Chapter 14 - THE LIFE AFTER FEAR
Renick did not return to organized crime.
Many people expected him to.
Some wanted him to.
Old associates visited.
He sent them away.
Instead, he invested what remained of his legal money into waterfront redevelopment.
Affordable housing.
Youth centers.
Reentry programs.
Boston newspapers mocked him at first.
THE MAFIA BOSS FINDS A CONSCIENCE.
Renick framed the headline.
Belle saw it in his office.
“You framed this?”
“It’s funny.”
“It calls you a criminal.”
“I was one.”
She could never accuse him of hiding from that truth.
Brinley changed too.
She laughed more.
She climbed trees.
Renick hated that.
Belle enjoyed watching him suffer.
“She’s eight feet up.”
“She’s fine.”
“She could fall.”
“Micah is underneath.”
“That makes me feel worse.”
Micah looked down from the branch.
“I saved her once!”
Renick shouted, “That does not make you professionally qualified!”
Belle laughed until her stomach hurt.
The fear slowly left them.
Not completely.
Trauma did not disappear because villains went to prison.
Brinley still hated balconies.
Micah disliked dark rooms.
Belle woke sometimes hearing imaginary gunshots.
Renick checked locks twice.
But they learned.
They talked.
They stayed.
One evening, almost three years after the balcony, Belle and Renick sat on her porch.
Micah and Brinley chased fireflies across the yard.
Renick handed Belle a cup of coffee.
“You know what I thought when I first saw you?”
Belle smiled.
“Probably ‘why is the cleaning lady holding my daughter?’”
“No.”
“What?”
“I thought Brinley looked safe.”
Belle’s smile faded.
Renick watched the children.
“I hadn’t seen her look like that since her mother died.”
Belle said nothing.
“I gave her guards.”
He continued.
“Schools.”
“Money.”
“Everything.”
“Except time.”
Renick nodded.
“That seven-year-old boy understood my daughter better in five minutes than I had in two years.”
Belle touched his hand.
“You were grieving too.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“But it is part of the truth.”
They sat quietly.
Then Renick said, “I love you.”
Belle nearly dropped her coffee.
He looked irritated.
“That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.”
“You just said it.”
“Yes.”
“Like you were discussing property taxes.”
“I rehearsed something longer.”
“What happened?”
“I forgot it.”
Belle laughed.
Renick looked offended.
She leaned closer.
“I love you too.”
His expression changed.
For a man who had survived bullets, betrayal, prison, and Patrick Kavanaugh, those four words appeared to frighten him most.
Belle kissed him.
From the yard, Micah yelled, “Gross!”
Brinley shouted, “Finally!”
Belle pulled away.
Renick stared at his daughter.
“What does finally mean?”
Brinley ran.
Renick chased her.
Belle laughed.
Micah stood beside her.
“Dad would like him.”
Belle looked at her son.
The sentence caught her by surprise.
“You think?”
Micah nodded.
“He keeps his promises now.”
Belle looked toward Renick.
Maybe Micah was right.
Later that night, Renick walked onto the rebuilt balcony at his old estate.
The iron bars had been replaced years earlier.
Closer together.
Safer.
He ran one hand across them.
Brinley joined him.
“You fixed it.”
“Micah told me to.”
“He tells everybody what to do.”
“Yes.”
Brinley leaned against him.
“Good thing he did that day.”
Renick looked over the railing.
Twenty-three feet below was the granite courtyard.
He imagined what could have happened.
Then he stopped.
There was no reason to live inside that version of the world.
Because Micah had been there.
A seven-year-old boy with scraped knees had reached through iron bars and refused to let go.
Renick kissed his daughter’s head.
“Yeah.”
He whispered.
“Good thing.”
But there was still one thing he needed to do.
The next morning, he asked Micah to come with him.
“Where?”
Micah asked.
May you like
Renick handed him his coat.
“To meet your father.”
