Chapter 22: The Dock Gate

Gianna's POV

My father asked for the dock gate.

It was the Landolfi gate at the end of the pier road, where the trucks came in at dawn.

I went at six that evening.

Dario waited at the end of the road in his car, with the engine off.

He had asked if I wanted him beside me.

I had said no, and he had said, "Good," and kissed my hand.

My father was waiting under the sodium light with his jacket off.

He had been a big man all my life, and in shirtsleeves he looked small.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"You said one minute."

"I will take less." He wet his lips. "The Commission voted me out of the harbor seat. By nine to one."

"I heard."

"I will sell my share of the docks to pay Chicago, with the interest you named."

"The Sartoris will pay theirs, or they will not have a berth in this port."

"That is what I asked for."

"I know it is."

He looked down at his watch, the heavy gold one. He unbuckled it, slowly, and held it out.

"Your mother gave me this on our wedding day. I should have given it back years ago."

I did not take it.

"Gianna," he said. "I am asking you to forgive me."

The drivers on the loading dock had gone quiet. Three of them stood in a row with their cups in their hands.

I looked at my father.

I thought of eight years without my mother, and the sealed cards in his drawer.

"No," I said.

His face did not move.

"I want you to hear it plainly," I said. "I am not saying not yet. I am not saying let me think."

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