Hope's Angel (23 page)

Gianna
gently shook her. “You can’t change it, Con. You can only learn from it. And go
to Confession.”

“Today’s
Wednesday. What if I die before Saturday?” As stupid as it sounded, her fear of
eternal damnation was real.

“Say
an Act of Contrition. Be truly sorry, and when you get to the part about not
doing it again, mean it.”

Connie
sniffled back a pending wave of new tears. “The trouble is, I’m not sure I’m
strong enough to not do it again. I mean, if not with Paul, what about Greg?
He’s an attractive guy. And he says he loves me.”

Gianna
released her and sat back on her heels. Her dark eyes held Connie’s. “I love
David. He loves me. And it’s part of the deal. We’re not going to hurt each
other or send each other to hell because of something we can control. You
can
control it, Connie.”

When
had Gianna become so sophisticated about love?
“Do you think he’s the one?”

Despair
tinged Gianna’s voice. “I don’t know. Mamma says he’s the first guy I’ve gone
out with, and I shouldn’t make a decision that way.”

“Ha!”
Connie was incredulous. “Papa’s the only man she ever had a relationship with!
They were practically promised at birth. I’m not sure they even had a choice.”

“They
were betrothed. She told me that.”

Connie
stared at Gianna. “She told you that?”

“Yes.
But then she said, because they knew it, they never looked at anyone else, and
they just fell in love with each other. Like it was meant to be.”

Connie
shook her head in disbelief. “Well, I’m glad she talks to you about it. I can
barely get two words out of her about that kind of stuff except that men are
animals, but not Papa.”

“She
worries more about you.”

“About
me? Why?” Connie wasn’t sure if she should take offense.

Gianna’s
expression was serious. “Because you’re more worldly and adventurous than I am.
You’re not afraid to try new stuff. And she’s afraid you’re going to get hurt really
bad some day, and that scares her.”

Connie
let out a sigh. “Maybe she should be worrying more about Angie. I still don’t
get the thing  about part Indian.”

Gianna
reached for her disheveled sheet and blankets, then lay back in the bed and
pulled the covers up to her neck. “One thing at a time, Connie. It’s late. Go
to bed and say your prayers.” She rolled away from Connie, her face to the wall
once more, and drew her legs up into the fetal position.

Connie
went into the bathroom. If it wasn’t for the noisy plumbing waking her parents,
she would have taken a shower. Yet soap and water wouldn’t be enough to wash
away how dirty she felt. She began to mumble the Act of Contrition as she
pulled a washcloth from the drawer and prepared to quietly do what she could.

Chapter
Seventeen

Friday,
November 8

Angie’s
spirits seemed to rise even as Connie’s plummeted. While Connie suffered from
anxiety attacks fueled by guilt, Angie had noticeably lightened up. Having her
secret out, at least to the extent that it had been shared with her sisters,
gave Angie the freedom to be open about where she was going on the weekend and
why.

On
Friday evening, Mamma and Papa went to visit Nonna and The Aunts, leaving their
daughters behind. The three girls were seated in the living room, folding
family laundry, and Angie had just finished describing the LaCroixs’ log home
on a back road outside of Swanton.

“What
do you call them?”
Connie
asked as she rolled up pairs of ankle socks and tossed the orbs back into the
wicker laundry basket.

“
Mère
and
Père
. My French is awful, but it makes them happy. I’m just so glad
it’s not
Mamma
and
Papa
. I could never call them that.”

“Was
it really weird at first?” Gianna sorted underwear by color; each of them had
her own color.

Angie
smiled. “I guess. I mean, I already knew them a little from when they used to
visit. But, of course, it was different knowing who they really are and staying
overnight at their house. They kind of watched me all the time at first and
fussed a lot, like they were afraid something would happen that would make me
want to come home and never go back.”

“I
can’t imagine Mr. LaCroix fussing,” Gianna said.

“Not
him so much, but her. And Francis.”

Connie
sorted through the pile of ankle socks looking for a match to the blue one in
her hand. “How long has Francis known?”

“Since
he was ten.”

Connie
looked up in surprise. “That long? All those times he came here, he knew you
were his sister? And we found out
last week
?”

Angie
gave her an apologetic grimace. “Con, I know that upsets you, and I’m sorry.”

Connie
looked away, knowing she shouldn’t take out her frustrations on Angie. “It
wasn’t your choice.”

“Don’t
be mad at Mamma and Papa, either. They were just trying to do the right thing.”

“Do
you have grandparents, too?” Gianna asked.

“They
died.”

Connie
wondered how that felt, knowing she missed the chance to know her biological
ancestors.

“But
I have lots of aunts and uncles,” Angie said. “I’m still learning all their
names.”

“And
cousins?” Gianna asked.

Her
smile faded as she shook her head. “Not as many as you might think.”

Her
answer, and the change in her demeanor, puzzled Connie. “Are there more like
you? I mean, you’re a cousin they didn’t know about until now.”

“Given
away, you mean?” Angie’s voice held a hint of reproach. “No cousins I know of.
But I have a half sister somewhere.
Mon père
doesn’t know where she is.
She’d be Gianna’s age, I think. A few years older than Francis.”

“He
was married before?”

“I
don’t think so. They don’t talk about her. Francis told me.”

“I
still don’t understand why they gave you up like that,” Connie said, reaching
for more socks. “Were they just too poor?”

The
kitchen door lock turned and the door creaked opened. Mamma and Papa were
conversing animatedly in Italian as they entered the flat, and the three girls
turned their attention to the doorway between the kitchen and living room,
waiting for their parents to step into view.

Mamma
moved past the opening and headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms and
bathroom. Papa came to stand in the doorway, still wearing his coat and soft workman’s
cap. He returned the greeting from each of his daughters, then focused unsmiling
brown eyes on Connie.“Your mother wishes to see you, Concetta. In your room.”

Connie’s
heart stopped for a moment, her breath taken away.

They
had been to the duplex. They knew about her and Paul.

Her
thoughts raced. Had she left something behind in the elder Cefalus’ house? Did
someone see them go in? Had Paul told someone who then told Nonna? She felt her
skin go cold and clammy and knew her father could see her face blanch.

She
reluctantly rose to her feet, slightly light-headed, and avoided meeting the
inquiring eyes of her sisters as she walked across the room. Papa stepped
aside, and she moved past him and down the hall to her darkened bedroom.

Mamma
was sitting on Gianna’s bed with the light from the neighbor’s upstairs window
illuminating one side of her face. She looked up as Connie entered, her dark
eyes troubled. She gestured toward Connie’s bed, which stood against the
opposite wall in the small room.

“Sit.”

Connie
perched on the edge of the bed, facing her mother. A miniature rag rug filled
the floor space between them, and Connie focused on its woven pattern as her
mother spoke.

“Today
we go to visit Nonna and the aunts. And while we are there, we hear this
story.” Mamma’s voice took on an unexpected apologetic tone. “This is not easy
for me, Concetta, but it must be said.”

Connie
swallowed and nodded.

“Gaetano
and Nina Cefalu, they live in the house next door. And they are gone for most
of the week. But during this time, someone comes into the house. And Mariana
sees this from her window on that side. Two persons. But when they go in, they
don’t put on the lights. They don’t act like two persons who should be there.
So, she sends Tony over to look into the windows.”

Connie
rolled her lips together and drew in a deep breath, her heart pounding so hard
she could barely think.

“You
know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” her mother asked.

Connie
did not respond, hoping against hope that she didn’t know.

“He
saw Paul. And a girl. A girl with no clothes. On the sofa.” Mamma paused.

Connie
closed her eyes and bit her lips. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the part
about Cousin Tony or what her parents now knew.

“I’m
sorry to have to say this.” Mamma’s voice was gentle. “It was Tina DeMarco, Nino’s
girlfriend. And they were doing what only the married persons should do.”

Connie’s
eyes flew open and she looked up at Mamma. “Tina?” The word came out in a
strangled whisper. “He was there with Tina?”

“I
cannot tell you what to do,” Mamma said sadly, “but I do not want that boy in
my house. He cannot be here on Sunday. Or ever again.”

“You’re
sure it was Tina?”

“Concetta,
what difference does it make? He cheats on you. And he is immoral.”

Connie’s
mind was spinning. Was Cousin Tony covering for her? Had he truly thought she
was Tina? Or had Paul actually taken Tina there on another night?

“I’m
sorry.” Mamma  rose from the bed and crossed the small space between them. She
bent to hug Connie with a quick squeeze, then quietly left the room.

The
light in the house next door went out, and Connie sat staring into the darkness
of her room. She had just been given a gift, a reprieve from what could have
been an incredibly devastating revelation to her parents. She should be
thankful. But if what her mother had said was true, she should also be
mortified. Paul had played her, and now he knew her intimately, and she would
never be able to face him again.

She
rose from her bed and walked into the kitchen, her head buzzing with the rush
of what she was about to do. The phone hung on the wall beside the door to the
living room, and she took the receiver from its cradle, then dialed Paul’s
house.

Paul’s
mother answered.

“Mrs.
Cefalu? This is Connie Balestra. Is Paul there?”

“Connie.
How nice to hear you. He’s here, but he’s eating. He worked late. Can I have
him call you back?”

“No,
if you don’t mind, I need to talk to him now. Please.”

The
woman sighed, then muffled the sound while she yelled Paul’s name. “He’s
coming,” she said into the phone, making no effort to hide her irritation with
Connie. A moment later, Connie heard her say, “Here. It’s Connie.”

“Connie!”
Paul sounded weary yet happy to hear it was her, and for a moment she almost
faltered. But the thought of him making a fool of her was enough to bolster her
courage.

“I’ve
got two words for you,” she said through clenched teeth. “Tina DeMarco.”

A
low groan escaped him.

The
sound increased her resolve. “My mother has withdrawn her invitation. Don’t
come on Sunday, or ever again. Got it?”

“Con—”

“I
take responsibility for what I do, Paul, so, I don’t hold any grudges. I did
what I did. I just don’t want to see you again.”

“Con—”

“Paul?
It’s over.”

She
hung up the phone and leaned her forehead against the wall. Her arms and legs
were trembling from the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and tears began
to roll down her face.

Her
father’s arms came around her shoulders from behind, taking her completely by
surprise as he cradled her against his broad chest.

“You
do the right thing.” His breath was hot in her ear. “You stay with the boy who
takes you to see the opera
.
”

***

Connie’s
anger carried her through Saturday and her date with Greg without a second
thought about Paul. She thoroughly enjoyed
La Boheme
and the expensive
Italian restaurant Greg took her to after the show. Greg was charming and
caring and a gentleman, and when he walked her up the stairs to her door and
gently kissed her good night, she was riding high on being with him again. 

Sunday
morning brought the first pangs of regret about Paul. She rose at six to join
her family for seven o’clock Mass, a calculated choice to ensure she didn’t run
into Paul at church. Yet somehow she knew that he wouldn’t be at nine o’clock
Mass, either. He would avoid all possibility of seeing her out of
self-preservation. She wondered if his family’s weekly breakfast would be
subdued, their awareness of the breakup and the reason behind it invoking a
certain level of sympathy for her, but she knew in her heart that she was
reading too much importance into it for them. Paul’s girls came and went. He
may have upset his grandmother temporarily, but her concerns wouldn’t be for
Connie as much as for how inappropriately her grandson behaved.

His
first phone call came that evening, after they finished the dinner from which
he was conspicuously absent. Connie purposely avoided answering the phone, and
when Gianna told her who was calling, she refused to take the call.

“He
sounded really down,” Gianna said, returning to her place beside David on the
couch. “He said to tell you that you had the whole thing wrong about Tina.”

“I’m
sure.”

David’s
arm lay across the back of the couch behind Gianna’s shoulders, and Connie sat
in her dad’s recliner across from them, watching David’s fingers gently play
with her sister’s hair. Connie had considered inviting Greg to dinner, but it had
felt like too much too soon after their big evening together the night before.
Now she wished she had, for a hollow loneliness was overtaking her as she
watched the tenderness David exhibited toward Gianna. She wanted and needed
some of that for herself.

David
was studying her with his golden-brown eyes. “Tell me about Paul.” His
compassionate tone of voice compelled her to answer.

“There’s
nothing to tell. I’ve known him forever. And I should have known better than to
trust him.”

“Why?”

“Because
he’s a womanizer. And it was ridiculous for me to think I could be the one who
would change that.”

“Why
would you want to, at your age?”

His
question caught Connie off-guard, and no immediate answer came to mind. She
certainly wasn’t ready to marry Paul and settle down. She gave David a reserved
smile. “I don’t know.”

“I
understand your attraction to him,” David said. “Gianna says he’s almost as
good-looking as I am.”

Connie’s
smile broadened. “How shallow, huh?”

David
gave her his handsome, white-toothed smile, then turned serious. “Physical
attraction is a very real thing. But I’m sure you know you can’t expect a
long-term relationship from that alone. There’s got to be more.”

“You’re
assuming there wasn’t,” Connie said, slightly annoyed.

“So
far, you haven’t told me what that was.”

What was it she loved about Paul?
“Well, besides being wicked
handsome, he’s a nice guy. Pretty even-tempered. Family-oriented. He goes to
church. We have the same background. Share a lot of the same experiences.”

David
nodded. “He sounds safe. Familiar. Is that all you want?”