Chapter 3 - THE GOLD WATCH IN MY MOTHER’S ROSARY
I stared at the tiny photograph.
It was an older picture.
Luca looked to be in his early twenties, smiling, wearing a simple white t-shirt instead of his tailored suits.
“Where did Mom get this?” I whispered, my fingers trembling over the silver frame.
Caroline wiped her eyes, looking confused.
“I don’t know. She told me she wanted you to have the locket. I didn’t even know there was a picture inside.”
I looked up at my sister.
“Caroline, please listen to me. I never asked for that money. Vanessa wouldn’t let me leave. She told me you never came.”
Caroline looked at my tear-streaked face.
She looked at the broken white carnation I was still clutching.
Slowly, the anger drained from her expression, replaced by a devastating sorrow.
“Oh, Hannah,” she sobbed.
She collapsed into my arms.
We held each other on the floor of the funeral home, crying for our mother, crying for the cruel misunderstanding that had almost torn us apart.
“I’m so sorry,” Caroline cried into my shoulder. “I should have known. I should have known you would never do that.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m here now.”
We stood up together and walked into the parlor.
There was the beautiful wooden casket.
My mother looked so peaceful.
She wore her favorite blue dress.
I walked up to the edge, my vision blurring with fresh tears.
I gently laid the broken white carnation next to her folded hands.
“I love you, Mama,” I whispered. “You were the best mother in the world.”
As I leaned in to kiss her forehead, my sleeve caught on her favorite wooden rosary, wrapped around her fingers.
The beads shifted.
And something heavy slid out from underneath the crucifix.
It was a heavy, solid gold pocket watch.
I frowned, picking it up.
It was scratched and tarnished, engraved with a crest I recognized instantly.
Two lions framing a shield.
The Moretti family crest.
“Caroline,” I said, my blood running cold. “Why is Mom holding a Moretti pocket watch?”
Caroline stepped closer, her brow furrowing.
“I don’t know. When the mortician asked for her jewelry, he found that watch tucked inside the lining of her old winter coat. He thought she wanted to be buried with it.”
My mind raced.
A picture of Luca in her locket.
A Moretti heirloom hidden in her coat.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said from the shadows of the parlor.
I jumped, turning around.
An older man in a long dark trench coat was sitting in the very back row of the folding chairs.
I hadn’t even noticed him.
He stood up.
In his hands, he held a massive bouquet of white carnations.
“Your mother was a brave woman, Hannah,” the stranger said, his voice raspy.
“Who are you?” I asked, stepping in front of Caroline.
The man didn’t answer.
He simply walked to the registry book by the door, laid the carnations down, and placed a thick, sealed yellow envelope on top of them.
“You need to leave this city,” he said quietly. “Before Vanessa’s family realizes what your mother left behind.”
Then he turned and walked out the door into the rain.
I ran to the registry book.
May you like
Written in bold black ink across the front of the envelope were three words.
For Hannah Moretti.
