At Peace (72 page)

“You can take care of yourself. I been askin’
around. The brother didn’t know what the fuck he was doin’,” Vinnie
pointed out. “He should never –”

Cal cut him off. “Tim was a cop, Colt says a
good one. You gonna tell me he didn’t know what he was doin’?”

“I –”

“You don’t talk to Sal, I will,” Cal
interrupted his uncle.

“Cal, you don’t want to owe that man,” Vinnie
warned.

“He owes me. He got my blood and he got my
cousin. He knows that,” Cal shot back.

“Cal –”

Cal leaned back an inch. “What the fuck is
this? Why are you –?”

Vinnie’s torso moved forward two inches.
“I lost one boy to him. You think I’m fired up to lose
two?
”

Cal shook his head angrily. “Jesus, Uncle
Vinnie. I’m not gonna fuckin’ work for him.”

“He’s persuasive,” Vinnie returned.

Cal pointed to the house again. “Nothin’
would persuade me to jeopardize that.”

“Yeah, and Vinnie Junior had Francesca and he
looked at her like she hung the stars and he wanted to give her
everything. So he went out to find a way to do that. Easy way is
Sal.”

“He was twenty-five,” Cal reminded him.

“He was in love,” Vinnie retorted, jerking
his head to the house to make his point.

“
Don’t pin that shit on Frankie,” Cal
clipped. “You been singin’ that song way too long and you know that
shit’s not right,” Vinnie pressed his lips together and looked away
but looked back when Cal kept talking. “I got a business, I got
money, I don’t need that shit.”

“For fuck’s sake, Cal, you nearly took her
Dad down for buyin’ Keirry a CD!” Vinnie’s voice was rising. “Vi
hangs the stars for you and I know you. You’re a Callahan. You’re a
Bianchi. You’ll wanna hand her the moon.”

“I’ve already handed her the moon, Vinnie,”
Cal told him and Vinnie jerked back.

“What?”

Cal didn’t repeat himself and he wasn’t about
to explain. “And I was pissed at Pete because he’s up in the girls’
faces and he bought Keira a fuckin’ boy band CD and I live in this
house. I gotta listen to that shit.”

Vinnie stared at him a second before he burst
out laughing.

Cal didn’t laugh.

“I’m not twenty-five anymore, Uncle Vinnie
and I’m not Vinnie Junior,” Cal stated.

Vinnie stopped laughing because he knew what
Cal was saying. Vinnie Junior and Cal had a lot in common with
everything. They both thought they found what they wanted at a
young age and they both gave up everything for it. Cal wanted
Bonnie and he wanted a family and he did everything to make that
real. Vinnie wanted it all but most of all he wanted Frankie and he
wanted to prove to her that he was worth her love.

But that was then. This was now.

Cal had learned the hard way that if you
found something good, you didn’t have to give up anything. If it
was good, you got everything you needed without giving up shit.
Vinnie Junior hadn’t lived to learn that lesson because that lesson
killed him. He hadn’t lived long enough to learn that Frankie loved
him if he could hand her the moon or if he was making pizzas.

Vinnie Junior never got that and Vinnie
Senior never admitted out loud that his son made mistakes with the
choices he made in his life and the way he’d fucked up everything
for himself and for Frankie.

“You unleash Sal or I do it. One of us calls
the marker,” Cal ordered. “And we do it for Vi and, I’m tellin’ you
in case you haven’t figured it out yet bein’ around her and those
girls, there’s no better fuckin’ reason to do it. Daniel Hart took
away her man, her kids’ father and her brother. They were tight.
All of them. He could have destroyed her. He could have brought her
low. He could have changed those girls. He could have made her
Bonnie. He keeps goin’ –”

Vinnie cut him off. “I’ll call the
marker.”

Cal crossed his arms back on his chest,
demanding, “Do it now.”

“Now?” Vinnie asked.

“Right now,” Cal said.

“
But…” Vinnie looked toward the house then
back at Cal, “pancakes.”

“Now,” Cal repeated.

Vinnie stared at him and Cal held his
stare.

Then Vinnie pulled his phone out of his shirt
pocket.

“Christ, son,” he muttered on a sigh.

“He needs to have a word with me, I’m
standin’ right here,” Cal offered.

Vinnie looked to the heavens. Then he flipped
open his phone. Then he called Sal.

The door slid open and both men’s heads
jerked that way to see Kate walking out, Cal’s phone in her
hand.

“Hey, Joe,” she said as Vinnie smiled at her
and then wandered down the deck steps and out into the wet grass.
“Colt’s on your phone.”

Cal took his phone from her when she got
close. Then he lifted his other hand and tugged gently at her
hair.

“Thanks, girl,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” she grinned, glanced at Vinnie who
was now several feet into the yard, his back to the deck, his head
bent, his hand to his hip and his other hand to his ear. Kate
turned and skipped back to the door, went inside and closed it
behind her.

Cal put the phone to his ear.

“Yo.”

“
Need you at the Station, man,” Colt said
without greeting and Cal’s back went straight as a bad feeling hit
his gut.

“Why?” he asked.

“How soon can you get here?” Colt asked.

“Why?” Cal repeated, losing patience.

“You need a brief,” Colt explained.

“About?” Cal prompted.

“Some things you need to know. Some new
things have happened,” Colt told him.

“Hart?” Cal asked.

“Yep,” Colt answered.

“Fuck,” Cal bit off.

“You had a bunch of cars in your drive
yesterday. You guys still have company or do I have to send out a
squad?” Colt asked casually but this question wasn’t casual. This
question set that bad feeling in his gut to toxic.

“
We got company,” Cal said and looked at
Vinnie, “but send a squad.”

“Right,” Colt muttered. “He’ll be
unobtrusive,” Colt assured him.

“
Don’t care if he sits in the fuckin’
driveway,” Cal replied as he walked to the sliding glass doors,
“just want him here before I go.”

“Copy that,” Colt said and Cal flipped his
phone closed.

He whistled and Vinnie jerked around to
look at him. Cal lifted his hand and flicked his finger in the air.
Vinnie nodded. Cal turned, slid open the door and walked through,
wracking his brain as to what he’d say to Vi to explain his needing
to go to the Station.

Then he slid the door closed behind him.

* * * * *

Dad, Gary and Uncle Vinnie were outside in
the front yard inspecting the sod Joe and Keira had laid. I was
sitting in the living room with Bea and Aunt Theresa. We were
sipping coffee with the girls on the floor playing with Mooch. I
was thinking about Joe’s hasty exit which he vaguely explained and
also thinking about the squad car that was parked across the
street, the fact that it slid up and stopped before Joe kissed me
and walked out the door and the fact that it didn’t move an inch in
the ten minutes Joe had been gone.

These thoughts exited my head when Aunt
Theresa picked up her big, mailbag sized purse and plopped it on
her lap.

“Who knows how long Cal’ll be gone, gotta get
this done,” Aunt Theresa muttered, sounding distracted but in a
businesslike way and I looked at her then at Bea then at the
girls.

“What done?” Keira asked but Aunt Theresa
didn’t look up from rummaging around in her
small-piece-of-luggage-sized purse.

“You find the time but you find it to give
him this,” she ordered oddly. “It’s time Cal had Nicky back.”

I sucked in breath at her words and my eyes
flew to Kate but Kate and Keira were both staring at Aunt Theresa’s
bag.

“Who’s Nicky?” Bea whispered.

“
Cal’s son,” Aunt Theresa answered without
even a little ado then went on still without any, “died when he was
a baby. Stupid skank of a wife left him in the bath. Drowned…” Bea
gasped and her eyes came to me but Aunt Theresa pulled out a big
square thing wrapped in a black scarf and turned to me. Whipping
off the scarf, she announced, “Nicky.”

Then she handed me a photo frame.

Automatically my hand reached out and I took
it. Then I brought it toward me and stared.

In it was Joe sitting on one of the benches
just inside Vinnie’s Pizzeria. There was no one sitting with him.
He was alone and in profile, the scarred side of his much younger
face to the camera.

It was a black and white but the sun was
shining through the windows of the door and it gleamed against the
highly polished wood all around Joe. His shoulders were to the high
back of the bench, his legs were stretched straight in front of
him, his feet crossed at the ankles.

Smack in the center of his big chest was a
little baby, Joe’s arm curved around his baby bottom, the baby
tucked in that baby ball only babies could make. His baby knees
under him, his baby booty in the air.

The baby was asleep, his face turned toward
the camera, his cheek on Joe’s chest, his little baby fist also
resting on Joe’s chest close to his beautiful little baby face.

Joe’s head was leaning back against the
bench, his eyes closed. He looked asleep too. Even if he was
asleep, the way he had his son nestled against his chest, safe in
the protection of his powerful arm, his bicep stretching the
material of his ever-present t-shirt tight, screamed the fact that
Joe would allow nothing to hurt his boy, asleep, awake,
ever
.

Unless he wasn’t there.

Which, when something hurt his son, he
wasn’t.

I stared at Joe’s profile. He didn’t look
happy, he looked at peace and that peace had nothing to do with
sleep.

Father and son taking a catnap at the family
Pizzeria.

God, but they were beautiful.

Silent tears slid down my cheeks.

“I don’t know if he has photos,” Aunt Theresa
said. “He wasn’t around much after so we didn’t come down much and
then we stopped because he was never around at all.”

Kate and Keira had scooted to me and then
they surrounded me. Both put a hand to the photo and I felt Bea
lean in.

“
I got tons of pictures of him. Some with
the skank in and Manny says he can scan them and do somethin’
called ‘Photoshop’ her out. But I figure Cal’ll know she was there
and I don’t want him to have that reminder of her with him and
Nicky,” Aunt Theresa said, still businesslike, even brusque and I
knew she had to be because if she wasn’t at that moment she’d be a
mess just like me.

“
No,” I choked, my eyes still riveted to
the picture, “no, you’re right. Bonnie doesn’t get
that.”

“
But enough time has passed. Nicky needs to
come home,” Aunt Theresa declared. “So we’ll start with that one
and, later, I’ll give you the rest.”

“
Yes,” I whispered, the tears still sliding
down my cheeks, “Nicky needs to come home.”

And I knew where Nicky would live. By Tim and
Sam on our shelves. Tim and Sam would take care of him. They’d
always be together and they’d always be with us.

“That Joe’s boy?” Kate whispered from beside
me and I nodded then turned my head to my daughter and, as hers was
so close, I leaned in and kissed her hair. Then I inhaled its scent
and I memorized it even though I already had it memorized.

“Yeesh,” Keira breathed, “Joe’s even hot
holdin’ a baby.”

“Keira!” Kate snapped but a short giggle came
out of me and I turned to my youngest and kissed her hair too.

“Can I see?” Bea asked softly and me and my
girls turned to her.

“Yeah,” I said softly back, handed her the
frame and wiped the tears from my cheeks

She took it and bent her head to study
it.

Then, her eyes not leaving the photo, she
whispered, “He lost his son.”

It hit me belatedly that this was something
they shared and it hit hard and sharp, piercing my heart.

“Bea,” I murmured, my hand moving to curl
around her leg and Keira shifted to sit on the floor at her feet
where she leaned in and put her cheek to her Gramma’s knee.

Bea settled a hand on Keira’s hair as Kate
moved around the back of the couch to sit on the armrest by Bea and
she leaned in to put her cheek to the top of her Gramma’s head.

Bea’s eyes moved to me.

“I know how that feels,” she said
quietly.

“I know you do,” I said on a throaty whisper
as fresh tears hit my cheeks.

“
I had mine longer, though,” she went on
and her gaze went to Theresa, “he had time to give me my
babies.”

“
Yes,
cara
,
count your blessings even through your loss,” Aunt Theresa advised
gently, knowing, too, what it felt like to lose a son.

Bea looked at me and handed back the
picture.

“
I like him, hon,” she said quietly,
“but…”

“
What, Bea?” I prompted when she stopped
talking.

“You think he liked my pie?” she asked.

I felt my brows inch together at her strange
question and Kate’s head came up but her arm slid around her Gramma
and she gave her a squeeze.

“
He
loved
your pie, Gram.”

“
Yeah,” Keira affirmed, looking up at Bea,
“he had another piece after you left.”

“He did?” Bea asked her voice weirdly
hopeful.

“
Yeah,” Keira answered, smiling, “he
did.”

Bea looked at me again. “You think…?” she
started then stopped.

“Think what, Bea?” I asked.

Bea looked down at Keira and touched her
face.