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The wind caught a loose shutter, causing a rhythmic tap, tap, tap; and a branch on the maple tree in the yard made a scratching sound against the porch roof. It was the ringing of the phone downstairs that finally roused Lieutenant Gillespie, cursing he rolled over in bed and threatened to kill whoever was disturbing him this early in the morning. He shoved his size 9 feet into his slippers and rushed out of the room. Pulling the light chain above the stairway, he hoped the ringing phone won’t wake his wife or the children.
“Hello,” he said, wiping sand from his eyes.
“Sorry to wake you, Lieutenant,” apologized Sergeant Drew calling from the Washington Street precinct. “There’s been an incident down at Our Lady’s. The carnival office was broken into and robbed, and that old Russian, Koslov, has been hurt.”
“How bad is he?” Gillespie asked.
“There’s no word yet. He was found unconscious, and the ambulance took him to Newton-Wellesley.”
“Secure the area, and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“We’re taking statements from everyone attached to the carnival. Most workers are locals, and they’ve gone for the night.”
“I’m on my way.”
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Gillespie trudged back upstairs and began to get dressed.
“Do you have to go?” his wife, Clara, asked softly.
“There was a robbery at the carnival at Our Lady’s. The carnival boss is in the hospital, and they’re still checking the damage,” he said. He sat beside her and pulled the blanket down. “Maybe I should slip back into bed and keep you warm. He began to caress her hip and nuzzle Clara’s neck.
“Keep that up, and I won’t let you leave, robbery or not.” Clara closed her eyes, savoring the moment. “I know what’s on your mind, Big Boy, and it’s not a robbery at the carnival.”
“You better believe it,” Gillespie slipped his hand lower and crawled back in bed.
“You’ll be late,” Clara said with a giggle.
“I’ll use the siren.” He said pulling the blankets over their heads.
****
In the morning the Flannigan family gathered at the table for breakfast. Donal had not eaten at the table with the family since the accident, and his presence lets everyone know something has changed. Ellen avoided eye contact, hoping to avert any discussion about last night. Michael is already seated as the other two boys came down the stairs. Frank and Christopher take up their places, and the meal continues in stony silence as the atmosphere grows heavier. The only sound was the clinking of spoons and forks on the dishware. Moira wiped her mouth on her napkin and breaking the stillness said. “Ellen, you will stay home until school starts. You may go to church, but then you come straight home.” Moira didn’t look at her. She took a sip her coffee. “That’s your punishment for your behavior and for dragging Michael into it. When school starts, you may go to school, church and work on Saturdays, but that’s it until I say different.”
“Michael, you’re too old to punish that way,” Donal said, “but I trust you will not participate in any more deceptions. As the oldest, we expect you to do the right thing. After all, like it or not, you are their role model.” A pall settled over the family, and the silence solidified again. Moira collected Donal’s dirty dishes and carried them to the sink. Taking her coat from the hook , she walked out the back door. Michael nodded to the younger boys to help their Da back to the front room. Christopher and Frank exchange looks. Then they quietly took their empty dishes to the sink and helped Donal back to his chair by the front window.
Silent tears streamed down Ellen’s face. Michael wanted to say something, but she held up a hand to stop him. Any word at all could burst the dam that was restraining her sorrow and rage. She took the plates to the sink and rinsed them before filling the sink with hot soapy water. As the sink filled, she stared out the window. Two squirrels chased each other around the large Maple tree in
the neighbor’s yard. She wondered if she will ever feel that kind of freedom again. Michael came over with his plate. He hugged her around the shoulders. “It’ll be okay. Things have a way of work out. “I hope so.” Her voice is so low he doesn’t hear her.
Later, with the table cleared and dishes done, the family walked to church. Donal stayed home, too weak to manage the walk or stairs at church. The priest will visit later.
Donal pressed a few coins into Michael’s hand after the rest leave, and said, “After church, go by Mazola’s bakery and get a loaf of that Italian bread. I can smell it baking from here. We’ll have coffee and a slice of bread with butter and jam when you get back. It will be my treat”. He left his father turning dials on the radio to find a good station.
****
Nine o’clock mass was out a little after ten, and Mazola’s bakery was busy. The family walked on ahead while Michael stood in line. The smell of bread baking in the brick ovens is making him hungry. The owners, the Mazola’s, had learned the trade growing up in Sicily. Most of them came from the same village. Now they make bread for both old and new friends, who cannot resist their fresh-baked breads and other delectable baked goods. Their pizza baked in the old brick oven is Sicilian style, thick and flavorful. The old grandmother tended her oven with love.
“Michael, how’s your pa? I think of him a lot. He used to come into the bakery once a week. I never see him anymore... not since the accident." Mr. Mazola asked.
“He’s doing a lot better. He seems to be improving by the day.”
“Oh, that’s good. You tell him I said hi, okay? Tell him I said I’ll bake him something special when he can walk to my bakery again.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell him.”
“Buona giornata, Michael.”
“Bye, Mr. Mazola.”