Chapter 2 - The Promise Beside the Fireplace
“Then answer me one thing, Vanessa.”
Luca's voice was quiet, but every conversation around the table had stopped.
“If I forget your name twenty years from now, would you still want to sit beside me at dinner?”
Vanessa stared at him.
“That's an unfair question.”
“Why?”
“Because you're not sick.”
“Neither was Robert when he married Betty.”
My father stood beside the fireplace, holding the little white box with the golden cake topper.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Son, you don't need to argue about us.”
Luca immediately turned toward him.
“Robert, you haven't done anything wrong.”
Dad nodded, but his eyes stayed lowered.
I knew that expression.
I'd seen it whenever he forgot a familiar name or couldn't finish a sentence.
He was embarrassed.
Not because he wanted attention.
Because he was afraid of becoming a problem.
Luca pulled out a chair beside his mother, Teresa Moretti.
“Robert, why don't you and Betty sit with us?”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Luca, we have thirty guests and a seating arrangement.”
“Then we'll add two chairs.”
“We don't have room.”
He looked at the long banquet table.
There were three empty seats near the fireplace.
“There's room.”
Vanessa's face reddened.
I knew she hated being contradicted in front of guests.
But Luca wasn't trying to embarrass her.
He was doing something much simpler.
He was refusing to let my parents feel unwanted.
Dad looked toward Mom.
“Betty, should we stay?”
She squeezed his hand.
“Only if you want to, sweetheart.”
He thought about it.
Then smiled.
“I'd like to have dinner with you.”
My throat tightened.
For most couples, that would have been an ordinary sentence.
For my parents, it was becoming a precious one.
Luca asked me to bring two place settings.
I hurried toward the sideboard.
Vanessa followed me.
“Melissa.”
I stopped.
She lowered her voice.
“Don't mistake this for permission to interfere with my wedding.”
“I wasn't trying to interfere.”
“Your parents have put Luca in a difficult position.”
I turned toward her.
“They made a reservation.”
“And things change.”
“My father has been saving for this night since last November.”
Vanessa glanced at the guests.
“Then perhaps he should have chosen somewhere more appropriate for his condition.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
Before I could answer, Luca spoke from behind us.
“What condition makes a man unworthy of eating dinner with his wife?”
Vanessa turned.
“That's not what I meant.”
“Then stop saying it.”
His voice wasn't loud.
That made it more serious.
He took the plates from my hands.
“Melissa, go sit with your parents for a minute.”
“Sir, I'm working.”
“I know. I'm asking you to take a break.”
Nobody had ever told me that during a formal dinner.
I glanced toward Vanessa.
She looked furious.
But I went.
Mom took my hand when I sat beside her.
“Don't worry about us,” she whispered.
“I should've checked the reservation this morning.”
“You couldn't have known.”
Dad was studying the chandelier.
Then he looked toward the fireplace.
“Melissa, did I tell you about our wedding?”
I smiled.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“We had twelve people.”
“I remember.”
“And your mother wore little white flowers in her hair.”
Mom smiled.
“They were carnations.”
“That's right.”
He looked pleased.
“Carnations.”
Then he reached into his brown jacket.
He took out an old wristwatch.
The leather strap had been repaired so many times that hardly any of the original stitching remained.
Dad studied the face.
“Seven fifteen.”
Mom looked surprised.
“Robert?”
“That was when we danced.”
He smiled.
“Your father-in-law said the kitchen would be too busy afterward, so we danced before dinner.”
I frowned.
“Dad, you never told me that.”
He shrugged.
“Didn't think it mattered.”
Mom's eyes filled.
“It mattered to me.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then quietly said, “Good.”
Luca approached.
“What song did you dance to?”
Dad's expression brightened.
“'Unchained Melody.'”
Mom nodded.
“We played the same record three times that afternoon.”
Luca smiled.
“Then let's find it.”
He turned toward the restaurant's evening pianist.
“Could you play that for them?”
The young man nodded.
“I know it.”
But Dad gently raised a hand.
“Would you mind waiting a little?”
Luca looked surprised.
“Of course.”
Dad glanced toward the small white box.
“I want Betty to have her cake first. That's how we did it.”
Mom smiled.
“You remember that?”
“I remember the important parts.”
Vanessa, who had been listening, gave a small sigh.
“Luca, we can't keep rearranging the entire evening around one person's memory.”
Dad's smile faded.
I saw it happen.
The way his shoulders moved inward.
The way his fingers tightened around the watch.
Then he whispered, “I'm sorry. I can dance now.”
Luca knelt beside him.
“Robert, this is your anniversary. You don't need to hurry.”
He turned toward Vanessa.
“Stop making him apologize.”
She looked wounded.
“I've spent weeks planning tonight.”
“And he spent fifty years loving his wife.”
Vanessa swallowed.
“That doesn't mean everyone else has to give up their evening.”
Luca looked toward the guests.
One elderly woman near his uncle stood.
“I'd be honored to watch them dance.”
Several people nodded.
Another guest said, “Let them have their anniversary.”
Vanessa glanced around the table.
For the first time, she seemed uncertain whether anyone was on her side.
Then she said something unexpected.
“Luca, you're hearing only half the story.”
Mom's hand tightened around mine.
Vanessa continued.
“There was a reason I tried to arrange a quieter evening for them.”
I looked up.
“What reason?”
She didn't answer me.
Instead, she turned toward my mother.
“Betty, perhaps you'd like to explain what happened when Robert came here earlier this week.”
Mom went pale.
Dad frowned.
“I came here?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Monday afternoon.”
He looked at me.
“Pumpkin, was I here Monday?”
“I don't know, Daddy.”
Mom whispered, “Robert, please.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Betty asked me to keep something private. I respected that. But now everyone's treating me like a monster.”
Luca's expression changed.
“What did Betty ask you?”
My mother stared at the table.
May you like
For the first time that evening, she wouldn't look at me.
Then Vanessa said, “Betty, tell Melissa what you asked me to do with your husband on Monday.”
