Page 8 of The Holy Ghost
Ialmostcried because Ididmiss my friend. I missed him terribly. That’sthe thing about running away. Your memories and emotions go withyou, so it ends up just becoming geography.
Icleared my throat of theemotions that threatened to take over. “What are you doing here,Luca?” I repeated. I didn’t want to talk about how much I missedhim. I’d lose it for sure if I did.
This time he didsmirk.
Then hestraightened his imposingframe and pinned me with that dark gaze he uses to cripplepeople with. “Massimo has cancer,” he said, his voice betrayingnothing. He might as well have been talking about the weather. Butthat didn’t bother me. I knew Luca felt, and I knew he feltdeeply.
I,however, hadn’t been able to masterLuca’s level of aloofness.“What?”
“It’s true, Francesca.Massimo has cancer. Stage-four.” Luca is the only person who callsme Francesca. He’s never called me Frankie. I’ve always beenFrancesca to him.
My eyeswatered, but I didn’t care.Massimo had been one of the most stable things in our lives, and hewas vital to the children of Silver Heights. He saved so many liveswith his unconditional love and support of the worst ofus.
“I…I…”
Luca took pityon me, and Ididn’t take hiskindness lightly. We may have been best friends once, but Luca wasstill Luca. “He was diagnosed earlier this year,” he said,explaining. “He had two choices. He could fight the good fight orsurrender peacefully when the time came.”
“Didchemo not w…work, orsomething?”
“He declinedchemo treatment, Francesca. Hedidn’t want the final days of his life to be riddled withtreatments, weakness, and agony when he’s as old as heis.”
Before I couldcomment, Robbie walked up to our table. “GoodAfternoon. May I get you guys something todrink? Eat?”
Luca didn’tspareher a glance which toldme he had at least two of his men in the restaurant with us for himnot to acknowledge her approach. “Nothing for me, thankyou.”
I looked up ather. “I’m…I’mgood, Robbie. Mybreak isn’t that much longer, anyway.”
Her face wasfull of concern, but shedidn’t push. “Okay. No problem,” she replied, and I knew she wasgoing to demand an explanation later.
Luca didn’tspeak again until she was out of earshot. “He’s almost eighty-years-old, Francesca. He didn’twant to put his body through an ordeal it might not survive. Hechose to go the way of dying naturally, and he didn’t tell anyonebecause he didn’t want any of his kids to worry.”
The tears Iwas holding infinally fellfree.
His kids.
“Oh, God…” Ibrokenly whispered.
“Massimo was admitted intothe hospital last week and that’s when he could no longer keep hissecret. Everyone from the neighborhood has been visiting him,reminiscing, and saying their final goodbyes,” he said.
Ishook my head, then grabbed a napkinfrom the napkin dispenser to dry my eyes and keep snot from runningdown my face. “Final goodbyes?”
Luca’s facesoftened and it was a rare sight to behold. “He only has a few daysleft, Francesca. Aweek at themost.”
“Oh,Luca…how…” I didn’t even knowwhat I wanted to ask him. The idea of Massimo suffering his secretalone was heartbreaking, but not surprising. He always protected uskids.
AndthenLuca got to the reason hewas here. “I see him every day, Francesca,” he said. “And the lasttime I was with him he asked me about you.” I gasped in surprise,but then in shame. In the six years that I’ve been gone from MorganCity, I never once checked in on Massimo. I left him behind, alongwith everyone else, when I left town. “He wants to see you beforehe passes. You’re the only person left from the neighborhood thathasn’t gone to see him.”
“I don’t know whatto say,” I replied, shame flooding my entire being.
“I don’texpect you to say anything,” he retorted. “I’m not here to tell you Massimo is dying,Francesca. I’m here to tell you that I will be here when your shiftis over and you’re going back to Morgan City with me.”
It was on thetip of my tongue to issue an automatic refusal, but I wiselycaught myself in time. There’sno way I’d deny a dying man’s last wish. And, even if I wereheartless enough to do something that vile, there’s no way Lucawould let me. Luca was here for exactly what he said he was herefor. He was taking me back, whether peacefully or by my hair, and Ididn’t blame him one bit.
“O…okay,” Iagreed. “I…uhm, my shift ends at-”
“At five, I know,”he interrupted, and I hated that he knew that. I also wasn’tsurprised that he did.
“Can…can I go home andchange first?” I hated asking him for permission, but I was smartenough to realize the boy I knew was not the man sitting before me.Once upon a time, I could have sworn Luca Benetti would never harmme, but now? It’s possible six years has turned the Luca Benetti Ionce knew into an entirely different person.
