Inspiration

In the Inspiration room today, we conclude the story that we began last week about forgiveness with brothers Nick and Angelo.

(Note: Part 1 of this story can be found under Inspiration at richesofheaven.com)

The Inheritance (part 2)

By Connie Arnold

The men shook hands. Nick looked around before he sat down.

“I chose this place because it’s in our old neighborhood,” Nick said. Angelo knew Nick was looking at his black suit and white clerical collar. “Maybe you’d rather go somewhere else?” Nick asked. Perhaps forcing their meeting in this part of town was Nick’s attempt at defamation of his character.

“It’s all right. I’ve never eaten here before, but the waitress recommended the spaghetti,” Angelo tried to sound relaxed. Nick’s square jaw registered tenseness.

Angelo recognized a troubled spirit when he encountered one.

The waitress came, and Nick ordered spaghetti.

“Can I bring you a drink?” She studied Nick with curiosity as he looked at the menu. He gave her another order.

“And what will you have?” Her manner to Angelo was that of a conspirator.

“Just coffee, please.”

“No wine, Angelo?” The invitation could have held sarcasm.

“No, coffee’s fine.”

The little waitress hurried with their order toward the window that opened into the kitchen. The bell above the door rang again as another group of people came into the restaurant.

“You look as I expected, Angel.” Nick was the only one who had ever used this nickname.

“I have been very well, thank you. You look great, Nick. You remind me a lot of how I remember Dad looking. The years certainly seem to have been good to you.”

Nick’s sportscoat had been custom made. The cut emphasized the breadth of his shoulders but fit neatly around his trim waist.

“I’ve been pretty successful. Right after we left here Dad got the idea of starting his own restaurant. He had an old book of recipes his family had brought with them from the Old Country when they came to America. It had belonged to a great-uncle who had been a famous chef in Rome.”

“A restaurant?” His father made pasta once, flour dusting the black hairs of his heavy arms. He was singing an opera aria in Italian, trilling his r’s loudly.

“He threw himself into it like a madman and nearly worked my tail off to boot. I resented it for a while, but I found I had a love for success. As we began to have a little left over after expenses, I found I was hooked.”

“Nick, Dad must have been proud to have you working with him.” He wanted to see the tight lines in Nick’s face relax. If his life were so successful, why the unrest he could read in his brother’s dark eyes. He wanted Nick to have peace.

“Proud of me, Angel? Hardly. I worked as hard as he did and I think he resented that. He may have had a grudging respect for me, but you were the one he was proud of. Mother was obliged to send him reports of you or he’d cut off her money. He told everyone of his son studying to be a priest–his boy who was going to make something of himself, be somebody.” The hurt was deep, bitter.

“Nick, how is Dad?” Angelo had an urgent need to see him.

“Your father is dead, Angel,” Nick’s words were staccato.

“Your father, you mean,” Angelo’s disappointment bled through. He experienced an indescribable loss, like the long ago child who woke to find his father gone.

“Not my father, Angel.”

“But he took you. He left me behind.”

They were caught up in another time. The other restaurant patrons didn’t exist.

“Did it bother you to be left behind, Angel?”

The face of his thirteen-year-old brother appeared on the face of the man sitting across from him.

“It hurt me, Nick.”

“It shouldn’t have, Angelo. He only took me because he loved you. He knew Mother could care for you better than he could, but he knew she couldn’t protect you from me.”

Angelo may have suddenly been handed a missing piece in his life. But there was another question: “Nick, why did you tell me this?”

“I remembered your nature, Angel.” The gold cap on Nick’s tooth gleamed quickly, then disappeared. “You always wanted everyone to like you, the postman, the milkman. Your first grade teacher disliked you because you were my brother, and you came home devastated. Oh, I knew you’d care. When father died, I decided I could give him back to you.”

“I’m grateful, Nick. Thank you.”

“Don’t be grateful, Angel, it wasn’t my decision. My old man betrayed me in death and maneuvered me into this uncomfortable situation.” A tiny vein was visible at Nick’s temple. Angelo could almost see it throb.

“What do you mean, Nick?” Angelo was puzzled. Nick was nervously twisting a diamond ring on his little finger. “It was thoughtful of you to do this after so many years. You traveled a long distance to come back here.” Angelo couldn’t understand Nick’s agitated state.

“Okay. No more lies.” Having come to some conclusion, Nick took a deep breath and sat back. He pulled a white envelope from his coat pocket. “This paper is for you to sign. Simply stated, it says that you now know that it was in your best interest when Dad left you with Mother twenty years ago. It says that you now know that Dad loved you.”

He felt Nick’s penetrating eyes.

“Nick, I’m at a loss to understand. And, if I don’t sign?”

Nick hesitated. “If you don’t sign,” he hardly breathed, “then the three restaurants that he owned will be sold and the money given to the parish of St. Joseph’s here in the city.” Beads of perspiration now lined Nick’s upper lip.

“I see,” Angelo was thoughtful.

The waitress came up. “Can I get you dessert? More coffee?”

“Just the check, please,” Angelo answered.

Nick seemed incapable of saying anything further. The waitress shuffled through the tickets until she found theirs and laid it on the table. “Come back soon.” She smiled at Angelo as she turned away.

“Then Dad knew where I was?” Angelo’s voice was low.

Nick nodded. Angelo read the document.

“Will you sign?” Nick’s voice broke with the strain.

“Do you have a pen?”

Angelo took the offered pen and carefully signed his name on the bottom line, extending forgiveness to his brother.

“Thank you, Angelo,” Nick’s voice was weary. “If there’s ever anything you need.” Angelo took Nick’s extended hand.

“Have a good life, Nick.” He knew he would never see his brother again. Nick would come to realize that the cards had been stacked against him either way.

Nick picked up the check, put down a $100 tip, and walked to the cash register. Angelo heard the bell sound as Nick went out.

THE END