15. Chapter 15
15
That very evening, Mr. Schmid booked Elyse a first-class round-trip plane ticket from Palermo to New York City. Her trip would take a little over a week. She needed all ten days to put together yet another funeral and wrap up her father's final affairs.
She’d be flying out in six hours.
In the countdown leading up to her flight, Alessandro became quieter and far more restrained than usual. He didn't leave Elyse's side. If anything, he couldn't seem to get close enough to her. His behavior appeared to stem from his agitated mood. He kept reaching for her, again and again, more so than usual. At every opportunity, Alessandro would brush his fingers through her hair or nuzzle her neck or place his palm lightly on the small of her back. She couldn’t tell whether he was offering comfort or seeking reassurance.
Why did it feel as though he couldn’t bear to let her go?
He stayed with her as she packed. He stayed while she made calls to the morgue and the funeral director in New York. He stayed as she relayed instructions to Malina and their household staff about what needed to be done during her absence.
Then, they ate dinner together. They showered together. They went to bed together. Not once did his eyes drift from her. Not once did he break physical contact for more than a minute or two.
It was all very bizarre. Her husband had always been a very affectionate man, but this new level of possessiveness and, well, clinginess was extreme. Even for Alessandro. There were elements of desperation in his touch and fear in his eyes.
Fear of what?
Plans going awry?
Valentina and Gaspare betraying them ?
Or something else altogether?
Uncertainty left Elyse feeling uneasy. In the darkness before dawn, she was awakened by her husband. Alessandro had drawn her, tightly, so tightly, into his embrace.
"Alessio?" she mumbled groggily, her voice still hoarse from slumber.
Alessandro hushed Elyse as he rained soft, sweet kisses along her jawline, her cheek. They were in their bedroom, the music box was listening, but, in light of their impending separation, Elyse didn't stop Alessandro when his cock entered her from behind. She wanted him too much.
During these shadowy hours preceding sunrise, Elyse kept as silent and still as possible as Alessandro fucked her one last time before the flight. His left hand caressed her breasts. The other dipped to her cunt. His fingers danced and swirled over her slick, sensitive clit as he thrust into her with the same desperation and fear that had consumed him earlier. They each came with a soft, whispering gasp, barely audible, full of restraint, as pleasure threatened to overwhelm their senses.
After this silent, strained lovemaking, Alessandro didn't say I love you . Nor did he say I will miss you . She didn't say anything, either, even though the words ached inside her chest, begging to come out.
Something suspicious was going on. Elyse felt as though Alessandro had suddenly built a wall around his thoughts and emotions, and she didn't know how to penetrate his defenses in the short time they had left together. Her emotions were already a mess from her father's death. She needed to conserve her energy and address her husband's strange behavior after her return.
With a heavy heart, Elyse rose from the bed to wash up in the bathroom. She got ready for the airport. When Elyse stepped back into the bedroom, she noticed Alessandro hovering over her bags. He was zipping up one of her main carry-on suitcases.
Her husband's head snapped up, almost guiltily, when he saw her. He hurried to explain, "I wanted to make sure you have your passport."
A slight frown creased her mouth as she tried and failed to decipher his intentions once more. "Oh, thank you."
Alessandro accompanied her on the drive to the airport. Every time she tried to strike up some conversation with him, he would simply grunt or nod in her direction. Although, his hand never strayed far from her person, holding her hand, brushing his knuckles along her thighs .
He escorted her as far as airport security would allow him to go.
Elyse joked softly, "Try not to miss me too much."
He stared at her for a good, long while before responding, "I already miss you, cuore mio ."
Alessandro caught her cheek in his palm and dipped his head down to kiss her. His arms came around to pull her flush against his chest as he deepened their kiss. He stole her breath away.
When they finally pulled apart, Elyse muttered breathlessly, "Don't get yourself killed while I'm gone, okay?"
The corner of Alessandro's mouth twitched with amusement, though, his eyes remained sad. "You said something very similar to me when we first met. Do you remember?"
A blip of a memory flashed before her. "I do."
You take your job very seriously.
What a long way they had come since then.
No, I take my life very seriously. Don't die while I'm gone, okay?
Damn.
Alessandro laughed quietly. "You should not worry about me, cuore mio . I am impossible to kill. I want you to focus on whatever it is you need to do in New York. Do not look back. Find peace and be happy."
Be happy? About what? Her father's funeral? Again, something felt amiss. Elyse's heart filled with love and anguish as she studied him with a faltering expression. "Is everything okay, Alessio?"
He didn't answer her question. Alessandro brushed her off and said instead, "Make sure to check your documents again once you land in New York. Call Mr. Schmid if you need anything."
Her husband's walls were still up. She sighed in frustration. "I'll do that."
Elyse grabbed her bags from Alessandro and turned away from him. It was time to board her flight. Elyse could sense the weight of his gaze boring into her with every step she took toward her gate. The bastard was driving her crazy with this fucking nonsense.
She narrowed her eyes. Ten fucking days . She’d be back in just ten days to sort this shit out with him.
The flight from Palermo to New York City took a total of thirteen hours with a layover in Paris. There was so much time to think. Too much time. When Robbie Romero was alive, all Elyse could focus on was the havoc he had wrought upon their lives. Now that he was gone, Elyse only wanted to hold onto the good times they shared as father and daughter. Childhood memories played and replayed themselves like sweet, melancholy melodies forever stuck in her head.
Recollections like the first time he taught her how to play poker, exuding the patience and gusto of a sage, old master taking on a prized pupil.
Moments like the first time he took them on an impromptu trip to Disney World for a week after a particularly lucky winning streak in Vegas. Her father had spoiled her rotten, then, and they had the time of their lives.
Flashbacks like the first time she got her period in sixth grade. Elyse had been convinced that she would bleed to death by morning. Her father promptly took her to buy pads and cookies and chocolates and assured her, awkwardly but confidently, that she wouldn't die, that she was becoming a young woman, and that she had nothing to be afraid of because—
Papá está aquí. No te pasará nada mientras esté aquí. Dad is here. Nothing bad will happen to you as long as I'm here.
Throughout the flight, Elyse struggled to hold back the tears during this onslaught of nostalgia. These hours on the plane became her time to grieve.
Once Elyse landed in JFK, she hit the ground running. Elyse barely spent any time in her hotel. Jet lag be damned. There was too much to be done. Her father's body needed to be collected from the morgue. The funeral arrangements were a fucking mess. She was constantly emailing and calling lawyers and insurance reps.
Not everything was terrible, though. Despite the constant turmoil she felt, there was also something comforting about being back in New York. The sights and sounds and smells of the city returned Elyse to a time when she wasn't Signora Vitale . The grit and glamour of it all filled her bone-deep sense of familiarity. Coming back to her old stomping grounds made her feel almost like Dr. Romero again.Almost. But not quite.
Because the past was dead and gone.
Every time Elyse stared down at the glinting diamond ring on her finger, she was reminded that New York was no longer her home. Home was with her husband. A powerful yearning seized her chest as she thought of Alessandro. She missed the beautiful bastard.
What was he doing right now? Did he miss her as much she missed him? Elyse often had to remind herself to stop obsessing over him. Just to stay focused on the tasks at hand. But, Dios , time was moving so fucking slowly here. She couldn’t wait to return to Palermo.
Robbie Romero's funeral took place on Elyse's fifth day in New York. The service was held at a small Catholic church near Greenwich Village. Elyse and her stand-in bodyguards were the only ones in attendance. Monte and Luca had stayed behind in Sicily to assist Alessandro.
Toward the end of the service, much to Elyse's shock, one more guest showed up. An older woman dressed in all black entered the chapel. She wore a pair of oversized sunglasses. Her blackish-brown hair carried streaks of white and silver. Elyse assumed that the newcomer might have wandered in on accident. The stranger looked far too expensive, elegant, and aristocratic to be from her father's social circles.
"Sorry, ma'am, but I'm holding a funeral service for my father at the moment," Elyse called out to her. "We'll be finished shortly if you want to wait outside."
"Is this service being held for Robert Romero?" the woman inquired softly. Her English carried a hint of an Italian accent.
Elyse blinked in surprise. "Yes… this service is for Robbie Romero."
"I am an old friend of your father," the woman said with a small, tight smile. "I came to pay my final respects. If that is alright with you?"
Elyse's eyes widened even more. "You knew my father?"
"Yes."
"If you don't mind me asking," Elyse mumbled, "what's your name?”
"My name is... Isabella," the woman answered after some hesitation.
“How did you and my father meet?” she asked with a flight frown. “I don't know if he has mentioned you to me before."
"I met your father when I came to study in New York. We dated for a while back then. That was a lifetime ago, though."
Green eyes flickered. “I’m glad Papá had a friend like you while he was alive.”
Isabella's gaze drifted toward Robbie's casket. Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke, "From the bottom of my heart, I wish I could have reunited with Robert sooner. Under happier circumstances."
"All the same," Elyse supplied with a lump in her throat, "thank you for coming today."
The woman coughed and removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were green. The exact same shade as Elyse's eyes. Elyse inspected the woman carefully. There was something oddly familiar about the woman's face. Something in the shape of her eyes. The curve of her cheeks. Elyse felt as though she'd seen Isabella somewhere before, but— where?
"I have always wanted to meet you," Isabella mumbled out of the blue. If at all possible, the woman's voice had grown even thicker with emotion.
Concern shot through Elyse. "My father told you about me?"
Coughing again, Isabella replied, "Robert might have mentioned you to me. Once or twice."
Elyse frowned. Other than his poker buddies, Papá rarely socialized with anyone else, and he'd certainly never mentioned anyone named Isabella to her. "I didn't realize that you two were so close."
"We were once very good friends."
Their eyes met. Green on green. Suddenly, Elyse realized why Isabella looked so familiar to her. Isabella looked like her grandfather. Isabella also looked like— her .
Her heart plummeted with a sickening realization. But, but, but— Gianna Graviano was supposed to be dead! What the fuck was going on here?
Elyse demanded, "Who are you, really?"
Isabella smiled faintly. “Who do you think I am?”
"Have you ever gone by another name, Isabella?"
The woman's answer was cryptic as fuck. "That girl died years ago. Everyone has forgotten her by now."
Astonishment seized Elyse. Was this as close to a confession as she was going to get out of the woman? Elyse wanted the full story, though. She deserved to know. The next slew of questions bubbled out of her, uncontrollably, before she could recall them, "Tell me the truth about the girl that died. Was she named… Gianna Graviano?"
"I know Gianna well.”
Elyse's heart began to pound wildly in her chest. "I-I don’t know what to think right now. But are you my—"
Mother?
Elyse couldn't bring herself to say the word. It felt too explosive for her to bear at the moment.
"I do not have the right to call myself your anything," Isabella interjected smoothly, "but I came here today to say goodbye to Robert and to let you know that I live in London now. "
Isabella reached inside her purse and pulled out a small business card. She handed it to Elyse. A phone number and address were printed on the card.
"Come and find me," she urged Elyse, "if the life you have chosen ever gets to be too... overwhelming. I can give you a fresh start."
Then, Isabella walked out of Elyse's life as abruptly as she had entered it. Isabella's heels clicked behind her, fading away in softer and softer clack-clack-clacks , along the wooden floors of the church until she disappeared completely out the door.
Elyse stared after Isabella in a daze. Why had Isabella chosen this very moment to pop back into her life? Why hadn't she come sooner? Why wait until her father's funeral to show her face?
Her knees were slowly giving out, but she willed herself not to crumple to the floor. Somehow, through sheer force of will, Elyse remained standing as her mind descended into a state of disorder and confusion. The rest of the day passed by in a godawful blur.
That night, in the solitude of her hotel room, Alessandro's words floated across her mind.
Make sure to check your documents again once you land in New York.
Elyse had been so busy and jet-lagged since her arrival in New York that she’d forgotten all about her husband's reminder. Now, after Isabella's offer to help her escape the mafia, Alessandro's words seemed to carry a hidden meaning. His strange behavior right before her departure could be seen in a whole new light as well.
Hurriedly, Elyse scrambled out of bed and headed straight for her carry-on. The very one that Alessandro had been zipping up right before she left Palermo. Elyse removed all of her belongings— dresses, bras, and panties went flying through the air —until she came across a neatly packaged manila portfolio. Elyse had never laid eyes on this portfolio before. She certainly didn't pack it in her suitcase. Green eyes glimmered as realization set in.
Alessandro must have slipped it inside when she wasn't looking.
With shaking hands, Elyse removed it from her suitcase. She tore open the seal. Inside the portfolio, Elyse found a UK passport, a one-way plane ticket from New York City to London, a license to practice medicine in the UK, access information to a hefty-sized bank account, along with a thick stack of official documents one might need to escape an old identity and step into a new one.
Each of the documents and accounts was made out to a Ms. Eve Davies, but they all carried Elyse's photograph.
All of sudden, everything that confused her became clear, everything that seemed out of sorts clicked into place, and Elyse felt as though her heart might burst from the enormity of what Alessandro had done for her.
I will love you forever, Elyse.
Helplessness crippled Elyse as she stared down at the life-changing documents in her hands.
No matter what you choose to do.
Bittersweet emotions swarmed through her, one at a time, frame by frame, like a subconscious film shot in slow motion.
Disbelief.
Understanding.
Gratitude.
With them, memories of their past conversations soared to the present.
I am sorry that I am a Vitale. I am sorry that you are a Graviano. I am sorry that fate has fucked us over. But, I promise you, I will find a way to free you from this world.
Each recollection came together like pieces of a collage confirming, with absolute surety, Alessandro's love for her. Her heart pounded alongside every shattering revelation.
After all that has happened to us, don’t you want to escape this hell?
It thudded with poignancy.
Do you truly wish to stay?
Anguish.
You could have died on Sunday, though. I would have never forgiven myself for it.
Then, finally, a sense of absolution.
She forgave his secrets and lies. The papers in her hands represented the physical, tangible manifestation of Alessandro's love. Like some kind of dark magic, they could make Mrs. Vitale disappear forever and re-emerge from the nothingness as Dr. Eve Davies.
Dr. Eve Davies would be free from the mafia.
Dr. Eve Davies could resume her career as a surgeon.
Dr. Eve Davies would be blessed with a normal life.
Elyse would be lying to herself if she pretended this gift from her husband wasn’t tempting as fuck. She took a moment to consider it. It called to her like a moth with a flame. Eve Davies was offering freedom, true freedom, encompassing everything she once desired more than anything. That was then, though.
This was now.
Elyse felt like a greedy fool, but she wanted it all. She wanted her cake and eat it, too. She deserved to be defined by something other than her Graviano blood. She deserved to return to a life where her skills could save lives. She deserved answers to all the unanswered questions about Valentina and Father Boselli and enemies shrouded in the dark that continually threatened her safety and sanity.
Most of all, she deserved to remain at her husband's side to guard his heart and love him with every fiber of her being.
Elyse intended to stay and fight for their elusive prize. She was ready to go to war alongside her man. She’d fight and scheme and hustle until their crooked businesses straightened out, until Valentina and Gaspare's marriage worked in their favor, until the Mariposa's and Cara's and Carmen's of their circles were no longer strong-armed into becoming victims and villains of circumstance, until they reshaped reality to their liking.
Elyse made her choice. She wouldn't abandon Alessandro in the heat of battle. Come hell or high water, she wasn't going anywhere, even though, over the past five days, Alessandro had practically become a ghost. He hadn't initiated any contact. He’d avoided her calls. He only replied to her texts. Her husband didn't mention the manila portfolio when she messaged him, and Elyse didn't bring it up, either.
Contrary to Alessandro's distant attitude, however, Elyse knew he was in constant communication with her bodyguards. Elyse often heard Giosue and Georgio talking to him on the phone in Italian, reporting on her whereabouts and well-being without the knowledge that she understood every word of these reports.
Elyse glanced down at her ring again. The steel extracted from that fateful bullet was fused into the gold band. This symbol of their marriage taunted her. Emotions ran wild. When they first met in Queens, Alessandro had placed his life in her hands. When he’d proposed in Paris, he vowed to spend a lifetime learning how to be the husband she deserved. The bastard had literally slipped his own life and death on to her ring finger.
After moving mountains just to see her smile, how could he expect so little from her?
Did he truly believe that she was so heartless ?
His erratic behavior before she left Palermo began to make sense. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. Elyse suspected the contents of the portfolio must have been weighing on Alessandro for all the months it had taken him to assemble a new identity for her. Perhaps, this was why the bastard withheld so many secrets from her.
He'd been preparing himself to let her go this entire time.
At last, Elyse saw her husband's fear of losing her, she saw his efforts to hold himself at a distance, she saw his attempts to protect her from his dangerous partnership with Valentina, and she saw how hard he tried to avoid influencing her final decision.
Fuck her for being so blind.
Fuck him for being so good at playing the long game.
If possible, Elyse loved him even more for it. Tears stung her eyes. She wiped them away. He’d truly thought of everything. He always thought of everything. Especially when it came to her happiness.
Suddenly, she wondered if Alessandro had something to do with Isabella's appearance at her father's funeral?
It felt too much like a coincidence for Eve Davies' whole identity to be rooted in the UK where her mother also claimed to reside.
Dios , her mother.
The chaos she’d been holding at bay unfurled instantly. Every thought and emotion veered toward Isabella. Her mother was alive. Elyse was still trying to wrap her head around this startling, jarring turn.
When did her husband find out about Isabella?
If Alessandro knew about Isabella, Benedetto must have known about her, too, which meant, once again, Elyse was the only one left out of the loop.
Frustration rattled through her. Elyse didn't know how to process everything that Alessandro had done.
On one hand, she felt genuinely beholden to him for his efforts to free her. He was being selfless. He loved her enough to let her go. Even though it was the last thing he wanted for them.
On the other hand, she wanted to rail at him for keeping so much crucial information from her. The man needed to stop going behind her back—even when his intentions were good—and start including her in each and every single one of their major life decisions!
Anger spurred Elyse to pick up her phone and call him. Three times in a row. They had so much to talk about. When he didn't answer, her exasperation intensified tenfold. It seemed Alessandro was still holding her at a distance.
She texted him.
Three seconds later, her phone started ringing.
Elyse picked it up. "Hello?"
"Cuore mio." The sound of Alessandro's deep voice uttering the familiar term of endearment sent shivers across her skin. It had only been five days since they last spoke and saw one another, but she missed him more than words could express.
"How are you?" they both asked at the same time.
Answering first, Elyse replied with an uneasy laugh, "I can't complain.”
“That is good to hear.”
“You?"
Alessandro muttered, "I admit, I have not been doing well."
"You've been avoiding me."
Her husband grunted noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying her accusation.
She sighed, "So..."
He echoed her, "So..."
"I found the papers that you left for me."
"Fuck."
Elyse asked quietly, "Is that all you have to say to me?"
"Of course not," he murmured, "but, first, I would like to hear your thoughts."
"I'm reeling over what you've done."
Alessandro released a pained chuckle. "I am, too."
"You kept this a secret for so long.”
“It damned near killed me.”
“I don't know whether to love or hate you for it."
"You sound upset," he noted.
With a withering look, she spat, "Can you blame me?"
"Elyse—"
"How long have you been working with Mr. Schmid to secure the documents for Eve Davies?"
"Shortly after our honeymoon. "
This admission didn't surprise her. She pushed on with her questioning, "Did you know that my mother is alive?"
" Sì ."
Her pulse began to flutter. "Were you the one who told her to attend my father's funeral?"
" Sì ."
This surprised Elyse. She’d suspected Alessandro's hand in her mother’s sudden appearance, but actually hearing him confirm it hit her hard.
"How long have you known about Isabella?” she whispered. “How did you even find her?"
"Your grandfather told me about her not long after he gifted you the music box."
Elyse's eyebrows lifted high. "How the hell did you get it out of him?"
A pause. "Benedetto did not tell me directly."
"I don't understand."
"I used the music box."
Elyse frowned. "I still don't understand."
"The listening device inside the box connects through wifi," Alessandro explained, "which means it can be hacked. I admit, I have been eavesdropping on your grandfather as much as he has been eavesdropping on us..."
She felt her chest seize up with distress. " ?Ay, Dios! You hacked the music box?"
"Technically, I did not hack it. Marcello did it for me. He is better with technology than me."
Elyse felt her anxiety levels soar. "What if my grandfather caught him? I can't believe you didn't tell me about the music box! Or my mother! Or Eve Davies!"
"I only kept everything from you because..."
She ground out unhappily, "Go on."
"For the past few months, I have been working up the courage to see these tasks through—especially the matter involving Eve Davies—to brace myself for whatever you chose to do. I did not want to draw you closer to me. I worried that attachments might make it harder for you to... leave."
As Alessandro's confession sank in, a sense of validation soothed her anger. It made her feel a little more at peace. Her assessment of the motives behind her husband's sullen behavior had been correct.
“I already told you that I was going to stay.”
“I know,” he agreed, “but I was not sure whether you meant it or not. The men in your life have never given you a choice. You were forced to accept whatever bullshit they sent your way. I did not want to be like the others.”
"So you expected me to abandon you at the first opportunity?” she demanded.
"When we first met,” he reminded her, “freedom was what you desired most.”
"Maybe my definition of freedom has changed."
Alessandro groaned as though in pain. "Do not play with my emotions. Per favore . Put me out of my misery, and tell me where you will be five days from now. Palermo or... London?"
Her husband's speech had wavered noticeably. Alessandro sounded as though he was on the verge of breaking into pieces.
"In five days, I will be in Palermo," Elyse responded with absolute certainty, "with you."
Another pause. "What?"
She whispered in a voice brimming with love, "You drive me crazy, Alessio, but I choose you."
"You are not fucking with me?" Incredulity flooded his tone.
The corners of her mouth tilted up. "That night, in Queens, I may have removed a bullet from your stomach, but you ended up saving me, too. Your love changed me in ways I didn’t know I needed. How could I ever leave when my heart is no longer mine? It belongs to a devil now. A lifetime together wouldn’t be enough for me."
He exclaimed in awe, "Do you mean it?”
“With my whole fucking heart.”
“ Dio , to hear these words from you…”
“Yes?”
"I feel like I can finally breathe again."
“What were you doing before?”
“Slowly dying.”
She laughed softly. “Being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
"Come home to me, cuore mio ," he urged huskily. "I cannot be whole without my wife."
Elyse's eyes stung with emotion. "Alessio... "
"I am sorry for always keeping you in the dark. I only pushed you away because I did not know how else to stop myself from begging you to stay. The distance I kept was more for my sake, I think, than yours. It has been pure hell, knowing that you might leave when all I wanted was to hold on and never let go.”
His words had a profound effect on her.
"I can see why you acted the way you did," she offered gently, "even though I don't like the way you handled it."
"It will not happen anymore. Now that I know where you stand . From now on, I will come to you first whenever decisions need to be made."
"You better," she half-joked and half-threatened.
"Trust me, I have learned my lesson, and I will never risk losing you again."
Her breath hitched. The distance between Palermo and New York City stretched more than 7,000 miles, but Elyse had never felt closer to her husband. "I love you, Alessio."
"I love you, too, Elyse. More than life itself."
And she believed him with every fiber of her being.
On day ten, Elyse wrapped up the last of her father's affairs and flew back to Sicily.
After fifteen hours in the air, she finally stepped through the arrivals gate at Falcone Borsellino Airport. Elyse dragged her carry-on through the throngs of other passengers. Then, through the crowds, green found brown and blue-gray.
Joy radiated from her when she saw Alessandro.
He stood there with a face-wide grin and bright eyes. She ran to her husband without another word. Alessandro swept her into his arms and kissed the living daylights out of her. Parting with him had been so bitter. It made their reunion feel even sweeter.
When they parted from their kiss, Alessandro gazed down at Elyse with a wry expression. “I missed you so much that it fucking hurt. Dio , to have you here, at last, in my arms feels like a dream.”
Smiling, she glanced up at him with flushed cheeks. "I was only gone for ten days. ”
“It felt like an endless purgatory.”
Unable to resist, Elyse hugged him again. She buried her face into the crook of his neck. “It is so good to see you, baby.”
His arms came around her as well. Alessandro clung to her as though he might never let go. “Elyse?”
Her face tilted up. “Yes?”
As their gazes locked, she saw the softness in his eyes fade away. His expression soon turned hard and grim. "There is nothing I want more than to tell everyone to fuck off today so I can keep you all for myself.”
She pouted. “So why don’t you?”
“Because I am capo , you are the capo’s wife, and our work is never done.”
Alarm seized her. Mierda . "What happened?"
"Valentina has found Father Boselli."
Elyse's mind immediately dove toward the worst possible scenario. "Is he dead?"
" No ," Alessandro replied, "the priest is alive, but he has been badly hurt. My men tried to interrogate him the other day. He is too scared to talk. I have reason to believe that Father Boselli is being threatened. Someone really wants him to keep his mouth shut about the church fire."