Damaged (48 page)

“You're welcome.” Olivia stepped down the front step and waved good-bye. “Bye, Patrick.”

Patrick didn't respond.

Mary hugged him to her side. “Patrick, say good-bye and thank you to Olivia.”

“Good-bye and thank you,” Patrick said obediently, and Mary felt as if she had committed her first act of motherhood, prompting a child to say thank you when he didn't really mean it.

“Patrick,
che carina
, how cute!” her mother cooed, rushing up from behind, despite Mary's lectures.

“HIYA PATRICK, I'M MARY'S FATHER, WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!” her father shouted, then Feet, Tony-From-Down-The-Block, and Pigeon Tony joined in with Italian chatter, happy noises, and hurried introductions. Patrick didn't seem to mind, dazed at the crazy people.

Mary closed the door, and Patrick was swept into the kitchen on a wave of senior citizens, and only a moment later, he was being hoisted up by Mary's father to look into the pot of gravy, a DiNunzio tradition. Her father carted Patrick around as if the boy couldn't walk, letting him watch her mother slide the gnocchi, hissing, into the pot of water. The TV stayed on in the background, and Feet pointed out certain players in the Sixers game to Patrick, then Tony-From-Down-The-Block asked him if he liked “those Irish potato candies with the cinnamon on the outside,” eliciting an excited yes.

When the gnocchi were
al dente
, Mary's mother showed Patrick how she ladled hot gravy on the bottom of the serving bowl, which was one of her trade secrets, and in time Patrick placed his wallet and watch beside his plate, dinner was served, and everybody ate hungrily and happily, her family talking with their mouths full despite Mary's disapproving glances, since she was trying to raise the child with some manners.

Patrick was remarkably at ease with her family, answering questions when they were asked of him or chewing away quietly. Mary realized that he was comfortable with older adults because he was used to being around Edward, and the only word to describe the evening was happy—until she heard the front door open, and she realized that Anthony was home.

Mary rose quickly. Since they hadn't spoken, Anthony would be shocked to find Patrick here, and for her part, she had no idea what had happened at his UCLA interview or how he even felt about her or their upcoming wedding.

“Excuse me, everyone.” Mary rushed out to meet him, holding her breath.

 

CHAPTER SIXTY

“Hey honey.” Mary met him in the dining room, and Anthony looked travel-weary in a rumpled oxford shirt, sports jacket, and jeans. He peered confused at the noise coming from the kitchen, and the waning light from the kitchen windows fell on his face, bringing out the brown warmth of his eyes.

“Hey, hi.” Anthony stopped in the dining room, but he didn't hug her. “Your family's here?”

“Yes. I went to court today and won. Patrick is in there, with my family.” Mary hated to talk to him with everyone in earshot, then remembered that they were all hard of hearing except for Patrick.

“Wow, okay.” Anthony blinked.

“I had to, honey, and I hope you understand. We can talk about it later.”

“Sure, right.” Anthony looked down at her, meeting her eye for the first time. “Listen, more importantly, I read that you were attacked, almost
murdered
? Is that true?”

“Kind of, but I'm fine.”

“
Kind of?
” Anthony asked, in disbelief. “I didn't see it online until I landed. I called and texted but you didn't answer.”

“Oh, sorry, I've been crazy busy and I didn't have my phone for a while.” Mary had asked Marshall to get her a new phone while she was at court.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Anthony frowned at her with concern, so Mary assumed he still wanted to marry her, but this wasn't the time or the place to have that discussion.

“I'm fine, really. I can fill you in later.”

“MARE, HOW DO YOU WORK THIS COFFEEMAKER? YOUR MOTHER WANTS TO KNOW!”

Mary looked in the kitchen to see her parents clustered around the Keurig coffeemaker, which stumped them because they still perked coffee on the stove the old-fashioned way. “Pop, I'll be right in!”

“Let's go meet Patrick.” Anthony straightened up, facing the kitchen.

“Wait, what happened in California?”

“MARE, WHAT ARE THESE PLASTIC THINGS?” her father hollered from the kitchen.

“We'll talk about it later.” Anthony averted his gaze. “Take me in and introduce me.”

Mary started to reach for Anthony's hand, but stopped herself, not wanting to force the issue as they entered the kitchen to find Patrick pulling a chair out from under the table, dragging it over to the Keurig coffeemaker on the counter, and climbing up on top of the chair. He picked up one of the K-cups, examining it under the admiring gaze of Mary's mother, her father, and The Tonys.

“PATRICK, HOW DOES IT WORK?”

Mary didn't think he had a Keurig coffeemaker at home, and in fact, she thought she remembered seeing an old Mr. Coffee coffeemaker there.

“The coffee must be inside this, Mr. DiNunzio,” Patrick answered, shaking the cup, then he found the lever on the coffeemaker and pressed it down, so that the top popped open.

“WOW! YOU'RE A GENIUS, KIDDO!”

The Tonys
ooh
ed and
ahh
ed as if Patrick had performed magic, and Pigeon Tony clapped.

Patrick grinned, placing the K-cup inside the coffeemaker. “See? It goes in here, you can tell it fits right in.”

Mary whispered to Anthony, “He figured that out all by himself.”

Anthony whispered back, “Children with dyslexia can have superior logical reasoning. I read a book about it on the plane.”

“MARE, LOOK AT THIS KID GO!” Her father turned to her, grinning, and Mary realized that Patrick wouldn't be able to read the word
BREW
on the coffeemaker. Her father must've understood the problem because he pointed to the
BREW
button. “PATRICK, THIS IS THE BUTTON TO START IT. IT'S THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE.”

“I see it!” Patrick pushed the button, then turned, his gaze shifting to Anthony.

“Patrick, great job!” Mary gestured to Anthony. “Meet Anthony, my fiancé. He lives here.”

“Hi, Patrick.” Anthony stepped over to Patrick, with a smile. “Welcome. We're very happy to have you.”

“Thank you,” Patrick said, still standing on the chair. “I'm making coffee.”

“Good idea, I like coffee.” Anthony slipped a hand into the pocket of his sports jacket, retrieved a gift-wrapped package, and handed it to Patrick. “I got this little present for you. I thought you might like it.”

“Thank you,” Patrick said, accepting the gift.

Mary caught her mother's eye, which looked suspiciously moist behind her thick glasses, and the adults fell uncharacteristically silent, mindful of the emotional subtext. Patrick tore off the gift wrap to reveal the gift, a travel chess set that Anthony must've gotten at the airport, which surprised Mary. She didn't know Anthony liked chess, he'd never mentioned it before.

“What is it?” Patrick frowned at the package, which he couldn't read.

“It's a great game called chess. It's fun and it's been around for centuries. Kings and queens used to play it.”

“How do you play?”

“I'll teach it to you. It's easy. It has two sides that go to battle. One side wins.”

Patrick's blue eyes lit up. “You mean, like armies?”

“Yes, exactly. Good for you.”

“Cool! Can we play it now?”

“Sure,” Anthony answered, pleased.

“Help me get down?” Patrick raised his arms, to Anthony.

“I gotcha, pal.” Anthony reached back, without hesitation.

And watching them both, Mary was never more in love with Anthony than at this very moment. She had put him in a terrible position, but he had stepped up for Patrick. She prayed they were still getting married, but now that they were foster parents, they would have to wait until after Patrick went to bed to talk.

Mary hoped her luck would hold.

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Mary held Patrick's hand as she walked him down the hall to his bedroom, their spare guest room, never used. It was ready because she'd run upstairs and put everything in place while Patrick played chess with Anthony, which had been a sweet success. After that, her parents and The Tonys had gone home amid a flurry of good-bye hugs and kisses, and it was already nine o'clock. She had no idea if that was a reasonable bedtime for a ten-year-old, but Patrick seemed exhausted and she couldn't wait to talk to Anthony, who was in their room down the hall, unpacking.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Mary squeezed Patrick's hand. In his other hand was the wallet and watch, which never left his possession the entire evening.

“Yes. I'm so full.”

“I hear that.” Mary smiled, knowing that Patrick would probably gain ten pounds in DiNunzio custody. “Did you like my family?”

“Yes, they're silly. It was
a lot
of people. You have a
big
family.”

“They seem bigger because they're so noisy.” Mary worried if he had felt overwhelmed. “By the way, I have a surprise for you when we get to your room.”

“More presents?” Patrick looked up with a grin.

“Not exactly. Here we go.” Mary smiled as they reached the bedroom and she flipped the light switch, revealing that she had laid out on Patrick's new bed his artwork, pens, and pencils, as well as the photographs of Edward and Patrick's mother, and Edward's rosary.

“My comics!” Patrick ran to the bed, set down the wallet and watch, and started looking through his artwork.

“All your clothes are put away in the dresser drawers.” Mary gestured to the three-drawer pine dresser with a mirror on top, across the room next to a spare desk that Anthony had brought from home. “I set them up the same way you had them at home, to make it easy for you. Your other clothes and shoes are in the closet. I think I got everything you might want for now, and we'll get the rest later.”

“It's all here!” Patrick busied himself with the artwork. His bedroom was situated in the north corner of the house, so it had two large windows in the front and one on the side with blue paisley curtains. The walls were soft blue, and the floors were hardwood, with a bluish-gray rug under the double bed.

“I think we should get you to bed, Patrick. Why don't you take your artwork and put it on the desk?”

“Okay.” Patrick obediently picked up the artwork and took it over to the desk, then came back for the pens and pencils. “It's a big desk but I like it. I don't need a little one anymore.”

“I agree.”

“Do you think we can get a ruler?”

“Yes, tomorrow we'll go shopping and get you whatever you need.” Mary gestured at the bathroom. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“I have a bathroom in my room?” Patrick's eyes widened, and Mary turned on the light in the bathroom, which she had stocked with clean towels, a fresh bar of soap, a new toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste.

“Yes, it's all yours. Look.”

“Wow!” Patrick scampered over and looked inside, his mouth dropping open at the simple white tiled bathroom. “This is for
me
? Where's yours?”

“Anthony and I have our own, in our bedroom.”

“Everybody has their
own
bathroom?” Patrick turned around, his eyes even wider.

“Yes, that's how we roll.” Mary smiled, remembering that her family had shared one bathroom when she was growing up. Since then, she'd gotten used to having her own bathroom, but Patrick's delight reminded her of how happy and lucky she was, all over again.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom and then go to bed?”

“I don't have to go to the bathroom.”

“But you have to wash your face and brush your teeth.”

“I don't do that at night. I only do it in the morning.”

“I think you're supposed to do it at night, too.” Mary didn't know whether to push it. She didn't have her motherhood mojo in gear, and Patrick had already gone back to the bed and was picking up the wallet, watch, and picture of Edward. He set them on the night table beside his bed, then retrieved the photo of his mother, which he put next to the picture of Edward, and finally the rosary, which he draped carefully around the frame of Edward's picture, sucking his lower lip for the first time that night.

Mary wondered if he would cry, but he didn't, and her heart went out to him. “You okay, honey?” she asked softly, going over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I have to say my prayers.”

“Okay.” Mary stood up. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Stay. I say them in my bed.” Patrick turned back the blue coverlet and jumped inside the bed fully clothed.

“Don't you want to get undressed or put on pajamas? I can go out of the room.” Mary realized that she had no idea what she was doing. Maybe this motherhood gig was harder than it looked.

“Nope, it's cold.” Patrick pulled the cover up to his chin, and Mary sat back down on the bed.

“Do you want me to lower the air-conditioning?”

“No, I like it. Where is the air conditioner? I don't see one.” Patrick looked over at the windows, his head swiveling on the pillow.

“It's central air-conditioning, that means it's not in the window. It comes from the vents.”

“Am I going to my new school tomorrow?” Patrick sucked his lower lip.

“No, you're not starting tomorrow, but I think we can go see what it's like. How does that sound?” Mary hadn't had a chance to get the deposit, but if Kate read the newspapers, she'd forgive her.

“You said the kids at the new school don't know how to read.”