Chapter 23
SALVATORE
Iprobably dreamed Lucia calling herself pigheaded, but it made me smile all the same. And every time I opened my eyes, there she was, sitting by my side. At first, she still had blood on her. My blood. Then she looked like she’d showered and changed. I saw Roman too, but she was my constant.
She’d remembered what I’d said. What I’d promised her. I vaguely recalled her voice, telling me I hadn’t yet kept the promise to give her the life she wanted.
I had changed rooms. I knew it from the way the light came in the window. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in the hospital until finally, I opened my eyes, feeling a little less groggy, and the things around me didn’t seem so like a mirage.
Was it a mirage? Was Lucia a mirage?
“Hey.”
I looked up at her beautiful, smiling face. She still sat in the same place, holding my hand, watching me.
“Hey.” It felt strange to speak.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
My mind traveled back to that morning. My father, Roman, Isabella, and I in my dining room. Dominic. Dominic with a gun. My father telling him he wasn’t his son. Calling our mother a whore.
Something beeped, and the door opened. A nurse rushed inside.
I took a deep breath, and the beeping leveled, but the nurse gave me a warning look.
“It’s good to see you’re awake, Mr. Benedetti, but you need to stay calm, or we’ll have to sedate you again.”
I opened my mouth to tell her to fuck off, but Lucia squeezed my hand and spoke to her.
“It’s okay. I’ll make sure he stays calm.”
“Thank you.”
The nurse left, and I looked back at Lucia.
“They called you pigheaded,” she said. “Well, I did actually, but they agreed.”
I smiled, but it hurt to speak or move. And as much as I wanted to keep looking at her, my eyelids began to droop.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I did, unable not to, and when I woke next, I was in a different room yet again, this one less sterile-looking. Lucia again sat by my bed, talking to her sister, who sat on another chair, and Effie, who was watching TV with the sound muted.
“He’s awake,” Isabella said.
Lucia turned to me. “Finally. I didn’t mean sleep for three more days.”
This was surreal. “I want to sit up.”
“Bossy already,” she teased and handed me a remote control. “Here, push this button. Stop if it’s painful.”
I pushed, and the bed moved. Effie came over to watch, entranced by the operation.
“Wow! Can I get one of those, Mommy?”
“No,” came Isabella’s voice.
I smiled and came to a stop when the slight throb at my side became painful. “How long has it been?”
“Almost two weeks.”
“I baked you some M it hurt too much.
“All right,” Isabella said, taking Effie’s hand. “Time for us to go.” She looked at me. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
“Thank you?” I guessed.
Lucia walked them out then returned to me. “Effie’s a hoot,” she said.
“Yes. And I’m staying away from that pea soup. I trust that kid.” It grew quiet as our smiles faded.
“I thought you were dead. I couldn’t feel you breathe, and you were so still. And the blood…”
Her eyes filled with tears.
I reached up to touch her face, although my arm felt sore even with that small movement. “I’m not that easy to kill off.”
“I kept the clothes I was wearing.”
“Huh?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “With the blood.”
I must have made a face when I got what she was saying.
“I know, it’s creepy.”
“You can throw those away now. I’m not going anywhere. I have a promise to keep.”
She smiled.
“Where’s Dominic?”
She shook her head. “No one knows. He disappeared after that night. Good riddance.”
“He’s not my father’s son.”
“I know.”
“He wasn’t trying to kill me. You know that, right?”
“I don’t care, Salvatore. He almost did.”
I decided to drop it for now. “My father?”
“He had a heart attack, but he’s fine. He’s home already. Roman’s been running the show apparently. Probably waiting for you to get well enough to take over.” She snorted, her face changing, darkening.
“He had a heart attack?”
“I guess seeing one son shoot another was too much even for his cold heart.”
A knock came on the door. We both turned to see Roman peek his head in.
“I heard he was awake.”
“Come in,” Lucia said and stepped aside.
“Where are your crutches?” Salvatore asked me.
“You’ve been out a while. Long enough, my ankle’s mostly fine.”
“You should use them—”
“Bossy.”
“I need to talk to you,” Roman said to me, glancing at Lucia.
“I’ll wait outside,” Lucia said, picking up her bag.
“You can stay,” I told her.
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll get some coffee.”
“Thank you,” Roman said.
Once she was gone, he sat in the seat she’d occupied and took a folder out of his briefcase.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better. What’s going on? Fill me in.”
“You know about your father’s heart attack?”
I nodded.
“Well, Franco is home and recovering. He’s not doing well, though, Salvatore.”
I didn’t reply.
“He wanted to come and see you, but the doctor advised him against it.”
“Okay.” Was he telling me that so my feelings wouldn’t be hurt?
“He knows you saved his life.”
“I didn’t do it for him. I did it because I knew my brother would regret it for the rest of his.”
“You have every right to feel the way you feel.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
He inhaled a deep breath.
“Where’s Dominic?”
“I don’t know. He disappeared after the shooting. No one knows. He didn’t go home, didn’t pack, didn’t take anything with him. Just left.”
“Is it true?”
Roman nodded.
“And you knew?”
“I’m the only one apart from your mother and father who knew. He regrets having told him.”
“He should.”
I cursed my father for having told Dominic like that. What purpose did it serve? It would only wound Dominic. Perhaps irreparably.
“Franco is no longer able to manage the family, the businesses, anything, Salvatore. I’ve been doing it until you’re recovered.”
We studied each other for a long time. I just couldn’t tell what my uncle was looking for.
“I have papers here, things I want to go over.”
A small knock came on the door. Lucia opened it.
“Not now,” I said to him. “Just take care of everything for now.”
“I can come back,” Lucia said.
“No, you stay. Roman, thanks for your visit.”
Roman took his dismissal with grace and left. Lucia sat back down in the same chair.
“Coffee is so crappy here,” she said, setting the untouched paper cup on the table nearby.
Before we had a chance to talk, though, the doctor walked in to look things over and told me I’d be home in three days’ time.
Lucia vacated her chair and stood back and watched, giving the doctor room.
Every time I looked at her when she didn’t know I was, I saw the worry on her face.
My mind traveled back to what I’d told her.
What I’d promised her. Freedom, as soon as I was boss.
Freedom, once I knew she was safe. A quiet life.
Happiness. I wanted it for everyone I loved. I wanted it especially for her.