Children of God

Emilio frowned at Gina’s back, and then glanced at the kitchen clock. A great deal had changed in the years of his absence, but little kids still loved animation. "Celestina," he said evenly, "it’s time for I Bambini." He waited until Celestina had rocketed off to her bedroom to play the day’s installment of her favorite interactive. "Let’s try this again," he suggested quietly when he and Gina were alone. "What’s wrong?"

She spun around, head up, eyes brimming, and declared in a voice as firm as her chin wasn’t, "You should go back to find Sofia!"

Stu

"Don’t look at me like that," she said.

"Who told you?" he repeated even more quietly, each word separate.

"What difference does it make who told me? She’s alive. That poor woman—she’s all alone!" Gina exclaimed, starting to cry, but determined now to confront him on the very points of honor she feared he would defend. "You should go back to rescue her. She needs you. You loved her."

He might have turned to stone. "One," he said at last. "It makes a difference because I intend to kill whoever told you. Two. All we know for certain is that she was alive in 2047. Three. The Giordano Bruno won’t reach Rakhat for another seventeen years. The probability of finding her alive, having survived alone on Rakhat to the age of seventy-one, approaches zero. Four—"

"I hate it when you’re like this!"

"Four!" he said, standing now, his voice rising. "Sofia Mendes was the single most competent person I have ever met. I assure you that she would find laughable the concept of needing me, of all people, to rescue her! Five. Yes. I loved her! I also loved A

Gina only cried harder, glaring in wet defiance. Exasperated, he turned abruptly and walked to the kitchen desk, rummaging through the clutter for a code written on a scrap of paper.

"Who are you calling?" she asked, eyes streaming, as he activated the phone.

"The magistrate. I want him here. Now. We are getting married this afternoon. Then I am going to call the tailor and cancel the order for that damned suit. And then I am going to murder Vincenzo Giuliani and probably Daniel Iron Horse as well—"

"Why is Mamma crying?" Celestina demanded, standing in the kitchen doorway, little hands fisted, scowling at him.

Gina hastily wiped her eyes. "It’s nothing, cara—"

"It’s not nothing! It’s important and she deserves to understand," Emilio snapped, having understood very little of his own mangled childhood. He canceled the call and got a grip on himself. "Your mamma is afraid that I might leave her, Celestina. She thinks I could love someone else more than I love her, cara."

"But you do." Celestina looked nonplussed. "You love me best."

Gina laughed a little and turned to Emilio. "Go ahead," she said in bleary-eyed challenge, sniffing mightily. "Handle this one."

He threw her a look worthy of a pool shark calling a bank shot to the corner pocket. "You," he told Celestina with perfect aplomb, "are my very best little girl and your mamma is my very best wife." Brows up, he turned back to Gina expectantly and received a nod of ungrudging if somewhat damp commendation. Satisfied, he went back to the mess on the desk, muttering, "Which is to say, she will be my very best wife as soon as I can get the magistrate out here—"

"No," said Gina, stopping him with a hand on his arm. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "It’s all right. I needed to hear it, I guess. We can wait until September." She laughed again and lifted her head, tucking her hair behind her ears and wiping her eyes. "And don’t you dare cancel that suit!"

Wedding jitters, he thought, looking at her. She’d been uncharacteristically emotional lately and this business about Sofia had capped it all off. Cursing his hands and the braces, he took her shoulders and gingerly held her at arm’s length. "I am not Carlo, Gina. I will never leave you," he whispered, watching to see if she could believe it. He pulled her to him and sighed, thinking, It’s not like either of us is coming to this with a clean slate. Then he looked at Celestina over her mother’s shoulder and raised his voice so they could both hear him. "I love you, and I love Celestina, and I am yours forever."

"Well," said Celestina, almost six, in the ringing tones of a grande dame of seventy, "I’m certainly pleased we’ve straightened that out!"

Gina and Emilio stared at each other open-mouthed as the little girl flounced out of the kitchen and went back to her cartoons. "I never said that. Do you say that? Where does she get this stuff?" Gina asked, astounded.

Emilio was laughing. "That was really good! Don’t you recognize it? Valeria Golina—La Contessa!" he cried. "No—wait, you fell asleep on the sofa, but Celestina and I watched it last Sunday." He shook his head, extravagantly pleased that Celestina was picking up one of his own habits. "She was doing Valeria Golina. That was really good!"

IT IS DIFFICULT TO SUSTAIN HIGH DRAMA IN A HOUSEHOLD WITH CHILDREN, particularly those who have learned to do creditable Golina impressions. They spent the afternoon arguing with Celestina over the minimum number of stuffed animals (four) and maximum number of party dresses (one) necessary for a two-week holiday in the mountains. Emilio helped mainly by keeping Celestina out of Gina’s hair until Celestina’s best friend, Pia, came over to play, at which time he a

"You’re very good at that," Gina observed, glancing over her shoulder at his handiwork as she rooted in a bureau drawer for underwear her mother would not be disgusted by.

"Dazzling," he agreed and added, "I used to work in the house laundry. Would you like me to come with you to the mountains?"

She straightened slowly, astonished. "And if you’re recognized?"

"I’ll wear dark glasses and a hat and gloves," he said, looking up from the suitcase.

"And a trenchcoat?" she suggested dryly. "Caro, it’s August."

"All right, what about a veil?" he asked airily, going back to the clothes. "Nothing flashy—not an embroidered silk veil hung with gold coins. Something tasteful!" There was a pause. "Silver coins, perhaps." He blew it off, laying blouses in her bag. "If I’m recognized, I’m recognized! I’ll deal with it."

They could hear the two little girls’ shrieking laughter out in the yard. The house itself seemed very still. Gina walked to the bed and sat down, watching his face. Finally, he sat next to her. "Okay," he admitted, the cockiness gone, "maybe it’s not such a great idea."

"You’ve got to finish the K’San project for the Jesuits. They’re leaving soon," she pointed out. "Maybe next year for the mountains?"

Head down, hair over his eyes, he probed the hurt places, judging himself. "The Society is going to release the scientific papers in October," he said, serious now. "I have been thinking that perhaps the best way to handle it really is to call a news conference. Spend a whole day, if necessary. As long as it takes. Be done with it. Answer every damned question they throw at me—"

"And then come home to your family." She reached over and took his face in her hands and looked into the dark eyes, watching the doubt and the fear recede.