Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Be there to pull him back from the edge, but don’t stop him from stepping toward it. Understand he sees where he’s going and that’s why he’s about to embark on this journey.
Eleven is a big year for him. It’s the year he begins to see much further. Seconds have become hours. Hours will become days. Soon, it will all consistently turn into specific times and moments.
Hold him when he comes to you. You will always be his anchor. Your family will always be his reason.
You’re doing great, LaSalle. My quiet storm. My king of kings. The Don of Dons.
Love,
Ellen
I wipe at the single tear that falls as I finish reading the letter. It’s insane to me that she knew to write this letter. I have so much guilt over bringing my sons into this world. Elijah, at six, clings to Logan whenever he’s around.
Sammy and Uri already have this thing between them. While I do feel a little jealous at times, I would never interfere with their bond. Uri and Micheal have done a lot to help Sammy.
I can add Sim to that as well. When Misha is stateside, he spends time with Sammy also. It seems this all has always been inevitable.
I read the letter once again to see if there is something I’ve missed. I frown as I think of Sammy’s words from earlier.
It is me they will challenge next. Her words will free you for what’s to come, what the others have to do. Who I must become.
I clench my jaw. We thought we finished this war, but it seems it’s not mine to end. I have started something my son will finish. I snort.
I’ve looked into my son’s eyes. He will be no Sam. Sammy has known who he is from the time he was a small boy. His war with himself will not be the same—if he has one.
If they want to take on Locatelli blood, so be it. My boy will be ready.
CHAPTER 11
Happy Birthday
Sammy
I wake up feeling anxious. I will receive a letter from my mom this year. I’ve seen my father hand it to me. Mo-mo will ask me if I need her to read it to me, but I will read it for myself.
I’m a big boy now. In all honesty, I understand a lot more than everyone thinks. I can’t wait to see what my mother has said.
It is my hope it will help with the visions I’ve been having. Things have been different. It’s all changing.
“Come in,” I say as a knock comes from my bedroom door.
The door opens and Dad walks in. He’s holding the letter and smiling. Mo-mo walks in after him with my favorite breakfast on a tray. I can’t help smiling when I see her.
There’s this light that shines around her. As if her love glows in a soft-pink color that surrounds her. The soft hue grows to a darker pink when she’s trying to protect me and my family.
That’s when the dark crown appears. The dark crowns are always around the heads of the people I feel most comfortable with. Mo-mo, Dad, Uncle Uri, Uncle Misha, Uncle Logan, Auntie Val, and the list goes on.
However, I have come to think of the darker pink as Mom’s passion for us. She may not be my birth mother, but she loves me. She has loved me from the start.
“Happy birthday,” she sings as she places the tray across my lap.
“Thank you. This is my favorite. Thank you, Mom.”
“You’re welcome.”
Dad sits down on the side of my bed. I eye the letter in his hand, nervous about what it will say. I have to fight the impulse to grab the letter and tear it open.
That would be rude. I have manners. I’m not a rude person.
“Happy birthday, buddy. You have a full day ahead of you. Are you excited?”
“Yes, I am. I would like to talk to everyone about my gifts. I believe I have answers for everyone today.”
Dad chuckles. “Sounds a bit last minute but I’m sure we’ll all do everything we can to make it happen.”
“It will be just as it should be. Is that for me?” I ask, pointing to the letter, not able to wait any longer.
“Yes, your mother left this for you just as you said,” he says and hands it over.
“Would you like me to read it to you?” Mo-mo asks.
“No, it’s time I start to do things for myself. This is important for me to grasp.”
“Okay, I’ll give you some space.”
“No, no. You both should stay. After I read this, I will have things to say. Things you both should hear.”
“Oh, okay,” Mo-mo says and moves to take a seat at my desk as she faces us.
I take the letter and tear it open. There is a faint hint of my mother’s scent as I pull the letter from the envelope. A smile comes to my lips.