Free The Orphans of Race Point: A Novel by Patry Francis

he brought you up the same way.”
    “I saw your bike out back.”
    Gus continued to watch her, waiting for the full explanation.
    “And I heard about your dad.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper.
    Gus looked toward a stained-glass window depicting a storm at sea. “I suppose everyone’s heard by now. This whole nosy town.” He turned back to Hallie. “So you’re here to offer your condolences? Avoid the rush, maybe? Well, thanks but no thanks.”
    Feeling as if she’d been slapped—and worse, that she deserved it, she rose to go. “I’m sorry. I had no right to come in here.”
    He grabbed her arm. “No, please— I’m sorry. Again. And don’t go. I know I’m an asshole, but I could use the company.”
    “Not what I’d call a very appealing offer.” Hallie was still on her feet. “And like you said, I’m not used to hanging out in churches.”
    Gus grinned, and in spite of the setting and the circumstances, she felt her skin flush.
    “I can’t do much about my mood, but we could at least go somewhere else,” he said. He mashed his cigarette on the church floor. Then, apparently having second thoughts, he retrieved the butt and put it into his pocket. Hallie noticed a small bottle of Jack Daniels protruding from its fold. When he thought she wasn’t looking, he bowed his head and crossed himself.
    “We better get out of here before Father D’Souza shows up and gives you that beating he threatened you with when you were a kid,” she said, starting down the aisle.
    Once they were outside, Hallie was startled by the bright day. In the unforgiving light, it was obvious that Gus Silva was drunk. She wondered how she had missed that in the church.
    “Where were you thinking of going?” she asked, realizing how little she knew him. This grown-up Gus whose gleaming black hair and bright teeth reminded her of his father’s. “I really should be getting—”
    “I only know where I don’t want to go,” Gus said before she could finish. “Not to my house. Or yours. Not into town, or to the beach or the wharf. Nowhere we might run into anyone we know.”
    “That pretty much rules out our entire world.”
    “I know a place,” Gus said, impulsively taking her hand. Hallie felt a current go through her as he tugged her toward the cemetery.
     
    T he grave was located out near the highway. Gus sat down on the broad, flat stone inscribed with his mother’s maiden name: MARIA BOTELHO . There were no dates, no BELOVED WIFE or MOTHER , not even a carved angel to soften it.
    “Her family only agreed to bury her here because of me. I promised my grandmother I’d visit the grave every day.”
    “Do you? ”
    Gus looked straight ahead. “Only came once. The night of that storm I told you about. I kept thinking of her, out in the rain alone. I don’t know what I thought I could do about it, but I had to come. Pretty dumb, huh?”
    “No. Not dumb at all,” Hallie said softly, imagining the night, the storm, the boy he had been when she showed up at his door. And she thought of her own predawn wanderings. Though she never went further than her own roof, she understood the impulse.
    “When I finally realized she wasn’t here, it was a huge relief—and the worst moment of my life. It meant nothing could ever hurt her again—not the weather or my father or anything else,” he said. “But it also meant that I couldn’t climb out my window and find her. I couldn’t protect her, and there was nothing she could do to help me, either.”
    The temperature was in the eighties, but Hallie wrapped her arms around herself like she’d caught a chill. “You walked straight to the spot as if you came here every day. Just like you promised your grandmother.”
    “It’s not something you forget,” Gus said, as he lit another cigarette. He edged over to make room for Hallie. “Have a seat.”
    She hesitated, feeling superstitious about sitting on a gravestone—and a little bit wary of being that close to Gus.