“Fitzgerald’s? Talk about burying the lead. You should have told me right away.”
“I never brag.”
“Telling me isn’t bragging.” He talked more about his work as they finished their spring rolls.
She asked, “Still hungry?”
“Yeah, I read that they have an Italian booth that has the best lasagna in town.”
“I’m in.” She hooked arms with him. “I’m enjoying myself, Finn.” As much as she was able. “Thanks for suggesting this.”
“You’re welcome. I’m enjoying myself, too.”
* * *
In a little bistro in Brooklyn, the lobster was firm and fluffy. The couscous was cooked to perfection and the green beans crisp. But Paul was bored to death by his companion.
“So, my little fourth grader said, ‘Ms. Cameron, I got a nice uncle you should meet’.”
He smiled perfunctorily. He had to try hard to focus on Sara Cameron. She was kind, honest and solicitous. She wore her hair very short, but the style was flattering on her. He’d met her at a party one of his golf buddies gave, and found her entertaining then. That was before he got involved with Hayley.
Well, maybe she wasn’t boring. She just wasn’t the one he wanted to be with.
Tuning back in because he owed her that, he heard her say, “I’m shocked you asked me out, Paul.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re still a hero in New York. You can probably date any woman you want.”
So, I’m any man.
And I’m just another woman.
“Paul?”
“I wanted to ask you out.”
“Really?” she said. “You seem completely bored. Which is okay, because I don’t think you’re my type anyway. But I’m a good listener. Want to tell me about her?”
“Her, who?”
“The woman you’re preoccupied with.”
A chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is to me.”
If she could be this honest, so would he. “I recently got out of a relationship, and it still stings.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But I can’t talk about her with you.”
It was then that reality slammed into him. The only person he had to talk to about Hayley was his first date with another woman? What did that say about him?
“I understand. But cheer up, will you? It’s time for dessert.”
Her jovial attitude indeed cheered him up. He was glad for it. And hoped Sara Cameron found a man worthy of her.
Paul was restless as he walked back to his condo after he saw Sara to her car. Unable to bear going inside to an empty house, he headed to the garage, and in twenty minutes, he arrived at Little Poland in Greenpoint. This time, though, he parked right in front of his parents’ home and studied it. The place so small he couldn’t believe that five children were raised there. And he remembered things: after the girls were born, the boys were relegated to sleeping in the attic. It was so cold in winter they could see their breath. Lying in bed, bats would be circling the ceiling, and he and his brothers used to shoot them with Beebe guns. A horrible story to the average listener, but Paul thought back on it fondly. Probably because of the camaraderie he’d felt then, and was missing now.
So, buoyed by the memory of his brothers, and determined to prove to himself that he wasn’t a coward, he got out of his car and crossed the street. His heart racing, he climbed the stairs to the porch that was crumbling the last time he saw it, but now sported new concrete and railings. Even though the windows were curtained, he could see lights on in the living room and kitchen. More frightened than he’d been when he tackled the gunman, he rang the bell, expecting Matka to answer. When no one came to the door, he knocked on it hard.
Finally, it opened.
His father stood before him.
Paul remembered Filip Covitz as a tall, sturdy man, with a head of dark hair like his own, quick to use his belt for punishment, but also taking his children onto his lap to tell them stories and dry their tears.
This man was shorter than Paul, thin and completely bald. But his blue eyes were the same as the last time Paul looked into them. Cold.
“Hi, Pa,” was all Paul could think of to say.
Pa stared at him.
“It’s me, Paul.”
“I know who you are.” His father gripped the door handle. “Go away. Esteście grzesznikami przeciwko swojej rodzinie.”
As the two oldest, Paul and Jakub were taught Polish in school. And he remembered most of it. Esteście grzesznikami przeciwko swojej rodzinie meant ‘You have sinned against your family.’”
Frozen, unable to speak, he watched his father step back and slam the door in his face. Stunned, Paul stayed frozen to the spot, then he turned and stumbled down the steps and over to his car, thinking he might vomit on the way.
Chapter 8
* * *
On Sunday morning, Hayley woke up dismayed. The birds were chirping outside her window and the sky was blue, but she couldn’t enjoy nature’s greeting. The reason had something to do with Paul. She didn’t know what, maybe just a dream, but her heart told her something was wrong in his life.
She got out of bed and tried to banish thoughts of him because she’d been looking forward to today. Carmella, her aunt, had called and asked to meet her for brunch at a local hotel in the city. That’s all she said, and Hayley didn’t question why. She readily agreed.
After coffee and reading a bit of the New York Times, she took her time dressing and left the house at ten. The Grand Hotel was within walking distance from her apartment. On the trip there, the August day was warm, not yet hot, and she was cheered up by the time she entered the hotel.
The entrance reminded her of the Central Park Ballroom. Inside there was wood instead of fabric, but its arching ceilings and chandeliers were similar to the hotel where Paul had tackled the gunman.
Carmella was already seated. Hayley hurried over. “Hello, Carmella.”
Her aunt stood. “Hayley. Thank you for meeting me.” They hugged warmly.
“Of course.” They took seats, and Hayley said, “I was thrilled to get your call.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t at your party in June at the lake.”
“The guys said you were visiting friends upstate.”
“Yes. I see…them every summer.” She rolled her eyes as if she’d said something stupid. “Actually, Hayley, I visit upstate New York for a reason. It’s also why I’m in town today. I’ll tell you, but you must promise not to share it, even with Finn. And especially with Seth and my other children.”
“I promise, Carmella.”
“Every summer, I spend a week on Canandaigua Lake with a man. Last June, we decided we wanted to see more of each other. He’s in the city for his consulting business, so I’m staying with him this weekend.”
Her jaw dropped. Carmella was lovely at sixty-six, well-dressed and wore modest makeup. Still, that she had a clandestine beau was surprising. “I-I’m so happy for you. But why the secrecy?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I used to only see him once a year and I felt that there was no reason to tell my kids. They’d make a fuss. But now that Judd and I are seeing each other more, I probably should.” She blew out a breath. “But I just don’t want them to interfere with our relationship with the ruse of trying to protect me.”