On Broken Wings by Francis Porretto Read Free Book Online Page A

"Wouldn't you say it's a bit too soon for her to enter a convent, Father?"
    "Louis!"
    "Sorry, couldn't resist. Of course I'll take care of her. I assume I'll have your help if I need it?"
    "Yes, of course." The priest rose to his feet and made a show of gathering his dignity about him. "We mustn't leave her alone too long, you know."
    Louis felt a surge of anxiety. "Why is that, Father?"
    "She might try to cook."
    ***
    Father Schliemann was warm and gracious in bidding them good-bye at the rectory steps. Christine was reluctant to let go of his hand. As they drove off, Christine's gaze remained on the old priest as long as it was physically possible. Louis tried not be too obvious about noticing.
    The drive home passed in silence until they had turned onto Alexander Avenue.
    "Why did you give him that D'Alessandro name?" she said.
    Louis shrugged. "You picked it. Said it had a nice sound. Have you decided that you don't like it after all?"
    She looked at him blankly. "No, it's pretty. You mean I can keep it?"
    He chuckled. "Your name is what you say it is, Chris. If you want to be Christine D'Alessandro, then that's what you are. I mean, who you are." He paused. "What about a middle name?"
    "Do I need one?"
    "Most people have one. Some people have two."
    "How many do you have?"
    He grinned. "My full name is Louis Dylan Aloysius Redmond."
    "Wow. I think I'll stop with just one."
    "Okay, so think about it a bit."
    She shook her head. "Don't need to. Let's make it Marie."
    "Someone you knew once?"
    "Yeah."
    He wheeled the truck into his driveway, killed the engine and set the parking brake. "Christine Marie D'Alessandro. I like it. It has a lot of wear in it." He turned to her. "Say it to yourself a lot of times, Chris. You want to be used to it before you take it out into the world, okay?"
    For the first time since her arrival in his life the previous day, she produced a full-bodied smile. Louis's breath came short. Even with the multitude of scars she bore, she was stunning when she smiled.
    "This feels like a big deal. I mean, you don't choose a name for yourself every day."
    "Most people never do it at all, Chris."
    "Shouldn't there be some kind of ceremony or something?"
    "What do you have in mind?"
    She cocked her head. "Well, when a new guy joined the Butchers, all the other guys pissed into a bucket, and then they dumped it over his head."
    Louis choked and coughed it away. "Maybe not that ceremony, Chris." Realization came to him; he swallowed once. "I know a ceremony that might be nice."
    Her expression became serious. "Tell me."
    He thought a moment and shook his head. "No, let's just do it." He opened the door and sprang out of the truck in his usual fashion. He was at the door of the house when he realized that Christine was still in the truck.
    Oops. Stupid, stupid. Surprises are not things she's learned to enjoy.
    He walked back to the truck, went to the passenger side door, and opened it. Christine sat there motionless, not trying to hide her fear.
    "Sorry, Chris, that was dumb of me. It's a simple little thing. No pain or blood involved. I went through it when I was a lot younger, and I promise you, I didn't even notice. Trust me on it? Please?"
    She nodded once and leaped out of the truck, landing in his arms. Her stride as they entered the house suggested that she was having second thoughts about the whole business, and was struggling to suppress them.
    "So what do we do?" Her voice quavered.
    "Just come with me." He took a chair from the kitchen table, and gestured her toward the master bathroom. She followed. He placed the back of the chair against the vanity and bade her to sit. When she had, he leaned her head back over the sink, draped a face towel over her chest, and had her fold her hands just below her throat.
    "I'll be right back." He sprinted to his bedroom. Atop his dresser stood a silver ewer his mother had left to him, that he sometimes used as a vase. He assured himself that it was empty and clean