Page 54 of Body of Trust

She looks up at me with an incredulous stare. “How in the world are you going to make this stop?”

I bite my lip and look away. “I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing you this sad and scared.”

“Do you think it could happen to us? Me, you, Mom, or Uncle Frankie and his family?”

“No,” I lie.

She squeezes me tight, tucking her head on my shoulder. I rest my head on top of hers. Images of something like this happening to my sweet little sister run through my brain. The thought makes me nauseous.

I clench my lips shut and try to remember a better time, one when we were the Sorrentinos, living our normal life. Days on the family yacht with my parents sitting on the deck while Gia and I rode our Jet Skis in figure eights in the water nearby. We weren’t allowed far out until we were thirteen, and even then, it was with Dad’s watchful eye. He’d hop on with Gia on one while I followed. He showed me how to pump my own gas and how to anchor so we could swim in the ocean.

Christmas was a big celebration. Dad was never the one to play Santa Claus, but he always sang from his karaoke machine in the living room, serenading the family with classic ballads by Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. He’d often have Gia and me join him and never complained when we were off-key.

On vacations, we were taken to cities rich with history. He prides himself on how well traveled and respectable we grew as women. His approval is the kind of thing you bask in. It makes you want to be better because the light he shines on you is so bright that you never want to leave.

He never missed a school play or honor roll ceremony. When I was valedictorian of my graduating class, he took out a four-page spread in the program, boasting how proud the Sorrentino family was of their graduate. And then I was the first Sorrentino to ever graduate college.

When I wanted to get my own place, my mother was furious. It was Dad who stood up for me. The day I moved in, there was a bottle of champagne and a card on the kitchen counter that read, No man has ever been prouder of his daughter.

It’s easy to think your father is amazing when you have a guy like Raphael Sorrentino as yours. It’s also why you’re crushed when you find out he has never been as perfect as you made him out to be.

Sienna brings the snacks and sits with us for a while. We watch the local news on a television in the corner and then have coffee when Uncle Enzo and Uncle Joey come in with espresso and cappuccinos from Starbucks.

My thumbnail is chewed down, and my knee has yet to stop bouncing as we listen to the announcements over the speaker and stare at the door, waiting for someone to come out with an update.

My father was shot.

He’s in surgery, fighting for his life.

I can’t believe this is happening.

A doctor comes out of the swinging door, and we all stand up quickly.

“That’s Raphael’s doctor,” my mother says as she rushes to him.

My uncles are right beside her. I hold Gia back. If it’s bad news, I want her with me. We can’t hear the doctor, but we can see everyone’s reactions.

“Oh, thank God!” my mother cries, and I feel instant relief.

Gia looks up at me, concerned. “That’s good news, right?”

I look at the doctor and see him continue to talk to my mom. His words are calm, as is her demeanor as she wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Yes, it’s good.”

Gia rushes to the group, and I follow.

My father’s abdominal organs bled profusely. His pancreas and liver were injured. The trauma might have long-lasting effects, but it’s too early to tell. He’ll be in the hospital for at least a week. Most likely longer.

“We need him home,” my mother declares.

“He’ll be safe here. Clearly better than where he was,” Uncle Enzo chimes in.

“This wouldn’t have happened if he had been home, where the family could protect him. What the hell was he thinking, hiding out the way he did?” she speaks in frustration, yet I can see her eyes look down, as if she was wrong for speaking out. “I can get a nurse to stay with us and take care of him.”

“If he needs the care or in case there are complications, he’s better off staying here,” I say.

“Your mother’s right,” Enzo says. “As soon as we get the clear from the doc, we’ll move your father to the house. We’ll get the bed, the machines, the nurse, the whole nine. Just like we did with Johnny Two Toes. Remember when he rehabbed at home?” he asks my uncle Joey in a hushed tone, who nods in agreement. “She was a nice lookin’ broad too.”