"When he talks to her..." Frank stops. Starts again. "When he talks to Toni, he listens." The words surprise him and I watch him register that he said them.
I lean against the counter. "That's unusual?"
"It shouldn't be." His gaze drops to the wine glass. "But yes. He pays attention to things." His voice has gone softer. "He notices when she's tired." I don't interrupt. "He notices when she's anxious." Another pause. "He notices when she's pretending she isn't."
Frank isn't talking about Max anymore. He's talking about himself. The realization hits him one sentence later. I see it happen. Like a light switching on behind his eyes. "I used tonotice first." The room falls completely silent. Frank stares at the wine glass. Not drinking. "I always knew." His voice roughens. "Before Lucia died."
The way he says it is like he's been carrying the memory alone for a long time. "Afterward..." he continues, voice lowered. "As long as Toni was functioning, I convinced myself she was fine."
His laugh is humorless. "Good grades. Good schools. Good job." He shakes his head. "I thought responsible meant healthy."
I move from the counter and take the chair beside him. "You loved her." The answer comes instantly.
"More than anything."
I nod. "Then stop punishing yourself."
Frank laughs softly. "You make that sound easy."
"It isn't." I cover his hand with mine. "But you've been carrying enough guilt for three people."
For a moment he says nothing. Then Frank surprises me. "The first time I saw him look at her..." His jaw tightens. "I hated him."
I burst out laughing. The image is too perfect. Frank Amato, respected NHL official, declaring war on a hockey player because he looked at his daughter.
"I did."
"I know."
"No, you don’t. I hated him immediately."
"Because he was a hockey player?"
"No." He doesn't hesitate. Frank stares out the window. "I hated him because she looked back. There she was,"he says. "My daughter." The words are filled with wonder, and love. "For the first time in a long time..." His voice almost breaks. "...she wanted something."
I squeeze his hand. "And that frightened you."
Frank laughs. "It terrified me."
For several moments we sit together in comfortable silence. Then I ask the question that has been waiting patiently all evening. "So what changed?"
Frank looks toward the hallway. His expression slackens. And suddenly I can see the man Lucia must have loved. Just Frank. "I realized something."
"What?"
A proud smile touches his mouth. "He isn't taking her away from me." Frank exhales, "He's bringing her back."
And in that moment, I know that Frank Amato has finally made peace with letting his daughter go. If Toni could hear him say those words, she would cry.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Max Stevens
I call Frank Amato on a Wednesday morning after the Guardians clinched the playoffs. Not the league number. The personal one. Toni gave it to me without realizing she was giving it to me the night she left her phone unlocked on my kitchen counter, and his name was right there in her recent calls. I saved it immediately. Professionally.
He picks up on the second ring. “Stevens.”
“Mr. Amato.” A pause on both ends. “I’d like to talk to you. Not about hockey.”
