Hope House (36 page)

Epilogue

1.

Hotel, unknown location, Friday March 3
rd
, afternoon

Gloria had been pacing the walls of the small hotel room for weeks. She just wanted to go home with her baby, Martha, named for Kurt’s mother. After they had landed in Miami and had the baby checked over, Kurt, Martha and she had flown back to Logan airport. Gloria had just assumed the three of them would return to Bradfield, settle into her townhouse, Kurt would start a new business there, and they’d all live happily after. She winced at her naiveté.

Instead of that lovely scenario, Kurt had checked her into a hotel up in Maine under a false name. He swore undying love, promised he’d never leave her, and had even said they were going to get married. Told her no matter what happened, not to leave the hotel and return to her old life until she was sure it was safe.

And when she awoke the next day he was gone. Completely gone. Not a trace he had ever been there except for memories. And the note. “I have to leave and take care of some things. I’ll be back some day. Don’t worry. You’re stronger than you think you are. Love, me.”

She’d tried to call his cell phone but it had been disconnected. His email address bounced back. On a lark she sent mail to his home
address, signature required. He never picked it up.

He’d never explained to her how she was supposed to know when it was safe.

So she just waited. And waited. She’d called her office from a payphone to say she was okay and would be back soon. Brian accepted that with reservations—asking her what kind of trouble she was in. She promised to fill him in as soon as she could, but of course that was a lie. She could never divulge the truth.

Gloria had tried everything to track down the man she thought was the love of her life. She’d scoured the internet.  No sign of her Kurt Malone. No records of any kind, except a business license for a PI in Miami. She even paid two of those background check websites and nothing came up. She knew it was a false name but still hoped there was some kind of a trail to lead her to him.

But as much as she tried to hate him for abandoning her, she couldn’t. Her time with him had been brief but so intense. So much love in so few days. And he had helped deliver Martha. He was listed legally as her father, for all the good listing a false name on a birth certificate did anyone.

After a week with no word she broke down and called Tommy. She had no idea what she would say to him. Maybe she’d yell or threaten or cry. But at least he was someone to talk to who might understand. Besides, she wanted to tell him the entire sordid truth and that she knew the part he played in denying her a life with her child all these years.

But his cell phone had been disconnected.

And when she’d called his office
they divulged he had died in a ‘freak accident.’

No one that young just died and it wasn’t as if his secretary was going to tell her he had been killed. The internet told Gloria the truth. He’d died a week before. Accidentally took a header off the balcony of a hotel in Miami. They ruled it suicide but Gloria knew Tommy was much too selfish to kill himself. It was murder.

Maybe the Puglisis did it. Or Kurt. Didn’t matter.

Now she had no one.

No, that wasn’t true. She had the daughter she had always wanted. A reason to get up every day. A little slice of hope named Martha. Gloria grew closer to her with every breath. Gloria smiled at the sleeping infant, swaddled on the hotel bed.

Gloria viewed the screen on her laptop which displayed the news story she’d saved as a favori
te. 

Arson had claimed the New Age Adoption Agency in Miami and all the records were destroyed. It was either the Puglisis or Kurt who burnt the place down, but whoever it was, the children adopted out would never find out the truth, thank God. 

Words from the TV startled her out of her thoughts. She walked closer and turned up the volume.

“
Crime Boss Carlo Puglisi was  found dead along with several bodyguards at the Puglisi family estate in Warren, Rhode Island. Authorities were presuming it is the work of a rival family.” 

Gloria questioned that. Was it really Kurt? Is that what he had been taking care of? She knew he was capable of killing, but
that
many people?

A sick feeling rolled across her. This was the man she had given her heart and her body to? The man whose name, or current pseudonym, was printed on her daughter’s birth record. Maybe she didn’t know him at all. Was he ever really the man he thought
she was? Or was that just an identity he wore for her?

The newscaster continued:
“
The reign of the Puglisis is over . . .”

It was time to go home. Gloria knew now she was safe. If nothing else. Kurt had given her that. 

He had gotten rid of the bad guys. If she ever saw him again she’d say thank you.

She could go home now.

2.

Gloria’s Home, Bradfield, MA, afternoon

Gloria
drove
into her development and smiled. It was good to be home. Snow was piled high and the midday sun reflected off the ice in the duck pond. She passed a waiting taxi as she opened her garage and pulled into the freshly plowed drive. Gloria unsnapped the car seat and lugged the baby carrier like a jug of water. She was afraid if she shut the garage door there wouldn’t be enough space to get everything out of the trunk.

Gloria grabbed the diaper bag with her right hand and wondered how she was going to make all the trips she needed to without leaving the baby unattended.
Martha had just awakened and had already started to squirm and moan. 

“I can help you carry her if you like,” A thin dark hand reached out for the carrier.

“Martine! I thought you were dead!” Gloria set the baby carrier and bag down and hugged Martine Jean-Baptiste hard. “Oh my God. You’re okay!” Gloria wiped her eyes. “We all thought you were dead!”

Martine smiled.  “Mr. Puglisi’s bullet only scraped my skull.” She lifted up her braid and pointed to a patch of rough pink flesh between the ebony skin. “I was unconscious when Boris brought me to the clinic to rest in peace. When the men came to take my body away the next day, they saw me breathe. Boris told me later, one of the men, he wet his pants, because he thought it was a voodoo spell.” Martine laughed but Gloria was still too stunned to find humor in anything.

“While I was in the hospital, Boris made sure Maison D’Espoir was stripped of all its worth and then he set it on fire.

“When I was released from the hospital, Boris drove me straight to the airport. I w
ent to Belize alone. It was sad being without Doctor Tad because he was part of my dream. But I did it for him. He left me money, Gloria. So much money. More than someone like me could spend in a lifetime. I planned to settle in Belize and start a new life, like Doctor Tad had planned, safe from everything. 

“But I could not spend my life living in fear of the Puglisi family as Dr. Tad had done. I knew he would want me to be stronger than that. I spent all my life cowering in a jungle, afraid to speak, afraid to stand up for myself or go after what I wanted. Dr. Tad taught me that I matte
red. Told me I deserved better, that I deserved a chance at a real life and happiness, and my own babies that I can keep forever.

“Belize was not the place for me but this country is, I think.  A place where I can find such happiness.” 

“I’m glad you came back, Martine.  Kurt and I were devastated that you were killed trying to save us and the baby.”

Martine helped carry in the baby and the bags as they spoke and entered the townhouse through the garage door. “Th
is is beautiful. So many books,” Martine said, wonder in her eyes. “Have you read all of these?”

“Most. There are more upstairs. I’m a bit of a book addict.”

Gloria took Martha out of her seat and held her.

“I haven’t been home in weeks. I missed this place,” Gloria said. “Today is the day I stopped hiding too.”

“It is a lovely home. I would miss it too.”

“Oh my God, do you want to be my nanny? I’m going back to work soon and will need someone. You could live with me and watch
Martha. We could be a family.” Gloria couldn’t believe her luck that Martine would walk into her life.

“What about your husband? Mr. Malone?”

Gloria walked to the fireplace and flipped the button on. Martine stared at the gas flames as they jumped behind the glass.
Such little things cause her amazement
, thought Gloria.

“He wasn’t my husband. Not even my boyfriend really. And now, I don’t know. He’s gone.”

“He left you? Who would leave you?” Martine asked.

Gloria smiled. “He had a higher calling. Have you seen the news today?”

Martine shook her head. “Everyone talks too fast on the TV. My English is not that good yet to understand what they say.”

“Well, Mick Puglisi’s father and some of his bodyguards were killed. I think Kurt might have done it, for revenge maybe, and also to get information to go after all those involved in the baby farms worldwide.”

“If you kill a wolf when he is at your throat, it is not murder. Mr. Malone is killing the wolves, nothing else. That does not make him a monster. It does not mean you should stop loving him.”

“I—”

Martine stared through her. So much wisdom for such a young girl.

There was no way to respond to that. Instead she continued with her earlier question. “Would you like to stay here with us, with
Martha and me? We’d love to have you.”

Martine shook her head.

“Thank you so much for asking me, but no, I cannot stay. It is too cold here. I am going to live in Miami and go to a nursing school. I have to take some tests first and learn but then I am going to go. Doctor Tad’s money will let me find a nice place to live and hire someone to teach me and help me to take the tests. Then I can become a real nurse and get a paying job. Other girls from Maison are also going to move to Miami once their passports come in so I will have some friends.”

“Can you visit for a little while at least? A week or so. Two weeks? I’m not used to taking care of babies and I could use your help.”

Martine smiled. “It is why I came. I will stay until you are settled and can find a good nanny. And then I will go to Miami.  I heard Mr. Puglisi tell Doctor Tad right before he died that he was raising a child I thought was dead, so I used some money and hired a detective. He told me Mr. Puglisi had two children. One was that child and the other was my friend Boni’s. Her real baby.”

“A Haitian?”

“Yes, full Haitian baby, which made Mr. Puglisi so mad, he killed Boni, I am sure. But he adopted her son. He named him Donovon.”

“So there was some humanity in him. What about the children? What are you going to do? Do you want my help?”

“No. I will leave them where they are. Mr. Puglisi was a bad man, the worst a man can be. But when he died, his sister was left to raise the boys. I have heard she is a Puglisi only in her name, not in her heart.  She has had her own share of sorrows and raising the boys has brought her peace. She will be a good mother and make up for what her family did.”

“So many tentacles to this horrible business, it’s good to hear something good’s come of it.” Gloria kissed
Martha’s smooth forehead.

Martine continued, “But I want to see the boys and to meet Angela Puglisi. I want her to know about what a good person Boni was, so she can tell Donovon someday. And I want her to tell Luke, when he is older and can understand, that I carried him. That I’ve  thought about him every day for years, and am full of joy that he is alive. Full of joy that he kept the name
I
gave him.”

Gloria smi
led at Martine. Life had been bleak for the young girl for so long and finally it was turning around. Opportunities, closure, and some control over her decisions. Martine took the baby from Gloria’s arms.

“You unpack and I will change and feed this little angel.”

“Thank you.” Gloria headed toward her car to get the rest of her things.

“There is a package outside.”

“Where?” Gloria asked.

“Outside the door where I was waiting. You didn’t see it because you came in the garage.”

Gloria opened the back door and a foot of snow fell inside. A large brown flat package leaned against the outer wall. It too was snow covered.

“I wonder what this is,” she said as her fingers gripped the damp paper.

She dragged it onto the floor then heaved it up and carried it to the island in her kitchen.

“It is
large and flat! A mirror maybe?” Martine asked.

“I didn’t order anything.” Gloria set it down on the slab of black granite. She opened the junk drawer and fished around for the scissors without taking her eyes off the package.

There was no return address but the postmark told her everything. “Conch Republic.” Key West. It was something from Kurt’s artist friend Joe, brownie baker extraordinaire.