Chapter 23: Chapter 23

◇ KEL ◇

"Mykaela? Sweetie?"

"Mom." I sighed with relief. My mother's endearing but worried voice sounded faint on the other end. I locked the door behind me.

The solace of the private guest room provided the comfort I needed to soothe the tension building up in my arms, neck, and back. I'd kill for a massage right now. And I'd kill again for a way out of here as soon as possible.

This day just kept getting weirder and crazier.

"Can you hear me clearly, K?" Silence. Then some scratchy noises disturbed the line.

"Yeah, Mom," I answered. My mother had been eager to talk to me, too. "Miss you. Sorry I'm not there yet."

"Are you at the airport now?"

"No; I'm still in—  I'm packing my stuff."  I wiped my eyes dry with the back of my palm. My mother didn't need to know I was currently on a weekend vacation with the Falcos, while my dad was stuck in the hospital, fighting for his life. "You with Dad?"

"No. Went home to get a few things," my Mommy Tilda replied. "What time's your flight, K? Jill kept calling your cell but we couldn't reach you for hours."

"Not sure, Mom. Miles is trying to get me the earliest flight." I pulled a face. At least that wasn't another lie. "How's Dad?" I asked while I worried for my dad's condition. Was he still conscious? Or just deteriorating faster than they'd expected?

"We...had to sign a consent form.  And a DNR form."  My mom's soft voice sounded less anxious but more disappointed now. "It's what he wanted."

"What?" I froze on the bed. I grabbed a clump of my hair at the news. Dad told them to sign the DNR form?

"He agreed to let the doctors operate. Your dad made us promise, though...about the DNR. Jill's been crying all morning."

"You already signed it?" I sighed. The good news was that the surgeons were certain my dad would survive a major surgery, which would only be done to remove the growing tumors.

Bad news: he didn't want to be resuscitated another time should an emergency situation arise. It was like...he was already giving up. And the thought just made me want to cry harder.

"He made me promise, K." My mother sighed again. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"I'm not upset, Mommy. Just..." I muttered while my eyes were brimming with tears. "What else did the doctors say? Who's Dr. Chase?"

"The chief surgeon. He wants to do the surgery as soon as your father's able," my Mommy Tilda said after a moment of somber silence.

"Why does he need my blood?"

"Can't risk any more infections from random donors. You're past 50 kilos now. Right?"

"54 now," I replied while trying not to frown. I actually felt proud that I'd gained weight back after those unhealthy few months of almost starving myself. Anxiety coupled with daily stress readily took a toll on my physical health.  "What about Jill?"

"She's still anaemic." My Mommy Tilda cleared her throat. "That's why the doctors want you here tomorrow."

"Okay. Sorry I can't be there sooner." I slapped my forehead. I provided a short explanation, using work as an excuse again, when, actually, I was being held captive by unforeseen circumstances I didn't even want to think of right now. "You think...Dad can wait two more days?"

"K, just come home." My poor mother didn't try to cover up the emotions in her voice. Mom started sniveling. Then some static noises over the line momentarily broke up the call.

The sound of my mother quietly sobbing just crushed my heart into a million pieces. I fought back more tears. My mother wasn't a crier.

Mathilda Nielsen was a strong woman. I understood my mother was just overwhelmed with stress and emotions right now. There'd been some misunderstandings between us the past few years, but I thought the world of her.

It was such a tough time for our family...yet here I was, hiding out in this impossibly huge Italian estate, playing house with Miles.  How appropriate.

"Sorry, Mommy." I clasped the phone against my ear. My restrained sobs were getting louder by the second. The guilt and self-loathing left a heavy lump in my throat.

"Come home. Your dad's waiting for you."

"I-I'll try, Mom." I hastily wiped the tears off my damp and warm cheeks. I just felt like crap all over again. "Get some rest. Talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you, sweetie."

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◆ MILES ◆

"Why'd you do it? Why them?" I directed a glare at my too-busy-to-care father sitting comfortably in the swivel chair. My Pappa Stefano sat beside my mother who couldn't even look me straight in the eye.

"Maximiliano, enough," sighed my Mamma Eleana.  "It's just not safe. You can't leave yet. That's final." She flipped through long columnar pages and abused the calculator with her speedy fingers. Like she'd rather keep checking their books than discuss the shocking, mind-boggling truths they just shoved into my aching head.

Our family business had branched out far and wide, and not in a good way.  "Why the Tomassinis?" I stared at my parents. When I asked the question in a louder voice, I eventually got my father's attention.

Now Pappa was looking straight at me. He reclined in the chair behind the wide desk, his expression quite difficult to read.

"Just tell me everything."

"Calmati, bambino, per favore," was my father's mumbled reply before he started making phone calls again.

Calm down?  As if that would do anything to get me and Mykaela out of this place. "Her dad's dying in the hospital. Why can't you understand that?"

"Maxim..." My Mamma Eleana sighed again. "No more arguing. Just wait for the plane."

"I'm not arguing, Mamma. Just asking for answers."

After the quick phone call, my father got up from the swivel chair. He kissed Mamma's hand when she tried to stop him. "We'll be right back."

"Pappa." I stood up in haste as my attention focused on my father's impassive face.  Finally my parents were taking me seriously now.

"Outside." Pappa suddenly pointed to the door. "Now."

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