He wasn’t very good at keeping news to himself, either. But this confidence he’d keep. Never would he want to cause her pain. “Okay. But if I could tell, you know everybody else will be able to, too. Except Joey.”
She latched on to the chance to change the subject. “He looks like
crap
. And Pop says he wants to move in with them. Is he getting worse or something? His health, I mean?”
Rosa and Eli lived in D.C. She was a lobbyist for a big New England-based education consortium, and Eli was a chef. They got back to the Cove maybe four or five times a year. Since John saw Joey every day, it was usually when Rosie came home that he even noticed the changes in their brother.
Joey was five years younger than John and five years older than Rosa. A misguided attempt to cross to the other pews and join the Pagano Brothers side of the family ten years earlier, in combination with some family drama on their own side of the pews, had gotten Joey shot. He’d been disabled ever since, with anomic aphasia and restrictive lung disease.
His lungs were stronger than they’d been, but his aphasia had not improved very much. He had trouble finding words, especially when he was trying to keep up with one of their chaotic family free-for-alls, or when he was stressed. He did the scheduling at Pagano & Sons, but other than that work, Joey had given up on having a life. He’d been a player before the shooting, but John didn’t think he’d had a single date in all the ten years since.
And he’d gained weight. John hadn’t really thought much about it, but standing with Rosa and watching Joey now, where he sat in a chair and watched other people talk, John realized that his little brother was getting downright fat. He’d put on maybe thirty pounds.
At least he’d had his own apartment for the past several years. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s sick or anything. He wants to give up his place?”
“That’s what Pop says. Speaking of which, Pop doesn’t look that great. He’s too skinny.”
“He’s getting old, Cookie. Plus, after that last heart attack, I think Adele’s got him on nothing but kale and water.” He laughed, but it didn’t feel that far off from true. Their father had always been a bear of a man, but he’d had one major and three lesser heart attacks, and the man who liked his steaks thick and bloody and his pasta full of cheese was on a highly restricted diet. He was now lucky if their stepmother would give him a grilled chicken breast a couple of times a week.
“He can’t get old. Pop can’t get old. Ever.” Rosa, who was thirty years old, a wife, a mother, and an influential lobbyist, suddenly looked like the young, sweetly spoiled princess she’d once been.
John gave her another squeeze. “He won’t, Cookie. Pop is immortal.”
“He better be.” She leaned against his chest.
~ 12 ~
Nick and Bev’s house was full of people. Paganos Katrynn knew and people she didn’t. There were probably forty people there for the baby shower.
She had been surprised when Bev had told her about this party. She wasn’t yet seven months pregnant, so it seemed a little early for a shower, and for her to throw it for herself. But that wasn’t exactly how it had gone down.
It was here at their house because since that day in the bathroom, Nick had become aggressively protective of his family, almost hostile, and he wanted complete control over the situation. He wanted Bev where she could disappear at a moment’s notice and be quiet and comfortable in her own home. He wanted his children in their own environment so that they were clear on their boundaries. He wanted to be in charge of the many people he’d hired to make the afternoon go smoothly. He wanted control.
It was Bev who’d wanted the party, though.
She was no longer overwhelmed by all the demands on her time and attention, because there were no more demands. She was, Katrynn thought, a little better, though still not her old, bright self. But now she was getting lonely.
Katrynn was just a secondhand observer, but she was at the house regularly, to visit with her friend and to give Elisa piano lessons. From what Bev and Nick both said outright, and what Katrynn simply observed, it seemed that Bev had given up whatever fight she’d had with Nick about what she could manage in her life. She had wanted to be able to be all things to the people in her life: a perfect mother, a perfect wife, a perfect homemaker, a perfect business owner, a perfect friend—just, in general, perfect. Bev was the kind of woman who might well have managed it, and even enjoyed it, if her head had been in a good place. It wasn’t.
After the bathroom breakdown, their doctor had diagnosed Bev with postpartum depression. From what Katrynn had read, managing to get one’s clothes on straight in the morning was a pretty big deal with that kind of depression, so Bev had actually been doing really well, while she was cracking into pieces inside.
Nick seemed to have taken the news as a personal failure, and he seemed to think he could fix it by taking all the responsibilities out of Bev’s life. They now had a full-time housekeeper as well as a full-time nanny. Katrynn was fully running the bookshop, and Nick wouldn’t even let her share the prettied-up records with Bev. Nick had hired caterers for the party, in addition to having the housekeeper and nanny on the clock. They were having it at the beginning of her third trimester because Nick thought the stress of the party would be too much once Bev was physically uncomfortable in the pregnancy.
When the man wanted complete control, there was no detail too small to consider.
Katrynn had even faced off with Nick herself recently. He knew about Elisa’s song. After hearing them practicing very quietly one evening, he’d asked what they were up to, and Elisa had told him. Nick had been proud and encouraging to Elisa, and then, later, he’d called Katrynn and told her that he wanted to see the lyrics in print. When he had, he’d objected to a couple of lines, concerned that they would hurt Bev.
Katrynn disagreed. She thought those lines particularly poignant and sweet, and she thought Bev would understand. She’d pointed out that it was Elisa’s song, not hers, and asked if he wanted to tell his daughter that her words weren’t good enough, because that would be the message if he or Katrynn changed any. Her heart had been pounding like crazy, but she’d said it.
He’d gotten angry and hung up. Later, he’d called and said to leave the words the way his daughter had made them.
Katrynn thought she’d go completely insane, like the woman in the Charlotte Perkins Gilman short story “The Yellow Wall-Paper,” if her life were so managed as Nick was managing Bev’s, but Bev seemed actually to be improving. Nick was clearing away the things she’d been buried under, and she was finding the light again.
They had found out that they were having a boy, and Bev was shopping, mostly online, to decorate and fill his nursery. She and Elisa and Lia had taken up a scrapbooking project that had been dominating the dining room the past few weeks. That seemed like a great sign to Katrynn: Bev and her girls having real fun together.
It seemed that Bev had needed to give in, to let go and lean on her husband, to be taken care of for a while. And Nick had been right there to hold her up.
Now, Bev sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by family women: her mother-in-law, Betty; John’s sister, Carmen; and his sister-in-law, Sabina; John’s stepmother, Adele. Other women she didn’t know stood around the island, noshing and talking. Three girls in catering uniforms moved in and out of the kitchen with trays. And there were kids everywhere.
Bev saw her and smiled. “Katrynn! I was getting worried.” She scooted her chair back, and Katrynn hurried over.
“Don’t get up, silly. Sorry we’re late. We just got a little hung up getting going.”
Carmen gave her a smirk like she knew something. Katrynn felt herself blush. She could still feel the lingering, gentle ache of the sex they’d finished less than half an hour before.
Sex with John was so good, every single time, that Katrynn was starting to feel a little addicted to it. She’d known that they hadn’t had time, and that Elisa would be worried—she’d said as much—but it hadn’t really occurred to her to seriously protest. It wasn’t even her weird muteness thing. She just wanted to fuck him all the time. She wanted to just
be around
him all the time, and when she wasn’t, she thought about him constantly. Like she was addicted to him.
No. She was in love with him. Completely besotted, totally gone, absolutely lost over the guy.
And basically scared out of her head.
She felt a tug at her hand and turned to see Elisa standing there. “Hey, honey.”
Elisa pulled until Katrynn bent down so she could whisper. “I want to do it now so I don’t get more scared.”
“Okay,” she whispered back. “How do you want to do get your mom ready?”
Elisa stared up at the ceiling for a minute, obviously thinking. Then she turned to Bev. “Mamma, I have something for you and Ren but you need to go to the family room for it.”
Bev smiled and held out her hand. When Elisa went over and took it, Bev asked, “You have something for us?” Elisa nodded, and Bev looked over her head at Katrynn, who smiled and nodded, too.
“Well, thank you, love. Let’s go to the family room. Can everybody else come, too?”
Elisa turned to Katrynn, a question in her wide eyes.
“It’s up to you, honey. Whatever you want.”
“I think it would be okay. If everybody is nice.”
Betty answered, “Nobody here would ever be anything but nice,
cara
mia
.”
“Okay. Come on, Mamma. I hope you like it.”
~oOo~
When Katrynn and Elisa sat at the piano, and John slung his guitar over his shoulder, Bev put her hand over her mouth, and Katrynn could see that tears were ready to fall before they’d even struck a key. Nick crouched at the side of Bev’s chair and took her other hand.
While John checked his tuning, Katrynn asked Elisa, “Should we say something first?”
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered back.
“Would you like me to?” At Elisa’s relieved nod, Katrynn turned to Bev. “Elisa wrote this song, and she asked me to help her put the words to music. We worked together on it, and we’re going to play together. Elisa’s going to sing.”
Elisa gaped at her. “You’re gonna sing too, right? And Uncle John?”
“Yes, lollipop,” John answered. “We’re right here with you.”
“Okay. Mamma, this is for you and baby Ren. I don’t know if he can hear it in your tummy, but when he’s born you can sing it to him if you want. I named it ‘Lorenzo’s Lullaby’ because that’s what it is, and Katrynn said it was a good name.”
Bev was already crying, as were several of the other women, but Katrynn didn’t know if Elisa, fighting her stage fright, had noticed. She hoped not.
Elisa had only been taking piano lessons for a few weeks. She was barely at the “Heart and Soul” level of playing, but Katrynn had devised a simple melody that Elisa could play with one hand and also sing. Katrynn added in some lower chords that she would play, but not so many that Elisa might lose the timing of her own notes. John was providing the rhythm.
As they’d practiced, Katrynn did a little run as an introduction, and then she counted very quietly at Elisa’s ear. Concentrating intently on the keys, Elisa played the melody through once. Then she began to sing.
When her voice was tiny and afraid in the first line, Katrynn added her own, so that Elisa wouldn’t feel alone. John came in, humming in his gorgeous tenor and singing the last line of each verse.
Hush baby brother
Go to sleep baby
Everybody loves you
You are our boy.
Elisa loves you
She’s the big sister
She will protect you
And she will hug you.
Lia loves you
She’s the middle sister
She will make you laugh
And steal your toys.
Carina loves you
She’s the baby sister
She cries a lot
But she is cute.
Papa loves you
He is big and strong
He tells good stories
And never gets mad.
Mamma loves you
She is soft and warm
She is full of kisses
Even when she’s sad.
Hush baby brother
Go to sleep little Ren
We all will love you
Forever and ever.
Sempre e per sempre,
Like Papa says.
You are our boy.
John and Katrynn sang the last line a few times to take the song out, and then there was a moment of weighty silence in the room.
A few lines had gotten gentle laughs, and Elisa’s head popped up each time, like she was worried she was being made fun of, but she didn’t stop until the song was done.
In that silence after it was over, she turned on the piano bench. Katrynn twisted around, too, and saw that the silence was a whole room full of people too overcome with emotion to speak. She and John had talked about that with Elisa—that people might cry, and that tears could be a good thing.
Even Nick looked to be at the edge of his composure. And Bev was a sopping mess.
“Mamma? Did I make you sad?”
Bev shook her head and held out her arms. When Elisa went to her, she folded her daughter up as tightly as she could. “No, baby, no. You made me happy. You make me so happy. Thank you so much. That is the best song I’ve ever heard.”
“Talk about a mic drop,” Luca said. With that, the emotional tension in the room broke, and everyone erupted into laughter—then came the applause, at which Elisa turned and looked around, her eyes huge, and her pretty little face flush with pride.
“Take a bow, lollipop,” John said. Elisa did, making a dainty curtsy, and the applause redoubled.
~oOo~
Much later, when they’d said their goodbyes and John led Katrynn to the door, Nick stopped them. He took hold of Katrynn’s arms and stared into her eyes.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet.
Katrynn smiled. “You’re welcome. But that was for Elisa and Bev.”
“What makes them happy makes me happy. Thank you.”