Chapter 10 - THE LETTER THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING|
Luca returned to the secure house carrying Giovanni's black notebook.
Daniel followed him.
Neither man spoke as they entered the living room.
Mrs. Carter sat beside the fireplace.
The threatening photograph lay on the coffee table.
I stood near the kitchen doorway, holding a tray of tea nobody had touched.
Luca went directly to Mrs. Carter.
"Margaret."
She raised her eyes.
He knelt beside her.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
His expression softened.
"For what?"
She reached into the pocket of her cardigan.
Then removed a folded envelope.
The paper was worn.
Its edges had been opened and closed so many times that the creases were beginning to tear.
"I should have given you this years ago."
Luca stared at it.
"Who wrote it?"
Mrs. Carter began crying.
"Anthony."
The room became completely still.
Daniel stepped closer.
I set down the tray.
Luca carefully took the envelope.
On the front was written:
TO MY SON, WHEN HE TURNS EIGHTEEN.
He swallowed.
Then opened it.
The letter was dated sixteen years after his birth.
Long after Anthony was supposedly dead.
Luca stared at the date.
Mrs. Carter watched him.
"Read it, sweetheart."
He unfolded the pages.
For several moments, he couldn't speak.
Then he began reading aloud.
Dear Luca,
If this letter reaches you, I hope you are healthy, loved, and surrounded by people who make you laugh.
I hope you know how to ride a bicycle.
I hope someone taught you to swim.
And I hope you have never had to wonder whether your father wanted you.
Luca stopped.
His voice had begun shaking.
Mrs. Carter covered her mouth.
He continued.
I wanted you before I knew your name.
Your mother and I spent hours imagining the life we would give you.
We argued about whether you would play baseball or the piano.
She wanted you to learn music.
I wanted you to learn both.
I watched Luca close his eyes.
Then he read the next paragraph.
I am alive, but I cannot come home.
There are people who would use you to find me.
Giovanni says you are safe.
I believe him.
But I have asked him to tell you the truth when you are old enough.
Luca stopped breathing.
He looked at Mrs. Carter.
"Giovanni promised him."
She nodded.
"Yes."
"But he never told me."
Tears filled her eyes.
"No."
Luca returned to the letter.
I cannot ask you to forgive my absence.
I can only tell you that I have spent every birthday remembering yours.
I have imagined your first steps.
Your first words.
Your first heartbreak.
And every ordinary moment that should have belonged to us.
His voice broke completely.
He lowered the page.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Mrs. Carter reached for him.
"Oh, my boy."
Luca leaned forward.
She wrapped her arms around him.
And for the first time since I had met Luca Moretti, I watched him cry without trying to hide it.
Not the restrained tears of a powerful man afraid to appear weak.
The grief of a son who had just learned someone had loved him from a distance for his entire life.
After several minutes, Luca sat back.
"There's more."
He unfolded the final page.
If you ever want to find me, ask Giovanni about the lighthouse.
Luca frowned.
"The lighthouse?"
Mrs. Carter nodded.
"Keep reading."
He knows the place.
He knows the name I use.
And if he tells you I am dead, ask him whether he saw my body.
Luca stared at the words.
Then he read the final lines.
Whatever name you carry, whatever life you build, you are my son.
I hope you become a better man than the ones who forced us apart.
With all my love,
Dad.
Luca lowered the letter.
His hands were shaking.
"Margaret."
She looked up.
"Did Giovanni know Anthony was alive?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Did you?"
Her eyes filled.
"Eventually."
Luca stood.
He walked toward the window.
For several seconds, he stared into the darkness.
Then he turned.
"Why?"
Mrs. Carter flinched.
His voice wasn't loud.
That made it worse.
"Why did nobody tell me?"
She began crying.
"Giovanni was afraid Salvatore would hurt you."
"I was eighteen."
"I know."
"Then twenty."
"I know."
"Then thirty."
Her face crumpled.
"Luca—"
"He died when I was thirty."
Mrs. Carter covered her mouth.
"And you still said nothing."
I saw the pain in both their faces.
Mrs. Carter wasn't defending herself anymore.
She looked like a woman who had carried a burden so long that she no longer knew how to put it down.
"I made a promise," she whispered.
Luca stared at her.
"To Giovanni?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
He looked down.
Then said something that made my chest ache.
"And what about the promise you made to me when I was little?"
Mrs. Carter stopped crying.
Luca continued.
"You told me I could always come to you for the truth."
Her lips trembled.
"I know."
He looked away.
"I believed you."
The room fell silent.
Mrs. Carter lowered her head.
"I'm sorry."
Luca pressed a hand against his forehead.
Then he walked outside.
The door closed quietly behind him.
Nobody moved.
Finally, Mrs. Carter whispered:
"I've lost him."
I sat beside her.
"No."
She shook her head.
"You heard him."
"He's hurt."
"He trusted me."
"He still loves you."
Mrs. Carter began sobbing.
I held her hand.
"Sometimes the people we love most are the people we hurt when we're trying to protect them."
She looked at me.
"Do you think he'll forgive me?"
I swallowed.
"I don't know."
Her face fell.
"But I think he deserves the chance to be angry."
She nodded slowly.
"And you deserve the chance to tell him everything."
Outside, rain began tapping against the windows.
I glanced toward the garden.
Luca stood beneath the covered porch.
His shoulders were rigid.
He was staring at the letter in his hands.
I hesitated.
Then I took a blanket from the couch and went outside.
He didn't look up when I approached.
"Mr. Moretti?"
"Olivia."
"It's cold."
I offered the blanket.
He stared at it.
Then accepted it.
"Thank you."
I stood beside him.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he asked:
"Have you ever been angry with someone you loved?"
I gave a sad smile.
"More times than I can count."
He looked at me.
"What did you do?"
"Sometimes I yelled."
He almost smiled.
"Sometimes I cried."
"And sometimes?"
I looked toward the garden.
"Sometimes I realized that loving someone doesn't mean pretending they never hurt you."
Luca studied me.
Then looked down at the letter.
"I don't know how to forgive him."
"Giovanni?"
He nodded.
"And Margaret."
I took a breath.
"Maybe you don't have to figure that out tonight."
He looked at me.
"You think I should wait?"
"I think you're allowed to feel everything first."
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered:
"I lost thirty-nine years with my mother."
I nodded.
"And maybe thirty-nine years with my father."
His voice broke.
"How am I supposed to get that back?"
I couldn't answer.
There was no beautiful sentence capable of repairing what had been stolen.
So I simply stood beside him.
After a while, Luca looked toward me.
"Why are you still here?"
I frowned.
"What?"
"Vanessa threatened your job."
He swallowed.
"You could have walked away."
I looked through the window.
Mrs. Carter sat beside the fireplace.
Daniel was making another call.
And somewhere in a hospital room, Eleanor Hayes was recovering from a night that should never have happened.
"I guess I couldn't leave them."
Luca studied me.
"Even though they aren't your family?"
I looked at him.
"Mrs. Carter helped me when my mother was recovering from surgery."
He frowned.
"She did?"
I nodded.
"She covered two of my shifts without telling anyone."
A small smile touched my lips.
"She said every mother deserves someone watching over her children."
Luca looked away.
His eyes filled again.
Then he whispered:
"That's Margaret."
I nodded.
"Yes."
He took a breath.
And for the first time that night, his shoulders relaxed.
His phone vibrated.
Daniel.
Luca answered.
"What did you find?"
He listened.
Then straightened.
"The lighthouse?"
My heart began racing.
Daniel spoke rapidly.
Luca looked toward me.
"Are you certain?"
He listened again.
Then closed his eyes.
"Send me the address."
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
"What happened?"
Luca looked down at Anthony's letter.
Then at me.
"Daniel found a property registered to a man named Andrew Vail."
I swallowed.
"Where?"
"On the coast of Maine."
Luca's eyes filled.
"The property has a lighthouse."
I stared at him.
"And?"
He took a trembling breath.
"The owner is seventy years old."
For a moment, the world seemed completely still.
May you like
Then Luca whispered:
"And according to the property records, he's been living there for more than twenty years."
