Page 120 of Luca

“What about passports?” I hear Luca behind me.

“It’s all taken care of. We already have your new identities ready to go, if she’s willing. Once you arrive at the resort, you can use your real names, but we’ve had to change them all to ensure you can leave the country without being traced.”

I shake my head. This is what I wanted, right? A way for us to all be together. And who wouldn’t want to live at a resort? I want to be grateful, but I’m so overwhelmed and confused.

“I can have the jet ready tomorrow afternoon, and you’ll arrive in Jamaica in about three hours.”

Jamaica?

I walk farther away, not wanting to hear anything else that will muddle my mind further. I need to be still for a moment.Just to make peace that I’m making the right decision here. If we stay in the states, we’ll still have to uproot if we all want to stay together. And we’ll likely be living on the run, always looking over our shoulder.

I come upon a corner bookshelf with what appear to be various books on self-healing, growth, and mindfulness. Are these Dr. Weston’s or Poppy’s? I trail my fingers along the spines, not really paying attention to the titles until I stop at the end of the row where a framed quote sits, serving as a bookend.

“FEAR has two meanings:

‘Forget Everything and Run’

Or

‘Face Everything and Rise.’

The choice is yours.”

Zig Ziglar

Reading the words gives me a sense of peace beyond understanding. It’s almost euphoric. But how could that be? They’re just words.

“Well, I hate to rush you two, but we’ll need to finish this conversation tomorrow. I had surgery this morning, so it’s been a long day for this old man.”

“I’m used to these hours, but not you, Luca.” His cousin chuckles.

“Hell, I had no idea it was so late. It’s after one.”

I look down at my watch, and my breath audibly catches in my throat.

1:10 a.m.

Glancing over to the men, Luca’s eyes hold mine. He quickly comes to my side, sensing something’s wrong.

Tears pour down my cheeks. Embarrassed, I bury my face in his chest.

“Shhh, baby. What’s wrong,”

I shake my head, unable to speak. There’s no way I could explain this so that anyone else would understand. Maybe I’m imagining it myself.

“I think I’m just overwhelmed, Luca. I need some sleep.”

“Yes, of course, baby. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Dr. Weston guides us to where the guest room is located, and I immediately climb into bed and turn on my side. As much as Ilove having him so near, I feel I need some distance from Luca to make a clear decision.

“Good night, Cucciolotta. Get some rest.” Luca kisses me on the shoulder, and I close my eyes, trying to welcome sleep. But it doesn’t come.

Lying here, my mind is whirling. For years unwelcome visions of that horrific night Dillon took his life would return at exactly 1:10. I understood nightmares were to be expected after all we’d been through, but for both Myla and me, they always came at the same time. The exact time Dillon died. How would our minds know the time? And how had it happened to both of us?

At one point, I’d actually considered whether his ghost was haunting us. I thought the impact of all I’d experienced was catching up with me, and I was finally losing it. But now, I can’t help but question if he’s been trying to communicate with us somehow. The most recent 1:10 a.m. encounters were very positive. Almost reassuring. Is he letting us know he’s sorry? That it’s safe to move on?

If nothing else, this feels like a turning point. I need to make a conscious decision to finally let go of the anger. Let his soul finally receive the peace he deserves. And welcome tranquility and a happy future into our lives. Because for the first time in a very long time, I know we are worthy.

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