Chapter 23: The Last Card

My father lay propped on pillows with a lamp on and a blank white card on the blanket.

He had put on his good glasses.

The nurse had gone out, and Teo stood by the window with his hands behind his back.

"Sit, cara."

I sat on the edge of the bed.

He put a pen in my hand, a cheap blue ballpoint from the nightstand.

"Write what I say. In your own hand. The way you really write."

"Papa."

"I've read six cards in your name. I want one you meant."

My eyes burned.

I pressed the pen to the card.

*I, Ignazio Rusconi, give my daughter Allegra to Teodoro Lanza.*

*He did not shoot. He needs no other test.*

*She is free to say no. He is free to stay.*

I finished the last word, and my father held out his hand, and I put the card in it.

He read it with his lips moving.

Then he looked at Teo.

"You came here for your brother."

"Yes, sir."

"And you stayed for my girl."

"Yes."

"Good," said my father. "Both are honest reasons."

He closed his eyes.

"Stay with her. Don't let her bake herself to death."

Teo crossed the room and knelt beside the bed.

He took my father's other hand, and held it in both of his.

My father died at a quarter to six, when the window was going gray.

He had the card on his chest, under his fingers, and the pen was still in mine.

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