Chapter 8 – What Happened Before He Died

Michael stared at his mother.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Luca asked, “Were you in the room when Dad fell?”

Michael swallowed.

“Yes.”

The answer was so quiet I almost missed it.

Luca set the brown envelope on the desk.

“Tell me what happened.”

Michael looked toward the window.

Outside, the garden lights illuminated the bare November trees.

His reflection stared back at him.

“Dad was having trouble breathing,” he said. “He’d been getting worse all afternoon.”

Luca waited.

“Margaret came by. She checked him and said we needed to get help if his breathing deteriorated.”

“Why didn’t she stay?”

“Dad wanted her to go. He didn’t want another argument about the hospital.”

Teresa shook her head.

“She told you to call if he got worse.”

Michael closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

Luca took a slow breath.

“Then what happened?”

Michael leaned against the desk.

“Dad wanted the green notebook. He’d been asking about it all day.”

Teresa began rubbing her wedding ring.

“He asked me to bring it.”

Michael nodded.

“I told him we’d deal with the money another time.”

“But he wouldn’t let it go,” Luca said.

“No.”

Michael looked at his brother.

“He said he knew the Westbridge payments weren’t legitimate. He said the money belonged to Mom.”

Luca stared at him.

“And?”

“He wanted me to call you.”

“Because of the money?”

Michael shook his head.

“Because he wanted us to settle it while he was still alive.”

Teresa began crying quietly.

Michael continued.

“He told me he didn’t want to leave the family with a secret between us.”

Luca’s expression changed.

That sounded like Antonio.

Their father had never tolerated unresolved arguments.

He’d once made two grown sons sit at the kitchen table until they apologized for refusing to speak to each other.

Even when he was sick, he’d wanted his family together.

Michael stared at the watch in Luca’s hand.

“He said if I wouldn’t call you, he’d give you the records himself.”

“That’s why he wanted the watch?”

Michael nodded.

“He’d folded the note inside it earlier.”

Luca looked down.

“Then you took it.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I was ashamed.”

The answer came without a smile.

Without an excuse.

Michael’s face had gone pale.

“I’d lost nearly everything. The business was finished. I owed money I couldn’t repay. And Dad knew.”

Luca looked at him.

“You could have told me.”

“I know.”

“You could have told me four years ago.”

Michael lowered his eyes.

“I know.”

Teresa reached toward the brass bell.

Her hand trembled.

“Tell him about the breathing.”

Michael went still.

Luca looked between them.

“What about it?”

Teresa’s voice was barely audible.

“Antonio couldn’t catch his breath.”

Michael stared at the floor.

Luca waited.

Finally, Michael spoke.

“Dad became upset. He tried to get out of bed.”

“Why?”

“He wanted the telephone.”

“Why didn’t you give it to him?”

Michael didn’t answer.

Luca’s voice grew sharper.

“Michael.”

His brother looked up.

“Because he was going to call you.”

Luca stared at him.

Michael continued.

“He said if I didn’t tell you what I’d done, he would.”

Teresa covered her mouth.

Michael’s voice cracked.

“I told him to lie down. I told him he was making himself worse.”

“And did he?”

“He tried to stand.”

Michael swallowed.

“He lost his balance.”

Teresa whispered, “He hit the bedside table.”

Luca looked at her.

She nodded.

“That was the sound.”

The falling object.

The noise she’d remembered.

Not a glass.

Not something imagined.

Antonio had fallen while trying to reach the telephone.

Michael gripped the edge of the desk.

“I got him back into bed.”

Luca’s face had gone white.

“Was he conscious?”

“Yes.”

“Was he breathing?”

“Yes, but badly.”

Luca stared at him.

“Did you call for help?”

Michael closed his eyes.

“Not immediately.”

The words seemed to empty the room of air.

Luca stepped back.

“What?”

“I thought if he calmed down, he’d be all right.”

“You’d been told to call if he got worse.”

“I know.”

“How long?”

Michael didn’t answer.

Luca repeated the question.

“How long did you wait?”

Michael pressed his hands together.

“I don’t know exactly.”

Teresa looked up.

“I remember the clock.”

Michael shook his head.

“Mom—”

“You told me it was ten forty.”

Luca turned.

Teresa was looking at the old wall clock above Antonio’s desk.

“Your father asked me to bring his blanket. Michael told me he was resting.”

She swallowed.

“I heard the bell again. I came back. Michael wouldn’t let me in.”

Luca stared at his brother.

“Why?”

Michael’s eyes filled.

“Because Dad was still asking for you.”

Luca closed his eyes.

Teresa continued.

“I heard him say Luca’s name. Then he couldn’t speak properly.”

Michael nodded slowly.

“I called for help after that.”

“When?” Luca asked.

Michael rubbed his face.

“A little after eleven.”

More than twenty minutes after Teresa remembered being turned away.

Luca stood very still.

“You waited while he was struggling to breathe.”

Michael began crying.

“I thought I could settle him down.”

“You were afraid he’d tell me about the money.”

“Yes.”

The word came out broken.

There was no more room for excuses.

Michael sank into Antonio’s chair.

“I was afraid you’d hate me.”

Luca stared at him.

“And because of that, you left Dad asking for help.”

Michael covered his face.

“I know.”

For several seconds, the only sound was Teresa crying.

Then Luca asked the question none of us wanted to hear.

“Would he have lived if you’d called sooner?”

Michael shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Teresa looked at Luca.

“Your father was very sick, sweetheart.”

“I know, Mom.”

“The doctors had told us his heart was failing.”

Luca nodded.

“But he asked for help.”

“Yes,” Teresa whispered.

“And Michael didn’t get it when he should have.”

Nobody argued.

There was no way to know whether earlier treatment would have saved Antonio’s life.

He might have died that evening regardless.

But one fact was no longer uncertain.

He hadn’t passed quietly in his sleep.

He’d been awake.

He’d asked for his eldest son.

And his youngest son had delayed calling for help because he was afraid of what his father might say.

Luca looked toward the watch.

“Why did you tell everyone Mom was alone with him?”

Michael wiped his face.

“Because I couldn’t bear to tell you.”

Teresa closed her eyes.

“And you told me I’d upset Antonio.”

Michael looked at her.

“I was trying to make you stop talking about that night.”

“You made me think I’d caused it.”

He couldn’t answer.

She began crying again.

“For four years, I’ve wondered whether I made my husband worse by asking too many questions.”

Luca knelt beside her.

“Mom, no.”

“I thought if I’d stayed quiet, maybe he’d have rested.”

He took her trembling hands.

“Dad was sick. You didn’t cause his death.”

She looked at him through her tears.

“Do you believe me?”

Luca’s face crumpled.

“Yes.”

Then he looked at Michael.

“And now that Mom’s remembering what happened, you arranged to send her away.”

Michael lowered his head.

“I thought she’d tell you everything.”

Luca stared at him.

“You knew her memories were becoming clearer.”

“Yes.”

“So you told everyone she was confused.”

Michael began crying harder.

“I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Teresa looked toward him.

“You could have told the truth.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes.

Luca slowly stood.

He looked at his brother for a long time.

Then he said something that seemed to hurt them both.

“Dad asked you to call me because he still believed we could help you. And you let him die believing we’d never know.”

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