Author: Linda Loegel

Leaving Mark

Prologue

July 16, 1957. Shots were fired. The peace and quiet of the New Haven Green was shattered as people scurried in all directions desperately trying to find a place to hide. The bearded hot dog vendor cried out then crumpled to the freshly-cut grass, relish dripping into his puddle of blood. A woman, dressed in a navy blue suit and heels, fell backwards, her briefcase scattering its contents on the Green. Attorney Leonard Fortier, who left his office in the Fisher Building to grab a quick lunch, was shot as soon as he stepped outside. The wild-eyed gunman then aimed the gun at himself and pulled the trigger.

Survivors waited until no more shots were heard before cautiously emerging from their hiding places. They looked in stunned silence at the carnage. The New Haven Green quickly came to life as a building security guard put in a hurried call for help and onlookers came to the aid of those who were dead or injured.

Flashing lights of ambulances and police cars, their sirens screaming, ascended on the grizzly scene and, as if out of nowhere, television and newspaper reporters appeared, rushing to get the scoop only to be shooed away by the police.

When the shooting began, Eleanor Rawley had been sitting on a bench enjoying her hot dog. After the first shot, she crouched behind the bench and from that vantage point saw her boss, Attorney Fortier, exit the building and collapse on the grass. When it was over, she ran to her boss calling his name, but when she saw his blood pooling on the walkway, she let out a scream and collapsed next to him.

 Eleanor came to in the arms of a New Haven policeman. He checked her for any visible wounds while an EMT tended to Attorney Fortier. In a shaky voice, Eleanor said, “We have to call Mabel . . . his wife!”

The Green was buzzing with first responders, ambulances and gurneys. Cries and wails were loud enough to be heard over the sirens. Inside the lobby of the Fisher Building, people lined up at the two pay phones.

Ten minutes ago, the Green had been a peaceful refuge from stuffy law offices; now, four people lay dead.

	And Mark Fortier’s life would be forever changed. 

 
Chapter One

	May 17, 1956. One year earlier. Mark Fortier, age eight, pressed his nose against the window pane, watching and waiting for his parents to come home. It had been a week since his mother had gone to the hospital and now his dad had gone to bring her and the new baby home. Finally, the Olds came into view and Mark yelled, “They’re here!”  

	He quickly opened the door to welcome his parents and baby sister, Patricia Lee. Also waiting to welcome them were his four brothers, Jack, ten, Peter, six, and David, four and his Aunt Alice, holding Mark’s two-year-old brother, Joey. Mabel Fortier was all smiles as she walked into the room. She handed the tiny baby to her six-foot-three husband, Len, and opened her arms wide to greet her boys. 

	“Easy boys,” said Len, looking down to stroke the baby’s soft face, “your mother’s been through a lot and isn’t too strong at the moment.”  

	Mabel looked up at her husband and smiled. “Nothing’s keeping me from hugging my boys. You gave me the name ‘Able Mabel’ and as long as I’m able to hug my kids, you can bet I will.”

	The newborn, started to cry so Alice set Joey on the floor, took the baby from Len and rocked her.

	“Thanks, Sis,” said Mabel. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

	Alice grinned. I know what you two do without me around and you better stop it or you’ll need a bigger house!”

Mabel winked at Len and laughed. “This is the last baby, Allie, I guarantee it. Especially now that I have my little Patty-cake.”

Len looked around. “It looks like you two girls have everything under control, so I’ll just head back to the office and see what mayhem awaits me there.” A quick kiss for Mabel and the baby, a high five to the boys, and he was out the door. 

Alice went into the nursery to change Patty’s diaper. Mabel eased herself onto the sofa and said, “C’mere boys. Come up here and sit with me, one at a time, and let me know what’s been happening with you while I was gone.”

Little Joey, one overall strap undone and one shoe off, ran to her and crawled up on her lap. He snuggled in her arms until he got bored and scrambled back down to play with his toys. David took this opportunity to climb on his mother’s lap with a Dr. Seuss picture book for her to read aloud to him. David’s blond hair sported a constant cowlick that refused to lay flat. Mabel kissed his chubby cheeks, then opened the book to page one. He listened enthralled to the singsong sounds of the words as his mother read to him.

Next up was six-year-old Peter. Peter was growing tall for his age and with his crooked smile and tousled hair, he reminded Mabel of Jackie Cooper of The Little Rascals. He told her about the class hamster and how soft the hamster was and that his poop looked like raisins. Mabel made a face, then gave him a hug and a kiss. 

When he climbed down, she reached out to her third grader and drew him to her. Mark had long eyelashes that Mabel envied; it seemed a waste to have such features on a boy who could care less about them. So tell me, Marky Mark, how’re things going with you?”

“Okay, I guess. I got a ninety on my spelling test yesterday. I missed two words.”

	“Ninety’s a good score!  Have you been practicing the piano while I was gone?”

	“Yup. Almost every day. I’ll show you later. Is it okay if I go see the baby?”

	“It sure is. She’s your sister after all. Go have fun. Jack-Jack, come sit here by me.”  The ten-year-old sat down easily on the sofa, considerate of his mother’s condition. Jack’s red hair and freckles were from his great grandfather‘s gene pool.

“So how’s my big fifth grader?”	

“Good. We’re doing a science project. We’re making the solar system in class. I get to make the planet Mars!”

“Well my goodness! What are you going to use to make it?”

“Mr. Graham said to blow up a balloon and then cover it with paper mash . . . mask…?”

“Paper mache?”

“That’s it. You heard of it?”

“Jack-Jack, you’re talking to the queen of paper mache. I can make anything with a little paste and a lot of newspaper strips. So don’t throw the newspapers away for a while, start saving them. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Okay. Upsy-daisy. I’m going to go see our new little baby girl; I expect it’s time for her to eat.”