Prayer (32 page)

Katrynn had lived her whole life in the loss of her father. She was shaken more by his sporadic presence than by his absence. Though, yes, she loved him, she didn’t think his death would change much about her life. She wondered how much she’d really mourn.

She stepped back, pushing herself free of his fetid embrace, and found John’s eyes on her. He was worried, and, she thought, angry at her father, and she loved him extra hard in that moment. There stood a man who would always be there for her. Any Pagano man was more reliable for her than her father.

“You need a shower, Daddy.” She cast her eyes around the bench he and John had been sitting on. “Where’s your pack?”

He laughed. “Yeah, the past month or so’s been rough. I got rolled train hopping in Georgia. Lost just about everything.”

Train hopping. Her father was an actual hobo. “What happened to your truck?”

He grinned. “Crapped out in Calgary. I’ve been hoofin’ and hitchin’ and hoppin’ ever since.”

Feeling ashamed of him and of her family, she couldn’t meet John’s eyes. “You haven’t been home yet, have you?” If he had, he would at least have been washed. “Does Mom even know you’re close?”

“I lost my phone when I got rolled. But the last time we talked, your mother told me you have some big changes coming up.” He turned and smiled at John. “I’ve had a nice talk with your fiancé. I like him.”

John put his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip. “I came over to pick up some boxes, and Bill was sitting there on the bench.”

She still couldn’t meet John’s eyes. He wouldn’t judge her, she knew that, but he was feeling sorry for her, and protective of her, she knew that, too. If she saw that kind of love in his eyes right now, she might well cry, and that might well result in her father bleeding.

“Okay. Well, come in, Daddy. We’ll get you cleaned up and fed. I guess you need a ride home, huh?”

He picked up her ponytail and tugged it gently, a habit of his that she might’ve gotten used to if he’d ever been around enough. “That would be good. After I’m cleaned up, I can probably hitch, if you’re busy.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you home, Daddy.”

“
We
will,” John corrected.

Katrynn met his eyes then, and when he gave her that particular smile, the one that said that he loved her wholeheartedly, and that she was strong and amazing, and that he was there, her head filled with tears. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold them at bay, and then she trotted past them both, putting her back to them as she went up to her apartment.

~oOo~

On the way back from Welcome that night, John pulled her Honda off the highway about halfway through the trip. He parked in a gas station lot, and Katrynn glanced over to see if they needed to refuel. No—still more than half a tank.

“Katrynn, you haven’t said a word since we left your parents. Don’t pull away from me. Not now. I don’t want to lose ground between us because of them.”

She looked down at her hands. The ring he’d given her sparkled in the glow from the big sodium arc lights above them. “I’m not. I promise I’m not. I’m just trying…trying to understand how I feel.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better, baby.”

Sitting so quietly as they returned to Quiet Cove—which was her home now in every way—she had been wrestling with that stupid, scared creature inside her, the one that wanted to keep her silent in intimacy, the one that advocated for her to become what other people seemed to want, the one that struck up a chant that love was not enough, that
she
was not enough, that she would be left, that she would drop her guard and turn around and everything she needed would be gone.

She hated that shitty little creature. So very much. It had been quiet for a while, almost the whole summer—since her birthday. But now, with her dad back, and after witnessing her mother’s desperate, frantic relief at his return, she was reminded how little of her mother stayed behind when her father was gone. Her creature had roused, cleared its throat, and begun to chant.

But now she knew that if it got its way,
that
was how she’d lose everything.

Facing John, she made herself risk his anger and say the thing that was always—even now, even after everything, even with a beautiful future before them, even knowing,
knowing
, in her head that he was steadfast—the greatest fear in her heart. “Please don’t wander. Please. I need to be what you need most. Forever. Please.”

He picked up her left hand. “I’m not a wanderer, Katrynn. I’ve lived my whole life in a five-mile radius. For most of my life, that felt like what I was
supposed
to do. What I was
expected
to do. But now I see how good it is, having my family so close, having that tradition. It’s the life I want. What I
choose
. I want to live in the Cove and raise babies with you. I want our kids to know my hometown like I do. I want to keep my Pop’s company as strong as he ever made it, so that he’s proud even after he’s gone. But more than all of that, I want you. I want to settle in and grow old with you. You
are
what I need most. I’m not going anywhere, baby. Believe me. I’m holding on. You’re home to me.”

When sobs overtook her, John pulled her close and let her cry, humming sweetly in her ear.

~ 21 ~

Katrynn leaned over again and put her mouth to John’s ear. “Okay, here’s one,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to ask Bev and hurt her feelings, but why did they put him in a dress?”

John smiled and turned to whisper back, “It’s not a dress. It’s a baptism gown.”

“You do know that gown and dress are synonymous, right? I mean you’re a guy and all, but you must know that.”

“Shhh, you two!” Pop hissed, more loudly than either John or Katrynn. John grinned at Katrynn and mouthed
Sorry!
to his father.

Katrynn had been attending church with him nearly every Sunday since her first time, the day Ren had been born. She always had a question or two, and they had built up a habit of this whispering conversation. Today, though, Ren’s baptism, she was chock full of questions. But the ceremony had begun, so he cocked an eyebrow at her and nodded toward the altar, where Nick and Bev and the baby stood with Father Mike, and with Donnie Goretti, one of Nick’s capos and a close friend of Bev’s, whom they’d chosen for Ren’s godfather. They had not chosen a godmother, but Bev’s friend, Skylar, not a Catholic, was standing as witness.

Nick and Bev hadn’t chosen two godparents for any of their children. Each had one. The girls all had godmothers, and now Ren had a godfather. John had never asked why, but he was sure Nick had a reason. He was also interested that Ren’s godfather was a capo with the Pagano Brothers. A made man. John wondered if that was significant. Maybe not; Donnie was a very good friend to Bev. He’d been seriously injured and horribly scarred trying to protect her from some kind of Pagano Brothers horror.

Standing before the baptismal font in a ceremonial cassock, Father Mike asked, “What name have you given your child?”

“Lorenzo Beniamino Nicolo Pagano,” Nick answered, his voice clear and strong, carrying through the half-full church.

Down the pew, Pop sighed heavily, and John knew why. They’d named their son in honor of all of the leaders the Pagano Brothers had ever had. Nick’s father, Lorrie. Uncle Ben, the first don of the organization, who’d founded it with Lorrie. And Nick himself, who had become don after Ben’s death. That name and a made godfather. The boy’s fate already seemed destined.

But he wasn’t full-blooded Italian. Bev’s heritage was some kind of Anglo mix, John thought, and she had never converted to Catholicism. Only full Italians could rise in the ranks to lead. Ren’s father was the lord of the New England underworld, but Ren himself didn’t have the pedigree to become his father’s legacy. Not unless Nick changed decades of tradition. Centuries, even.

Pop had sighed, though, and was now scowling, John knew, because he didn’t like to see even a hint of an idea that a six-week-old child’s future might have been directed toward the dark. Even as devoted to his older brothers as he’d been, even as he loved Nick and Bev and their children deeply, Pop had always hated the dark business of the Pagano Brothers.

~oOo~

At the end of the service, the youth choir sang the recessional. As always, Katrynn turned and looked up at the loft, her focus complete. John’s focus was on her. She loved the music of the Mass, and he loved to see the utter, peaceful joy in her eyes.

She wanted to join the choir, but only registered parishioners could be involved in church groups, and only Catholics could be registered parishioners. John was just as glad; he’d done his time in the youth choir and the adult choir through high school, and he’d played the guitar Mass for a couple of years beyond that, and the parish music director—still the same, increasingly shriveled old prune of a nun—was a nasty cow.

As they milled about outside the church, Katrynn caught his hands in hers and gave him a curiously shy smile.

“What’s up?” he asked, because something was.

“I want to be Catholic. Convert, I guess, though I’m not anything to convert from.”

She’d been swinging their arms; now, he stiffened his and made them still. “Is this about choir again? If you want to sing for an audience, we can find other ways for you to do it.” As he said it, the thought of singing and playing with her for an audience caught instant appeal. He wasn’t a big fan of the limelight, but he did enjoy sharing music with people, and playing with Katrynn was a particularly vivid spiritual experience for him.

“No. It’s about…I don’t know.” She looked up at the church façade. “All of this. I love this. I always feel so good in this church. It’s like a soul spa. I want to be a real part of it, not just a tolerated intruder.”

“You’re not an intruder, baby.”

“Yeah, I am. Every time you take communion and I’m left alone on the pew, that’s what it feels like.”

“You’re not sure about God. That’s kind of a requirement for Catholicism.”

She huffed and snatched her hands from his. “How can I be sure? I never had this. I didn’t grow up believing in anything. As many churches and temples and fellowship halls as Mom took us to, we never stuck around in one long enough to understand. What I know is that this place draws me. What happens here feels important. Isn’t there a class or something to help me with the parts I don’t understand?”

John considered her closely. The thought that they might share this, too, had power for him as well. But it was a monumental change, adopting a faith. Katrynn didn’t even like to change toothpaste brands. “Don’t do this for me, Katrynn. I don’t need it.”

“John, you’re not hearing me.
I
need it. This isn’t something that just occurred to me. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

He took her hand again. “Okay. I’m not sure of the process. I became Catholic like Ren just did, and I don’t know anyone who’s converted. But I don’t think it happens overnight. Let’s go talk to Father Mike.”

~oOo~

In keeping with Catholic tradition, Nick and Bev’s house was bedecked in white for Ren’s party that afternoon. Ren had been changed into a tiny white suit, but then there had been an unfortunate diaper situation, and now he was sleeping in Rosa’s arms, resting on her surprisingly big belly, wearing a plain white onesie. He was unimpressed by his party, clearly.

The house was crowded and happy, with lots of laughter and conversation, and kids running and squealing everywhere. Katrynn was huddled outside on the patio with Rosa, Bev, Sabina, and Adele, having an intent conversation that John suspected had to do with the wedding. He leaned on the bar in the family room and watched them through the open French doors. The women of his family had been aghast at their intention to marry quickly, and, as John had warned Katrynn, they had been positively scandalized at her suggestion that they didn’t need a big do. The Paganos didn’t do small weddings.

But neither she nor her parents could afford a big event. When John had told her that she needn’t worry
too
much about money, and when Adele and Sabina had begun to make suggestions, Katrynn had leapt wholeheartedly onto the Italian wedding bandwagon.

They were getting married during Advent, however, which was a period of penance. Father Mike would put the brakes on anything too lavish.

The priest had taken Katrynn’s request to convert seriously and had given her a copy of the Catechism, instructing her to read it and then, if she were still interested, to give him a call. Even if she went through with it, she wouldn’t be baptized until probably next Easter.

John just wanted her to make the decision to satisfy her own spiritual needs, and not simply so she’d ‘fit in’ with a family that had already accepted her with open enthusiasm and love.

“John.”

Nick was at his side, with Carina perched happily on his shoulders. John held out his hand. “Hey, man. Congratulations on the day. God bless.”

They shook. “Thank you. I need to see you in my office.” Nick lifted Carina down and handed her off to their nanny.

John’s heart dropped. Nick meant to discuss business with him, and that could only mean one thing “Now? Here?” Pagano Brothers business almost never happened in family spaces.

“Yes. No choice.” Nick turned and headed toward his office. John, knowing he had no choice either, followed, casting a longing glance back to Katrynn. She was deeply immersed in her conversation and didn’t notice him.

Julie and J.J. Nicci and Angelo Conti were already seated in one of the deep, tufted leather sofas in Nick’s home office. As he walked to his desk, Nick indicated a matching armchair, and John sat.

Julie was Nick’s underboss, his second in command. J.J., Julie’s son, was a capo, in charge of enforcement. Angelo was one of J.J.’s enforcers. John didn’t have to be made to know who these men were in the Pagano Brothers organization and what it meant that they were present for whatever Nick had to say to him.

Nick was calling in his marker, and whatever he wanted John to do, it would be messy and high-profile. John’s stomach twisted.

Coming back from his desk, Nick held out a magazine—a copy of
The New Yorker
. “Let’s make this quick. I hate doing business here. Page fifty-eight.”

John took it. He recognized it; Katrynn had subscriptions to three different magazines, and she kept them in a neat little stack next to the bed, in chronological order with the most recent on the bottom, and read her way through the stack. He’d seen this one make its way to the top a while back.

He flipped to the page Nick had instructed. The illustration caught his eye before he’d read a word, and John looked up and met his cousin’s intense gaze. Nick tipped his head, indicating the magazine, and John began to read.

Fucking Atticus Calhoun. He read on.

Holy fucking shit. After a few paragraphs, he looked up again. “Jesus, Nick. I thought you paid him off.”

Nick scowled. “I did. That story is a breach of our contract. Calhoun has made a grave error in his judgment, and now he will be made to pay. You are going to help make it happen.”

John’s mind reeled as it tried to understand what Nick could mean. John had been in plenty of fights. He’d hurt people. He’d hurt Calhoun, in fact. But he had never hurt anyone outside the heat of the moment, and he’d certainly never killed anyone. If Nick asked for something like that, John didn’t know what he’d do. “You…you don’t…you’re not asking me to…”

Nick put his hand up, and John shut up. “Would you say that I’m stupid, John?”

“Of course not.”

“It would be extremely stupid to put an amateur to a job for which I have professionals.” He glanced at Angelo as he said that. “When I call in a debt, I do it when the debtor has a particular value. In this case, you have value. More than that, you have a personal stake in this guy, right? He hurt Katrynn, didn’t he?”

“He’s an asshole, yeah. I hate him. But if you don’t want me to hurt him, I don’t know how I can help.”

J.J. leaned forward. “This guy is too high profile to grab off the street. He has to come willingly.”

John shook his head. “I get that. But he hates me, too. You think he’s going to come out for a drink with me?”

“I think exactly that,” Nick answered. “He’s in Boston for an event. You’re going to meet him and tell him you want to apologize. During our previous negotiations, he had a hard-on for humbling you. So you’re going to be humble. You’ll invite him for a drink. You’ll pick up a cab. Angelo will be driving it. Rather than an apology and a free drink, Calhoun will get the justice he needs.”

“And if he doesn’t fall for it?” John could not imagine a scenario in which Calhoun would willingly go anywhere alone with him.

“It’s your job to be sure that he does.”

As if it were that simple. But John knew that, to Nick, it was. He wanted something done, therefore it would be done. “When?”

“Tonight. You and Angelo leave in an hour.”

“And then we’re square, you and me?”