Hurt

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I nodded, feeling numb.

  Chase’s eyes widened for a few brief seconds before he shook his head slowly and said. “You won’t believe this, and there’s no date but… well, I’ll just read.”

  Trace, the next page you read skips ahead a few years, after the twins were born, after our world was tilted on its axis. I’m writing this as we drive to Wyoming, as we return home. I want you to know how it happened, so you understand that we did the only thing we could to secure your safety. I love you. —Grandma Alfero

  Chicago, Illinois

  October 2001

  Mario laughed loudly as he twirled Nicola around the kitchen. Trace was in the corner clapping her hands to the music while Nixon rolled his eyes and pretended not to be paying attention, though every time they twirled, his face lit up with a secret smile. Things had been hard in his home recently. The bruises on his skin revealed too much. When Frank had approached him to come over for dinner, he’d gone completely still, rigid, his face a mask of indifference as he answered with a curt nod.

  When I tried to hold his hand to lead him to the car, he jerked away and then looked behind him. I imagined he was looking for his father, imagining the beatings he’d receive at showing weakness. Rumors of his father’s temper had been rampant, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Frank stepped in. There was only so much a little boy could take, and Nixon was at the brink. His saving grace was his cousin, Chase, and best friends, Tex and Phoenix, though they were too young to be of any help other than a welcomed distraction from the pain of his everyday life.

  It was a gift that the Abandonato boss had allowed Nixon to visit after everything that had happened between the families. Our son had never been meant to marry a De Lange, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way, and clearly, by the measure of their laughter and joy, neither would they.

  “You’re going to miss the show, and you said you wanted to grab a quick bite beforehand,” I reminded them, holding my arms out for Trace.

  She jumped onto my lap and immediately started playing with my dark hair, wrapping it around her sticky fingers. I didn’t mind; she was like my own child. If she wanted to pull my hair out, I’d probably allow it.

  “Fine.” Mario kissed Nicola across the mouth again and again. “But she’s so distracting.”

  Nixon gagged in the corner.

  I laughed and set Trace on the ground just as Frank made his way into the kitchen. “You’re going to be late.”

  “So we’ve been told.” Mario gave me a teasing look and knelt down so he was eyelevel with Trace. “Be good for your grandparents.”

  “Yes, Papa,” Trace said in a sweet voice.

  “And stop hiding Nixon’s things.”

  “But he’s a boy!” Trace argued.

  Nixon rolled his eyes from his spot in the corner, though I could tell it was in good fun; he was extremely protective of her, especially for one so young. I knew it had to be because he’d already seen too many of the horrors this life had to offer and would do anything to keep his young friend from the same fate.

  “Love you, my little girl.” Nicola picked Trace up and kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Trace waved goodbye as her parents left the house, their laughter echoing off the walls. Date night had been a ritual for them. Every Friday was the same, though they always tried to pick different places to eat, they said they’d always covet that time they had together, especially now with things so rocky between the families.

  Frank waited until they drove off then gave me a very worried look while saying, “Nixon, why don’t you and Trace run out to the garage and grab some of those ice cream sandwiches. Make sure you eat them outside. Don’t want anything on our new kitchen floors.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nixon stood immediately, grabbed Trace’s hand, and led her outside amidst her firing questions off about where ice cream came from and then, if it really did come from a cow, could Nixon buy her a big spotted one as soon as possible and let her ride it.

  “How bad?” I asked once the door shut quietly behind the children.

  Frank swore then braced himself against the countertop. “He’s losing his mind, Joyce.”

  “What do we do?”

  “For once…” Frank’s shoulders tensed. “I have no clue. He’s angry over the marriage, still. The De Langes are running out of money and are up in arms about the relationship we still have with the Abandonatos, saying we favor them… which is ridiculous… but you know how hot-headed they can be.”

  I knew it well. Just the day before, Frank had been forced to kill two of the De Lange made men for plotting against their own boss; it seemed they weren’t getting a big enough cut of what they felt they deserved, and Frank had been called in to help take care of the problem.

  The families that had once been so strong were crumbling; I watched it on a daily basis as greed overpowered common sense.

  If the Cappo got wind of what was happening in Chicago, he’d return with a vengeance.

  “I may need to call them back, Joyce.”

  I knew what he was referring to. My heart ached in my chest because, as much as I missed Luca, Frank and I had come to such an incredible point in our relationship, that I knew having Luca around would shatter what contentment we’d found.

  I was just about to tell him to do whatever was necessary when he shook his head and forced a smile. “Work, work, work… let’s talk about happier things. Share a bottle of wine with me while we relax with my favorite grandchild?”

  “And her favorite friend.” I laughed, standing.

  Frank’s face paled. “Yes, well, rumor has it her friend just spent the last three days trapped in a black box with no food and water.”

  I gasped. “Frank, you must do something!”

  “He is boss of his family. I am the boss of my own,” Frank said sadly. “If I do something, I start a war.”

  “War,” I croaked, “I fear, has already been started.”

  “Tonight we drink wine and talk of love.” Frank ignored me and reached for two glasses. “Tomorrow, we will sit down with the family and talk war. I will reach out to Luca. We will straighten out the De Langes by any means possible.”

  Meaning, after tonight, many lives would be lost.

  Hours later, we were playing a game of Monopoly with the kids when Frank’s cell rang.

  “Yes,” he barked into the phone. All at once he stood, catching the edge of the Monopoloy board with his leg; game pieces went flying everywhere as he let out a string of curses in Italian. “Stay here, Joyce.” He braced my shoulders with his hands, his eyes frantic. “At all costs, protect the children. Do you understand me?”

  I went into lockdown, nodded my head, then gathered the children and hid with them in one of our safe rooms located in the master-suite closet. I handed Nixon a gun.

  He took it without question.

  A seven-year-old child.

  And I knew, if it came down to life or death, he would fight until he no longer had breath, fight to save Tracey. Fight to save us all.

  My own gun felt like heavy lead in my hand as I held it next to me, the safety off, my eyes watching the door for any movement. The only person who knew our location was Frank; the combination on the door lock was only known by two men.

  Frank and Mario.

  The only way in was through the lock, the only way out was to use the phone located in the corner and call for help.

  But I knew, if the worst happened, we would be dead before help could come.

  It was four hours of sheer hell.

  I had no idea during that time that Frank had driven like a man possessed only four miles away from our house…

  Only to see Mario get shot in the head while Nicola watched, and then blood splattered across the windshield as her body went limp.

  Frank had fired in the night sky.

  The black figure had been too far away and too fast.

  The only evidence left at the scene ha
d been a gun, with the crest of the Abandonato family.

  Frank had been immediately suspicious though, because the Abandonato boss had been out on business, and that gun was his.

  When Frank returned home, covered in blood, he immediately told me the news and stared at Nixon long and hard. It was easy to see that out of anger he wanted to shoot him, make him hurt like the Abandonatos had made us hurt, but in his heart, he no doubt knew that nothing could be proven.

  But one thing was for certain.

  Until we knew the real killer, we needed to go into hiding; we had to protect Trace at all costs.

  She was the next in line, the only remaining loose end, and now that our son was dead, our family had been weakened by the one simple truth that haunted us both…

  Our love for our granddaughter was so strong; we would hand over an entire empire to see her safe.

  So we fled.

  I write this only a few miles outside of Wyoming. We called Luca; he cried with Frank.

  It was the second time I’d seen tears in my husband’s eyes, and though my heart ached to talk to Luca, I knew now, more than ever, my husband needed me.

  I was left with a hole in my chest at the loss of my son and his wife. A hole that I knew would forever be gaping.

  I would protect Trace until the day I died.

  I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until Frank squeezed my hand and said, “I will make this right.”

  “On that happy note…” Chase dropped the paper from his hand as if it was burning his fingertips. “… I don’t really know what to say other than… is it weird that even then Trace was asking Nixon for cows?”

  Everyone laughed.

  I was thankful for the laughter.

  It took away from the pain and shock of what I’d just read. It was as if I’d been there, experiencing it all over again. Funny, because a few years ago I had blocked everything out, maybe it was because of the shock, and my grandparents had been thankful I couldn’t recall anything. But now I was starting to understand why it was a good thing I didn’t remember.

  “You begged me for a cow and then wiped ice cream on my shirt when I said no,” Nixon said softly.

  “Typical Trace.” Chase chuckled.

  I smiled through my tears. “I think… Nixon and I need to be alone for a while, guys.”

  Everyone left after saying their goodbyes, touching my shoulder, offering their pitiful looks of “That sucks.”

  When it was just me and Nixon, he tossed the Kleenex onto the floor, pulled out his cell, and hit the number two.

  My grandpa’s name popped up.

  “You have him on speed dial?” I asked.

  “He’s a boss. Of course I do,” Nixon said seriously. “Frank,” he growled into the receiver. “Listen, jackass, next time you leave your shit around the house, at least have the decency to stick around while your pregnant granddaughter reads it!”

  I couldn’t hear Grandpa on the other end.

  But I could tell he was yelling.

  “I’ll call you whatever the hell I want! She’s been sobbing!”

  It was quiet.

  Nixon swore then handed me the phone. “Swear, I’ll shoot him in his arthritic hip next time he pulls a stunt like this. I need some air.”

  He stood and stalked out of the room.

  “Grandpa?” I whispered into the phone.

  “Trace…” Grandpa sounded… odd. “… are you okay?”

  “Where are you?” I frowned. The background noise seemed loud.

  “New York.” He grunted. “And the loudness you’re referring to would be your cousins arguing over dessert.”

  “Cousins?”

  “Many, many, cousins,” he grumbled, “and not near enough wine.”

  “You always say that.” I smiled.

  “Because it’s always true.” He chuckled.

  Clearing my throat, I chewed my lower lip then blurted out, “I read the diary.”

  “Yes, I believe that’s the point Nixon was trying to get across amidst all the yelling and name calling.”

  “I’m sad.”

  Grandpa laughed. “Oh, honey, the last thing I want is for you to be sad. But, I’m glad you called.”

  “You are?”

  “Well, I take it you finished the pages in the front of the folder? I also imagine that everyone read them with you?”

  I felt myself blush. “You’d be guessing correctly.”

  “I know the bosses well. You forget, I was young once.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Are you rolling your eyes, Trace?”

  “Maybe.”

  More laughter. “I wanted you to read from your grandmother’s point of view, I wanted you to see their love… not so you would be sad, but so you would be strong. The very same strength and loyalty she had… you possess. You’re about to be a mother, and I know that scares you. But you have something that your grandmother, when she became a mother, never had.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A husband who would do anything for you. I admit, I wasn’t that man to your grandmother, not at first. In the end, yes, but at first, everything I did was out of selfish ambition. You have Nixon. You have love. And you have her fire, her spirit. Trace, you are so much like your grandmother that some days it gives me chest pains. I miss her…” He choked out the her. “… so much. I miss Luca… so many things I would have done differently. Then again, had I, you may not be here, and that pains me the most of all.

  “Look to the sky, Trace. Your grandmother is there, glancing down, so proud of you. Luca as well. You are the most amazing young woman, and it is because of another amazing young woman that you are who you are. Joyce Alfero...” He said her name the way the diary described Frank had, like a blessing, reverent. “…was strength. She was… my best friend. And now you know. Our love was not explosive. In the beginning it was non-existent. In the end… she was my everything, and I’d like to think I was hers.

  “The Nicolasi family returned to Sicily, and when she found out she was pregnant with the twins, she went back to the ranch so as not to cause suspicion. Luca never married, never even a girlfriend that I know of. He was…. always hers, felt disloyal even getting drinks with women. The children went to him as Joyce’s final gift of love. It was the hardest thing she ever did, and I know, to this day, I regret the fact that she had to make that choice in the first place.”

  I was crying again.

  “Don’t cry, honey.” Grandpa’s voice was soft, calming. “Now I want you to listen very carefully. In the folder is another letter. It’s addressed to you. It should be taped to the bag page. Grab it and have Nixon read it with you so you aren’t alone.”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Think of it as…” Grandpa sighed. “… a final gift from your grandmother. So you know she was happy, we were… as happy as we could have been, given the circumstances. I think it might turn the tears into smiles.”

  “Grandpa?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Did you love her?”

  “More…” His voice shook. “… than she knew, more than the world, more than words could possibly express. Your grandmother was my life, and I spent the rest of our years together trying to prove that over and over again.”

  “And Luca?”

  “Luca was a hard man, honey. He didn’t look back. I think he knew if he did, he’d end up in her arms again, and we both knew that the families would be destroyed if he did. He stayed in Sicily until he was brought back a few years ago with the whole De Lange situation. He made a name for himself, pouring everything he had into the Nicolasi family. There’s a reason he was one of the scariest bastards alive. I think his love for her drove him to the brink. Everything he did, he did with all he possessed.”

  “He was terrifying,” I admitted.

  Grandpa burst out laughing. “Yes, but in a good way.”

  “There is no good way!” I argued then joined in laughter. “Thanks for answe
ring Nixon’s call. Did you know he has you on speed dial?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Grandpa asked.

  “You guys have a weird relationship.”

  “He’s my grandson. Of course we do.” Grandpa let out a groan. “Just don’t tell him I said that, don’t want him to think he can go around threatening me or that I’ve gotten soft.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Love you, honey.”

  “Love you too, Grandpa.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Nixon

  I WAS GOING OUT OF MY damn mind. First, I heard her crying again and then laughing and then crying. What the hell was he saying to her?

  My hands shook to punch something.

  Or strangle the next person who walked by.

  It must have been a really unlucky day for Chase, since he’d forgotten his keys and had walked back into the kitchen, only to see the look on my face, finger his gun, grab his keys, and walk backward with his hands up.

  I snorted and rolled my eyes then grabbed a bottle of wine and sat at the kitchen table.

  So many things had shifted in my life over the last few years, and they were about to shift again.

  I was going to be a father.

  Bringing an innocent child into the world, a bloody world, one that I had no control over.

  Scary as hell. That’s what it was.

  “Hey,” Trace joined me at the table, eyed the wine longingly, then shrugged and handed me a letter with both our names on it.

  “What’s this?” I turned the letter over and broke the seal.

  “From Grandpa. He says hello, by the way.”

  “Bullshit. What did he really say?”

  Trace laughed and kissed my neck. I felt myself relax as I captured her mouth with mine. Maybe that’s all I needed. Sex.

  “Not saying no…” Trace moaned against my mouth. “… but let’s read this first.”

  “I’d rather not.” I shoved the letter away and lifted her into my arms so that she was straddling my lap.

  Her fingers dug into my hair. She laughed as I trailed hot hungry kisses down the side of her neck.