Page 73 of The Enforcer

30Alfonso

“Where have you been?”my mother scolds us as she walks Zoe toward the house. “I sent Ugo to invite you for dinner, but he said you were gone.”

She resumes her seat at the small round table in the shade. There’s a bowl of peas on the tabletop that she’s shucking. She smiles at me lovingly in a way I haven’t seen since I was very young. I know this smile. She wants to let me know how much she likes Zoe, and I hate how much I want to bask in her approval.

“We went to Capri with Nicola,” I tell her.

“Oh, that’s nice. A little early honeymoon. Your brother needs help with the tomatoes. Go wash your hands.”

“Not today, mamma,” I say as gently as I can.

She turns at my voice and squints. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head quickly. I can see by the way she frowns that she knows I’m lying. She always does. My mother is the reason why I don’t bother to lie. But I can’t tell her what’s really happening, so I keep moving forward. “I have to meet an associate in Sorrento. I’ll be back tomorrow. Can Zoe stay here?”

I feel Zoe pull her hand from mine, and my mother sees it as well. But I can’t worry about that right now. I don’t have time. I don’t know if Andrea saw me on the beach, but if he gets a clue and begins to ask around, I won’t be hard to find. Good. I’m more than ready to know what’s going on and who is coming for Salvo. All that matters is that Andrea doesn’t find me here or get anywhere close to my family and Zoe.

I can’t tell my mother any of this, so I focus on her face, communicating the urgency of my emotions, if nothing else. And I will give her this — whatever she thinks I do for a living, and however she feels about that, I am still her son.

She nods and turns to Zoe. “Do you know how to…” She looks at me in confusion. “Sguciare. What’s the English?”

“Shuck,” I tell her.

She recoils. “Ugly. Come, Zoe. I’ll teach you.”

I have to turn to her now, and I wish I didn’t. Just an hour ago, Zoe’s eyes were big and bright and playful, even if a little tired. It was the perfect combination. If given the chance, I would want to see her like that every day for as long as she’ll keep me around. But now, she’s looking at me with wariness in her eyes. And questions. So many questions. But I can’t give her answers. Not right now, not in front of my mother. I try to apologize for that without words. I want to explain that I’ll tell her everything when this is all over, but unlike my mother, Zoe hasn’t spent years studying my face. She can’t pick out the messages I’m trying to broadcast. All she has is fear and confusion, and I wish I was leaving her with better memories of me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’ll be back soon.”

She opens her mouth to say something — probably something I would prefer that she not — and I brace myself for whatever is coming, but there’s nothing. She rolls her eyes and then plasters a big fake smile on her face before she turns to my mother.

“Can I just watch?” she asks carefully.

My mother laughs. “Sfacciata,” she says, pushing the bowl of peas toward Zoe.

I watch them for a few seconds before my mother shoos me away. “Go to your meeting,” she says. “Zoe will be fine here, with me. She’ll be a perfect Italian housewife by the time you return.”

Zoe’s laughter is beautiful but sad.

I want to tell her that I can’t think of anything I would like less. I don’t know her well, but I like her exactly as she is. Unfortunately, that’s yet another thing I shouldn’t say in front of my mother, so I grab her shoulder tenderly and squeeze.

Before I leave, I duck around the back of the house and find Ugo sorting the tomatoes he’s harvested.

“Wash your hands,” he says as soon as I’m close.

“I’m not here to help,” I tell him.

“You never are.”

I ignore that. “I need you to do something for me.”

He looks up at that. I never ask for help.

“Zoe’s with mamma. I need to go…” I think about explaining, but I don’t. With mamma, I didn’t want to confirm her worst suspicions of me, and with Ugo, I don’t want to mar the simplicity of the life he loves, the life he’s created here, stepping onto the path my parents and our grandparents carved with their own hands into this mountain. “I need to go. If I’m not back by tomorrow afternoon, I need you to take Zoe to Nicola and have him take her to Naples. And tell Nicola that he needs to contact Giulio.”

“And who’s Giulio?”

“Nicola knows. All you have to do is get her to him and let him take it from there. Please.”

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