Page 283 of Cowboys & Navy SEALs
“I have to get home. My mamma’s expecting me.”
The sight of Sheldon, emaciated and beaten, trying to salvage the filthy bread was too much for Gracie. She put a hand to her mouth in order to stifle the sob that was building in her throat.
The man looked Sheldon up and down. “Who’s your mamma?”
“Anna.”
“Anna what?”
“Carpinelli.”
He grunted. “I heard the name. Talk is she’s had a rough time of it since your papá went back to the old country.”
Sheldon kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
The man spoke with a lusty Italian accent. His tailored suit stretched over his broad shoulders. He was thick with hard muscles—a gnarly tree trunk that had weathered his share of storms. His deep-set, onyx eyes were hooded beneath thick eyebrows. He had a ruddy complexion, and the strong set of his thick chin suggested that he was accustomed to getting his way.
“Standing up to Louis was probably not the smartest move.” The man shook his head admiringly. “But you got guts, patatino. I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve gotta get home,” Sheldon mumbled, moving to leave.
“Wait!” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver coin. He thumbed it at Sheldon who caught it, wide-eyed.
“Take this home to your mamma.”
He gulped. “Thank you, mister.”
The man nodded. “Oh, and maybe you should come around my place tomorrow afternoon. I might have some work for you.” He jutted his thumb in the direction of a nearby restaurant. He turned to leave but then paused and looked Sheldon in the eye. “Don’t let nobody ever tell you that being a wop is a bad thing. You got that?”
Sheldon nodded and looked at the ground.
“Look at me!” the man commanded in a gruff voice.
Hesitantly, Sheldon met his eyes.
“You got that!” the man repeated.
“I got it,” Sheldon said resolutely.
The man grunted. “Go home and clean yourself up. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 8
Blackness swirled around Gracie as the scene vanished. She had the brief sensation of falling through empty space and then came the flash of light. She opened her eyes, surprised to find that she was back at the arena, sitting in the same seat she was in when Sheldon first approached her. She looked around at the masses of people hollering and cheering for the cowboy riding the bull. The bright lights of the arena and the commotion were such a jarring contrast to the streets of New York that she had the eerie feeling that none of this was real. She couldn’t really be an angel, could she? Maybe she was caught up in a marathon dream that had no end. A wave of dizziness rolled over her, and then she felt sick to her stomach. She looked to her right and realized that Sheldon was studying her, a peculiar expression on his face.
Her brain felt sluggish like she was trying to swim through muddled water. She’d grown accustomed to Gertrude transporting her to various places with the wave of a hand, but this was different. This was like being thrust into another life. “What just happened? Were we really in New York?”
“I shared a memory with you.”
She tried to process what he was saying. “So, everything I just witnessed came from your head?”
He nodded.
“But it was so real.”
“Of course it was real. It happened to me.”
She scoped his perfect face, looking for a residue of the beating. Without thinking, she reached and touched the area above his right eyebrow. “There’s no scar.”
