Repairman Jack [08]-Crisscross by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online

He's still working on it. Trust me, when I know, you'll know."
    "Can't wait forever, Abe. The baby's due mid-March."
    "I'll try to hurry him. I'm doing my best. You should know that."
    Jack sighed. "Yeah. I do."
    But the waiting, the dependence on a faceless contact, the frustration of not being able to fix this on his own… it ate at him.
    He held up the book. "Got a bag?"
    "What? Afraid people will think you're a Dormentalist?"
    "You got it."

8

    "Slow down, Vicky," Gia said. "Chew your food."
    Vicky loved mussels in white wine and garlic sauce. She ate them with a gusto that warmed Jack's heart, scooping out the meat with her little fork, dipping it in the milky sauce, then popping it into her mouth. She ate quickly, methodically, and as she worked her way through the bowl she arranged her empty shells on the discard plate in her own fashion: inserting the latest into the previous, hinge first, creating a tight daisy chain of glistening black shells.
    Her hair, braided into a French twist, was almost as dark as the shells; she had her mother's blue eyes and perfect skin, and had been nine years old for a whole two weeks now.
    Every Sunday since his return from Florida, Jack had made a point of taking Gia and Vicky out for what he liked to think of as a family dinner. To-night had been Vicky's turn to decide where they ate and, true to form, she chose Amalia's in Little Italy.
    The tiny restaurant had occupied the same spot on Hester Street off Mulberry since shortly after the discovery of fire. It had gained the status of a Little Italy institution without becoming a tourist trap. The main reason for that was Mama Amalia, who decided who got seated and who didn't. No matter if a stranger had been waiting for an hour on a busy night, if she knew you from the neighborhood or as a regular, you got the next available table. Countless tourists had left in a huff.
    Like Mama Amalia could care. She'd been running her place this way all her adult life. She wasn't about to change.
    Mama had a thing for Vicky. The two had hit it off from the start and Mama always gave Vicky the royal treatment, including the traditional two-cheek air kiss she'd taught her, a big hug, and an extra cannoli for the trip home. The fact that her mother's last name was DiLauro didn't hurt.
    The seating was family style, at long tables covered with red- and white-checkered cloths. With the crowd light tonight, Gia, Vicky, and Jack wound up with a table to themselves. Jack worked on his calamari fritti and a second Moretti while Gia picked at her sliced tomatoes and mozzarella. She and Vicky were splitting a bottle of Limonata. Normally Gia would have been sipping a glass of Pinot Grigio, but she'd sworn off alcohol as soon as she discovered she was pregnant.
    "Not hungry?" Jack said, noticing that she'd only half finished her appetizer.
    Gia had let her blond hair grow out a little but it was still short by most standards. She wore black slacks and a loose blue sweater. But even in a tight top he doubted anyone would know she was pregnant. Despite nearing the end of her fourth month, Gia was barely showing.
    She shrugged. "Not particularly."
    "Anything wrong?"
    She hugged her arms against herself as she glanced at Vicky who was still absorbed in her mussels. "I just don't feel right."
    Now that she'd said that, Jack noticed that she did look a little pale.
    "A virus?"
    "Maybe. I feel kind of crampy."
    Jack felt a stab of pain in his own stomach.
    "What kind of cramps?" He lowered his voice. "It's not the baby, is it?"
    She shook her head. "No. Just… cramps. Only now and then, few and far between. Don't worry."
    "Don't worry about what?" Vicky said, looking up from her mussel shell rosette.
    "Mommy's not feeling so hot," Gia told her. "Remember how your stomach was upset last week. I think I may have it now."
    Vicky had to think a moment, then said. "Oh, yeah. That was gross, but not too bad. You'll be okay if you drink Gatorade, Mom. Just like me."
    She