Chapter 14
The fluorescent lights of the Mercy General hospital waiting room buzzed with a sterile, nerve-wracking hum. Elena and Clara sat side by side on the hard plastic chairs, their clothes still smelling faintly of the autumn air and the dust of their childhood home.
Martha sat across from them, staring blankly at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. She hadn’t spoken a single word since they arrived forty-five minutes ago.
Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the linoleum corridor. Elena looked up and saw Thomas walking toward them, holding a brown leather briefcase under his arm. He didn’t look like an adversary anymore; he looked like an exhausted relative caught in the same family tragedy.
“How is he?” Thomas asked, stopping in front of Martha and looking down with genuine concern.
Martha slowly raised her head, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “The doctor just came out. He’s stable, but... his heart is very weak. They said the stress of the morning triggered a massive attack. He might not wake up, Thomas.”
Thomas nodded slowly, pulling up a chair opposite Martha and setting the briefcase on the floor between his feet. He reached inside his coat and pulled out the old iron key Elena had dropped earlier, placing it gently on the small table beside Martha’s water cup.
Clara watched him with suspicious eyes, her arms tightly crossed. “Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be locking up our house by now?”
“The house can wait,” Thomas said quietly. He looked directly at Martha, his voice softening. “Aunt Martha, before he collapsed, did Arthur say anything about the safe deposit box downtown?”
Martha flinched as if she had been slapped. She closed her eyes, a heavy sob escaping her lips before she managed to compose herself.
“He knew the truth would come out eventually,” Martha whispered, her voice trembling. “David never stole that money. Arthur was young, terrified of losing everything, and made a terrible mistake. He let your father take the fall, and he spent thirty years living with the ghost of that choice.”
Elena reached out, taking her mother’s trembling hand. “Mom, you knew?”
“We both knew,” Martha confessed, tears finally spilling over her eyelids. “And it was eating your father alive long before his heart started failing.”
Before anyone could respond, the emergency double doors at the end of the hallway swung open, and the attending physician stepped out into the waiting room, pulling down his surgical mask with a grim, exhausted expression.
“Are you the family of Arthur Miller?” the doctor asked, looking around the small circle of anxious faces.
Thomas stood up immediately, stepping forward to speak for them all. “We are. How is he?”
The doctor let out a long breath, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “He’s conscious, but he’s asking for someone specific. He keeps repeating a name over and over again.”
May you like
Elena held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs as she waited for the doctor to finish his sentence.
“He’s asking for David,” the doctor said quietly, looking directly at Thomas. “And he says he has something he needs to give him before it’s too late.”
