Chapter 3 - The Soldier My Father Never Mentioned
“Samuel Robert Collins.”
I barely recognized my own voice.
Teresa's fingers tightened around my wrist.
“What did you say?”
“My father's name was Samuel Robert Collins.”
She stared at me.
“Was?”
I swallowed.
“He died four months ago.”
For a moment, she looked as though the hallway had shifted beneath her feet.
Then she leaned against the wall.
“Oh, Hannah.”
I reached for her arm.
“Mrs. Moretti, are you feeling all right?”
She nodded, but tears had already gathered in her eyes.
“Your father,” she whispered. “Did he serve in the Army?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“During the Gulf War?”
My heart began pounding.
“Yes.”
Teresa covered her mouth.
I had worked in her home for nearly three years.
I'd brought her morning tea, helped her choose dresses for family dinners, and listened to stories about Antonio.
But she'd never asked me much about my father.
And I'd never imagined there was a reason she should.
“Please,” I whispered. “Tell me what's happening.”
Teresa looked down at the flag against her chest.
“Antonio used to talk about a soldier named Sam Collins. He said they served together overseas.”
My knees suddenly felt weak.
“Dad used to call someone Tony.”
She looked up.
“What?”
“When I was little, sometimes he'd mention a man named Tony. He said Tony was the reason he made it home.”
Teresa began crying.
“Oh, my goodness.”
Footsteps sounded behind us.
“Hannah?”
Luca was coming up the stairs.
Daniel followed him.
Luca stopped when he saw his mother crying.
“Mom, what's happened?”
Teresa looked at him.
“Luca, I think Hannah's father served with yours.”
He stared at me.
“What?”
I repeated my father's name.
Something flickered across Luca's face.
“Sam Collins?”
I nodded.
“Dad mentioned him,” Luca said. “Not often. But I remember that name.”
Teresa sank onto a nearby bench.
“Antonio saved Sam's life during the war.”
Luca crouched beside her.
“Is that why he got the Bronze Star?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me who the man was?”
Teresa wiped her cheeks.
“Your father never liked talking about what happened.”
I understood that.
My father hadn't either.
He'd been a gentle man who fixed broken kitchen drawers and cried when I graduated high school.
But whenever someone asked about his military service, he changed the subject.
I knew he'd been injured.
There was a long scar near his right knee.
And he'd walked with a slight limp during the final years of his life.
But I'd never known how he'd gotten hurt.
Luca looked toward Daniel.
“Find out exactly what was sold.”
Daniel nodded.
“I'll contact the dealer.”
“Not tomorrow. Tonight.”
“Yes, boss.”
Luca turned back to me.
Then he noticed my hand.
“Hannah, why are you still walking around with that wound?”
I looked down.
The towel had soaked through again.
“I'm sorry, sir.”
“Don't apologize.”
He gently guided me toward the sitting room.
“Someone is coming to examine it. You're not working another minute tonight.”
I wanted to protest.
But when he helped me into a chair, I realized how badly my hand hurt.
A physician arrived shortly afterward.
She carefully removed the remaining fragment of glass, cleaned the wound, and applied a proper dressing.
She explained that I would need a follow-up examination and should avoid heavy work until my hand healed.
Luca listened to every instruction.
Then he turned to Mrs. Carter.
“Hannah's getting paid leave until she's cleared to work.”
I stared at him.
“Mr. Moretti, I can't afford—”
“Paid leave, Hannah.”
His voice softened.
“Please let someone take care of you for once.”
I looked away before he could see me crying.
When the physician left, Teresa returned carrying a worn photograph album.
She placed it on the coffee table.
“These pictures were taken after Antonio came home from the Army.”
Luca sat beside her.
She turned several pages.
There were photographs of Antonio in uniform.
Others showed him standing outside his repair shop.
Then Teresa stopped.
Two young men stood beside a military truck.
Both wore dusty uniforms.
One had Antonio's familiar smile.
The other was taller, with light brown hair and a narrow face.
I leaned forward.
My breath caught.
“Dad.”
Teresa touched my shoulder.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
I'd seen that exact smile in our family photographs.
The young soldier was Samuel Collins.
My father.
I placed my uninjured hand against the picture.
He looked barely older than I was now.
I thought about all the things I'd never asked him.
All the stories I assumed there would be time to hear.
Luca watched silently.
Then he pointed to the soldier standing beside Antonio.
“Look at his wrist.”
My father was wearing a stainless-steel watch with a dark leather strap.
I recognized its unusual square face.
“Dad had one like that,” I said.
“He did?”
“He used to call it his lucky watch.”
Teresa grew very still.
“What happened to it?”
“I don't know. He stopped wearing it years ago.”
She looked toward Luca.
“Antonio had a watch exactly like that.”
Luca frowned.
“The one he kept with his medals?”
Teresa nodded.
I looked between them.
“What watch?”
Before she could answer, Daniel entered.
His expression was serious.
“Boss, I spoke with the private dealer.”
Luca stood.
“And?”
“The medals were part of a private sale arranged through Whitcomb Military Antiques.”
“Can we get them back?”
“I'm working on it.”
Daniel hesitated.
“What is it?” Luca demanded.
“The buyer purchased three items. Antonio's Bronze Star, his service ribbons, and an old Army watch.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
Luca looked at me.
I felt cold all over.
Daniel continued.
“The dealer says the watch came with the original military collection.”
Teresa shook her head.
“No.”
“Mom?”
She gripped the photograph.
“That watch wasn't just part of Antonio's collection.”
I leaned forward.
“What do you mean?”
May you like
She looked directly at me.
“Hannah, your father gave Antonio that watch. And now Vanessa has sold that, too.”
