“Not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten in over a day.”
I usually got a headache when I fasted too long, but apparently my body had shut down in the sadness.
“Come on,” he said as he nodded toward the terrace. “At least have some coffee and a couple pastries.”
I didn’t want to fight it. I also didn’t know what else to do with myself at the moment. My brain was in a fog, and I couldn’t think beyond the present.
His hand moved to the small of my back, and he escorted me to the terrace. He pulled out the chair for me under the umbrella and helped me sit before he walked to the kitchen in the house. He returned a moment later with a cappuccino and a basket of pastries, a pistachio croissant, biscotti, brioche with a cup of mulberry granita.
“A couple things…or a buffet.”
He smirked at the joke. “I told you food would make you feel better.”
I tore off the brioche and spooned the granita onto the bread before I put it in my mouth, the cool touch perfect against the warm bread. I still wasn’t hungry, but I definitely felt better when the food hit my stomach.
Wolfe relaxed in the chair, his arm draped over the back of another chair as he took in the surroundings and me. He didn’t ask me a lot of questions, just let me sit there and enjoy my food in comfortable silence.
I picked at everything in the basket but never ate an entire pastry. My coffee cup was empty, but the caffeine didn’t have the same effect it normally did.
Wolfe stared at me with a discerning gaze.
“I want to have a funeral for him.”
“We can do that.”
“Elio said it should be here since this is where he’s buried.”
Wolfe nodded.
“Do you know where he’s buried?”
Wolfe turned his head and looked at the oak tree far into the distance. “Under the tree.”
I followed his gaze and could make out the stone cross against the base of the tree. I imagined it had his name engraved in it. “Well, at least Leo did right by him.”
“Leo didn’t do that,” he said. “I did.”
I turned back to look at him.
“He didn’t have a proper burial before.” Wolfe met my gaze.
I didn’t ask for details because I didn’t want to know. I’d told myself whatever happened to his body didn’t matter because my father’s soul had left his body the moment he’d been shot. But it still hurt to think…about the possibilities. “Thank—thank you for doing that.”
“He was a good man. He deserves to be remembered.”
My eyes were able to well with tears, but I blinked them back. “Can you take me to see him?”
His eyes filled with a distinct look of sadness as he regarded me. “Of course, baby.” He left his chair and took my hand, and together, we walked down the path to the oak tree in the near distance. The canopy was full of leaves, and the sound of birds singing grew more audible as we drew near.
The headstone came into closer view. I could see my father’s name written from one side of the cross to the other, and then the shaft of the cross showed his date of birth and his date of death. The mound was still slightly elevated from the ground because the grave was fresh.
I stopped before it, seeing my father’s final resting place.
“We got him a Sicilian blue coffin with silver. Really beautiful.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” I dropped his hand, stepped onto the mound of fresh dirt, and then bent my legs underneath me as I sat back on my calves. With my hands together in my lap, I stared at the tombstone Wolfe had picked out.
