CRUMBLED TO PIECES

by BRUNS, CATHERINE

  I stared down at the floor. "He doesn't know yet, so please don't say anything to him. I probably shouldn't have even told you."

  "Sure, okay." He wove his fingers through my hair. "Well, don't worry. My lips are sealed. Gee, I wonder if they'll have a boy or a girl? I'll bet Johnny wants a boy."

  Anger rose from the pit of my stomach, and for the first time in my life, I wished he would stop talking. My behavior was unreasonable and not sane—I knew this. For some odd reason I wanted Mike to be as upset as I was. Shouldn't we both be angry at the injustices of the world?

  "Gianna is less than thrilled. It wasn't exactly planned."

  "Oh, she'll come around." He smiled down at me, the love shining through his mesmerizing eyes, but his next words were my undoing. "Holy cow, your mother is going to be so excited. When they tell her, she'll freak out and—"

  He didn't finish the sentence because I burst into tears. "Don't." I held up my hand as sobs racked my body. "Please stop."

  "Sal." Mike's voice was gentle but firm. His hands went around my waist as I continued to cry. "What's got you so upset?"

  "Isn't it obvious?" I snapped. "How can you even ask me that?"

  His face dawned with sudden understanding. "Come on. You're not actually jealous of Gianna? That's not like you."

  I pushed his hands away and walked over to stand in front of the sink, where I stared out the window into our small, fenced-in yard. Spike was busy digging a hole under the elm tree. He seemed to be having a good time. An anguished wail rose from my throat. "What's wrong with me? Why couldn't it be me? Gianna doesn't even want a baby."

  "There's nothing wrong with you." He pressed up against me and wrapped his strong arms around me as I continued to stare miserably out the window. The sun had sunk lower amongst an array of blue and pink streaks in the sky. "It's going to happen, sweetheart. We've only been trying for a year." He turned me around again to face him and gave me that sexy, lopsided grin of his. "But we've sure had fun, right?"

  This was when I lost it completely. "You don't get it, do you? You say that you want a baby, but it really doesn't mean that much to you. As long as there's an excuse to fool around, that's what really matters."

  He narrowed his eyes. "That's crazy, and you know it. Where is this coming from?"

  I was so upset I couldn't see straight. "It isn't fair." I sounded like a pathetic five-year-old who'd dropped her ice cream cone on the sidewalk. "What if I can't get pregnant? Did you ever stop and think about that?"

  His face sobered. "Sal, it wouldn't make any difference to me. I'll always love you, whether we have ten kids or none."

  "But it makes a difference to me." Large, hot tears gushed down my cheeks, and I made no attempt to stop them this time. "My sister isn't even sure she wants kids. They took precautions, while we never do. Why can't I have the one thing I've always wanted?"

  "Sweetheart, please." His voice broke. "I can't stand to see you like this."

  With a sniffle, I wiped my eyes and drew a long, ragged breath. "I want to go see a fertility specialist. Maybe they'll be able to tell us what's wrong."

  A muscle ticked in Mike's jaw. "Sal, you know I'm not comfortable with those places. God knows what they'd make me do. I've heard about stuff with ice cubes and—I. No, I don't want to do that. At least not yet."

  I blew my nose on a napkin. "You're only thinking about yourself. I can't believe you'd be so selfish. Maybe you're like my sister and you don't really want a child either." I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed me by the arm and whirled me around to face him, placing both his hands on my shoulders. His confused look had turned to one of disbelief—and anger.

  "You need to stop obsessing over this, okay?" he said. "If for some reason we can't have kids, you've got to learn to accept it. There's always adoption, you know. What's wrong with giving a child who's already on this earth a loving home?"

  "Nothing." What he said made total sense. In defense, I wrapped my arms around my stomach—my potentially barren stomach—and had to force myself not to cry again. "I'd love any child, whether it came from me or not. I don't care what color it is, what sex, what its ethnicity is. But I want to experience everything that an expectant mother does. I want to feel my baby kick, be able to nurse him or her, experience morning sickness. Hell, I don't even care about stretch marks!"

  Poor Mike's face was baffled. "What do stretch marks have to do with anything?"

  "You don't care," I sobbed. "It's not the same for a man."

  "Listen to me!" Mike exploded. He cradled my face between his hands. "I hate seeing what this is doing to you. I do care. I love you more than anything in this world. I want children—our children—but I don't want to end up fighting with you over this. What are you really telling me? That our marriage isn't strong enough to survive if we can't have kids by natural childbirth?"

  His words only made me cry harder. "No, it's not that. I love you and can't imagine my life without you in it. But I always thought we'd have kids. I want—I need a baby to love. Is that too much to ask?"

  Mike's shoulders sagged. I hated the devastated look in his eyes and knew that was my fault as well. I'd succeeded in building a wall between us. He was trying to break it down, but I wouldn't let him. Was I being unreasonable? Maybe, but I couldn't help myself. For a year I'd been telling myself that it would happen and not to worry. But today's results had devastated me. I'd honestly thought I was pregnant. It was as if someone had sucker punched me in the stomach, and I was still trying to recover from the blow. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and feel sorry for myself.

  "Sal." He put his arms back around my waist. "Let's wait a little longer before we start running all those tests and putting ourselves through that torture, okay? We could even fill out an adoption application in the meantime. You know what they say. People end up adopting a child, and then—bam! They get pregnant on their own. This isn't the end of the world."

  No, but it was a good portion of my world. Shaking my head, I removed his hands from my waist. I didn't want to hear him or be touched right now. "Don't. I need to think this through." I grabbed my purse and car keys from the counter.

  "Whoa. Where are you going?" he asked.

  "I think it's better if I stay somewhere else tonight."

  If I thought Mike was going to let me leave without a fight, I was sorely mistaken. He followed me out to the living room and reached the screen door before me, blocking my path. "Running away isn't going to solve anything. Where the hell are you going? To your parents'?"

  "No, they're not back from Vegas yet. Besides, I wouldn't want to involve them or Grandma Rosa in our fight."

  "What fight? How did we even get to this point?" he asked in obvious exasperation. "I only wanted some intimate time alone with my beautiful wife."

  "I'm going to the bakery. I'll spend the night in the apartment upstairs."

  "Damn it, Sal, don't do this!" he pleaded. "Stay here and talk to me. We can work this out."

  I removed his hand from the screen and let myself out the door. I turned to stare into his eyes—eyes I'd always adored, ones so breathtakingly beautiful it hurt me to see them in such pain. But I was hurting too. "Please don't follow me. I need to be alone for a while."

  Without waiting for his response, I turned and hurried to my car. As I started the engine, I let myself glance over at the front door one more time. Mike stood on the porch, hands in his jeans pockets, watching me. He made no attempt to stop me this time. Maybe I had secretly hoped he would.

  My mind was not functioning properly. I was too upset to realize how much I was hurting him too. The memory of his face, haunted and pained, was burned into my brain. Mike looked like he'd suddenly lost his best friend. I loved him more than anything, so why did I want him to suffer too?

  Well played, Sal.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When I arrived at the bakery, I was relieved to see that Josie's minivan was gone. There were days when she stayed well past our
closing time of six o'clock. The woman was dedicated through and through. As much as I loved her, I didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

  I had created this disaster. In less than an hour, I'd started a fight with both my sister and my husband. Because I couldn't get pregnant, I'd decided to take it out on them. This was my problem, and I needed to solve it alone.

  My heart was heavy as I entered the shop and turned the alarm off. I climbed the stairs to the empty apartment where Allegra had busied herself for those scant few days—making candy and stealing fortune cookies and recipes from me. The glass display case was still there, along with a few of Allegra's personal items. The couch and a small television were the only furniture in the lone bedroom. Heck, maybe I'd lose myself in mindless Seinfeld reruns for a while.

  My phone buzzed from my jeans pocket. It was probably Mike asking me to come home. With a sigh, I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. My parents' landline. Worried that something might be wrong with my grandmother or Nicoletta, I swiped the screen with my finger. "Grandma, is everything all right?"

  "That is what I would like to know." Her voice was calm, but I sensed a certain edge to her tone. "What has happened between you and your sister?"

  I shut my eyes. Oh, good grief. I hadn't thought Gianna might go to my grandmother, especially since Nicoletta was with her. "She—she's there? Where's Mrs. Gavelli?" Then I placed a hand over my mouth. Maybe Gianna hadn't told my grandmother about her pregnancy. Not that it mattered. She'd probably already guessed what was wrong.

  "Nicoletta has been asleep for most of the evening. She was running a slight fever earlier. She did not even know Gianna was here." There was a slight pause, and I sensed a lecture coming on. "What have you done, cara mia?"

  The lump in my throat grew so large that I feared it might choke me. "I—I can't say."

  "You do not have to," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I suspected your sister was pregnant, and she confirmed it when she was here. No one else knows yet—only you and me."

  "Grandma," I began.

  She didn't let me finish. "I know you are upset, my dear. You have dreamed of a child for so many years. But your sister is devastated right now. Gianna needs your support, not your judgment."

  I started to weep. "You don't understand. I thought I was pregnant."

  "You did not think I was aware of this?" she asked. "When you asked for decaf coffee the other day, I knew how your mind was working. Oh, how I hoped you were, but something told me that was not the case."

  I blew out a sigh. How I longed to have her intuition. She must have been born with it. "Gianna's not sure she wants to keep the baby. Do you know how this makes me feel?"

  "That is not your business," she said curtly. "It is for Gianna to decide. I hope she will decide to tell Johnny, but again, that is not for me to say. Your sister is worried about the pregnancy, but she seemed even more upset about the words she exchanged with you. You have hurt her, cara mia."

  Her words were a crushing blow. "I didn't mean to," I cried out. "This is hard for me."

  "Yes," she agreed. "I know how it must hurt. I love both of you and never want to see either one of you in pain. It makes my heart sad to see two sisters who love each other so deeply fighting like this."

  "It was right after I took the test." My voice sounded defensive. "I was upset."

  Grandma Rosa sighed into the phone. "Yes, I know. But still, I am very disappointed in you, cara mia. Please get some sleep, and we will talk tomorrow."

  She clicked off without saying another word.

  If she had stabbed me in the heart with a butcher's knife, I doubted it could have hurt any worse. Grief and pain blended together in my chest. I put the phone down and wailed like a wounded animal.

  Next to Mike, Grandma Rosa was the other love of my life. She'd done so much for me since I was a child—in some ways, even more than my parents had. The last thing I ever wanted to do was disappoint her. How had I managed to make such a mess of everything? My world was slowly crumbling to pieces around me, and I didn't know how to stop it.

  I lay down on the couch but knew sleep wouldn't come. Emotions of heartache, sadness, and anger raced through my veins in a competition to see who would win. Anger seemed to be edging ahead.

  I punched the throw pillow, and something crackled from underneath it. I lifted the pillow and found a plastic bag filled with fortune cookies. I stared at it in silence for a moment then started to laugh bitterly. Good old Allegra. Stealing fortune cookies from me and hiding them around her apartment—my apartment, in fact. The bag was open slightly, and as a result, the cookies were as hard as rocks. I held the bag between my hands for a minute, thinking of the message I'd received less than a week ago.

  A new blessing will be born to your family soon.

  Oh, the message had been correct all right. But it had been meant for another family member, not me. Poor little Sally. No baby for you. As tears ran down my face again, voices babbled and collided in my head—mocking me for my stupidity, for screwing things up with the people I loved, for making everyone so unhappy. In agony, I covered my ears, but the sound refused to be drowned out.

  Anger flared in the bottom of my stomach. With renewed strength, I picked up the fortune cookies and hurled the bag at Allegra's motto on the wall. The motto fell off the hanger and onto the floor. I was left staring at a small gaping hole in the wall.

  At first, I didn't comprehend what I was seeing. Allegra had succeeded in doing permanent damage to the wall—one more thing for Mike to fix. She was still finding ways to torment me, even after her death. I walked over to examine the hole, which was barely big enough for me to reach my hand inside. That was when I saw the plastic bag. More fortune cookies? I stretched my fingers forward and pulled it out. Something gold in color glimmered and caught the overhead light. When I realized what it was, I sucked in a deep breath.

  The locket that had been left to Grandma Rosa in Allegra's will.

  With trembling fingers, I ran my fingers over the metal. This was by no means an expensive piece of jewelry. There were scratch marks on the surface, and the paint was chipped. A skull and crossbones design had been intertwined on the face of it. If Josie was here, she'd have made a sassy comment about Allegra being the devil and this being an appropriate piece of jewelry for her to wear.

  I shook the locket, and something rattled on the inside. I found the clasp, pried it open, and an object fell to the floor. I picked up a small silver key and studied it carefully. There was a number on one side—1010—with the letters CB underneath it. Colwestern Bank? My heart hammered against my chest. This might be for a security box.

  My earlier grief and disappointment were briefly forgotten as I continued to stare at the key in awe, my mind doing cartwheels with possibilities. What did Allegra have in the security box? Was there something inside that might lead me to her killer?

  My phone buzzed from the couch where I'd left it, and I glanced down. It must be fate. Brian's name was displayed on the screen. "Hey," I said hoarsely.

  There was silence for a moment. "You okay, Sally?"

  "Sure, fine." Brian didn't need to know about my temper tantrum. "Actually, I was just about to call you."

  "Josie phoned me earlier with the license plate on the Camaro that Enzo Fiato was driving. She said to call you with the information. Is she there with you now?"

  "No. What did you find out?"

  "Sorry to say, but it's not the same car that hit Allegra."

  This with another disappointment. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive," Brian said. "Enzo's Camaro is from the late nineties, while the one that hit Allegra was made in the eighties. I'm guessing the vehicle that struck her was probably a show car, perhaps even owned by a collector. I checked out Enzo's Camaro at the hotel where he's staying. The vehicle is pretty much on its last leg. Quick thinking on Josie's part, though."

  I blew out a breath. "Um, I need a favor."

  Brian sighed heavily into the ph
one. "Why is it that I immediately start to cringe whenever you say those words?"

  Despite everything that had happened today, his words made me smile. "I found a key—I think it might be to a safe deposit box for Allegra's personal items. You could have the bank open it for you, right?"

  "Well, I'd have to get an order, but yes, it can be done. What do you think is inside?"

  I rubbed my fingers over the skull and crossbones. "I'm not positive. Either money or, hopefully, something that will tell us who killed Allegra and why."

  He made a loud harrumphing noise. "I suppose this means you want to be there when it's opened?"

  "Well," I hedged, "if you want me to hand over the key, yes, that's pretty much a given. And"—I couldn't believe I was saying this—"if it's something that might help me figure out who killed her, perhaps I could hold on to the items for a day or so?"

  "Forget it," he growled. "That's not how it works."

  "Can't you make an exception this time?" I pleaded.

  Brian cursed under his breath. "What you're asking me to do is illegal, Sally."

  I'd gone too far this time. "Sorry, forget I asked. But will you call me in the morning after you've gotten the order?"

  He was silent for several seconds. "Sally, I…"

  "Yes?"

  Brian hesitated on the other end. "Nothing. I'll call you when it's all set up. Do you want me to stop by the bakery and pick you up?"

  "That would be great. Thanks, Brian."

  After he'd disconnected, I sat there staring down at the phone in my hands. A text had come in from Mike during our conversation. The words, like everything else today, managed to tear at my heart.

  Please come home, princess. It's lonely here without you.

  I stared down at the message for a long time. Running away solved nothing, and I had to face the facts here. If we couldn't have children, Mike and I would have to deal with it together. Our marriage was a partnership. Did I want to risk destroying our love over this? No. As long as we had each other, we could survive anything. That much I already knew. Despite my attempt to come to terms with this alone, I needed him with me.