Chapter 9
I wasn't able to get much more in the way of information during my brief phone conversation with my wife. All she would say was that there'd been a little 'mishap' during the recovery and that she needed me to come and pick her up. I balked at the lack of details but she kept reminding me, in that annoyingly bossy pants tone of hers, that if something was seriously wrong, she wouldn't be calling me herself. I knew a deflection when I heard one but nonetheless, I did my best to keep my cool and I headed out. It took me all of twenty-two minutes to get out to the Bronx, the whole time imagining a variety of scenarios - each one worse than the last.
I'd never been to Calvary Hospital and it took me a minute to get my bearings once I got inside. In the end, she's the one who found me wandering around aimlessly in the emergency room. Her hair was mussed and her usually impeccable clothes disheveled but basically, she looked pretty well as she always did until I noticed she was holding her left arm tightly against her body. I craned my neck to get a better look and that's when I spotted the bright red bloodstain on the left sleeve of her blouse.
'What happened?' I asked, alarmed.
I hadn't realized I was practically shouting and she shushed me and led me to a row of seats nearby.
'There was a little bit of a kerfuffle' she began.
My eyes must have been bulging out of their sockets because she continued before I could ask anything else.
'Neal, I'm fine. I'm just… so fucking mad, that's all.'
I kept staring ahead, not sure what to ask first.
'I dropped the stupid bust and it broke into pieces. Now we have to pay it out…'
I shook my head in disbelief. 'You're kidding, right? That's what you're worried about? The damn bust?'
She sighed. 'It's… Neal, the bullet barely grazed me.'
'Bullet?!' I repeated, much too loudly.
I was already trying to tug at her sleeve to get a better look but she pushed me away and gently lifted it to reveal a two inch square bandage just an inch or so down from her shoulder.
'See, it's fine' she said with a shrug.
'Fine?' I repeated. 'Sara, this is pretty well the classic definition of NOT fine. What happened?'
'The swap went down in this alley behind the Majestic Hotel' she began. 'I brought Mitch along and when the buyer and the fence started arguing, he freaked out and pulled out a gun.'
'A gun? I thought you said you hadn't even applied for a license for him yet.'
'I haven't' she replied. I could hear the annoyance in her voice. 'He went out and got one of his own.'
'The idiot' she added under her breath.
She shook her head as if replaying what had gone down. 'He was trying to scare the guys off and the gun went off accidentally.'
I let out a long audible sigh, releasing some of the tightness that had been building up inside my chest for the past half hour. And then, as it suddenly dawned on me what might have happened but for the grace of God, I grabbed Sara by the back of the neck and pulled her in tightly against me as she moaned.
'Jesus, Sara!' I whispered in her ear. 'What are you trying to do to me?'
She pulled away before I was done. Frankly, I would have held her for another twenty minutes or so — at least until my heart rate resumed its normal rhythm.
She looked up at me like a little kid. 'Can we go home?'
I half expected her to ask if we could stop for ice cream on the way back. 'Are you all done with the doctor?'
She held up a blue sheet of paper. 'Release papers' she chirped as if she was talking about the directions for installing a Brita filter instead of instructions for tending to a gunshot wound.
I just shook my head in disbelief and led her outside to the car.
That's when I realized I was shaking like a leaf.
WCWCWC
Tending to a sick or injured Sara Ellis was ten times worse than being sick or injured myself. I'd gotten a glimpse of what it was like to care for her (or should I say attempt to care for her) when she'd been hurt at work about two years earlier. During a recovery gone bad, she'd suffered a broken arm and a couple of bruised ribs and as if that wasn't enough, we'd only just found out she was pregnant.
Of course, I'd doted on her like I was on steroids. She'd hated it.
This time around, I talked her into letting me change her bandage before bed every night. That gave me a chance to monitor how well the wound was healing and allowed for a certain amount of acceptable doting. As wounds went, I'd seen worse. Thankfully, the bullet had not penetrated the muscle tissue but it had ripped off some skin - almost like a really bad scrape. But still, the thought of what might have happened just wouldn't let go of me… this at a time when I'd been spending much too much time reliving another incident with a loaded gun.
Of course, Sara dismissed it all as poppycock. She hated to show weakness and instead, she concentrated her energy on being royally pissed off at Mitchell Dunlop and making sure he got his comeuppance. This time, Winston Bosch had been a lot less forgiving of his ne'er do well nephew. He had to pay out a significant amount to Mrs. Van Dyke and if there was one thing the guy hated, it was being hit in the pocketbook.
Despite my pleading, Sara refused to miss a single day's work and when she came home the next day, she was fuming even more.
'You're not going to believe this' she told me over dinner. 'The asshole paid off the gun safety instructor to sign a certificate when he never even attended class.'
I gave her a discreet head nod in Hope's direction. She was listening in, mesmerized, trying to figure out what all that smoke was that was coming out of her mom's ears.
'Language…' I muttered under my breath.
'And get this…' she continued, spearing a carrot with so much oomph, the damn thing went soaring across the room. Hope watched in awe, pointing towards the flying object like it was a UFO.
'You remember those notes I asked him to transcribe into my files?'
I nodded. I didn't really remember but I was too scared to tell her so.
'Well, he got one of the secretaries to do it for him and then he took her out to dinner to thank her and here's the clincher. To top it off, he wormed his way into her bed.'
'Wow, what a prince' I mumbled since that seemed like the type of reaction she was looking for.
'Anyway, it's over. Mr. Bosh finally saw reason and he kicked him out. Told him to get a real job and learn to stand on his own two feet.'
She finally took a breath and Hope looked over at me for a reaction. I smiled at her in empathy; there was probably a lifetime of this kind of thing waiting right around the corner for the two of us.
WCWCWC
I had to admit my little hissy fit about Sara leaving her purse in the middle of the place had begun to pay dividends. If I'd known it would get results, I would have thrown a tantrum the very first time I'd tripped over the damn thing. When she came home on Thursday night, I noticed how she took the time to hang it on a hook by the front door before making her way to join me and Hope in the kitchen.
'Hey, look! It's Momma' I called out as Hope clapped her hands in glee.
'Hey! It's my two favourite people' she replied, walking slowly towards us.
She leaned down to kiss Hope and turned towards me to do the same. I saw her wince then smile a little too broadly in an effort to cover it up. She'd been doing her best to fool me but as everybody knows, I'm not an easy guy to fool. I could see the strain on her face, accumulated fatigue from the events of the last few days and some residual pain from her injury. She seemed to think I hadn't noticed she was still walking around with her arm pressed up against her body but hey… what can I say, I'm one observant guy.
'What's going on here?' she asked, noticing Hope was finishing up her meal of mashed potatoes, mushy peas and applesauce.
'I thought we might have dinner just the two of us tonight' I explained with an impish grin. 'After Hope's in bed.'
'Oh yeah?' she replied, her face growing more relaxed.
'Yeah… I've got a little surprise for you' I explained mysteriously.
That seemed to put a more genuine smile on her face. Hope stared up at her mom and clapped her hands, as if she thought she might be getting a surprise too.
I walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up the vodka martini I'd prepared in anticipation of Sara's arrival. I moved in nice and close and placed my hand on her hip, whispering in her ear.
'Why don't you take this upstairs and have it while you change and I'll finish up with Hope.'
She seemed to like my suggestion and her smile grew even more.
'Okay' she said tentatively.
She headed upstairs and I turned back to look at Hope who was observing the whole exchange with wide-eyed curiosity.
'See baby girl' I said, my voice quiet. 'That's how we make Momma happy.'
WCWCWC
Once the house was quiet and Sara had finished throwing back her second drink, we moved to the table where I'd set out the good china and cloth napkins as well as a fine bottle of Italian red - her favourite. It was nothing really, just a little something to set the mood and let her know I'd made a conscious effort.
My wife had had a particularly difficult week at work and I was eager to help smooth out the rough edges. Truth was, since my dinner at the Burkes and my painful confession to Peter, I'd been looking for just the right time to have that little talk with Sara. Without much difficulty, I'd managed to put off the conversation for a couple of days but there was no doubt I needed to get it done before we headed out to the exhibit on Saturday night. There was no way I was bringing Sara into such an emotionally charged situation without giving her a heads up.
Tonight was going to be the night for our little heart to heart.
Okay, you caught me… originally, I had thought tonight might be the night to come clean but then, I'd begun to think of other more, shall we say, sensual pursuits and somehow, the two objectives weren't all that compatible. I'd been counting the days and today was —drumroll, please — day thirteen, just about halfway through Sara's cycle. With our recent decision to grow our family, this would be our first opportunity to get to work on our new shared project.
And by work, I mean play.
It was strange to go into the whole procreation exercise knowingly and deliberately this time around. With Hope, as happy as we were with the outcome, we'd never set out intentionally to make a baby. Knowing that our lovemaking had an objective other than simply enjoying each other's company felt strange yet exciting.
'What's this?' she asked as she took a seat at the table and noticed my little surprise.
'I figured we were overdue for a date night' I explained as she opened the envelope I'd left on her plate.
'Anna Koslawski-Peters' she read off the flyer I'd hidden inside. 'Now there's a mouthful.'
I felt a jolt go through my body at the sound of her name.
'She's a photographer' I said, avoiding Sara's gaze. 'I read about her… somewhere. Looks like a breakout artist. I thought we could do dinner first, make a night of it. Peter and El have already offered to take Hope for the night.'
Sara nodded as she read the flyer describing the event. There was an unmistakeable smile on her face.
'And this?' she asked, pointing to the garment bag I'd slung on the back of one the chairs.
'All part of the surprise' I said with a satisfied grin. 'Go ahead, take a look.'
I could see a flash of confusion on her face as she slipped the two outfits out of the garment bag. One was a nice body hugging dress in leopard print that I knew would fit her like a glove, the other a pair of khaki pants and shirt as well as a brown leather belt.
She got that naughty look in her eyes. 'You taking me on a safari Caffrey?' she cooed.
'Sort of' I replied, my voice rough. Just thinking of her in that hot little outfit was already getting me riled up.
She finished reading the flyer advertising the exhibit and glanced at the tickets. I could see she was into it. Unfortunately, she still didn't know what my real motivation was for attending… or the fact that I was still pussyfooting around telling her about said motivation.
It didn't take long for my mind to return to safer, more carnal pursuits. I let my hand linger on her cheek for a moment and accidentally grazed her breast.
As we ate, I could see good old Sara coming back: relaxed, playful, sexy as all hell. She seemed to be thinking along the same lines as I was.
'Did you notice the date?' she mewled, pointing to the calendar hanging on the fridge.
She'd begun running her naked foot up and down my leg under the table, making all rational thought rather difficult.
I faked a look of confusion - just part of the sweet, innocent act.
'The date?' I repeated as I reached under the table and brought her foot up to rest on my lap. 'What do you mean?'
She took advantage of her foot's proximity to my groin to start curling her toes against my junk. I made a small choking sound.
'I could try this on for you' she cooed, pointing to the dress. 'See if it's easy to get in and out of.'
Painfully difficult conversation vs hot, steamy baby making sex my brain chanted again and again as I continued to weigh my options.
'Or we could skip clothes altogether' I suggested, throwing my napkin down on the table and getting to my feet. I reached for her, settling her in my arms and I kissed her hard, feeling her body melt in response to my touch. I took a quick glance at the table to see if anything risked spoiling in the next hour or so and I leaned down, scooping her up in my arms bridal style. She laughed, that wonderful, throaty, relaxed laugh of hers and, without hesitation, I started heading for the stairs.
There were still forty-eight hours left for me to have that little talk with her whereas baby making… well, baby making was a time sensitive undertaking that required not only precision timing but exceptional technique - which I'm happy to report I possess in spades.
In the end, there really was no contest.
WCWCWC
The hostess who welcomed us to the Pot au feu was decked out in a short zebra skirt and matching shoes. I could see that the jungle theme had spread to the waiters and waitresses who were all clad in khaki capris and shirts or blouses including those straw bristol hats traditionally associated with jungle dwellers - at least in the movies.
The gallery had parterned up with the local eatery to promote both the exhibit and the newly opened restaurant — not terribly surprising considering Nicolas Béranger was owner of both establishments.
The restaurant, in an effort to promote the exhibit, was offering a dinner menu with a jungle theme. With a quick glance around the place, I could see several of the diners had taken advantage of the promotion. Some had gone way over the top with outlandish outfits while others, like me and Sara, had gone with more subdued looks with just a touch of jungle whimsy.
As expected, my wife looked incredible and I was already looking forward to the end of the evening when I'd finally get the chance to slip that dress off her supple little body and give her an encore performance of my amazing baby making skills.
'Caffrey…' the hostess repeated as she checked her list. 'Ah yes, you're special guests of Monsieur Béranger.'
Sara and I exchanged glances and I gave her an exaggerated eyebrow wag.
The hostess led us to a smaller, more private dining room at the back of the restaurant. The table she sat us at was without a doubt the best table in the house and I was not so secretly pleased to see that Nick had endeavoured to give us the royal treatment.
'Nice' Sara commented as we settled into our booth. 'So tell me again, how do you know this guy?'
I gave her my world famous shrug/sly smile combo, the one that said 'if you really want to know, I can give you details but I think you already know.'
'Oh, someone from your time in Europe, huh?'
This was, among so many other things, what I loved about my wife. She knew pretty well everything about my past - perhaps not details but certainly the types of activities I'd been involved with prior to my time with the FBI. There was never any need to skate around the issue, duck questions or deflect. She got it… and consequently, she got me.
'Oooh, honey look' I said as I glanced at the menu. 'They've got a special menu just for tonight.'
As an appetizer, they were offering something called a rainbow raw bowl followed by a choice between a Kenyan stew served with ugali, a jungle burrito or a coconut curry. For dessert, the chef had prepared something special just for the occasion: mandazi, a Kenyan delicacy served with rum sauce.
'Wow, that sounds amazing. I sure as hell didn't come here to have a plain old hamburger' Sara exclaimed with her usual deadpan delivery. 'I'm going for the special. What about you?'
'Yeah' I replied enthusiastically. 'Definitely.'
Our waitress arrived with a couple of exotic looking drinks served in coconut shells.
'These are compliment of Monsieur Béranger' she announced, setting them down on the table. 'He says to tell you he looks forward to welcoming you to the gallery.'
I nodded in thanks and glanced around, trying to ascertain the level of privacy we could expect in our little corner of the restaurant. After days of procrastination, I was really up against the clock. I was about to come face to face with Anna Koslawski after almost thirty years and I had absolutely no idea how things were going to play out. I certainly wasn't going to bring Sara into the situation without the benefit of knowing the full story. It was time to come clean and frankly, I was looking forward to unburdening myself. It would be a huge relief and having Sara by my side as I faced the evening was giving me the courage I so badly needed.
Despite my eagerness to open up, I still managed to put off my revelation until dessert. We ate our amazing donut-like pastries and sat back, waiting for the waitress to bring over some coffee.
'This is nice Neal' Sara said. 'You know, we don't do date night nearly often enough.'
I ran my hand languidly across her knuckles and gave her a smile complete with that adorable puppy dog look I'd cultivated and mastered for moments just like this. Following the events from earlier in the week, I was still feeling annoyingly protective of her and whenever she was within arms reach, I felt the urge to be touching her constantly.
She'd been a good sport but I could tell her patience was beginning to wear thin. Although she was not the kind of woman who enjoyed being doted on, she'd willingly conceded that, if the roles had been reversed, she would probably be behaving just as irritatingly attentive as I'd been acting the past few days.
Apparently, I was still looking for excuses to put off the inevitable because instead of beginning to tell my tale, I asked her how her arm was feeling.
The flesh coloured bandage was visible on her arm, considerably smaller than the original one the doctor at the hospital had used.
'Neal, can we please let it go. I've told you a dozen times, it barely grazed me' she replied in that no nonsense voice of hers.
I didn't appreciate her downplaying what had happened. I was living proof that luck wasn't always on your side when it came to handling firearms.
'Sara, three inches to the left and I might be planning your funeral' I reminded her, not for the first time.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. 'Would you please stop overdramatizing. It doesn't even qualify as a flesh wound.'
I looked away, unwilling to engage her while she was still in denial. Besides, I didn't want to be arguing with her on date night. Especially on this date night.
My mind returned to Anna and I felt my heart start to pump a little faster at the realization that, in less than an hour, I would finally be coming face to face with her.
The coffee arrived and I realized I was running out of time. I reached out and took Sara's hand in mine.
'Babe…' I said.
She looked up expectantly. 'What?'
WCWCWC
By the time we'd finished our second cup of coffee, I'd recited the whole sordid tale from beginning to end starting with my friendship with Tim Koslawski, how I'd met his family, his baby sister Anna and finally, the horrible events of the night that had forever changed all our lives. Sara listened without saying a word, stopping only to dab her eyes a couple of times as I laid out the details of what had happened and the memories that still haunted me to this day.
Her eyes rested on the flyer from the exhibit, lying on the table. 'So this isn't just some random opening you're taking me to?' she asked, her voice quiet.
I shook my head but didn't look up. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.'
I felt her hand on mine, soft and warm. 'And you've been keeping this locked up inside all this time.'
'It was just… something from my past, something I couldn't change.'
'And that's why you don't want a gun in the house' she stated flatly.
I shrugged.
'Honey, I'm sorry this happened to the little boy inside you. You must have been so traumatized.'
'It's not about me Sara. It's about Anna. She's the one whose had to live her whole life with the consequences of my actions from that night.'
She kept her hand on mine, the weight helping to keep me anchored. 'Neal, there were a lot of people who had a hand in what happened to that little girl. Her dad, her brother… I'm sure her mom carries around a lot of guilt, probably wondering what would have happened if she'd stayed home that night.'
She was trying really hard to make me feel better but I'd examined the events from every single angle and it always came back to the same thing: what if…
'I've replayed it in my head hundreds of times' I admitted. 'What if I hadn't been there that night, what if I hadn't followed Tim into his parents' bedroom, what if I'd refused to take the gun in my hand, what if I'd heard Anna come into the room…'
'Come on Caffrey. You know better than to go down that rabbit hole. What ifs never amount to any good.'
I nodded. I felt her squeeze my hand reassuringly and my eyes met hers.
'So tell me' she said, her voice quiet. 'What's tonight really about? Are you going there to ask for forgiveness?'
Her question took me by surprise although I'd been asking myself that ever since I'd put in that call to my old pal François. Why had I felt the need to come face to face with the woman whose life I'd had a hand in ruining? Was I hoping to alleviate my guilt? Was I looking for redemption?
'The truth?' I said, searching her eyes. 'I don't know… I don't know what I'm going there to do. I guess I need to see her for myself, see if she's happy with her life, see if she's been able to overcome what happened that night.'
'Is that the guilt talking?'
'I suppose it is. I was shut out from the family after it happened. I wasn't able to see how things played out, if and how she managed to get through it, how she went from that horrible night to… this' I said, pointing to her smiling face on the photograph.
'Are you going to tell her who you are?'
'I don't know' I replied soberly. 'I don't want to upset her. This is a happy occasion for her.'
'Maybe she'll be glad to see you again.'
I scoffed and shook my head. I looked up at Sara's beautiful face, the love in her eyes as she tried valiantly to reassure me.
'It means a lot to me that you're here Repo' I admitted. 'I don't think I could face tonight alone… and I'm sorry I kept it from you for so long.'
She gave me that soft, gentle smile I'd come to know. 'Honey, things happen every single day that we can't explain, that we don't understand. Things that we can't change. Sometimes those things happen for the better… some people come back from horrible events in their lives feeling stronger than ever.'
'And others grow angry and bitter' I countered.
Sara looked down at Anna's smiling face. 'Somehow, this doesn't strike me as a woman who's angry and bitter.'
There was silence for a moment. I felt Sara's soft, silky skin on mine, making things better. Easier.
'What do you think I should do Repo?' I asked. My voice was weak, shaky.
She locked her eyes on mine. 'I can't decide that for you. But Neal, I believe in you, I know you'll do the right thing. And no matter what, I'm here for you and I'll be there for you again tomorrow and the day after that.'
I smiled a sad smile. 'So now you know everything.'
There must have been some tell-tale look on my face because I saw her gaze change as if she'd just realized something.
'You know Neal, what happened to Anna isn't going to happen to Hope' she said reassuringly.
Somewhere deep in my mind, I realized that, unbeknownst to me, that half formed thought had been percolating all along.
'I know that… logically.'
'But it's not about logic, is it?'
I could feel my throat tightening and I swallowed. 'No, it's not.'
There was silence for a moment.
'Sara, I don't want to have a gun in the house' I finally said. I could hear the pleading in my voice.
She nodded and smiled. 'Then, that's how it'll be' she said, her voice soft.
WCWCWC
The gallery was located about three blocks over from the restaurant in the trendy St. George neighbourhood of Staten Island. Galleries had been sprouting up all around there for the past twenty years giving new life to the area. Sara and I decided to work off our dinner and walk over to the gallery. I could feel the tension rising in my body with each new step.
The last thing I wanted was to disrupt what would likely be a very big night for Anna. Sara must have sensed the hesitation in my steps because she slipped her arm in mine as she spoke.
'It's all right Caffrey' she said reassuringly. 'I'm here, you're not alone.'
I felt my shoulders relax at the sound of her voice and squeezed her hand in return.
'I love you' I murmured.
The name of the gallery was spelled out in bright blue neon lights. It was easy to spot, even from a block away. It was just like François to be so ostentatious - the guy didn't have a modest bone in his body.
I pointed and Sara nodded. 'There's still time to pull out you know. Nobody said you have to do this.'
I let out a long slow breath. 'No… I need to do this' I replied.
As we got closer, I could see a bustle of activity through the large pane windows. There were easily fifty to sixty people all milling about and through the glass, I spotted François schmoozing with some of the guests. The sounds coming from inside spilled out onto the street, loud happy voices, cheerful laughter. Everybody had a glass of champagne in their hand as they made their way around the large open space admiring the photographs all around them.
I slowed the pace as we got close to the door, staring ahead as if I was going to my own execution. There was movement, a man stepped aside and there, through the glass, right in my sight line sat Anna surrounded by a group of admirers.
And she had a huge smile on her face.
TBC
