The Screen That Held My Father’s Name

The spatula slipped from my hand and hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud.

Clara.

Leo’s mother. The woman who had supposedly died in childbirth six years ago.

“You’re alive,” Luca whispered, stepping back as if he had seen a ghost.

Clara nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Yes. I... I didn’t know how to find you. Not until I saw the news about Isabella’s arrest.”

Tommy stepped aside, looking completely bewildered.

Luca didn’t move to hug her. He just stared. “Vanessa told me you hemorrhaged. I buried a casket.”

“Vanessa paid the doctors to lie,” Clara said, wrapping her arms around herself. “When I woke up from the surgery, they told me my baby had died. Vanessa came to my room. She told me if I ever contacted you, she would have my family in Italy killed.”

Clara sobbed quietly.

“She gave me a new passport and fifty thousand dollars. She put me on a plane to Rome the next day. I believed my son was dead, Luca. I believed you didn’t want me.”

I stood frozen in the hallway.

My heart, which had been so full of hope and love just five minutes ago, shattered into a thousand pieces.

Clara was his first love. The mother of his child. She hadn’t abandoned them; she had been forced out, just like my father had been forced to hide.

And now she was back.

Luca finally moved. He took a step forward and gently pulled Clara into the hallway, closing the front door.

“Clara,” Luca said, his voice thick with emotion. “Our son... he didn’t die.”

Clara gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “What?”

“Thomas Reed rescued him. He’s here. He’s alive.”

Clara broke down completely, falling to her knees on the hallway rug. Luca caught her, holding her shoulders as she wept with six years of pent-up grief and joy.

I stepped back.

I felt like an intruder in my own home.

I turned and walked quietly out the back door onto the patio.

The crisp morning air hit my face, but it didn’t help.

My father saw my face. He put down the piece of wood he was carving.

“Emma? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t speak. I just pointed toward the house.

A moment later, the back door opened.

Luca walked out, leading Clara by the hand.

Leo looked up from his toys. He didn’t know who the crying woman was.

Clara let go of Luca’s hand and slowly walked toward Leo. She dropped to her knees in the grass.

“Hello,” Clara whispered, her hands hovering over the boy, afraid to touch him.

Leo tilted his head. “Hi. Are you sad?”

“No,” Clara laughed through her tears. “I’m very, very happy. I’m... I’m your mother.”

Leo’s eyes widened. He looked at my father, who nodded gently.

Then Leo looked at me.

He didn’t run to Clara. He walked over to me and grabbed my hand, hiding slightly behind my leg.

“It’s okay, Leo,” I said softly, my voice breaking. “She’s a good person.”

I gently pushed him forward.

Clara wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

I couldn’t watch anymore.

I walked past them, past Luca, and went upstairs to my bedroom.

I pulled a suitcase from the closet and laid it on the bed.

I didn’t pack much. Just the clothes I had brought with me. I didn’t touch the expensive sweaters Luca had bought me.

I knew how this story ended.

Luca and Clara were a family. They had been robbed of six years together. They deserved a chance to heal, to raise their son together.

I was just the woman who had helped put the pieces back together.

I zipped up the suitcase and walked down the stairs.

Luca was standing at the bottom, waiting for me.

He looked at the suitcase.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

“To Tommy’s apartment,” I said, refusing to meet his eyes. “You need space, Luca. Clara is his mother. She’s your...”

“My past,” Luca interrupted firmly.

I looked up.

“Emma,” Luca stepped onto the bottom stair, standing eye-to-level with me. “I loved Clara. I grieved her for six years. And I am incredibly grateful she is alive and that she gets to know our son.”

He reached out, resting his hands on my shoulders.

“But I am not the man she loved six years ago. And she is not the woman I love today.”

I swallowed hard, tears blurring my vision. “Luca, you have a chance to give Leo his real family back.”

“I already gave him his real family,” Luca said fiercely. “Families aren’t just made of blood, Emma. They are made by the people who stay when the house is burning down. You stayed.”

He took the suitcase from my hand and dropped it onto the floor.