Voices Carry (40 page)

“Well, then, I guess we do know what’s good for you.”

“I guess we do,” he grinned, taking her by the hand and leading her back down the short hall to the cozy bed with the rumpled sheets.

The narrow street in front of the Grotto, one of many small Italian restaurants that sat tucked between two row houses in the genial neighborhood that made up South Philadelphia, was packed, bumper to bumper, with cars bearing license plates from six different states. John had had to park his Mercedes in the alley behind his mother’s house and walk the five blocks to the restaurant, but he didn’t mind, since it gave him a little time to think over, once again, what he was about to do, and the manner in which he’d do it.

John linked his hand with Genna’s, and together they strolled leisurely through the streets where John had grown up. There was a comfort in the familiar houses, with their window boxes overflowing with the last of that season’s petunias and the concrete urns that sported geraniums gone leggy so late in the summer. A car sped around the corner, its tires
squeaking, its muffler bellowing, and John sighed with contentment. There was, for true satisfaction, no place like home.

In honor of his wife’s sixty-fifth birthday, John’s Uncle Vinnie had painted the front door of his restaurant sky blue—which she’d been after him to do for years though no one knew why—and closed for business for the night, choosing to open the doors only to family. When John and Genna arrived, the party was in full swing, and apparently had been for some time, judging by the number of cousins who had clearly been at the bar a little too long.

“Johnny!” His mother spotted them the minute they walked through the door. As he knew she would. “Genna! Everybody, my Johnny and his Genna are here!”

A cheer went up from the bar. Even the DelVecchio brothers raised a glass in their honor.

“You’re heroes, the two of you,” Rita Mancini grabbed them both, kissing each of them on both cheeks without missing a syllable. “Catching that pervert. . . Genna, to be as brave as you are! Madre mia, when I heard what was going on out there! I would have been terrified if Aunt Magda hadn’t put the eye on that Michael person. . .”

“That must have been what saved me,” Genna nodded solemnly, then tried not to register surprise when Rita grabbed her by the hand and called to her aunt, “Did you hear that? She’s crediting you with saving her, Aunt Magda! It must have been the eye, she said. Did my Johnny pick the right girl or what, I ask you?”

“Actually, I did pick the right girl,” John said, taking Genna’s hand and leading her to an empty seat next
to his cousin Maria. “I’m hoping she’ll let me keep her.”

Trying not to blush, Genna looked up into John’s dark eyes that suddenly lost all hint of playfulness.

What in the world,
she was thinking, as he dropped slowly to one knee in front of her, and seemed to search her eyes for the answer to a question he’d yet to ask. The voices in the crowd began to hush, as one by one, cousins and aunts and uncles elbowed each other into silence, and craned their necks to watch, not knowing exactly what John was up to, but certain that they didn’t want to miss a minute of it. Somehow, it was understood that the stuff of family legends was about to take place.

“Genna, over the past few years, we’ve been through so much together. We’ve shared the very best and the very worst of our lives and of ourselves. These past few weeks have made it very clear to me that we’ve spent far too much time apart. That I do not want to spend another day without you.” He paused and asked, “So I need to know. Do you feel the same way about me?”

The audience faded away, and all she could see was John.

“Yes. I feel the same way,” she said softly.

He drew a black velvet box out of his jacket pocket, and opened it. Taking out the gold band with the glittering solitaire and sliding it onto her finger, he asked, “Will you marry me? For better or for worse?”

All she could do, was nod.

“Oh, my God, he gave her a ring,” Rita Mancini declared, breaking the silence and clutching her left hand to her heart as she plopped back into her seat. “Tess!
Did you hear that? Nate, are you taking notes? Is my Johnny a poet or not? Did you ever? Vinnie! We need champagne! My Johnny’s getting married!”

Music poured from the jukebox, and someone handed Genna a glass of bubbly wine.

“You certainly didn’t make it easy for me to say no,” she laughed above the festivities, touching John’s face and drawing it near for a kiss.

“True. But you can’t blame me for stacking the house. It was a chance I didn’t want to take,” he said, kissing her back. “Though you could always change your mind. I could turn off the jukebox and you could make an announcement—”

“In this crowd? I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Looks like I’m stuck with you.”

“Looks like you are.”

“For better or for worse.”

“So far this month we’ve had a little bit of both.”

“I liked the better part best.”

“So did I.” He felt in his pockets for change, then ducked over to the jukebox, telling her, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

He slipped a few coins into the slot and punched a few buttons, then returned to put his arms around her, and lead her in a slow dance as the music began to play.

“So, your Aunt Magda put the eye on Brother Michael,” Genna said, swaying to the sounds of harmony.

“That’s what she says.”

“Think she might like a job with the Bureau?” Genna asked.

“If they pay in gold bracelets, they might be able to work something out.”

“What’s this song, anyway?” Genna strained her ears to pick up the words.

“‘You Belong to Me,’” he whispered, pulling her close. “It’s an old South Philly favorite. . .”

“Okay, what’s going on here?” Genna stood on the back deck of the cabin, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Below on the lawn, stood John, Patsy, and Chrissie, obviously conferring on something. “What are the three of you up to?”

“Just planning ahead,” John grinned.

“Planning what?”

“The future,” he told her, reaching up to the deck to take her hand and lead her down the steps.

“And what exactly do you see, when you look into the future?” she asked as he walked her across the grass to join Chrissie and Pats.

Taking her by the arms, he turned her toward the cottage.

“I see a second floor there,” he told her as he settled her into the circle of his arms, her back leaning against his chest, “with a couple of bedrooms and a bath.”

“I thought a little balcony across the back might be nice, in the event that whoever was staying there might be able to step out and catch a sunrise or watch the moon come up,” Patsy said.

“Hmmmm. Sounds lovely,” Genna murmured. “Who might be staying there?”

“You never know,” John said. “And Patsy mentioned that she’d been dreaming for years about a screened porch across the back. You know, so that she’d have a place to entertain on rainy days, or to eat on those nights when the bugs are so fierce.”

“Entertain?” Genna frowned. “Patsy, you never entertain.”

“Then she thought that maybe a slightly larger kitchen might be in order,” John continued on as if he hadn’t heard.

“So, of course, while she’s doing that, she might as well add a few more feet onto the other side and make the bedrooms a little larger,” Crystal added. “Maybe even add one more room downstairs.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” She twisted in his arms to look at the three beaming faces. “Just who do you think is going to be coming to stay?”

“Well, Patsy figured that Crystal needs her own room. And then there’s you and me, but we can share one room. Then there needs to be a guest room, so that there’s a place for my mother to stay when she visits—”

“Your mother?” Genna laughed. “When do you think your mother is going to visit all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Well, I’m figuring that once we have children, we’ll want them to spend some time in the summer up here at the lake. And I figure that my mother will want to spend time with them, too, so we thought maybe we should plan on adding one more room, just in case.”

“I see,” Genna said thoughtfully. “And what do you think Mamma Mancini will think of Bricker’s Lake?”

“Oh, I think she’ll love it, once she gets over the fact that it doesn’t have a boardwalk and no one sells saltwater taffy like they do in Avalon and Ocean City.”

“Somehow, I just don’t see your mother out there with a fishing pole, tying May flies onto a hook,” Genna mused.

“Maybe not at first, but you know, Patsy’s pretty tough to get around. You know, when she sets her mind to something. . .”

“Which reminds me, John. Let’s get moving here. The day is passing and the fish are lively.” Patsy patted him on the back and headed for the lake.

“I almost forgot, I made a little lunch to take with us.” Crystal started for the house, but Patsy called her back.

“It’s already in the boat, honey.” She swung an arm over Chrissie’s shoulder and walked with her toward the dock, calling back to John, “Time’s wasting, John Mancini.”

“Right, Pats,” he called to her, then told Genna, “We can talk about the addition later. Patsy tells me there’s a big bass out there calling my name. She’s going to help me to find it. Want to come along?”

“No, I want to get the rest of my reports on my interviews with Michael’s victims e-mailed into the office. I want it all behind me, once and for all. After this weekend, I don’t want to have to think about it.”

“Now, you know, that’s not going to be possible. There’s a long road ahead of us, between now and the time that it’s all put away for good.”

“I know. But once my reports are done, I won’t have to dwell on the details.” She frowned, adding, “That is, of course, until the next case comes in. . .”

John bit his bottom lip. Now just wasn’t the time to share with Genna the phone call he’d had from Calvin Sharpe the night before. Three young boys had gone missing in a small Texas town. The team of four—Genna,
John, Dale, and Adam—had been so highly praised that the Bureau thought they might just send them all down to look into it.

Well, she’d hear about it soon enough, John figured. She just didn’t have to hear it today, when she seemed more relaxed than she had for weeks. And she didn’t have to hear about it here, where the last bit of summer served up the scent of clematis and the first touch of gold on the maple trees that huddled close to the edge of the lake.

“Last chance,” Patsy warned as she started the engine of her flat-bottomed boat and prepared to shove off.

“You heard her.” John stole a quick kiss, then turned to the lake. Over his shoulder, he called back to Genna, “Patsy says there’s a ham supper down at Stillwell’s tonight, so we won’t be out on the lake too long.”

Genna laughed and waved, watching her city boy take long strides across the lawn and down to the dock, where he effortlessly boarded the boat just as Patsy prepared to pull away.

They wouldn’t be more than an hour or two, plenty of time to finish up that last report. She’d save it on a disk, then print it out when she arrived back at the office on Monday. She paused momentarily to sniff at Patsy’s yellow roses on her way past a flower bed, and savored the last little bit of summer, feeling infinitely grateful to be where she was.

Bricker’s Lake suits me just fine,
she sighed with pleasure.
And it seems to suit Crystal. Even John appears to be perfectly content here.

Genna continued her walk back up toward the cottage, trying to envision the changes John had
talked about making. Another room would bring the back wall at least as far as that clump of hydrangeas there on the right side of the property. And the screened porch would bring it out even farther. Of course, there was plenty of room between the back of the small house and the lake, more than enough room for the proposed addition and then some.

A second floor would be lovely, a bedroom with a balcony overlooking the lake would be lovelier still.

Genna looked back over her shoulder to the lake, where Patsy was handing over the wheel to Crystal and, no doubt, giving her instructions on steering. Watching from the shore, her eyes misted with the knowledge that that little boat held everything that mattered most in her life, that there on its deck, her past and her present merged with her future.

The reports, she realized suddenly, could wait.

“Hey!” she called, breaking into a trot and heading for the lake. “Wait up. . . !”