Prayer (The Pagano Family Book 5) Read online

  He took her hand and pulled her from the island. “That’s why we hired help. We need to talk. Come.” She stopped resisting and let him lead her back to his study. There, he sat her down on a black leather sofa. “Tell me.”

  And she put her face in her hands and cried. He brought her close and held her, letting her go until she could stop on her own. When she was quiet, he said, “I can call and get somebody here to finish it all. If you want Dominic himself, I can have him here within half an hour. It’s Christmas. We should be enjoying the girls. You shouldn’t be so overwhelmed over a family dinner.”

  She sat back and wiped her face. “It’s not that. It is more than I thought, but it would be fine. I was enjoying it, mostly. But…Nick…” Her lip started to tremble again, and he put his thumb gently on it.

  “Easy, bella. What is it?”

  “I’m pregnant again!” This time she folded over onto her lap and sobbed hard.

  Nick stared at her back for a second, stunned for the second time since he’d walked in the door. Shit. Carina wasn’t even six months old, and it had not been an easy six months. Beverly just hadn’t been the same. She was still gentle and kind and loving. She was an amazing mother and wife. The bookshop was enjoying greater success than it ever had before. But she had been quieter and more reserved since Carina. She said she was fine and the girls were just keeping her on her toes, but he felt sure there was something more. He didn’t know what it might be, but she was changed.

  They weren’t ready for another baby. Carina was still waking twice a night to feed. Elisa wasn’t even in kindergarten yet and wouldn’t be until the following fall. And he wanted his sun back at her full brilliance.

  Lia was only ten months younger than Elisa. After that, Beverly had said she wanted only one child in diapers at a time. So they’d been careful, and Carina was three and a half years younger than Lia. They were nowhere near ready to think about a fourth yet. Not, apparently, that it mattered.

  They’d been careful this time, too. Hell, they hadn’t had all that many opportunities not to be careful. There was at least one child in their bed at night more than half the time.

  But Nick knew when it had to have happened. Their anniversary. He’d taken her to New York City for the weekend. For those three days, Beverly had been her old self, and they’d made up for a lot of lost time. Since she was nursing, they’d been using condoms.

  Almost all the time. Except in the elevator. Rubbing Beverly’s shaking back as she wept, he couldn’t help but smile at that memory.

  “It’s okay, bella.”

  “It’s not! I can’t, Nick. I’m so tired. I haven’t gotten myself back from Carina. My body and my head and my everything still feels…flabby. And pregnant and nursing again? That was so hard with Elisa and Lia. I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

  He knew she wasn’t saying what it sounded liked she was saying. He moved off the sofa and crouched in front of her, taking her hands. “Look at me, Beverly.” She lifted her eyes. “You can. You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll make Brenda full time.” Brenda, their nanny, now came in about twenty hours a week so Beverly could work at the shop. “And you can cut back at the shop. Katrynn is a great manager. Hire more staff so you can go in when you want and stay home when you want.” They could also wean Carina onto formula entirely, he thought, but he knew better than to say it right now. “You know when it happened, right?”

  “New York,” she sniffed. “It has to be New York.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but remember when?”

  Her look was blank. He was a little hurt that she didn’t remember.

  “Coming back from our anniversary dinner, late…after that cab ride…”

  She smiled a little. “Oh.”

  “Yes. ‘Oh.’ I like the thought that we conceived when I had you face-first on the elevator wall.” The hotel security team had probably gotten a real show that night.

  Her smile grew and her cheeks pinked up. “That was nice. With that start, this one will probably be our boy.”

  He grinned. Maybe so. But it didn’t matter. “You can do this, bella. We can.” He’d been thinking about the next thing he was going to say for a while, as he’d watched Beverly struggle over the past few months, but he hadn’t brought it up yet. This moment seemed an apt time. “And I’ll get cut. We stop at four.”

  She sat up a little, surprised. “If this is our boy, you mean.”

  “No. I’ll make an appointment right after the holidays. It doesn’t matter whether this one is a boy or not. I love my girls. I love the pink and the glitter and the Barbies and princesses and all of it. I don’t need a son to make my family complete. Every one of our children is a token of our love, bella. My family was complete when I put this ring on your finger.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Sei tutto per me. Sei il sole della mia vita. Ti amo.”

  She put her hand on the side of his face. “I love you. Don’t make the appointment yet. I’m not ready to be pregnant again, but I’m not ready to be so final about it, either.” She laughed shyly. “I’m sorry about being crazy today.”

  “You are the farthest thing from crazy. You need help you’re not asking for—but now I’m going to make sure you get it.” He kissed her hand again. “And it’s not me you owe an apology, Mamma.”

  The color drained again from her face. “Oh, God. Poor Elisa! I can’t believe I spoke to her like that!”

  “I talked to her. She’s okay. I told her you’d come up and see her.”

  “Okay. I need to check on dinner first.”

  “No. You need to talk to our girl. Do you want me to get Dominic here and take over in the kitchen?”

  “No, no. Ashley and Gina know what they’re doing, and I don’t want to just hand it all over. Okay. I’ll… okay. I’ll go talk to Elisa. The girls need to nap before dinner, anyway, so they’ll still be awake for Mass.”

  He stood and helped her to her feet. “Go. I’ll put Ma in the kitchen and I’ll get Lia up to bed.”

  ~oOo~

  A few hours later, their house was full of every living Pagano. Nick’s mother. His Uncle Carlo and his wife, Adele. His cousins and their families: Carlo, Sabina, Trey, and Little Ben; Carmen, Theo, and Teresa; Luca and Manny; John; Joey; and Rosa, Eli, and Teddy. Eli’s brother, Theo’s other son, Jordan, was there. Katrynn was there. And Donnie, too. All of the most important people in their lives.

  After a nap—Nick had insisted that Beverly lie down for a few minutes, too—all his girls were restored, and Beverly had dressed them in red velvet dresses with white faux-fur trim. They matched, but each was different, too. Beverly was also dressed in red velvet. To see all his girls looking like a matched set made Nick smile.

  Beverly had checked in on the progress of the kitchen, but she ultimately let Nick’s mother take over—a position Betty had been chomping at the bit for, anyway. While she delegated the food prep, Beverly had enlisted Elisa and Lia to help her set the tables—elegant and traditional for the adults, and Santa-themed for the kids. While Nick paced a crabby Carina around the house, in what they had come to call ‘walkies,’ doing laps around the first floor because only movement would keep her settled, Beverly had given Elisa a large gift bag filled with small gold-foil-wrapped boxes for the grownups, and Lia another bag filled with boxes wrapped in paper with sparkling snowflakes for the children, and the girls set a box on the top of each place setting. Little tokens for each member of their family.

  Despite the afternoon’s drama, and despite the less-than-picture-perfect settings created by small but eager hands, the tables were wonderful. When family had begun to arrive, everything had been ready, and Beverly had been flush with pride in that.

  And, of course, it was all torn to shreds within minutes of the house being full of people. The kids ripped open the little packages at their places long before dinner was served, and there were Christmas LEGOs scattered all over the house seconds later. The adults nibbled at the food as it was laid out and left their dri
nks about, losing track of them. Lia was wearing a stripe of virgin eggnog on the front of her velvet dress.

  Norman Rockwell had left the building.

  Nick kept an eye on Beverly, concerned that, in her current state, she’d stress about the mess, but she had most of the women in the kitchen now, and the room was full of chatter and laughter, as it should have been all day.

  Carina was in Luca’s arms, giggling as he swooped her back and forth through the air, her little red dress billowing out around her chubby legs. Nick laughed, realizing that it was Luca he thought Carina was most like.

  John and Katrynn were talking in a corner, apart from the rest of the circus. Their talk seemed serious and intense, and Nick lingered for a moment, curious. But then Elisa ran up and asked him to help her put her LEGO reindeer back together, and John and Katrynn were forgotten.

  Nick had started the day by okaying a hit. Two of J.J.’s men were spending Christmas Eve ending the life of a man who’d thought to challenge Nick, while Nick himself leaned against the bar in his living room with a glass of scotch in his hand and talked football with his cousins—and Trey, who had surprisingly knowledgeable opinions about the Pats—and his children and their cousins ran and squealed through the rooms of his home.

  When he took the call confirming that the job was done, he’d wedged his phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could fix the bow on the back of Elisa’s dress.

  The violence of his life would never change, even though now his own hands stayed clean. But it no longer darkened him as it once had. This was his balance—this home, his wife, his children, his family. And another child on the way. He smiled. He knew it would be hard for this one to be so close in age with Carina, for Beverly more than anyone else, but he couldn’t be sorry to know that their love would bring forth another token. Another happy voice in this chorus.

  Speaking of which, Beverly walked into the living room, looking lovely and radiant in her own red velvet. She came over and kissed him, stepping back just as he started to wrap her in his arms. “It’s time to eat, people!” she called, raising her voice above the chattery din.

  It took some time to get even a hungry crowd of this size moving in tandem. Gina and Ashley took control of the kids’ table. At the adults’ table, everyone, without being prompted, began opening the little foil-wrapped boxes Elisa had placed on their plates. Sterling silver key chains engraved with the Pagano family crest—another of his wife’s ideas. Small tokens of the thing that bound them all together. Family. Even Donnie and Katrynn got one—they had become, over the years, members of the family, through their tight bond with Beverly.

  Once everyone was seated, the kids at their table, the adults at theirs, Nick at the head and his Uncle Carlo directly across from him, a spread of gorgeous fish dishes arrayed for the adults and more kid-friendly tuna tetrazzini for the children, Nick raised his glass.

  “Before we set in, I’d like to toast you all. I know this is a break in long-standing traditions, and it means a lot to me and Beverly both that you’ve joined us here tonight. We lost Uncle Ben and Aunt Angie this past year, and they left holes we’ll never be able to fill. Family was important to them, and I think they’d be glad to see us all together for this important meal. Thank you.” He lifted his glass to a mingled chorus of “Salute!” and “Cin cin!”

  Then he nodded to his uncle. “Uncle Carlo, would you do us the honor of saying grace?”

  Carlo Sr., obviously moved, nodded. “I’d be honored, Nick. You mind if I say something first?”

  Nick shook his head and held out his hand, indicating that his uncle should go ahead.

  Carlo Sr. cleared his throat. “You’re right that being here, eating at your table on Christmas Eve, isn’t our tradition. When my father passed, my brothers and I went our own ways—in many things. But I’m the last of my generation now, and our children are making a new generation. It’s time for new traditions. These children should grow up in a family that’s together.” He looked at Beverly and smiled. “I guess it took a woman like Bev, who sees things like they should be, and thinks the way they are is no excuse, to remind us that we belong together. So thank you, Bev—and Nick, too—for bringing us all together on this holy night.”

  “Hear, hear!” Luca exclaimed, grinning at Beverly. All of the diners raised their glasses and toasted her. She blushed and smiled down at her place setting.

  Then Carlo Sr., the patriarch of the Pagano family, nodded to Nick, the don of the Pagano Brothers. The older man bowed his head and folded his hands. The rest of the table followed suit.

  But Nick reached out and took Beverly’s hand, linking their fingers together. He had thought many times over the years that she had given him his family. Now he understood that she had bestowed that gift on all of them.

  ~oOo~

  ~oOo~

  Nb. If you’re curious about Nick and Bev’s anniversary weekend in New York, you can find that short story, “Rich Love,” on my blog: www.susanfanetti.com It’s one of the Pagano Family “Snapshots.”

  PRAYER

  To love another is something

  like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall

  into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

  Anne Sexton, “Admonitions to a Special Person”

  Prologue

  A bowling ball landed on his stomach, and he woke with a groan to a room with about a hundred times the light any earthbound room should have. Even through his eyelids, the light burned. He groaned again for good measure and found his hands so he could cover his face and save his sight for someday—much later—when he would want to use it again.

  The bowling ball began to knead his belly, digging its claws in through the sheet. Not a bowling ball, then. A cat.

  He didn’t have a cat.

  Fuck.

  Lying on his back, with his hands protecting his face from the punishment of a cheerily sunny morning, John Pagano tried to pull some kind of memory out of the churning black sewage that his brain had become.

  New Year’s Eve. Last night. At Quinn’s. He must have had a righteous good time.

  Okay…

  But who had a cat?

  He turned one hand slightly to the side and pried half an eyelid open, groaning again as actual sunlight lased straight into his brain. After an agonizing second, he saw an angular grey face with blue eyes. A Siamese.

  He didn’t know anyone who had a Siamese cat.

  Said cat noticed his barely-open eye and meowed. He or she—it—sounded like a kid. Weird.

  At his side, a soft, decidedly female voice moaned, and some shifting around happened. John turned his head, using his hand like a visor to block the sun, and peeped over there to see a head being buried under a pillow. Long, blonde hair and a pale, bare shoulder. Pretty. But not, on that slight evidence, especially familiar.

  The turning of his head had woken up the rest of his body, no part of which was pleased with his choices of the night before, whatever they had been. He was suddenly extremely sick, and he sat up—which did nothing whatsoever to improve the sickness. He belched, then realized that there was more to do than that, and leapt up, upsetting the cat, who complained with another of those near-human yowls.

  Somehow, he managed to intuit where the bathroom might be in this completely unfamiliar house, and he made it to the toilet.

  When he was done—for the moment, at least—he sagged back against the cool porcelain tub. Then he saw that he still had a damn condom on.

  Upside? Condom. Good to know that his id was responsible about safer sex.

  Downside? Dear God. He was too old for shit like this. Blackout nights were for the Early Twenties, not the Late Thirties. And going home with random women and passing out in their beds? There was no age when that was cool.

  Shit, he hoped at least he’d gotten her off. Whoever she was.

  He peeled the condom off his hung-over dick and flushed it.

  Fuck. New Year’s Eve. That made t
oday New Year’s Day. Fuck! He had a plane to catch. What time was it?

  He made to dig his phone from his pocket, then remembered that he was naked. Sitting on the floor in a strange woman’s bathroom.

  Not yet ready to try his feet again, he surveyed the bathroom on the off chance that maybe the mystery woman had a clock in here.

  It wasn’t a bad bathroom. Old fashioned, with the heavy, white porcelain fixtures and the white octagon and black diamond tile pattern on the floor that marked the building as about seventy or eighty years old. If they were in Quiet Cove—and shit, he hoped so—then he had a general idea where.

  As far as décor, there were red towels hanging tidily on the rods and a large, funky red print in a black frame next to the door. The walls were painted a near-white he recognized as ‘Swiss Coffee’—a standard contractor-grade color. A rental, then. Nobody chose Swiss Coffee on purpose for their own walls in their own house. He, on the other hand, as the Chief Supervisor at Pagano & Sons Construction, had ordered vats of the stuff.