Hope's Angel (24 page)

What else should she want?
“I want a companion,” she said. “Someone
to do things with. Someone whose company I enjoy.”

“Then
why a guy? I met your friend Marilyn. You seem like good friends.”

He
had her there. “Okay. I’m looking for a mate for life. Is that what you want me
to say? These are my practice runs at finding the right guy some day?”

“Aren’t
they?” David asked.

“I
suppose they are.”

“So,
do you want someone who challenges you and brings excitement into your life and
stretches your mind and your outlook, or do you want someone who’s just like
you? Unless, of course, you see Paul’s womanizing as your challenge. But after
you’ve cured him of that—and the sex cools down, as it always does—what’s left
to keep you interested?”

Connie
smiled at him. “Some parish somewhere really lost out when you decided not to
be a priest.”

David
smiled back at her. “Think about it, Connie. Don’t just settle.” His long
fingers moved to affectionately stroke Gianna’s cheek and chin as she turned to
smile at him. “You’ll get more from life when you don’t do what comes easy.”

***

Paul
called a few more times during the following week, mostly in the evenings, once
early in the morning in the hopes of catching Connie before she left for UVM.
The last time he called was on the morning of Angie’s birthday, when Connie and
Angie were in the kitchen getting ready to eat breakfast before heading to their
respective schools.

“I
feel sorry for him,” Angie said as she hung up the phone. “He sounds so sad.
Why don’t you at least talk to him?”

“I
have nothing to say.” Connie took a box of cereal down from the pantry shelf
and pushed the door shut, then moved to the dish cupboard to get bowls. She was
not about to debate her decision to cut all ties with Paul.

“You
waited so long for him to ask you out,” Angie said.

“I
was demented.”

Angie
laughed, a tinkling sound that made Connie smile.

“So,
happy birthday, Sweet Sixteen,” Connie said, changing the subject as she carried
the breakfast items to the kitchen table. “Do you feel older and wiser?”

Angie
brought mugs of coffee for both of them, then sat down across the table from
Connie. “Not especially.” She was uncharacteristically blasé about this
landmark birthday.

A
light suddenly went on for Connie. She gawked at Angie. “This isn’t really your
birthday, is it?”

Angie
smiled from across the table and shook her head.

“How
old were you when they gave you up?”

“Ten
days.”

Connie
sipped her coffee. “Was your mother sick even then?”

“No.
Just scared.”

“Of
what?”

Angie
studied the steaming mug before her. “That I would be taken away from them.
That if they didn’t find a new home for me, someone would come, and they would
never see me again.”

Connie
couldn’t fathom what Angie was saying. “Why?”

Tears
welled in Angie’s eyes and, instead of answering, she simply shook her head.

Connie
stared at her, totally confused. “Who are you—some Abenaki princess or
something?”

Angie
let out a wry laugh. “Hardly.”

“
Buon
compleanno, Angelina!”
Mamma came through the backdoor, having already been
downstairs to start her laundry workload for the day. She approached the
sitting Angie and cupped the girl’s face in both of her hands to plant a noisy
kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks,
Mamma,” Angie said, giving Mamma a smile.

Mamma
gestured toward the box of cereal. “
Boh!
I make you something good for
your birthday. Eggs and the bacon. Connie, for you, too?”

Connie
glanced at her wristwatch. “I can’t, Mamma. Greg will be here soon.” She looked
across the table at Angie once more. “Are you ever going to tell me what this
was all about?”

Angie
dipped a teaspoon into the sugar bowl between them and added sugar to her
coffee, then slowly stirred it in. “Ask David. He knows.”

Connie
blinked. “David? Gianna’s David?”

Angie
nodded.

“What
does he have to do with it?”

“What
does he have to do with what?” Gianna shuffled into the kitchen wearing pale
blue print flannel pajamas and flip-flops. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and
she stifled a yawn as she entered the room.

Angie
frowned at Connie. “I told you before, he’s a friend of the family.”

“What
family?” Gianna asked. “What are you guys talking about?”

Connie
stood up from the table, her eyes focused on Angie’s. “I’ve got to go, but I
don’t want to hear it from David. I want to hear it from you.”

“Hear
what from David?” Gianna’s voice was on the verge of becoming shrill. “Stop
talking in riddles, you two! What does David know?”

Connie
hurriedly swallowed the coffee in her cup, leaving the uneaten cereal behind.
“I have no idea, Gianna,” she said, looking at her older sister. “But
apparently he knows more about this thing with the LaCroixs than you or me.”

***

Nonna,
Greg, and two of Angie’s girlfriends joined the family for Angie’s birthday
dinner that evening. The subject of Angie’s past never came up again. She and
her friends were having a sleepover using the room normally shared by Connie
and Gianna, and before dinner, Greg helped Papa move Angie’s bedsprings and
mattress into the space between the twin beds to accommodate all three girls.
Gianna would go home with Nonna to sleep in her extra room, and Connie would
sleep at home on the couch after her evening out with Greg.

“Tell
me again what that macaroni was called,” Greg said as they walked out to his car
after dinner.

“
Orecchiette
.
It means ‘little ears.’ It’s just fresh pasta dough pinched into that shape so
it holds the tomatoes.”

“And
the green stuff?”

 “
Rapini
.
Broccoli rabe. I know, it’s an acquired taste.  And the beans were
ceci
.
Chick-peas.” Connie smiled at him. “Not your usual birthday dinner choice,
huh?”

“You’re
definitely broadening my horizons.”

“Just
so you know, Angie would have picked that even if it wasn’t Friday,” Connie
said, remembering his fascination with the Catholic Church’s rules. “It’s her
hands-down favorite.”

“And
what about you?” Greg opened the passenger door to his Mustang and held it for
her. “What would you choose? And when is your birthday, anyway?”

Connie
slid into the bucket seat. “April fourth. Yours?”

“May
ninth.”

He
shut the door and came around to sit beside her in the driver’s seat. They were
traveling into Barre for the late showing of
Charly
. She watched him
start the car.

Since
their evening out at
La Boheme
a week earlier, Connie had become more
and more aware of how much she cared about him. They had resumed kissing
good-bye after carpooling each evening—chaste, heartfelt kisses that conveyed true
affection. She awoke anxious to see him every morning and found herself
watching for him on campus, hoping for a chance meeting, a “fix” for the empty
longing she felt without him during the day. On Wednesday evening they had
stayed late in the campus library, studying together, and when she looked up
from her work to sneak a peek at him, she found him watching her with a
contented smile that illuminated his eyes as well as his face, and her own
heart thumped with joy. Afterwards, they had stopped for a quick sandwich on
the way home and ended up necking at the Park and Ride when his Mustang proved
to be the only other vehicle in the secluded lot.

Greg
paused before putting the car in gear and gave her a quizzical smile. “What?”

Connie
smiled back at him, her heart full. “Nothing. I’m just happy to be here.”

His
eyes searched her face and his smile seemed tentative as he watched her. “Really?
I’m happy to hear you say that.”

Something
about his demeanor struck fear into her heart. “What’s wrong?”

He
smiled and shook his head, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing.
Everything’s good.”

“No,
it’s not, Greg. I can tell. What’s wrong?” She turned her body toward him, her
eyes intent on his, a lump rising in her throat at the thought that he was
about to tell her he had someone else.

He
shook his head again, his eyes full of misery as they stared into hers. “I know
you don’t want to hear this, Connie. But I spend time with your family, and I
ride with you every day, and it’s just killing me to know that all I’m doing is
filling in until Paul’s back in your life.”

An
overwhelming ache spread through her entire body, a pain that had her on the
verge of tears as she stared back at him. He had no idea how she really felt.

“I
love you, Greg,” she said, looking deep into his eyes, saying out loud for the
first time what she only recently had realized herself. “I don’t want Paul in
my life. I want you.”

“Two
weeks ago, you said you weren’t through with Paul,” he said warily.

“But
I am now.”

Greg
watched her as though waiting for the other shoe to drop, girding himself for
the caveat, the qualifier that he was sure must be coming. When it didn’t
happen, his brow furrowed for a moment and then he began to relax, slowly at
first, the light returning to his eyes as the unconditional nature of her
declaration began to sink in.

 “Don’t
say that if you don’t mean it, Connie. That would be worse than never hearing
you say it at all.”

Connie
smiled and shook her head in an attempt to dispel his fears, then leaned across
the floor-mounted stick shift to put her arms around his neck and pull his face
to hers. “I love you, Greg. I love you.” She closed her eyes and kissed his lips,
her heart pounding as the words became her reality. His arms closed around her
and pulled her tightly to him and the intensity of the kiss increased.

His
gray eyes were dancing with fun as he pulled back to look at her. “O
kay
,”
he said with a laugh, drawing out the second syllable of the word, “now, let’s
go watch this heartbreaking movie about a man whose future is hopeless.”

***

Angie
and her friends were still awake, giggling in the bedroom, when Connie arrived
home just before midnight. She stretched out on the couch, sure she would never
fall asleep after her evening with Greg. Parting had been more difficult than
usual.

She
slept fitfully and was up early the next morning. Angie and her friends were sound
asleep. Connie and Gianna sat at the kitchen table, talking in low voices as
they shared slices of the warm homemade bread Nonna had sent home with Gianna.

Connie
sipped her coffee. “Did you and Angie ever finish the conversation about David
yesterday? About why he knows more about what’s going on than we do?”

Gianna
avoided Connie’s eyes as she nodded. “Because of Father Ianelli.”

The
priest’s ubiquitous nature was beginning to irritate Connie. “He’s kind of got
his finger in everything, hasn’t he?”

Tears
welled in Gianna’s eyes, and her voice broke. “And now I’m starting to wonder
where David and I fit in.”

“What
do you mean?”

Gianna’s
eyes shifted to meet Connie’s. “David knew about Angie and the LaCroixs years ago.
And he says it’s just a coincidence that we’re together now, but I don’t know!”
Tears began to stream down Gianna’s cheeks as she stared at Connie. “Is it just
a coincidence that Father Ianelli introduced him to me? Or is this really all
about Angie—about keeping an eye on her for the LaCroixs? What if I’m just some
kind of pawn?”

Gianna
didn’t require much to destroy her self-confidence, and Connie hated to see her
lose the headway she had made. “That doesn’t make any sense, Gi. Why would he
need to keep an eye on her, especially now, when she knows about the LaCroixs
and goes to be with them? Why does he need to keep an eye on her at all? Did
she ever explain that to you? Why they gave her up?”

Gianna
shook her head as she brushed the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips.

 “Has
David ever said
anything
about them?” Connie persisted.

“No.”

“Well,
I don’t get it. If they put her up for adoption, and Father arranged it, why did
Mamma and Papa keep it such a big secret? Why didn’t they tell her about her
real parents sooner?”

Gianna
sniffled, then blew her nose into a paper napkin and looked at Connie. “Maybe
they were embarrassed. Or afraid.”

“Afraid
of what? That she’d be upset? Of course, she’d be upset! So you wait until
she’s practically an adult?”

Connie’s
exasperation had raised the volume of her voice, and Gianna frowned at her. “Shush.
She and her friends will hear us.”