Chapter 7
Emily got him inside and locked the door.
She wrapped him in her own coat, then in a towel from the kitchen, then in a clean apron because it was all she had.
She sat him in the booth by the window and turned on the lights over the counter.
He was shivering so hard his teeth clicked.
“Okay,” she said. “First things first. Pancakes.”
She made them herself. Jimmy had gone home hours ago, but Emily knew how to work the griddle.
She made a short stack, chocolate chip, with butter on top and syrup on the side. She set the plate in front of Luca and sat down across from him.
He did not reach for the fork. He looked at her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to eat. You don’t have to do anything. You’re safe.”
He picked up the fork.
She watched him eat. She did not ask him why he had run.
She did not ask him how he had gotten there.
She did not call his father right away, though she knew she should.
She sat with him and let the diner be quiet.
When he had eaten half the stack, she said, “I’m going to call your dad now. He’s very worried about you. Is that okay?”
Luca looked at her. Then he nodded.
Vincent arrived in twelve minutes.
He came through the front door with his coat open and his hair wet and his face white.
When he saw Luca in the booth, he stopped as if he had hit a wall.
“Luca.”
Luca looked at him. He did not move.
Vincent crossed the room and knelt beside the booth. He reached for his son, then stopped, his hand hovering in the air.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Emily stood by the counter and watched. She saw the way Vincent’s shoulders shook. She saw the way Luca looked at his father’s hand, then at his face.
Then the front door opened again.
Diane came in first, her coat wet, her face streaked with rain and tears.
Behind her was Ms. Reyes, holding an umbrella, her expression unreadable.
Tony stood in the doorway, looking like a man who had failed at the only thing that mattered.
“Where is he?” Diane said. Then she saw Luca and let out a sound that was not quite a word.
She started toward the booth. Luca flinched.
Diane stopped.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll stay here.”
Vincent rose. “What are you doing here?”
“Tony called me,” Diane said. “I was at the house. I’ve been there since you left.”
“You had no right—”
“I had every right.” Diane’s voice was shaking. “He’s my grandson. He ran away in the rain, and you didn’t even know he was gone.”
“That’s enough,” Ms. Reyes said. She closed her umbrella and set it by the door. “Everyone sit down.”
They sat. Vincent in the booth across from Luca. Diane at the counter.
Emily standing, because she was not sure she was allowed to sit.
Ms. Reyes took the booth behind them, her notebook open.
“Luca,” Ms. Reyes said gently, “can you tell me why you came here?”
Luca looked at Emily.
“It’s okay,” Emily said. “You can tell her. Or you don’t have to. Either way, you’re not in trouble.”
Luca looked at the placemat. Then he reached into the pocket of his pajama bottoms, and his hand came out closed around something.
He set it on the table.
It was a page torn from the coloring book, creased and damp at the corners. The lighthouse. On the back, in green crayon, he had written one word.
HOME.
Then he lifted his hand and pointed—first at the word, then at Emily, then back at the word.
Nobody in the diner moved.
Ms. Reyes wrote something down. Her pen moved slowly, deliberately. When she looked up, her eyes were bright.
“Thank you, Luca,” she said. “That was very clear.”
Diane had both hands pressed to her mouth. Vincent sat with his palms flat on the table, staring at the page, and Emily watched him understand something he had been refusing to understand for two years: that his son had not stopped speaking because he had nothing to say. He had stopped because no one had built him a place where saying it was safe.
“Mr. Romano,” Ms. Reyes said. “I have one more question, and I need a direct answer.”
“Ask.”
“Who is Salvatore Romano?”
Vincent’s coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
“My uncle.”
“Is he aware of this hearing?”
“No.”
May you like
“He will be.” Ms. Reyes closed her notebook. “He’s been served as a party of interest.
His name is on the deed to your house. It’s also on three shell companies that hold the property around it.” She stood. “I’ll see you in court.”
