Chapter 5 - THE DEAD MAN BREATHING
The rehabilitation center looked like a country club someone had forgotten.
Stone walls.
Bare trees.
A frozen fountain.
No sign carried the Moretti name.
No sign carried Ewan’s.
I went inside with only one man beside me.
Jonas Reed.
My driver.
The same man who had known Delia’s full name when I had not.
He noticed me looking at him.
“I knew she was Ewan’s wife.”
I stopped walking.
“You knew too?”
“Your mother made me swear.”
“How many people have been lying to me?”
“Not many.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
At the third floor we found room 317.
The brass key opened an old lock inside a private corridor.
My hand stayed on the knob.
For six years I had remembered my brother as fire reduced him in my imagination.
For six years I had blamed myself for missing his final call.
For six years I had stood at a grave on his birthday.
Then I opened the door.
A man sat beside the window.
Thin.
Gray at the temples.
A blanket over his legs.
His left hand rested motionless in his lap.
His right hand held a pencil above a crossword puzzle.
He looked up.
The pencil fell.
I knew his eyes.
Everything else had changed.
But I knew his eyes.
“Ewan.”
His mouth opened.
No sound came.
He tried again.
Nothing.
I crossed the room without remembering the steps.
He attempted to stand.
His legs failed.
I caught him.
For a moment my brother’s forehead pressed against my shoulder.
His body shook.
So did mine.
“You’re alive.”
He gripped my coat.
“You’re alive.”
I said it again because my mind could not hold the truth.
He pulled back.
A scar ran from his jaw beneath his shirt collar.
Another disappeared into his hairline.
He touched his throat.
Then shook his head.
“You can’t speak?”
He nodded once.
Six years of words sat between us.
None of them could come out.
Jonas closed the door.
Ewan pointed toward a small letter board on the table.
He tapped slowly.
D.
E.
L.
I.
A.
“She’s alive.”
His eyes widened.
I nodded.
“She’s hurt.”
His whole body changed.
“But she’s alive.”
He closed his eyes.
Tears ran down his face.
Then he began tapping again.
C.
E.
L.
E.
S.
T.
E.
I leaned closer.
“Yes.”
His finger moved faster.
D.
A.
N.
G.
E.
R.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
There was a photograph attached.
My mother in her bed.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
Beneath it were seven words.
Come home alone if you want her breathing.
I looked toward Jonas.
He had already drawn his phone.
“Call the estate.”
“No.”
I showed him the message.
Ewan saw the photograph.
His fist struck the table.
Then another message arrived.
This one had no photograph.
Only a sentence.
And bring the key Ewan gave Delia.
I looked at my brother.
“What key?”
Ewan’s face changed.
He pointed toward his chest.
Then toward me.
And slowly tapped three letters on the board.
D.
A.
May you like
D.
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