Chapter 2 – The Suitcase Beneath Her Bed

“Change my mind?”

Luca repeated his daughter’s words very slowly.

Isabelle nodded.

“About coming home after I visit Aunt Helen.”

He looked at Vanessa.

“How long was she supposed to be gone?”

“A week or two.”

“Which?”

Vanessa pressed her lips together.

“We hadn’t settled the dates.”

Isabelle looked confused.

“But you said Friday.”

Vanessa turned toward her.

“Sweetheart, plans change.”

“You said I’d leave Friday because Daddy would be busy getting married.”

Luca closed his eyes.

The wedding was six weeks away.

His daughter had apparently been counting the days until she was sent out of the house.

He gently lifted her from his lap.

“Carrie, would you stay here with Charlotte for a minute?”

Isabelle looked at him.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere far. I need to speak with Vanessa.”

Her fingers tightened around his sleeve.

“Can I come?”

Luca hesitated.

Then nodded.

“Yes. You can.”

Vanessa looked exhausted.

“Luca, she doesn’t need to hear another argument.”

He faced her.

“She heard the plans. She deserves to hear what happens to them.”

That was when Mrs. Carter returned.

She carried a folded white cardigan.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Moretti.”

“What is it?”

“Miss Isabelle left this in the upstairs hallway.”

Isabelle recognized it immediately.

“My school sweater.”

Mrs. Carter looked troubled.

“It was beside her suitcase.”

Luca turned.

“What suitcase?”

The little girl lowered her eyes.

“The one under my bed.”

Vanessa made a quiet, frustrated sound.

“Isabelle, I told you not to worry about packing yet.”

Luca looked sharply at her.

“You told her to pack?”

“I suggested she choose a few favorite things.”

“Why?”

“So the change wouldn’t feel so sudden.”

Isabelle looked at her father.

“I tried to pick the right things.”

Something in her voice made my chest hurt.

Luca crouched in front of her.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

She rubbed her eyes.

“Aunt Helen said she has a nice room. But I couldn’t take everything.”

“Who told you that?”

“Vanessa.”

Luca looked toward the staircase.

“Show me the suitcase.”

Isabelle hesitated.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She took his hand.

I followed with the music box pieces, while Mrs. Carter brought the cardigan.

Vanessa came behind us.

I could hear the faint sound of guests talking downstairs.

The house still looked beautiful.

Gold-framed paintings.

Fresh flowers.

Soft lights along the staircase.

But Isabelle climbed the steps as though she was walking toward something frightening.

Her bedroom occupied the eastern corner of the second floor.

It was a large, sunny room with pale-yellow walls.

A white dresser stood beneath the window.

Beside it was Caroline’s faded blue rocking chair.

The little pencil marks remained along the doorframe.

I noticed Luca pause when he saw them.

At the bottom, Caroline had drawn a tiny heart beside Isabelle’s first birthday.

Higher up were eight more marks.

The last two were in Luca’s handwriting.

He touched the highest one.

“Ten years,” he murmured.

Isabelle looked up.

“Mommy said I was growing like a sunflower.”

Luca smiled sadly.

“She did.”

Then Isabelle walked to her bed.

She knelt and pulled out a small purple suitcase.

It was already packed.

Luca stared at it.

“Baby, when did you do this?”

“Yesterday.”

He sat on the edge of the bed.

“May I look?”

She nodded.

He opened the zipper.

Inside were two pairs of pajamas.

Three sweaters.

Her school cardigan.

A toothbrush.

A worn stuffed rabbit.

And a folded blue blanket.

There were no toys except the rabbit.

No books.

No birthday presents.

Luca looked at her.

“Where are the rest of your things?”

Isabelle shrugged.

“Vanessa said Aunt Helen likes rooms neat.”

He picked up the stuffed rabbit.

“Your mother gave you this.”

Isabelle nodded.

“When I was sick.”

“You were four.”

“She said rabbits are good listeners.”

Luca smiled.

“Your mother was right.”

Then he noticed a small paper envelope tucked into the suitcase’s side pocket.

He held it up.

“What’s this?”

Isabelle’s expression changed.

“That’s not for you yet.”

He immediately put it down.

“All right.”

She stared at the envelope.

Then at her father.

“You can read it.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

He opened it carefully.

Inside was a folded sheet of notebook paper.

I could see Isabelle’s handwriting from where I stood.

The letters were uneven.

Some had been erased and written again.

Luca read silently.

His expression began to change.

He lowered himself into the rocking chair.

The old wood creaked under his weight.

Isabelle watched him anxiously.

“Did I spell everything right?”

He looked up.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Even the big words?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

His eyes were wet.

I looked away.

Then he read the note aloud.

Dear Daddy,

I’m sorry I cry about Mommy.

I know you’re getting married and things are different.

I will try harder to be good.

Please don’t be sad when I go.

I love you.

Isabelle.

Luca stopped reading.

He stared at the paper.

Then he pulled his daughter into his arms.

“Oh, baby.”

She looked frightened.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

His voice broke.

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She held on to him.

“I thought if I didn’t cry anymore, maybe I could stay.”

I pressed the music box against my chest.

Behind us, Vanessa had gone completely still.

For the first time, she seemed to understand what her words had become inside a ten-year-old child’s mind.

Luca kissed Isabelle’s hair.

“You never have to earn your place in this house.”

She didn’t answer.

He looked at the suitcase again.

Then at the folded note.

Something was written on the back.

He turned it over.

There were three short lines.

Things I can’t take:

Mommy’s chair.

Mommy’s music box.

My bedroom door.

And underneath, in smaller letters:

If Daddy misses me, tell him I didn’t want to leave.

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