Hope's Angel (17 page)

Chapter
Fourteen

Saturday,
November 2

Connie
and Gianna sat at the kitchen table on Saturday morning, lingering over cups of
coffee. Connie had begun her day by shoveling three inches of heavy, wet snow
from the public sidewalk in front of their property while her father cleared
the approach to the store’s front door and the sidewalk leading to the outside
stairs. While Connie shoveled, Gianna had opened the store, turning on lights and
counting out the cash drawer as part of her job as the store’s bookkeeper. She
and Mamma checked the temperatures of the cold cases and refilled the shelves
where necessary, then took inventory of backstock and made their order for the
coming week. Meanwhile, Angie had vacuumed the living room upstairs and cleaned
the bathroom before preparing to leave for the weekend.

Connie
stirred more sugar into the strong dark coffee that her father had made. “Where’s
she going?”

“Spending
the weekend with friends.” Gianna took a
biscotto
from the plate in the
middle of the table and plunged one end into her cup of coffee.

“What
friends? When did you or I get to spend a whole weekend with friends at fifteen?”

Gianna
concentrated on letting the cookie drip its excess coffee back into her cup. “She
didn’t say. And the answer to your other question is… never.”

Connie
sipped her coffee. “I haven’t seen David for weeks. Is everything okay?”

Gianna’s
smile was immediate. “He’s been pretty busy, but, yeah, everything’s good.”

“He’s
not avoiding me because of that thing with Greg?”

Gianna’s
face registered surprise. “He’s not avoiding you. He was here last Sunday for
supper. You were at Paul’s house.”

Connie
reached for the plate of cookies between them. Paul had yet to meet David, and
Connie had no idea how well he would accept a black man dating a white girl,
especially one from the neighborhood. She looked up at her sister. “How many
people around here know about you and David?”

“Not
many. Nonna. The Aunts, I suppose. I don’t know if they’ve told anyone about
him.” Gianna gave her a knowing look. “You haven’t told Paul, have you?”

Connie
shook her head.

Gianna’s
eyes narrowed. “Embarrassed?”

Connie
bristled. “Why haven’t you brought him to church with the family? Then I
wouldn’t have to tell people.”

“He
doesn’t come down from St. J until after lunch.”

“Why
doesn’t he stay overnight with Father I? That would be an easy solution to all
that traveling back and forth,” Connie said.

Gianna
raised her chin with an air of self-righteousness. “He doesn’t like to impose.”

Connie
knew that Gianna had never spent the night with David. Even when they had
traveled to Boston to see his mother, he had brought her home the same day. Yet
she couldn’t resist provoking Gianna just a little. “Have you slept with him?”

Gianna’s
eyes widened, her expression indignant as her cheeks blanched. “How can you
even ask me that? Have you slept with Paul?”

“No.
But I’d like to.”

To
her disappointment, Gianna didn’t flinch. “Greg?”

The
question irritated Connie more than it should have. “Of course not!
That
relationship died on the vine, if you remember!”

“Geez,
are you guys at it again?” Angie came into the room from the hallway. She was
wearing her red winter coat and carrying a small overnight bag and an armful of
textbooks. Her long dark braids trailed down the front of her coat, which was
layered over a midi-length plaid skirt and a pair of brown and tan L.L. Bean
hunting boots.

“Nice
outfit,” Connie said with a grin. “Where are you going?”

“To
a friend’s.”

“Overnight?”

“Yes.”
Angie swung the bag over her shoulder and repositioned her books.

“Are
they picking you up?”

“No,
I’m meeting them at the church.”

“Do
you want a ride? Looks like a lot to carry.”

Angie
shook her head and smiled. “No, I’m fine. Exercise is good. I’d rather walk.”

“When
will you be home?”

“Geez,
what is this, the Inquisition? This is parentally approved. Be nice to each
other.” Angie bustled past them and hurried out the kitchen door without
looking back.

“She’s
probably the only kid in her class who could actually tell you what the
Inquisition was,” Connie said with an appreciative grin.

Gianna
sipped at her coffee. “She’ll be sixteen in a couple weeks. She’s no baby, Connie.”

“That’s
my point. She’s a little smarty-pants.”

“Did
you see her eyes?”

“Her
eyes?” Connie looked toward the kitchen door, as if she’d be able to see
Angie’s eyes in spite of the fact that she had left.

“She’s
been crying. She cries a lot. Usually before you get home. I hear her in her
room after school.”

Connie
met Gianna’s worried gaze. “I thought that had stopped. Do you know why? Are
kids picking on her?”

Gianna
shook her head. “I doubt it. She has a load of friends. I don’t know. She won’t
talk about it.”

“Do
Ma and Pa know?”

“That
she cries? Yes. They say just to leave her alone, and she’ll be okay. That
she’s got stuff to work out.”

That
was it?
“Stuff to work out,”
Connie repeated.

“Well,
they don’t say it in exactly those words, but that’s the gist of it.”

Connie
let out a sigh of despair. “This is killing me. I want to help her.”

“I
asked Mamma about it the other day. She said we’ll know soon enough.”

Connie’s
heart skipped a beat. “What does
that
mean?”

Gianna
shook her head once more, then dipped the last of her
biscotto
into the
coffee in her cup. “I don’t know. I guess we have to wait and see.”

***

Paul
picked her up shortly after supper. David and Gianna had already left for
dinner and a performance of
La Boheme
at the Flynn Theater in Burlington.

Connie
and Paul walked downtown Barre hand-in-hand, looking into shop windows for the
perfect anniversary gift for Paul’s parents. They would be celebrating thirty-five
years of marriage in the coming week. Large flakes of snow spiraled lazily around
them as they strolled Main Street, leaning into each other affectionately,
laughing as they joked about various potential gifts.

The
tomato-y smell of pizza wafted out from one of the shops, and a nagging anxiety
sobered Connie’s mood. “Do you ever go to DeLuca’s?” she asked as they passed
the pizza place.

Paul
scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Not if I can avoid it. Their crust is
too thin. It’s like eating a cracker.”

“I
was there last night.” She held tightly to his hand as they kept walking, stealing
a glance at him now and then.

Paul
frowned. “Last night?”

“Yeah.
We stopped on the way home—Greg and I. The roads were terrible, and I was late
for supper, so we ate there.”

Paul
was quiet for a moment. “How late were you?”

“Not
terrible late, but you know how my folks are. If you’re not on time, they don’t
wait.”

“So,
around six-thirty or what?”

“Yeah,
around then.” Connie watched him out of the corner of her eye. He appeared to
be deep in thought.

“I
was there yesterday, too,” he said at last. “I don’t know what time. We worked
through supper, and DeLuca’s was the closest place to get something.”

“Well,
you know, Greg said he thought he saw you, but he wasn’t sure. When I turned
around, you were already gone.”

Paul
stopped walking and faced her. “So, then, what you really want to know is, was
I working last night? Right? Because if he saw me, he saw Karen and Janine.”

Connie
returned his icy stare. “Karen and Janine?”

“Yeah.
Karen owns the house we were working on, and Janine is her daughter. The four
of us went together because it’s Karen’s kitchen we were rewiring, and she
couldn’t cook.”

“Okay,”
Connie said with a shrug, seeking to defuse his anger. “I told Greg it was
probably your boss and his wife.”

“And
I’ll bet
Greg
was all over it, wasn’t he?”

“Meaning
what?”

“Well,
Con.” Paul’s voice was caustic. “You ride with the guy three hours a day, five
days a week. You invite him over to dinner at your house. What else do you do
with him while you’re in that car?”

Connie’s
will-power evaporated. “You son of a bitch! Transferring your guilt to me!
Karen
and
Janine
? Whatever happened to calling customers ‘Mrs.’? Who knows what
the hell
you
do with the lonely housewives!” She was completely out of
control, and she knew it, accusing him of something for which she had no
evidence. Still, his accusations about Greg had been equally unfounded.

“That’s
great, Connie! That’s really nice.” He pointed angrily to his own chest as he
leaned toward her. “My job puts me in people’s houses every day. I don’t need
that kind of attitude.”

“Oh,
and I do? I can’t ride to school with some guy without having sex with him?”

People
walking around them on the sidewalk were doing their best not to stare. Paul
grabbed her upper arm and steered her toward the street that would take them
back to his car. Connie yanked her arm out of his grasp and kept walking, her
eyes straight ahead.

“I’m
sorry,” he said, anger still clipping his words. “I had no reason to say that.”

“I
didn’t either. I just made it up because I was mad.”

His
car was in view, bringing with it a pang of regret that their evening was
already over. She was about to swallow her pride and apologize again, when he
stepped in front of her, grasped both her arms, and abruptly pulled her to him.
He covered her mouth with his, kissing her in full view of all passers-by,
pressing his lips to hers until she was out of breath. “God, you’re great when
you’re pissed,” he said as he pulled away.

“That
is such a cliché,” she answered, but she couldn’t keep from matching his grin
with one of her own.

They
resumed their walk to his car, hand-in-hand, laughing as they went. Snow sifted
out of the sky to settle on his black curls.

“So,
what kind of pizza did you have last night?” Connie asked in a teasing tone.

He
gave her a why-would-you-ask look. “Anchovy. It was Friday.”

He
drove them to a secluded spot between Barre and Stoneham, and they spent the
rest of the evening making out. His warm fingers slipped beneath her sweater to
rest on her bra-covered breast, then tugged on the silky material to expose her
nipple. She held her breath and waited for his touch. The electric shock that
ran through her, all the way to her groin, was incredible, and as she gasped,
he bared the other breast and kneaded both nipples with his thumbs, leading her
to the edge of giving in to more. But when he groped at the clasp of her pants,
she stopped him. She couldn’t let him touch her anywhere else, no matter how
much it ached. Not yet, and not tonight. It was too much too soon.

He
returned his hands to her breasts beneath the sweater and continued to kiss her.
He made her feel beautiful and desirable, and she loved knowing that she made
him hard. She rested her hand on the bulge in his pants, and his rapid intake
of breath sent an ache through her, causing her to reconsider her own resolve.

Once
again Paul was the one who brought their lovemaking to a halt. “I can’t do
this, Con.” He looked as though he were in pain.

Connie
moved away from him and adjusted her bra beneath her sweater. The night air was
cold, and when Paul saw her shiver, he pulled off his jacket and handed it to
her. “I’m plenty hot,” he said. He repositioned himself in the seat and
prepared to start the car. “I meant to ask you, where does Angie go with Father
Ianelli?”