I left the apartment early, leaving a note for Cornell when he woke up.
I have to go to the Christening. I have to make sure she'll be okay. She can't take the blame for what we've done. ––Rachel
I looked up at the grey sky as I left the building and pulled my brown coat tighter over my shoulders. It looks like rain, I thought. I walked briskly to the subway, and even though there were plenty of seats on a Sunday morning, I did not sit during the ride. My feet, encased in cheap red heels, had not yet begun to hurt and my heart beat fast with nervous energy.
I arrived at the church slightly early, but still took a seat in the back and kept my head down, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. I had to get through this if I wanted to talk to Amy at the reception. She would surely be surrounded by her in-laws until then. No one bothered me during the ceremony, all eyes fixed on the grandson of their patriarch. Sympathy crept into my heart as the boy was brought forward by his godmother and christened Matthew Alessandro Verrano. Such innocence in the midst of crooks.
The reception was held in the same courtyard as Amy's wedding reception. I stood alone at a table, untouched wine glass in front of me and white tablecloth under my fingers. The atmosphere was calm, but I felt at any moment it would all end. The chaos that had always hovered around the edges of my life would rush in and all this precarious stability would disintegrate. For the first time in a long time, I thought of my father, and my life before the city. When we didn't know if we'd have food on the table each night, when we didn't know if he would come home. My mind moved to life in New York. In many ways, Amy and I were alone together, but had somehow managed to grow apart. We were held together by our living situation, with Alice or Cornell, until we weren't anymore. I became a guest at my sister's wedding to a dangerous man I barely knew, and would meet my nephew for the first time at his christening.
Amy found me this time, and immediately handed me her baby. Her happy chatter fell on deaf ears when I stared at the child's face. His blue eyes were open and alert, set in his perfectly round face. They were Amy's eyes, and the dark hair he'd been born with was already fading to what I knew would be a beautiful blonde. He would look like Amy, in the end. But I could tell from the way the baby was calmly taking in his unfamiliar surroundings that he would be quieter, more intelligent and observant. I loved that boy from the moment I saw him, and I silently promised I would protect him.
Amy watched us and tittered, "Oooh, he likes you!" she squealed.
I looked up, my mouth open to answer her, but the words never came when I saw the man over her shoulder, striding toward us with a dark expression. After seven years, his hair was nearly completely grey, but he was just as tall, and the way he held his shoulders made him powerful.
Alessandro Verrano.
Before I knew it, he was at our sides, and clutching Amy's elbow. She stiffened under his grasp and her bright smile became patently fake, but she calmly turned to face him.
"I need to speak with you," he said in a low, threatening voice.
"Of course!" Amy chirped, her eyes nervous. "Watch Matthew for me, will you, Mary?" she said to the boy's godmother before following her father-in-law into one of the buildings that formed the courtyard. Mary took the baby from me, and I didn't meet her eyes, instead watching the door Amy and Alessandro had used. As soon as Mary faded from my peripheral vision, I followed them.
The door opened silently into a dimly lit apartment. I didn't have time to consider who it belonged to before I heard voices. I froze, then realized they were not coming from inside. A door on an adjacent wall opened into an alley, and I silently moved to crouch beneath an open window, so I could hear every word.
"It's you, I know it's you!" Alessandro's voice was violent, accusing.
"It's not, I swear it's not! I don't know what you're talking about!" Amy's voice betrayed her tears.
My chest tightened, and I realized what was going on. He thinks she's the mole.
"They have information on us going back to your wedding," Alessandro raged. "This is not a coincidence!"
But it was. That's when Cornell told me what he'd been doing. That's when I convinced him to go to the police.
"It is! I promise it is! I–" Amy's protests were cut short by an echoing slap and a cry of pain.
I flinched. You came here to protect her–do something! my brain yelled at me. But I was frozen. I couldn't move from my place under the window.
"Don't lie to me!" Alessandro growled. I heard the click of a gun and barely stopped a cry of fear in my throat. I moved from my position on the ground and slowly stood next to the window, peering at the scene from the corner of my eye. Amy was pressed against the wall opposite the window, and Alessandro had the barrel of a gun to her throat. A red welt was spreading across one side of her face. She was crying and shaking her head, denying his accusations.
Guilt filled my stomach and my heart beat uncomfortably. We did this, I thought. She is paying for what Cornell and I did. But I still did not know how to help her.
All my desperate thoughts fled when I realized Amy could see me. Our eyes met, and Alessandro followed her gaze. I snapped my neck away, panting, not knowing if he saw me, or recognized me. I heard Alessandro grunt and couldn't help but turn and look again. Amy had grabbed his hand when he had turned and they were struggling over the gun. I barely had time to process the scene before two shots rang in my ears and echoed off the concrete.
A scream rose in my throat but died at my lips. Amy slumped to the ground at Alessandro's feet, blood pooling under her. For several seconds, I watched and waited desperately for her to move. I needed her to move.
But she didn't.
She was dead.
My Amy was dead.
I began to back away from the window, my eyes burning with tears and my breath hitching. What was going to happen? What would Alessandro do? How could Amy be dead? My ears were ringing from the gunshots but I could hear the strange silence coming from the courtyard. They must have heard the shots, too. Still in a haze, I slowly turned only to start violently when the door to the courtyard burst open and Angelo rushed in, followed by several other young men. They all met Alessandro in the alley and I heard gasps and raised voices. I stumbled out into the courtyard, trying to form a complete thought through the shock. People brushed past me towards the sound of the argument in the alley, but I barely noticed them. Raindrops on my head finally forced me to focus.
Jacket. Where's my jacket. I looked around the deserted courtyard, spotting my jacket on the table where I had left it. I shrugged into it and pulled the hood over my head. I heard a high-pitched cry behind me and turned around to see baby Matthew. Someone had wrapped him in a flannel blanket and placed him in a conveniently sized cardboard box, which had been left on the table where the caterers had been serving food. The infant was wiggling faintly and fussing, his eyes screwed shut as raindrops hit his face. I drifted over and stared at the baby. He opened his eyes when my head blocked the rain and stared at me curiously.
Oh, Amy, I thought when I saw those eyes. Hot tears fell from my cheeks onto the blanket like rain. I might have stayed there forever, but three gunshots suddenly reverberated through the courtyard. Instinctively, I ducked my head and awkwardly tried to shelter the baby with my body, although I knew the shots must have come from the alley. I didn't know who had fired the bullets or who had received them, and I didn't want to. Before I knew what I was doing, I picked up Matthew and the box and fled the courtyard, making for the subway station.
On the subway, I clutched the baby to my chest and tried to think rationally. My first thought was to go home, back to Cornell's apartment. Then I remembered. I didn't know whether Alessandro had seen me before he killed Amy. I was a witness. They would be looking for me. They might be following me right now. I glanced around the subway car, suddenly paranoid and suspicious of anyone who threw a second glance my way. I exited as quietly as I could at the next stop and without thinking jumped onto the train on the opposite platform. After a number of nonsensical transfers, I exited the subway system and found myself in Washington Square Park, in the middle of my old university. I found a tree with reasonably thick branches to sit down and think of a better plan.
I carefully set down the box and put Matthew carefully in it. I shook out my arms, tired from carrying him from subway to subway. I sat down next to him and pulled off my heels, massaging my feet and ankles and staring at the sleeping baby. Matthew had cried at some stations, but on the last train was lulled to sleep and showed no immediate signs of waking.
I gazed around the quiet park and considered my options. A quick look at my wallet considerably narrowed them. I needed more money before I could do anything else. Whether I liked it or not, I had to return to Cornell's. It began to rain harder and I heard thunder in the distance. With a vague sense of urgency, I picked up my charge with aching arms and made my way towards the subway station that would take me home.
I knew something was wrong as soon as I entered the apartment. It was deadly quiet, and the smell of cologne hovered in the air. Cornell didn't wear cologne.
"Cornell?" I said. No answer. "Cornell?" The light in his bedroom was on and the door was ajar. I slowly entered, and found the bed unmade but empty. Then something caught my eye in the closet. I set Matthew on the bed and pulled back the sliding door. I shrieked and Matthew woke up and started crying. Cornell swung silently in front of me, one of his ties tight around his neck. A piece of paper stuck out of his pocket like a flag. Careful not to touch the body, I pulled it out. It was the note I had left for Cornell that morning. They knew. They knew it was us that had informed on them. My breath came in fearful gasps as I crumpled the note in my hand. They would be coming for me, I was sure of it. Cornell was a warning. I couldn't stay here. I had to run. I looked back at the crying baby on the bed. My heart broke again as I realized what I had to do.
Two hours after leaving the orphanage, I was lying on a thin mattress in a tenement room rented with cash under a fake name when I realized that I had left Matthew with no identifiers of any sort. He had no name, he would never know where he came from, who his family was.
But then, I thought, Perhaps it's good that he can't look back at this family. Now, he can only move forward.