Page 9 of Luca

I shake my head at my little clever-clogs as I run the towel through Truitt’s wispy light-brown locks and attempt to dress the wiggly worm in footie pajamas.

“Do you still have that appointment with the pediatric orthopedist scheduled for him?” My mother asks, nodding at Truitt from beside the refrigerator.

“Yeah. I probably should watch what I wish for, though. Trying to keep up with two kids who can walk is already a handful.” My eyes land on my oldest daughter, Myla, and I give her a wink.

Truitt, my youngest child, has shown some developmental delay since he was born. Nothing profound, mind you. He’s eighteen months old and while he can crawl at the speed of light if he sees something on the floor worthy of going in his mouth, he hasn’t demonstrated much interest in walking. Caleb,on the other hand, is the opposite. He’s five and never sits still. Correction. He doesn’t walk often either, now that I think about it. He’s usually running, jumping, climbing, or swinging from one place to the next. It’s a miraclewe’renot sitting in the ER waiting room on a regular basis.

And then there’s Myla. I reach out for my daughter. “Come here and give me a hug.” She’s the oldest and the most tranquil. While some of this is more nature versus nurture, she’s suffered some emotional damage since her father, Dillon, left us. Placing a kiss to her temple, I blink rapidly to avoid tearing up. It’s getting to a point now where I can barely remember what her sweet voice sounds like. I haven’t heard her utter a word since that life-altering day two years ago.

“Is all of your homework done?” I ask, playing with her long strands of light brown hair.

She simply nods, as is her way. I remain unsure if being mute is a response to emotional trauma or if it’s some type of control mechanism. All of our lives have been in a tailspin since Dillon died. And in many ways, I believe Myla has taken it the hardest. She was a daddy’s girl through and through. I’m sure there’s a void in that tattered heart I’ll never be able to fix on my own. I miss him too. Yet I have too many mixed emotions to be able to long for him in the same pure way she does.

Placing my fingers under her chin, I wait for her to make eye contact with me. “Did you eat?” This child is so slight. She escapes into her books, and I often have to force her to have a meal.

She smiles as she nods her head up and down quickly, reassuring me she enjoyed the meal my mother prepared. My daughter communicates primarily through facial expressions now. We attempted therapy, but after a year, she seemed to plateau. I try to keep my eyes peeled for any indication we mayneed to return. But I have to have faith that this strong young lady will speak when she has something important to say.

“What did you guys have for dinner?”

“Nuggies,” Caleb squeals before catapulting over the back of the sofa and landing beside Truitt, who laughs so hysterically at this he falls over.

“Did you have chicken nuggets too?” I ask Tru, tickling his little tummy.

“I’m heading out, Jilly. You’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. I’ve got to drop by the hospital during the day to give Anne my schedule requests for the next month, but I’ll do that after I drop Tru at daycare. I work a short shift Friday, but I should be here in time to cook dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thanks, Gammy!” Caleb yells as he and Tru climb off of the couch onto the floor and begin tossing a ball back and forth.

“Only a few more minutes, guys. It’s late. You need bed. And Mommy needs a shower.”

An hour later, after standing under the spray until the scalding water ran cold, I pad into my bedroom to change into my nightgown and hit the bed. The day has definitely caught up with me. I’m beat.

Bending down, I scoop my dirty clothes off of the floor and check the pockets before dropping them in the hamper. I almost deposit my lab coat in the bin when I feel something odd. Pulling out a long gold chain, I gasp. “Oh my gosh, I completely forgot about this.” Walking to my bedside, I sit down and watch as the medallion sways in the soft light of my room.

When straightening up the hospital room Luke had been in after returning from my break, I’d noticed this necklace lying on the floor beneath the chair his clothes had been in. He must’ve dropped it when getting undressed. I tilt my head back to stare at the ceiling. So, now, not only have I let someone leave the premises with an IV in their arm, but I’ve kept a patient’s property. Then, instead of going to security to log a lost item, I brought it home with me.

“Am I subconsciously begging to get fired?” I mumble in frustration.

Placing the necklace on my nightstand, I remove my robe and don my silky rose-colored nightgown. After a long day in the ER, it feels nice to slip on something clean and pretty. Even if no one else will ever see it but me. I climb under the covers, too tired to even contemplate reading a chapter of my latest book.

As my lids start to feel heavy, I manage to catch one more glimpse of the gold chain beside me and think of Luke. How nice he was. How handsome. The electricity he made me feel when grasping my wrist. The warmth that remained there for hours after he’d left.

Maybe I’ll drop it by his room tomorrow morning after I take Truitt to daycare. I’ll deliver it in person so I can see how his surgery went. It’s the least I can do after accidentally taking his necklace home.

Right?

Luca

“You can call me Luca.” I smack my forehead with my palm.What the hell was I thinking?

I’ve taken great pains to ensure I don’t get too close to anyone but my family here. I’ve had a front-row seat to what can happento the people I care about most, and I refuse to let anyone else befall the same fate.

But there was something about Jillian. It was more than her beauty and fierce determination to help others. She was a surprising bright light in my constant darkness. Someone who’d choose to do the right thing for someone else, despite the cost. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she hadn’t let me leave and come back. My appendix might’ve ruptured and then I’d be tied to this hospital for days. Who would’ve looked out for Antonia and Domenico then?

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