Fallen Angel, Part 4 - A Mafia Romance: Fallen Angel Series

by Tracie Podger

  “But why not come back? If Franco was in touch with him, why not tell him she had never married?”

  “Because by then, he was.”

  Our conversation was brought to a close by the sound of a car arriving. I looked through the floor to ceiling glass windows and saw Gary open the rear door for Katrina. I’d only met her once but had spoken on the phone with her many times. Robert went to greet her at the front door.

  The woman that rounded the top of the stairs and walked across to greet me was beautiful. Despite the situation, I felt a little drab in comparison. She was tall with blonde hair and startling blue eyes. I guessed her to be Scandinavian or perhaps Russian by heritage. She wore a blue trouser suit, and her hair was neatly tied in a bun at the nape of her neck. She reached out to shake my hand.

  “Mrs. Stone, it’s a pleasure to meet you again, although I wish the circumstances were different.”

  “You too, Katrina, and please, call me Brooke.”

  “I know this is business, as such, but can I offer you wine?” Robert asked.

  “Thank you, but no. Now, where would be the best place for us to talk? I need some background.”

  We headed to the home office and sat on the sofas that surrounded a small coffee table. The office had been cleaned since it’s last use as a bedroom for Franco.

  Katrina had a file that she placed on her lap. She also took a notepad and pen from her bag.

  “You’d better start from the beginning,” she said.

  Robert spoke. He told her of the bombing and the death of Sofia and of Gerry and me having to run. He detailed what we knew of the kidnapping and how Gerry had behaved since being returned. Katrina wrote and didn’t interrupt as he spoke until Robert had finished.

  “Are the police involved?” she asked.

  “No, we made a decision to deal with this, as we believed their interference would put him at more risk,” Robert answered.

  She looked at him. “Are the police ever going to know?”

  “No.”

  She flicked her gaze to me.

  “We did what we believed to be the best thing at the time, Katrina. It was more important to get our son back than to be dragged into police procedure,” I said.

  “Okay. So Gerry has slept pretty much since he returned? That’s what he did after losing Kerry. It’s his defence mechanism. I think that’s a good thing to happen over the next day or so. Let him rest as much as he wants. In the meantime, I’d like to work with you two, and Harley and Evelyn.”

  I looked at Robert who stared stonily ahead.

  “Don’t look so shocked, Brooke. You two couldn’t sit further apart if you tried. I’m not just a Trauma Therapist, I’m a Behavioural Therapist as well. You’re body language is screaming at me. You can’t help Gerry if you’re not working together and believe me, your son is going to need a lot of support.”

  “I don’t discuss my personal life, Katrina,” Robert said.

  “Even if that could possibly damage your son further?” Although her voice was gentle, there was a challenge laid. “I’m not interested in your personal life, Mr. Stone. I’m only interested in helping both of you come to terms with what has happened and to get you working together. I’ve been involved in the home for a while now, I’ve met you and Travis on numerous occasions. I’m an intelligent woman. I don’t suppose for one moment your life is, let’s say, conventional. I only care about the children and their recovery.”

  “I need help,” I quietly said. All eyes turned to me.

  “What do you need help with, Brooke?” she asked.

  “Why does Gerry not want me as much as Robert, Evelyn and Harley?”

  “That’s not true…” Robert started to say before Katrina cut in.

  “If that’s what Brooke feels, then it is true to her.”

  Katrina laid the folder and her pad on the coffee table.

  “Gerry has been through a traumatic experience. There are other people directly involved in that experience, Harley and Evelyn. I don’t think, Mr. Stone, you’ve told me the whole story, and I don’t want to know, but I suspect he saw something that included you, am I right?”

  “Yes, you’re correct,” Robert replied.

  “Then what we have here, Brooke, is possibly a form of survivors guilt. Of course I’d need to work with Gerry to be sure. When a person is involved in such a traumatic experience, one of two things can happen. A bond can be formed with all involved that is very strong or the survivors cannot bear to be around each other for fear of constantly being reminded.”

  “I don’t get why Gerry could be suffering guilt,” I said.

  “Survivors guilt is just a term used. Let me try to explain. We all have personal expectations of how we should think, feel and behave. We have values, such as to protect others. Those expectations and values are developed in a child of Gerry’s age. Of course they change as we age. It’s possible that Gerry, and I include Harley in this, may have an idea that they could have prevented what happened.

  “I’ll give you an example, an extreme one, but an example none the less. Some passengers of the flight that crashed in Pennsylvania on September eleventh observed those values and protected others. However, during traumatic experiences, for many, putting those values into practice is often impossible. Those are the passengers who suffered immense guilt.”

  “But there was nothing Gerry could have done,” I said.

  “Does he believe that though? I’m surmising based on what you’ve told me here. Until I speak with Gerry I won’t know for sure. But what I wanted was to give you an explanation, Brooke, of why it could be that right now Gerry seems closer to the people directly involved in his trauma.”

  “So what do I do?” I asked.

  “Nothing different to what I suspect you already are. I would recommend family counselling for you both. If not, then at least talk. You’re both suffering. I imagine the blame game is being played. I’ve worked with families of children who have suffered and it’s very easy to tear each other apart.”

  “How do we proceed from here?” Robert asked.

  “For the first appointment with Gerry, it would be better done here. I’d like to get a handle on his emotions right now. I do recommend that he come to the home. He’s comfortable there and in an environment he’s used to having therapy in.”

  “I don’t know that I want him out of the house,” I said.

  “Then let’s see how the first session goes,” she replied with a smile.

  “When do we start?” Robert asked.

  Katrina retrieved a diary from her bag. “As soon as possible, perhaps tomorrow? I can be here at mid-day. I’d also recommend you speak with Travis about some therapy for Harley.”

  We made the arrangements and Robert walked her down to the front door. An hour and a half had passed since I’d left Gerry’s room, and I was itching to get back to him. As Robert closed the front door, I reached the last of the steps and crossed the hallway to his bedroom.

  “Can we talk for a moment?” he said. I turned to face him. “For now, whatever you feel about me, let’s put that to one side. We take turns to sleep with him so we both get some rest. We can deal with us later.”

  “I’m just so scared he won’t get over this. I’m scared we won’t get over this,” I said.

  Robert wrapped his arms around me. The feel of his body against mine was comforting. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating. I missed his touch. I missed him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gerry’s screams woke me; it was another nightmare. The nightmares only seemed to come at night, although Gerry slept on and off during the day. I made a mental note to ask Katrina about that. I gathered him into my arms and rocked him. His cheeks were wet with tears. He didn’t wake but had started to mumble.

  “Don’t kill my dad,” I heard him say.

  “Daddy’s fine, darling, he’s here,” I whispered as Robert walked through the bedroom door having been woken as well.<
br />
  It took a while for him to settle back down. “Do you want to swap?” Robert whispered.

  I didn’t want to leave him but I needed to rest. My body was on the verge of collapse from disturbed sleep and lack of food. I nodded and climbed from the bed. I walked into my bedroom to see the bed still made, just an indent in the pillow where Robert had laid his head. I climbed under the duvet on his side and hugged his pillow to me. It smelled of him and I inhaled. I cried into that pillow, for my son, for my husband and for myself.

  ****

  I was awake when Robert came into the bedroom some hours later. I hadn’t slept, just dozed on and off.

  “He’s awake and asking for you,” he said. “He wants to get up and eat, says only you can make his pancakes,” he added with a smile.

  “That’s a positive step,” I replied as I climbed from the bed.

  I threw on some clothes, deciding to shower later and followed Robert upstairs. Gerry was sitting at the breakfast bar with Evelyn. Although he wasn’t his usual self, he seemed a little perkier than he had been.

  “Good morning, darling. You want my famous pancakes?” I said.

  “I’m hungry, and I don’t want to be in bed anymore.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Where’s dad?”

  “He’s just having a shower then he’ll be up.”

  “Can Harley come over?”

  “I’ll ask. I’m sure he can.” I sent a text to Travis.

  It seemed to me that Gerry needed to be surrounded with people. Whether it was, as Katrina said, he needed the people he’d experienced his trauma with or whether it was the people closest to him, I was unsure. I didn’t care—he was up and he wanted company. That’s what counted the most.

  I’d mixed the batter and was waiting for the griddle to heat up when I received a text. Travis had declined our breakfast invitation but he wanted to speak to either Robert or me. I frowned. Franco was at Evelyn’s apartment and readying himself to return to New York later that day, so I assumed it had something to do with that but why Harley couldn’t make his way over baffled me.

  “Harley’s feeling a little poorly today, darling. I don’t think he’ll be able to join us for breakfast,” I said.

  I decided to forward the text to Robert. I’d leave it to him to find out what was stopping them from joining us. As I served the pancakes, I slid my phone along the breakfast bar with the text message still open so Evelyn could read. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders once she’d finished.

  Gerry ate, only speaking when answering a question. It was hard not to have the usually bubbly child of previous mornings sitting beside me. I tried to keep the conversation light, but everything felt so forced.

  Once breakfast had been eaten, Gerry asked if he could go back to his room. I guessed it had become a safe place for him.

  “Do you want me to sit with you?” I asked.

  “Can I sit on my own?” he replied.

  I’d rather he didn’t but nodded anyway as he went back downstairs alone.

  “I don’t like that one bit,” I said tapping my phone and once I knew Gerry was out of earshot.

  “Neither do I. Robert went over to Travis. I wonder what that’s all about.”

  “Harley wanted to come over yesterday, so why not today? Unless Travis doesn’t want him to.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Evelyn said, looking through the window.

  I heard the front door open and Robert climbed the stairs.

  “Where is he?” Robert said expecting to see Gerry at the breakfast bar.

  “He wanted to sit on his own in his room.”

  “Oh, okay. Maybe we’ll leave him alone a while then see if he wants company.”

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, but Harley doesn’t want to come over. He won’t give a proper answer, just that he doesn’t feel well, which I don’t believe. I wonder if he’s finding it difficult to be around us right now.”

  “Did you mention Katrina and what she’d said about talking to Harley?”

  “He thinks it’s a good idea. We can ask her to speak to Trav later today. Franco is leaving tomorrow. He needs to get home, get Sofia home and make final arrangements,” Robert said.

  “Do you think someone should go with him?” Evelyn asked.

  “I asked him if he wanted someone to fly with him and he said no.”

  “It just doesn’t seem fair to leave him to deal with everything on his own,” Evelyn added.

  “It’s what he wants, I guess.”

  I poured Robert a coffee and cleared the breakfast plates away. I seemed to still be working on autopilot or perhaps I was distracting myself. I’d normally sit with Robert, we’d chat or hold hands but that distance between us wasn’t closing.

  There was an awkward silence. Evelyn tried to fill it and I appreciated that. I would catch Robert looking at me periodically until he sighed, rose and strode over to his home office.

  “If Gerry needs me, give me a call,” he said over his shoulder.

  I avoided Evelyn’s piercing stare, busying myself with mundane tasks around the kitchen. I must have wiped down the counter three times before she placed her hand on mine, stopping me.

  “Come and sit, drink your tea,” she said.

  I had a feeling I was about to be called to task.

  “It’s so obvious, Brooke. Gerry is going to pick up on the tension soon enough.”

  “I know. I just don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to get to back to where we were before this,” I replied.

  “You’ll never be the same people as before. Stop trying.”

  “Am I being totally unreasonable?” I asked.

  “I don’t know that I can answer that. For God’s sake, Brooke, you’ve been through the worst thing. It’s not something you can come out of unscathed.”

  “I told him it was his fault. I should never have said that.”

  “Perhaps not, but he also needs to understand, words are said that you’ll later regret. I’m sure he’s done the same in the past. Go and talk to him. I’ll listen out for Gerry.”

  “And say what? ‘Sorry’ doesn’t seem to cut it right now.”

  “Then don’t talk, just sit together.”

  I slid from the stool and walked over to the home office. I pushed open the door to see Robert sitting on the sofa, his head resting back and his eyes closed. He opened them slowly and watched me as I approached. There was weariness in them and that saddened me.

  I sat beside him. “Do you want to talk?” I asked. It seemed a dumb thing to say really.

  “About what? About how fucked up everything is right now? I don’t think I do.”

  “Did I tell you today that I loved you?”

  “No, you haven’t told me that for days. Do you?”

  “Of course I do. I can’t stop loving you, Robert. I thought you’d know that.”

  “Then how can you want to leave?”

  “You need to give me a break here as well. We’ve both said things in the heat of the moment. It’s hard to explain how I feel; my brain is whirling so fast I can’t focus on anything other than Gerry. It hurts that Gerry needs you and Evelyn more than me and I get it, I really do, but put yourself in my position.”

  “I’m trying to, but he saw me on my knees, he believed I was about to be killed. Nothing that happened that day was how I wanted it. If I could turn back time, it would have been handled differently.”

  “You did what you thought was best. It worked, we got him home.”

  “And in the process you’ve seen a side of me I never wanted you to.”

  “You want to know something? I’m glad you told me what you did. Imagining what you do is far worse than knowing.”

  I slid closer to him and he placed his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side.

  “I don’t know where I end and you begin, Brooke. If you leave, it will be like cutting me in half,” he quietly s
aid.

  We fell silent.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was a knock on the home office door. Robert released me from his arm and we both stood. The door opened and Evelyn showed Katrina in.

  “Thank you, Evelyn,” she said.

  She was as formally dressed as the previous day. In fact, everything about her was formal, her choice of words to her hairstyle. She had the air of a professional.

  “I understand Gerry has chosen to sit in his room, alone,” she asked. No greeting was offered.

  “He has. I asked him if wanted some company though,” I said.

  “That’s a new behaviour, isn’t it? He wanted company before.”

  “I’m worried he’s internalising,” Robert added.

  “Mmm, okay. I’d like to spend some time with him. Did you tell him I’d be visiting?”

  “No, I didn’t think to, to be honest. Should I have?” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter either way. Can you show me to his room?”

  “You sound Russian?” I said as we made our way downstairs.

  “Good observation. I was born in Moscow and came to America as a teenager. Am I brusque? My colleagues often say I am more Stalin than Staten,” she said with a laugh.

  I looked at her, not understanding.

  “I lived in New York, Staten Island to be precise, for many years. You get the best of the Russian and the harsh New Yorker with me.”

  I gave a small tap on Gerry’s door before entering his bedroom. He was sitting on his bed, his back resting against the headboard, staring into space. He looked over but his smile was hesitant when he saw Katrina behind me. He’d liked her when he’d worked with her at the home but there seemed something off. However, he smiled broadly when she spoke, when she said something in a language I had no way of understanding. More surprisingly, he answered in the same language.

  I looked from one to the other. “Shall we let mum in on our secret?”

  Gerry nodded.

  “In our previous sessions, at the end, I would teach Gerry one word of Russian. By the end, he knew a whole sentence. Can you remember it?”

  Gerry thought for a moment before speaking. He hadn’t mastered the accent but he seemed pleased with himself as he spoke then translated.