“You’re silly, Uncle Luca. Sharks don’t go in boats. Are you looking, Ms. Bina?”
“I am, Mr. Trey. Big triangle. I’m looking.”
Being on the Paganos’ little sailboat was much different from what ‘sailing’ with Auberon had been. Sailing then, on a yacht with an extensive cabin below, was about entertaining appropriately. The ocean was nothing more than a venue. Sailing now, with Carlo and Trey and Luca, was really being on the water. Several times, Sabina had leaned over and let her hand trail in the light froth of the water they were moving through—until Trey would share another shark fact, and she’d pull her hand back for a while.
The day was perfect for the water. She’d never paid much attention to the mechanics of sailing, but she could tell that the day was fine for it—puffy white clouds moving across the cerulean blue sky, just enough breeze to fill out the sails and to make her need a ponytail so that she didn’t yank the wayward strands out in frustration. Carlo was happy, Trey was happy. Luca was recovering. She was happy. She felt full and complete and content.
Carlo dropped anchor not far from Block Island, and they ate a lunch that he and Sabina had prepared in the kitchen of the house on Caravel Road. By then, Luca was more lively, and they had a funny, elaborate conversation while Trey tried to teach them shark facts and all the grownups played dumb.
Carlo sat next to her while they ate and found a thousand little reasons to touch her. She was wearing a black monokini with extremely deep décolletage, brought to decency by two goldtone rings. Carlo’s expression when she’d stepped out of the bathroom on Caravel Road wearing it and her paisley pareo had been extremely affirming. He’d said nothing, but since then, she’d felt his hands on her bare skin again and again, just light touches, innocence tinged with promise.
Trey had begun to flag about halfway through his peanut butter and honey sandwich, and now he was leaning on Luca’s arm, a box of apple juice drooping in his hands. Feeling a kind of happiness that seemed deeper than contentment, Sabina lifted her bottle of water to her mouth and looked out across the wide, perfect, infinite expanse of the ocean. As she drank, though, she thought she saw something. Closing her bottle and setting it aside, she pushed her sunglasses up on her head and squinted. Her heart took on an erratic beat.
“Carlo?”
“Yeah?” He rubbed her back and leaned in.
“Look. Is that…”
Two large, dark triangles were coming toward them. Not speedily, but steadily. No—three. A third fin breached the surface.
“Shit. Yeah. Luc, grab hold of Trey. They’re big. Shit.”
“Is it…are we…Carlo!” But Carlo had stepped away, back to the controls.
Luca was standing up now, a re-energized Trey in his arms. “It’s fine, hon. Swimming in a group like that, they’re not predators. Huge guys, though. Gotta be baskers.”
“Daddy!! Daddy! Look!” Trey was pointing emphatically, drawing his arm back and hurling it forward. “Look!”
“I know, pal. Big sharks.” He turned to Sabina, who was still trying to understand if they were about to be extras in a horror movie. “Basking sharks are bigger than Great Whites. But they’re passive feeders—plankton eaters. They don’t hunt. They’re social, though, so sometimes they mistake boats for brothers and give ‘em a bump. Capsize is all we have to worry about.”
That seemed like plenty to Sabina, but Luca had let Trey down and had hooked one meaty fist through the webbing on his little life vest. He was letting Trey lean over the side of the boat, and Carlo was letting him let him, so Sabina hooked her arm around the railing and tried not to be the silly girl in a frenzy while all the boys were enjoying the nature show.
The sharks swam very near the starboard side of the boat, one of them brushing it broadside just enough to make it rock. Trey was nearly psychotic with glee. “Daddy, THREE SHARKS. LOOK HOW BIG!”
“I know, pal! How awesome is that?” Carlo turned to his brother. “That big one’s at least 30 foot. You think?”
Thirty feet was longer than the boat they were on. Sabina held on a little more tightly.
“Yeah. At least.” The sharks swam off, and then, one by one, their fins disappeared. Luca laughed. “Damn. That was wicked cool.”
Trey sat down, his face blazing with light. “It’s like the ocean gave me a birthday. Except my birthday’s not till Thursday. But still, it’s like a birthday!” He turned to Sabina. “Ms. Bina, did you see? Big triangles, just like I said!”
“I did! I think that was the best thing I’ve seen ever.”
“ME TOO!” He leapt up and ran across the boat to fall into her arms. He was hugging her. “I’m glad you were here! You’re pretty and nice and I want you to see the best thing, too!”
Overwhelmed by every conceivable happy feeling, Sabina hugged him back and tried not to cry.
~ 17 ~
Trey talked about the sharks to everyone—workers at the harbor; the checker at Corti’s Market when they stopped in to pick up some meat, booze, and other cookout essentials; and to his aunts and uncles and Pop-Pop nonstop. He’d been looking for sharks since May, and finally, in August, he’d hit the jackpot. Carlo personally credited Bina. They probably would have seen them if she hadn’t been there, but then again, they probably wouldn’t have been out there without her. And, anyway, he was just in the mood to credit her with every good thing in his life at the moment.
He’d invited Luca on the boat with them because he needed a chaperone. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able keep his hands off her, even in front of Trey.
Though almost nothing in his life had changed—he and Trey were still living in a glorified motel, Peter was still barely speaking to him and thinking seriously of backing out of the business—everything had changed. Because Bina was ready. And she really was. Though she was the same woman he’d met at the symphony, and again on the beach, she was different, too. Free and light. Funny and unreserved. And happy. She glowed with it.
Part of him was impatient, wanted to whisk her off and get married right the fuck now. Wanted to just get his life started again already. But he kept that part tethered and let sense have some sway. Slow was better. Slow was good. Slow could be wonderful. He felt like he could focus better now on the parts of his life—most of his life—that were still crumbling into loose rocks at his feet, now that Bina was with him.
And Trey, too. Trey was better just being in the Cove. More his old self. He’d been beside himself when Carlo had brought Bina back to the house late that morning, and Carlo realized how attached they’d both become to each other in that first month. She’d been right to break away and start a life that was just hers, but it was good to have her back.
He wasn’t sure how to talk to Trey about Bina now—about who she was to them. He wasn’t sure yet what to call who she was to them. He knew, though, that he didn’t want to sleep without her tonight, so he’d have to figure out something to tell his boy. Something that wasn’t a fiction but wasn’t more truth than he could handle.
For now, though, Carlo wanted simply to enjoy the last part of this fantastic day. Once back on the dock, he and Luca had both made some calls, and, after the trip to the market, they’d descended on Carmen’s place, ready to make a night of it.
Make a night of it they did. With the haywire events at the beginning of this summer, and with Bina needing distance, Carlo and Trey hadn’t been back to Quiet Cove since the Fourth of July. More than a month—longer than usual even outside the summer months, and insanely long during the summer, when they normally spent at least every weekend and a few full weeks at the beach. Not only the loss of the loft but loss of this home—of days like they’d just spent, nights like this—had taken a toll on them both.
Carlo Sr. and John grilled pork tenderloins. For the rest of the impromptu cookout, they’d bought a pasta salad and a couple of big loaves of bread from the market. And booze—wine and beer, and Luca had grabbed a bottle of scotch. Carmen didn’t keep much liquor in her house
. Of all of them, even including little Rosa, Carmen was the lightest drinker.
John had a fire started in the fire pit before he’d even taken a beer, and by the time everyone had eaten and the sun had gone down, it was ablaze, lighting the stretch of Carmen’s beach with a warm, orange glow.
His belly full and a glass of scotch in his hand, Carlo sat at the fire and watched his family.
Trey, finally talked out, had fallen asleep on a blanket in the sand, curled into the furry warmth of Elsa’s side. After he’d fallen asleep, the dog had shifted so that she was practically spooning him. That beast loved her baby.
Their father had fallen asleep, too, and was snoring in his Adirondack chair, his arms crossed over his belly.
Joey and Luca were having a muttered conversation just out of the reach of the firelight. Joey’s jaw was still wired shut. He’d spent most of the evening drinking his dinner out of beer cans, and he’d had gotten drunk and whiny surprisingly fast. Carlo wondered if he was still taking the pain meds he’d gotten at the ER—or if he’d gotten more. He’d said something shitty to Rosa about her going back to college without a boyfriend and had made their baby sister cry and stomp off. Luca had reached out and knocked him a good one, while Carmen had gone after Rosa. Now Rosa was back and looked fine, but Carmen and Bina had gone inside the cottage with her, ostensibly to clean up. And Luca had dragged Joey off for a man-to-man.
Normally, that would have been Carlo’s job. But Carlo was not feeling much love for his youngest brother right now, and he wasn’t in the mood to straighten him out, not unless it included a beating. Joey had always been a goofball, the one to get in the stupid kind of trouble. And Joey and Rosa were the only siblings who’d ever really fought as a way of life, who actually didn’t like each other very much. But lately he was getting into the dangerous, idiotic kind of trouble, and he was being a full-on shithead to Rosa and everybody else.
“You working on your psychic powers? If you are, I’ll grab my phone.” John, sitting in the chair next to his, had leaned over.
“What?”
“You’re staring over at Joe like you’re trying to beat him down with the power of your brain. If you make it happen, that’s YouTube gold, big brother.”
Carlo laughed. “Just thinking what an ass he’s becoming.”
“Yeah. Give him a break, though. He’s got some shit to work out.”
Carlo turned in his chair and looked hard at John. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”
“Nothing you don’t know about. That’s not what I mean. But…haven’t you ever thought that there’s almost two different sets of us?”
Carlo had no idea what John meant. “Gotta give me more than that, John-O.”
“Okay. Look. You and Carm and Luc—you were all out of the house when Mom died. I mean, you and Carm came back, but still. You got to have her all the way until you were on your own. I was still home, but I was nineteen and had my own thing. Joe and Rosie? They were the only ones who were still just kids. And Pop shut down for, like, a couple of years, so he wasn’t much good. And when he was paying attention again, you and Carm went back to your lives. Which you should have. I just, I don’t know—I see that it makes them different from us. A little. You don’t see it? The way that Joey is such a brat and Rosie’s such a princess? It’s like they’re younger than us.”
“They are younger than us, dude.”
“You know what I mean. They’re younger than we were at that age. Like they lost time when Mom died, or something. What—regressed? Is that right?”
Carlo looked across the fire again and saw Luca hugging Joey. He thought about what John was saying. Had he and Carmen left again before their father was ready to finish raising Joey and Rosa? He resented the guilt that question incited in him. “Carm and I took care of them. We were here. Shit, Carm blew up her whole life to do it.”
“I know, man. You guys held us all together. But maybe there’s a difference between being taken care of and being parented. Being mothered. You know?”
Instead of bringing Joey back to the fire, it looked like Luca was taking him away—maybe home. Probably a good thing. “He’s twenty-five, John. Mom’s been dead eleven years. Not sure how much ‘my mom died’ still works as an excuse for being a self-absorbed, thick-headed asshole.”
John shrugged and leaned over to the nearest cooler for a fresh beer. He tossed one to Carlo, too. “Okay. Just think about it a little. Don’t give up on him just yet. Pop already has, and he’s taking it hard.”
That, too, was news, but not surprising. “Because of the Uncles?”
“Yeah. When he saw Joe with his face all turned to mush, Pop lost his shit. He’ll still talk to him, makes nice at Mass and at Sunday dinner, but he treats him like he’s just some guy he knows. Just like you’re doing.” John shook his head. “Hey—have you heard from the Uncles?”
“No—should I have?”
“I don’t know. Joe said Uncle Ben wasn’t happy with the way that whole scene went down. I just wondered if that blew back on you. I guess not—Luc hasn’t heard, either.”
The thought that Uncle Ben’s anger would ‘blow back’ on him went some distance toward making this great night not so great. In fact, everything about Joey was fucking with his good mood. “Fuck.”
“Don’t sweat it, man. It’s been weeks. You’d have heard if you were having a problem. Right?”
“Yeah. I guess.” Carlo was saved from having to talk more about that shitty topic when Bina came back out of Carmen’s cottage. She was wearing one of Carmen’s hoodies over her bathing suit and skirt thing. Just that change made her look wildly different and completely wonderful. Sweet—like a coed. She’d put on that fucking award-winning, epic, fantasy-fodder bathing suit at the house before they’d gone sailing, and she’d left her clothes there. After the sun went down, she’d gotten cold.
He looked over at Trey and Elsa, sleeping on the beach, and he stood and went to Bina, taking her hands in his. “Let’s go home. The kid needs a bed.”
“Home?” Bina’s expression was cautious and curious.
“To the house.” He realized he’d made a huge presumption. “Will you stay the night?”
“Carlo—I…I’m not ready to give up so fast what I’ve found.”
He dropped her hands. His great day was taking some hard hits tonight. “What do you mean?”
“I want to live where I live now. That’s my home right now. To be on my own a little like that is a good thing for me, I think.”
She was right. And he’d need to talk to Trey before he woke up in the morning and found Bina there again. The summer had already been too confusing for him. But the thought of ever sleeping without her in his arms again felt bleak. “We have a lot to figure out, I guess.”
“Yes, I think.” She slid her arms around his waist. “And we will.”
Carlo stood on the beach and thought about what to do—his kid to get to the house, his woman to get to her apartment, him trapped between. He sighed. “I hate to just drop you off. I don’t want to do that.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll see you at Mass in the morning, yes?”
“Yes. And I’m keeping you for the day.” He hated the idea of going back to Providence and facing that life there. But for now, he took Bina’s beautiful face in his hands and kissed her. This part of his life, at least, had been repaired.
~oOo~
Carlo was up before Trey the next morning. He hadn’t done much sleeping, and they’d worn his boy out well and truly the day before. He checked in on him; he was snoring, his arms thrown over his head. Elsa, lying on the floor at the side of his little bed, lifted her head and thumped her tail at him.
“Come on, girl. You want to go out?” She got up and followed him down the stairs.
His father was in the kitchen, standing at the big island, the Quiet Cove Clarion spread out across the granite and a big mug of coffee steaming at his side.
Footsteps Page 24
