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“My God,” Gabby said, hushed, when we were alone.
“That’s just what I was thinking.” My mother rose stiffly, brushing down her bloodstained sweater and slacks. “Come on, get up, you two. Now let’s go.”
“Where do you want to go?” I asked, confused.
“This hospital must have a chapel. Your father needs our prayers.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
I made the sign of the cross on my chest, kneeling on the kneepad next to Gabby and my mother. The chapel was small, generic, and devoid of any spirituality whatsoever. The front was like a stage and the pews were modern. The overhead lights were soft, and we were the only people here. The air smelled musty.
Gabby and my mother bent their heads in prayer, but my mind wandered. I flashed on the horror of my father, bleeding out under my palms and soaking my suit jacket. Then John, lying beaten on his kitchen floor and soon to be sitting in a cell, trying to keep his sanity amid the noise, brutality, and cruelty of prison. I worried that, unlike me, he’d go deeper within and shut down, which would only make doing time harder.
I sighed inwardly, mentally reviewing what I’d told the detectives and hoping I hadn’t hurt John’s defense. I didn’t know when I would get to talk to him again, but I’d beg him to plead guilty. He would serve less time and in the long run, maybe it would make him feel better, as it did me. I’d never thought about it the way Gabby had the other day, but now I saw it with new eyes. I had taken the punishment I deserved for what I did to Emily that night, and now I hadapologized to Carrie, which lightened my load somewhat. I had to come to terms with the fact that she had moved on. Maybe we just weren’t to be.
I could hear my mother in whispered prayer, and I loved her for it, knowing that her faith was as much a part of her identity as being Italian. She had grown up in a Catholic tradition of service and imbued it in Gabby, which was why my sister worked so hard for the public good. My mother used to drag us to church every Sunday, where I’d been intimidated by the grand marble altar with its life-size statue of Jesus Christ, hammered to a massive crucifix through his wrists and crossed feet, his head bleeding under a crown of thorns.
The guilt and shame in my religion became as familiar as old friends in my drinking days. But I had changed, believing in God as I understood, and now loved him. I believed in the program, too. It struck me that I hadn’t thought about drinking for another whole day. My new sobriety date was May 22.
I sent up another prayer for my father.
•••
The three of us sat in the pew, and my mother dried her eyes after another crying jag. “Gabby, TJ, there’s something I want to say before we go back upstairs. I’m sorry if I let you guys down as a mother. I really think—”
“What?” I interrupted her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Gabby added, “Mom, you’re a great mother, and Dad’s a great father. You guys have been amazing to us. John would say the same thing.”
My mother pursed her lips. “Gabby, I have a lot of soul-searching to do about John. I made mistakes with him, but I’m talking to youtwo now. I want you to know that I love you both and I’m sorry for any mistakes I made, and your father, too.”
I started to protest, but my mother raised her hand to silence me, then turned to Gabby.
“Honey, Dad and I went to your press conference today because we wanted to show our support. We haven’t been respectful enough of your pro bono cases. That stops now. We’re very proud of you for the work you do.” My mother swallowed hard. “I’m sorry we reacted badly when you told us you went to the FBI, too. You were right. Somebody had to do the hard thing, and you did. It was unfair of your father and me to ask you to cover for John.”
Gabby’s eyes welled up. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”
“You weren’t harsh.” My mother patted her hand. “You told the truth about us. It’s the truth that’s harsh.” She turned to me, trying not to cry. “And, TJ, you’ve been through hell, but I swear to God I see a new strength in you. I listened to what you told the detectives and I’m amazed by this investigation you’ve done. Son, you saved your sister’s life today.”
My chest went tight. It was impossible for me to see it that way. “Mom, I sent Dad into harm’s way.”
“No, you didn’t, TJ.” My mother grabbed my arm and squeezed it hard, her dark eyes flaring with maternal ferocity. “Listen to me. You know your father. Paul Devlin doesn’t do a single thing he doesn’t want to. I pray to God he lives through this, but if he doesn’t, know that he didexactlywhat he wanted to do.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but she ignored it, trembling with emotion. “The truth is, your father loves his children more than his own life, and today, he proved it.”
Gabby burst into tears, and I hugged her and my mother, holding them close while they began to cry, and in time, the three of us sharedour sorrow, fear, and love in a generic chapel that somehow became a sacred place.
Through the miracle of family.
Suddenly we heard the door opening, and a nurse peeked inside the chapel. “Ms. Devlin? The doctor would like to see you.”
Chapter Sixty
My mother sat by my father’s bed in the ICU, holding his hand. He looked pale and weak, hooked up to an IV and monitors that blinked his vital signs in green and blue. We had a private room, and the late-day sun waned through the window. His surgery had taken five hours, during which he’d been transfused. Doctors had repaired the damage done by the bullet, which had lacerated his abdomen. No major organ had been hit, so he was expected to recover.
Gabby sat next to my mother, and I sat on the opposite side of the bed, holding my father’s other hand, which felt warm and surprisingly heavy in mine. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held his hand or even touched him for this long.
My father’s eyelids fluttered open. “Marie?”
“Honey?” My mother startled with relief, leaning over him. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
