dollars for those who needed it the most. That kind of attention had brought me enough clients to start my own accounting business.

  I’ve also always been a bit of a prepper. If an asteroid hit the planet, I knew where the global seed banks were located, and I had a plan for how to get there—just in my head. Writing it down would be crazy. I just knew that life had a tendency of sucking big-time, and the better one prepared for those bumps, the easier they were to survive.

  I hadn’t prepared, however, for the heartbreak that came along with parenting. My four-year-old daughter was sobbing in my arms, and I didn’t know how to make it better. “I want Wolfie.”

  “We’ll find him, Ava,” I promised, even though I had no idea where he’d gone. It had been a good day until I’d pulled into our driveway. None of the parenting books I’d read had instructions for what to do the moment she’d looked frantically around the back seat of my car and announced that her stuffed wolf—the one she slept with every night, the one she didn’t get into the car without—wasn’t still with her.

  I’d torn my car apart, unearthing stale french fries, melted crayons, and sticky things that had me instantly reaching for hand sanitizer, but no Wolfie.

  “I want Wolfie,” she said again in a broken voice that tore right through me.

  When it came to crunching numbers or knowing tax law, I was confident with my skills, but this was bringing me to the edge of a panic attack. What would Brenda have done? Would I ever feel like I knew what I was doing?

  I wasn’t supposed to be a mother . . . not this young.

  A few years after we’d graduated, I’d held Brenda’s hand in the delivery room and welcomed Ava into the world. I’d signed a paper agreeing to take care of Ava if anything ever happened to Brenda, but I’d never imagined that she would die from an infection she’d caught in the hospital or that Ava’s father would have been so eager to sign away his rights to her.

  In her short life, Ava had already lost so much—I should have tied Wolfie to her arm . . . or to the car . . . I don’t know. Something.

  I took a deep breath. “I know you do, hon. He’s not in the car, but I remember putting him next to you. At least I think I do. Do you know where he went?”

  Her dark hair was plastered to one side of her face when she raised her head from my shoulder. Tears spilled from her deep-blue eyes. “He wanted to stick his head out.”

  My chest tightened. “Ava, did you open the window?”

  “Maybe.”

  I shifted her higher on my hip, so we were eye to eye. How had I missed that? I’d received a call from a client whose question had turned out to be more complicated than I’d anticipated, but I hadn’t spoken to her for long. It only takes a moment. That was a lesson I’d only learned about a thousand times since taking Ava home from the hospital. She was gifted at proving that life was full of surprises no matter how well I planned. “I won’t be mad. I just want to find Wolfie for you. Did he fall out the window?”

  Her face crumpled. “Yes.”

  “How long ago?”

  She shook her head helplessly.

  I took another deep breath. “Okay, let’s get you back in your car seat, and we’ll look for him.”

  Her thin body shuddered against mine. “I can’t go in the car without Wolfie. It’s not safe.”

  “It’s safe. Mommy’s a very careful driver.” I stepped toward the open back door of the car and kept my voice calm. I probably shouldn’t have told Ava that Brenda had loved wolves or that she’d bought the stuffed animal for her. I’d wanted Ava to always know she was not only loved by me but had been loved by her biological mother as well. Somewhere along the way Ava had begun to think Wolfie protected her like some kind of guardian angel.

  I thought it was s
weet.

  Harmless.

  I never imagined she’d throw him out the window.

  Ava’s arms tightened around my neck. “I need Wolfie.”

  I swayed gently back and forth. “We’ll find him, Ava, but you need to help me. I can’t look for him if you don’t get in the car.”

  “I can’t without Wolfie.”

  I hugged her to me and told myself this would someday be a story we’d look back and laugh about. Right then, though, it didn’t feel funny at all.

  I pride myself on being independent, but I wished I had a partner—male, female, anyone I could hand Ava to. I had friends I could call, but I needed help right then. Wasn’t the first twenty-four hours the most important when someone went missing?

  No, that was for an actual kidnapping, not for a stuffed animal. Don’t judge me; I believe there is a direct correlation between how clearly someone can think and how loudly the child in their arms is crying.

  I got her back into her car seat. How will probably one day be discussed in a therapy session, but I was desperate, and she had cried through all of my initial nonwrestling-technique attempts.

  I played her favorite songs and sang as I drove back to the supermarket I’d taken her to after picking her up from preschool. When she didn’t sing along, I lowered the volume and stretched my arm between the seats to offer her my hand. She clung to it while scanning the side of the road for her friend . . . so young, so brave.

  We didn’t see him in the parking lot, so I called inside.

  No luck.

  Drove around the parking lot a few more times.

  Nothing. We went through a drive-thru for a treat, but it wasn’t enough to cheer her.

  On the way home, I drove slowly and pulled over several times to let cars pass. Wolfie wasn’t worth anything to anyone but us. I couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting him. So where was he?

  Ava helped me carry in the food, shoulders hunched, looking like she’d just lost her best friend—because she had. Dinner was painfully quiet. She burst into tears twice during her bath. I made funny faces and voices for her other stuffed animals, but she didn’t want any of them.

  Story time didn’t happen, because she refused to go to bed without Wolfie. I fielded each of her questions the best I could.

  “Do you think Wolfie is scared?”

  “No, wolves are brave by nature.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Of course not, Ava.”

  Her bottom lip stuck out. “I didn’t tell you he went out the window, because I didn’t want you to be mad.”

  “You didn’t mean to lose him.”

  “I opened the window. It’s my fault. He’s gone and I did it.”

  “Oh, baby. Accidents happen.”

  “Do you think he’s in heaven with my first mom?” Her eyes filled with tears.

  I blinked back my own. “I don’t think so. I bet he’s out there having a great time with all the new friends he’s making. When we find him, he’ll have quite a lot of stories to tell you about his adventure.”

  “You’re sure we’ll find him?”

  I bent down to look her in the eye and flat-out lied. “I’m sure.”

  There was no convincing her to go to her bed alone, so I carried her to the rocking chair we’d spent many nights in when she was younger and rocked her to sleep. Only once she was fully out did I tuck her into her bed.

  Standing at the door of Ava’s bedroom, I felt ridiculous praying about a stuffed animal, but my heart was heavy. In my experience, prayers didn’t work. They’d never brought my mother back after she’d left my dad. My father had said she’d wanted to start over without either one of us. I don’t remember my father ever being happy, but he was miserable after she left.

  Sometimes life just sucked.

  Hoping for a happy ending only led to disappointment.

  But that wasn’t what I wanted Ava to believe. For her, I’d move heaven and earth to make the improbable happen.

  I took my laptop to the living room and wrote an email to my assistant, telling her I would be late to the office. I uploaded a photo of Wolfie from my phone to my social media accounts, along with a hundred-dollar reward and a description of where we’d lost him. Most of my “friends” were clients, but I knew some of them had children and many lived in the area.

  The more eyes looking, the better the chance we would have of finding him.

  I called the store again.

  Still nothing.

  I closed the laptop, looked up at the ceiling, and sighed.

  Everything’s going to be okay.

  I’ll make it okay.

  I’m just saying—I wouldn’t mind a little help.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  SEBASTIAN

  “I’m looking at it right now,” I said into my phone as I waved for my driver to remain in the car and let myself out. I didn’t hire him to open my door or impress anyone. I also didn’t consider him a luxury. Time was money, and I could get more done while stuck in traffic than most could in a day of meetings. Not that there was much traffic in Durham, Connecticut.

  “What do you think you’ll see in an empty lot that our people didn’t?” my brother Christof asked. If Mauricio had asked the question, his voice would have been heavy with sarcasm. Christof genuinely wanted to know, which was the only reason I entertained the question.

  “Timing is important. On paper the town looks like it’s verging on expanding, but will it? An area has a certain feel to it right before it explodes. So far, I don’t see what would lure anyone here.”

  “So back to the drawing board?”

  “I didn’t say that. The price is right. The competition would be easy enough to crush. I’ll take a look around, talk to the planning board tomorrow, and see how eager they are to have us.”

  Christof chuckled. “I love how you gloss over the idea of wiping another grocery chain from the map like it’s no big deal. Do you have any sympathy for the people who will be shaking in their shoes when they see our ‘Coming Soon’ sign go up?”

  “Nothing lasts forever. Nothing. No one escapes that lesson.” I hadn’t meant to say it as emphatically as I had. May 20 never brought out the best in me. I didn’t have to explain that to Christof—he knew. It was probably why he’d called in the first place. Not that we would discuss it. He knew me too well to even bring it up.

  “If you want a second set of eyes, I can be there tonight.”

  “All set.”

  End of conversation.

  “Mom asked if we’ll see you this weekend. She’s making her seafood scampi.”

  I almost smiled. Every Sunday I stepped out of my role as head of the family company, put aside the fast pace of meetings, and became a grown man who allowed his mother to ruffle his hair and kiss his head. “I should be. Talk to you then.”

  I ended the call, stepped away from the car, and tripped over something soft. A filthy, gray-and-white stuffed animal—a husky, maybe—lay at my feet. A memory of another stuffed animal tore through me—a little brown teddy bear my mother had bought the day Therese had told me she was pregnant. My child would have been her first grandchild.

  Should have been.

  Fuck.

  When the doctors had asked me if I wanted to know what the gender of the baby had been, I’d said no. I didn’t want one more thing to torture myself with. Already every little girl made me wonder what mine would have looked like. Every little boy made me hate myself more.

  I kicked the stuffed animal away. It came to a rolling stop, facing me. I looked into its blue glass eyes and saw my pain mirrored. I should have gone with my wife to her doctor’s appointment. I didn’t, because how much could one appointment matter? I had thought there would be a hundred more, and the deal I had been negotiating was important to secure a financial legacy for my family.

  I walked over and picked up the stuffed animal, gripping it so tightly in the middle that it flopped back on either side of my h
and. Five years. The wound shouldn’t feel as fresh as it did. Bile rose in my throat. I scanned the field, but all I could see was my wife’s face done up with more makeup than she’d ever worn, eyes closed as if she were sleeping.

  When I realized I was still holding the stuffed animal, I raised my hand to toss it aside—then didn’t. Couldn’t.

  Still holding it, I climbed into my car and told the driver to take me back to my office. I threw the stuffed animal across the seat and stared out the window, emptying my mind as I went. There’d been a time when I’d wanted to die right along with my wife. I had drunk myself to sleep, woken up, and drunk more. Mauricio and Christof had taken over the family business while my father had stayed at my side—despite how many times I’d told him I didn’t need him or any of them.

  They’d stayed with me and pulled me through the darkest time of my life. Eventually I surfaced, sobered up, and took back the reins from my brothers. Some say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Bullshit.

  It had made me more successful, though. All joy had left my life the day my wife and child didn’t return to me, and although it didn’t make anything better, every one of my competitors had paid for that loss.

  Ruthless? Maybe.

  Life was ruthless.

  I no longer wanted a family of my own, but I did glean a certain satisfaction from knowing my parents and brothers would never want for anything. Nothing beyond that mattered.

  I asked the driver to stop at a liquor store.

  I paid for the bottle of Crown Royal without exchanging a word with the clerk. I was giving in to a weakness and hating myself for it. I could have gone back to my apartment, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep that night.

  In the garage of our headquarters, I shrugged off my jacket and wrapped it around the bottle. Although the elevator I walked toward was a private one, I didn’t want security footage of my transgression. There was no need to worry my family. The past only haunted me one day a year, and it would soon be over.

  “Mr. Romano?”

  I turned at the sound of my driver calling after me. He trotted up and held out the stuffed animal I’d found on the side of the road.