Chapter 10 - The Rain Was Different This Time
One year after Faith Buchanan nearly froze to death in a Little Italy alley, it rained again.
Not the violent November rain that had emptied the streets and turned her fingers numb.
This was spring rain.
Warm.
Soft.
The kind that made the city smell washed instead of abandoned.
Faith left Mount Sinai at seven in the morning after a twelve-hour shift.
Her badge hung from her neck.
Her real badge.
No cloned identity.
No forged company.
No man using her name as a door into crimes she did not know existed.
She had been promoted to charge nurse on nights.
Leon Briggs sent the unit donuts every month and claimed it was because Faith had threatened him.
Dr. Williams knew better.
Rebecca lived in New Jersey and sent one holiday card.
Faith kept it.
Not out of friendship.
Out of proof that people could leave a terrible story without pretending it never happened.
Vincent remained in federal prison.
Faith never read his letter.
Luca Bellini was awaiting trial on charges that would likely keep him confined for years.
The counterfeit medication network had been dismantled across several states.
Families had answers.
Not peace.
Answers.
Sometimes that was the beginning of peace.
Francesco Moretti no longer traveled with six armed men.
Usually two.
Faith called that progress.
He now spent most of his time running legal businesses and appearing at meetings with attorneys who charged more per hour than Faith once earned in a week.
He complained about government forms.
Faith enjoyed that immensely.
That morning, he waited outside the hospital beneath a black umbrella.
No limousine.
Just a dark sedan.
Arthur leaned against it holding coffee.
Faith walked toward them.
“You know normal boyfriends text.”
Francesco handed her a cup.
“I texted.”
She checked her phone.
Twelve messages.
“Oh.”
“You were working.”
“Right.”
They walked together.
At the corner, Faith stopped.
The alley was three blocks away.
The alley.
She had avoided it for a year.
Francesco followed her gaze.
“We don’t have to.”
“I know.”
That was why she turned toward it.
The old shoe repair shop had reopened as a bakery.
Romano’s Delicatessen still smelled like garlic and coffee.
The pavement looked ordinary.
Faith stood where she remembered falling.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then she laughed.
Francesco looked at her.
“What?”
“I thought it would look bigger.”
“Pain usually does in memory.”
She looked at him.
“That sounded wise.”
“I’m practicing.”
Faith stepped closer to the wall.
A year earlier she had believed her life ended there.
Instead, it split open.
Not into a fairy tale.
She would never call Francesco a prince.
Princes did not have federal cooperation agreements.
But neither was he the monster newspapers once described without qualification.
He was a man who had done bad things.
A man who had lost a sister.
A man trying, imperfectly, to become someone who did not need fear to be respected.
Faith understood imperfect rebuilding.
She was doing it too.
Francesco reached into his coat.
Faith immediately narrowed her eyes.
“If that is a ring, I swear—”
“It is not.”
He pulled out a small velvet box.
“That is suspiciously ring-shaped.”
“Open it.”
Faith did.
Inside were the rhodium cufflinks she had once seen in a boutique window months earlier.
She looked up.
“Why?”
“You said I did not need more jewelry.”
“You don’t.”
“So I bought them myself.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I am aware.”
She laughed.
Then noticed an engraving inside the box.
NOT A DEBT.
Faith’s throat tightened.
Francesco said, “You once thought kindness always came with a price.”
“Sometimes it does.”
“Yes.”
He took her hand.
“But not this.”
Faith looked at the man who had carried her from the rain.
Then at the alley.
Then at herself reflected faintly in the bakery window.
She looked stronger than she remembered.
Not because someone powerful stood beside her.
Because she no longer mistook being loved for being owned.
Francesco said, “There is something else.”
Faith sighed.
“There always is with you.”
“A hospital foundation in Queens wants to build a patient assistance program for nurses and medical workers facing housing emergencies.”
Faith looked at him.
“I suggested your name.”
“For what?”
“To help design it.”
She stared.
“You volunteered me?”
“I said they should ask you.”
“That is dangerously close.”
“I’m learning.”
Faith smiled.
“Tell them to call.”
Francesco nodded.
They walked out of the alley together.
At the sidewalk, Agent Park called.
Faith answered.
“Please tell me nobody forged my name again.”
Park laughed.
“No. Different problem.”
Faith stopped.
“What kind?”
“We found another Meridian shipment from three years ago. Same counterfeit signature.”
Her smile faded.
“Where did it go?”
“Boston. Philadelphia. Baltimore.”
Faith looked at Francesco.
He heard enough to understand.
Park continued.
“We may need your help reviewing the clinical side.”
Faith looked at the rain.
A year ago, she had wanted unconsciousness because it meant she would not have to feel anything anymore.
Now a new fight was opening in front of her.
And strangely, she was not afraid.
“Send me the files,” she said.
Francesco raised an eyebrow.
Faith ended the call.
“What?”
“You just finished a twelve-hour shift.”
“And?”
“And I was promised breakfast.”
Faith smiled.
“Breakfast first.”
“Then save the medical system?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“I was raised dramatic.”
They stepped beneath the umbrella.
The city moved around them.
Cars hissed over wet pavement.
The bakery door opened, releasing warm air and the smell of bread.
Faith took Francesco’s hand.
The rain touched the edge of her sleeve.
She did not flinch.
May you like
This rain was different.
Or maybe she was.
