Part 27 (1/2)

She shook her head again and again, as if she was trying to shake away the memories and all that had been done.

”How awful,” I said.

”You have no idea. I had killed my mother. And now they were trying to kill my brother and his children.” She stopped and looked at me, and then she spoke very, very softly. ”And so he...”

But now I could pick up the story. ”And so he faked his own death.”

She nodded, she stopped, she nodded again. She turned to me. ”Yes, Isabel. That is what he did.” She gave me a grim look. ”It nearly destroyed me, the thought that they might kill you. And trust me, Isabel, they would have killed you.”

”Weren't you worried that they would kill you? I mean, after what they did to Grandma O. Weren't you afraid they would do the same to you to send a message to him?”

She sighed and shook her head. ”The System is very difficult for an outsider to understand. They are ruthless, yes, but there is still a circle of loyalty, and I fell within that circle. Your father knew that, too. He knew that they were coming for him next and for his family, and they wouldn't stop, and so he went to the FBI. He told them what was going on. The FBI said that they would immediately put the family in the witness protection program. But your father said the witness protection program was no way to live, no way to move on. He didn't want you all to have to change your ident.i.ties and your lives. It would have been awful. And so instead of doing that to you...” Her words trailed off.

”But when there was no body, didn't the Camorra suspect something?”

She laughed but it was without mirth. ”Your father was very smart. He played on their egos. He landed the helicopter on the water and rigged it to explode after he'd gotten out. To this day, I know different clans, different members of the Camorra who pride themselves on having killed my brother.”

”So, like I said before-that's why you weren't at his funeral. Because you knew he wasn't dead.”

She nodded. ”I couldn't bring myself to act like he had died. It was enough that I had killed my mother.”

”You didn't kill her, the Camorra did.”

”Because of me. Because I told them about Christopher.” She clutched her stomach and rocked forward, her head bent.

I put a hand on her shoulder, leaning closer. ”Are you all right?”

She nodded.

I had to ask. ”Where has he been in Italy this whole time?”

She shrugged. ”That is your father's story. I will let him tell you.”

She seemed depleted by what she'd told me so far. I decided not to push her.

We sat for a while in silence, the train gently rocking. Elena made a huge exhale of breath, then turned to me. ”Those men who chased you in Naples,” she said. ”They weren't trying to kill you.”

”What do you mean? They came in the hotel, they seemed to be looking for me and they ran after us with guns!”

She shook her head dismissively. ”Trust me. When the Camorra wants to kill you, they kill you. They don't look, and they don't chase. They just do.”

”Then what were they doing exactly?”

A small shrug. ”My guess is they were trying to scare you.”

”They did a great job. But why?”

Another shrug. ”It would be difficult to kill you. To kill italiani? Si. That happens all the time. But if the Camorra kills a young, attractive American woman, it could cause problems for them.”

”And when I go back to the United States?”

She examined my face. She glanced from my mouth to my hair and back to my eyes. ”I would be very careful.”

41.

W e went to the hotel on via Giulia where we'd had the reservation for yesterday and checked in. The lobby there was cool and quiet, just like a former convent should be. While Elena went to the lobby restroom, Maggie got a bellman to take our bags upstairs. Then she drew me over to the small library in the lobby. ”Sit,” she said, pointing at a low white couch.

I did, and looked up at her.

Maggie stood in front of me. ”Look, I'm just going to tell you what you tell me when I'm about to go on trial.”

”Okay. Good. Hit me.”

She glanced over her shoulder. There was no one near us. ”Here's the thing. You can't let your mind go crazy and think about all that could happen. You just have to go through it, minute to minute, and make smart choices along the way. Like right now, you can't let your mind run over the possibilities of why your dad did what he did.” Maggie started pacing. ”You can't be angry about it, do you understand?”

I nodded. G.o.d, it was great to have a friend doing your mental prep for you.

”You can't think about anything other than right now,” Maggie continued. ”You can't let your head run around and around in fifteen different circles. Essentially, don't be a conspiracy theorist. Just be you in this situation.” She stopped, nodded like, Got it?

”The thing is, I can't believe it's me in this situation. I can't believe this is happening to me.”

She pointed at my face. ”You're doing it. You're letting your head run around in circles.” She sat on the couch next to me. ”Okay, let's think. What would help you to get your mind around this? To really feel like it's happening. Right now.”

”Well, I can't stop thinking about my mom. Did she know?”

Maggie shrugged, then looked at her watch. ”She's up. Call her.”

I nodded. It felt good to have some course of action to take, rather than simply waiting for Elena, reacting to her.

I called my mother's cell phone. ”Izzy!” she said. ”I was just going to call you. Happy birthday!”

I'd almost forgotten. ”Thanks, Mom.”

”Do you know that I can remember exactly what happened on the day you were born?”

”Really?” I said with a laugh. She told me this story every year.

”It was a beautiful Friday. It had been cold that summer in Michigan, but this was the first real summer day, and so your dad had taken the day off, and he and I were working in the garden. Do you remember the garden we had in Michigan?”

I said I did. My parents both loved gardening, something they'd shared together but never really taught Charlie and me. I told my mom about the wildflowers Maggie gave me and the flower box she was going to put on my roof deck.

”Wonderful!” my mom said. ”I'll help you with it.” She sighed. ”Well, I remember that day you were born. I was kneeling next to the tomato plants and staking them. They were just starting to bloom, and I couldn't wait until they grew and ripened.”

My mother went on, saying how, kneeling there in the Michigan soil, she'd realized that her water had broken, that she was about to have her first child. She'd spent a moment by herself appreciating that, before she called for my father.