Footsteps

by Susan Fanetti

  “That’s wicked awesome, bro. What d’you want to do today?”

  “Daddy said I could fly my shark. Right, Ms. Bina?”

  “That’s right. Why don’t you go get it, and I’ll clean up the colors.”

  Trey jumped down from his chair and trotted off. Joey called after him, “Get your swim stuff, too, bro. We can look for starfish after lunch.”

  They heard a “Yay!” from the staircase as Trey clomped up to his room.

  Sabina put the crayons back in the big box and gathered up the coloring books. “How are you, Joey?”

  “I’m good. All good. You’re around a lot now—did you move in?”

  There was a bit of an edge to his question, she thought, and she stopped and looked at him. “No.”

  He nodded and leaned on the island. “It’s cool and all. Carlo’s just been…I don’t know…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  There were thickets between Carlo and Joey that she didn’t understand, so she elected not to pursue this strange non-conversation. Instead, she asked, “Why ‘Three-peat’? This name you have for Trey. I don’t understand it.”

  He laughed—though his closed teeth, the effect was rather macabre. “He’s Carlo the third, right? Three-peat—it’s a sports thing. Means three in a row, kinda. Like one more than a repeat.”

  “Oh. That’s cute. Funny.”

  Joey shrugged.

  Sabina liked Joey—he was funny and sweet, goofy and young. He had been, anyway, when she’d first gotten to know the Paganos. Since he’d been hurt—and he really had been badly beaten—he was more short-tempered and, even, nervous. Carlo had called him ‘squirrely’ once. She hadn’t asked what that meant. She assumed it meant ‘like a squirrel,’ but the image hadn’t worked for her.

  He was a little paranoid, though, she thought. Since his father and his oldest brother were treating him with cold shoulders, she assumed that was why he was uncomfortable.

  Maybe this favor he was doing for Carlo, spending the day with her and Trey, would help to close the distance between them. She knew that Carlo had helped raise Joey, and she didn’t like to see them unhappy with each other.

  Trey came down with his flying shark—still in the box—his swim trunks on over his shorts and his goggles on his head. Laughing, Sabina got him sorted out and packed the huge tote from the hall closet with beach supplies, including her own suit and a couple of towels.

  Then they packed off into Joey’s Jeep Wrangler—top and sides open on this bright sunny day—to Quiet Cove Park.

  ~oOo~

  Quiet Cove Park was a perfectly picturesque oasis in this quaint New England town. Meandering, tree-lined walking lanes all converged on an old-fashioned bandstand in the center of the park, where free concerts happened every Saturday during the summer. A duck pond and a picnic area under the mottled shade of stately trees completed the Rodgers and Hammerstein effect. The large, modern playground at one end seemed an anachronism.

  Joey and Trey flew the big shark for about twenty minutes, but then the breeze picked up. After the second time the shark landed in one of those stately trees and Joey had to climb up and rescue it, they packed it up. Trey wanted to play at the playground, so they walked over and sat together on a bench, keeping an eye on him as he climbed and slid and spun.

  They didn’t speak much. Joey scanned the park again and again, almost like he was on a schedule—one scan of the perimeter every three minutes, perhaps. Sabina looked around, too, paying attention to every blonde woman she saw. It was a lovely, late-summer day, and the park was crowded with lingering summer people. There were a lot of blonde women.

  Finally, after they’d been sitting for more than half an hour, and Sabina had started thinking about suggesting that they head off for lunch, Joey sat back on the bench, his posture relaxing.

  “Can I ask you something, Sabina?” Though Carlo and Trey called her Bina, she preferred everyone else to call her by her full name.

  “Of course.” She glanced his way and then turned most of her attention back to Trey, who had made friends with a little boy who’d brought a dump truck to the park.

  “You know what really happened to Auberon, right?”

  Stunned, she swiveled her head to gape at him. “What?”

  “I mean, you know. I know you know. But do you know?”

  “Joey, we shouldn’t speak of this.”

  “There’s nobody around to hear. I was just wondering how much you knew.”

  “I know he can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t anymore keep me from being happy. That’s what I know.”

  She began to stand up; she wanted to collect Trey and take him to lunch. She hoped that Trey would keep Joey from pursuing this terrible topic. But as she came off the bench, Joey grabbed her arm—hard—and pulled her down.

  “I was there. I saw. I did some of it.” He laughed through his wired teeth, and that macabre vision was all the grimmer now. “Uncle Ben was really pissed off at him.”

  “Joey, please. This isn’t right.” She pulled her arm, but he wouldn’t let her go, and Sabina began to feel fear. Real fear, like she hadn’t felt since Carmen had helped her off the beach that night that seemed so long ago. “Joey, please.”

  He let up. “I just want to know how you get it right in your head. So it doesn’t keep showing up in there. I keep seeing it.”

  “I don’t know. Joey, I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

  “Do you feel guilty at all? For your part?”

  “No.” Her fear took on a thread of anger at this last question, and she answered it immediately and firmly. “I don’t think of it like that at all. I don’t know what was my part in it, but I don’t mind having one. I am glad. I am happy. I have no guilt at all.”

  “I do. He screamed. He screamed a lot. I hear it at night. A human being shouldn’t make sounds like that.”

  Sabina sat quietly and tried to sort her head into some kind of order. She had not expected this discussion, and it had not occurred to her that Joey would have been a part of what had been done to Auberon. She hadn’t bothered herself about the details of that event at all. He was dead; she was free. End of story. But now she was being confronted by the idea that she bore some responsibility for a horror. Whether she agreed or not, the thought itself spun her thoughts like a pinwheel.

  “Joey, I don’t understand—why talk to me of this? I didn’t ask you to be there. I didn’t ask you to take part. I don’t know how I help you now.”

  He shrugged and looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. I guess because you’re the one he hurt. You’re why we did what we did. I thought maybe you could make me see it right. But maybe there’s no right way to see it. I know he was a bad guy. I mean, I saw a little of what he did to you—the way you looked after. But I didn’t know him.”

  “I’m sorry, Joey. I wish I knew what I should say.”

  “Yeah. Doesn’t matter. We should get the kid and take him to lunch.”

  ~oOo~

  They took Trey for burgers and then went to the beach, camping out on Carmen’s stretch of sand. For the boy’s sake, Sabina and Joey were lighthearted, keeping smiles on their faces and engaging Trey in conversation. Joey took Trey for a walk to some of the pools among the rocks, looking for starfish. Sabina sat on the sand and let her mind try to find its way through the snarl Joey had made.

  She had no guilt—not for Auberon. Though yes, he was dead because she had told Carlo about her plight, because he and his family had helped her, she felt no guilt at all for her part in Auberon’s death. She was glad of it. He deserved to die. Her life was reclaimed because his had been ended. She was glad.

  She did feel some remorse, though, or something like it, for Joey. She had never bothered herself about the details of the death. She’d had a vague thought to hope it had been painful and traumatic—a hope that had apparently been realized. But she had not thought about the effect it might have on the people who’d done it. She hadn’t expected it to have an effect like
this at all.

  Now that she was truly thinking about it, she realized that she hadn’t even bothered to worry if anyone would be arrested for helping her. Uncle Ben had said he would take care of it, and she had put all her trust in that without considering consequences ever.

  She wondered what that said about her. She didn’t know. But she was worried about Joey.

  She had to speak to Carlo.

  ~oOo~

  When Joey walked Trey back, they were without starfish, and Trey was worn out and getting cross.

  Sabina picked him up. “How would you like to go back to the house and watch a movie with an apple juice pop?”

  Trey nodded and dropped his head to her shoulder. Joey picked up all their gear, and they walked to his Jeep, parked out on Carmen’s lonely little lane that led only to her house.

  “Hold up.” There was another car, a silver Chevrolet sedan, parked in front of his Jeep. Joey dropped the tote and reached around to his back. Sabina saw him pulling at the waistband of his board shorts as though he’d instinctively expected to find something there. “Fuck!”

  The front passenger door of the Chevy opened, and a slim, pretty, blonde got out of the car.

  She had a gun.

  Trey, his head still lolling on her shoulder, muttered, “That’s Mommy.” Joey stepped in front of Sabina.

  “Jenny, what the fuck? Don’t be stupid.”

  Joey blocked Sabina’s view of the woman, but she heard her laugh. There was a sharp, terrifying blade of mania in the sound. “I think the unarmed guy putting himself between my gun and the thing I want is the stupid one, don’t you? And when did you get all heroic, anyway? Move, Joey. That’s my kid. All I wanted was to see him again. But now I’m taking him.”

  “You’re a good girl, Jen. This isn’t like you. You don’t want to do this.” He moved then, sidling carefully, his hand reaching back to wrap around Sabina’s arm—he was trying to jockey them to the shelter of his Jeep.

  “Stop, Joey. Just step aside.”

  “You’re gonna have to shoot me to get me out of your way, Jen—”

  She shot him.

  The thunderous impact knocked him backwards and he dropped, unconscious. Trey screamed. Sabina clutched him close and curled herself around him as much as she could.

  “I’m guessing you’re the ‘woman’ Luca was talking about. Carlo’s. Fine. Have him. But I’m taking my son.”

  Unable to make any thoughts, unable to do anything but try to protect, Sabina shook her head and held Trey, who was sobbing and squeezing her neck hysterically.

  She hazarded a glance at the woman. The gun shook in her hands, but her expression was terrifying—her eyes were alight with manic madness.

  “I’ll shoot him, too. I will. I’ll shoot you right through him. Carlo thinks he can keep me away. That he can scare me away. Well, I can take him away. One way or another, I’m taking him away.”

  “Please. Please don’t hurt him. He’s your son. You can’t hurt him.” Her words with thick with tears, but she had shed none yet.

  “He’s mine. Right. So give him over and I won’t hurt him. I’ll love him. He’s for me to love.”

  Sabina couldn’t do it. Trey was suffocating her with his hold around her neck. He was terrified. She could not simply hand him over to a woman so insane that she was threatening to kill what she loved, just to keep him from being loved by anyone else.

  “Jenny, what are you doing? Fuck!” A male voice—Sabina was shocked. She turned her head a little and saw a man standing at the other side of the Chevy. He must have been driving. “Just get the kid and let’s go. You shot the guy, so we have to go!”

  Jenny walked up to within two feet of Sabina and Trey. “Hey, Roo. Did you miss Mommy?”

  Trey only wailed and held Sabina more tightly.

  A darkness went through Jenny’s eyes at Trey’s rejection. Then she put the muzzle of the gun on Trey’s head. “I will shoot you both dead. Hand. Him. Over.”

  Sobbing freely now, Sabina kissed Trey’s head over and over. “You’re going to be okay, Mr. Trey. Your daddy loves you. I love you. Your mommy loves you. You’re going to be okay.” She pried Trey loose.

  Trey bawled and tried to hold on. “Ms. Bina! Ms. Bina!”

  Jenny snatched him up and ran back to the car.

  ~ 21 ~

  Design meetings with prospective clients were among the things Carlo hated most about his job, but also among the things he loved the best. Talking about a building he had visualized, making somebody else see it, making them love it like he did, he could do that all day.

  Trying to remember how to sell his ideas was harder. Taking absurd questions that focused on the bottom line was nearly impossible. He got impatient and sharp-tongued fairly quickly. Peter excelled at that part, though, and he knew Carlo well enough to know exactly when to take a presentation over.

  This meeting, with the C-level executives of Connelly, Crowe, & Mitchell, a major investment firm, was a huge deal, the kind of job that could singlehandedly make Pagano-Cabot a design force in Rhode Island—possibly New England itself. This was a big, beautiful project. They wanted to meet with the second-round candidates to refine their wants and needs before 3D models were made. It was a lot of interaction for Carlo with people whose vision was much narrower than his own. Under the best of circumstances, meetings like these required an exertion of most of his energy just to stay focused and calm.

  On the day of this meeting, as important as it was, his focus was poor and quickly tested. Though the day had started out well, with a homey breakfast with Trey and Bina, the first item on his agenda had been a meeting with the Uncles, and his mind kept wanting to return to consider that event.

  As always, Uncle Lorrie had sat back, more observer than participant. Uncle Ben was angry at both Luca and Carlo for interfering with Joey’s mistake. Carlo had been surprised, as had Luca. Because of their intervention, the Uncles were not out $40,000. And they’d both taken heavy hits, physically and financially, to fix the problem.

  But this morning, Uncle Ben had pushed all $40,000, in neat, bound stacks of crisp bills, across his desk at them. When neither of them had moved to take the bills, Ben had said, “This repays what you lent to Joey, and it compensates you for handling the problem of those who disrespected us by attacking one of our representatives. What you lent will be repaid to us from Joey’s future earnings. The rest is straight payment from us to you.”

  Carlo and Luca had looked at each other and then back at Uncle Ben, but they still hadn’t moved.

  “Don’t disrespect me, boys,” Uncle Ben had finally said, his voice low. They’d taken the money.

  When they’d sat back, Uncle Ben continued, “There is still the problem of your involving yourselves in business you profess not to want to be involved in.”

  Luca had spoken up at that. “We were helping our brother. Family, Uncle. We weren’t trying to step in your business.”

  “And yet, of course, you did.”

  “Why is it a problem?”

  “When you interfere, you complicate our right to handle a situation in the way we see fit. That complicates our…as Nick calls it…our messaging. The ones who stole from us—we should be accorded the respect to deliver our message ourselves. And Joey made a bad mistake. One that can’t happen again. Yet what were the consequences? What did he learn—that his big brothers will ride to the rescue. I think that’s a lesson Joey has already learned well.”