Life Sentence

His arms tightened around her waist and his deep breathing blew furrows through her hair. This is what he was afraid of learning the truth of.

She thought for a moment then searched within the results for a combination of wife or mother, and son or father. If she got too many hits or too few, she could reshape the query.

Five pages popped up. The first was an article on automotive designer Jason Middlemarch, for a sports car enthusiasts’ magazine. She called it up.

She skimmed the article, key phrases catching her eye…a unique merger of safety and speed…father, a power boat designer…his death in the explosion…burned his mother and forever changed young Jason’s life.

Master Giacomo rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Rendiamo grazie a Dio. They lived.”

His arms quivered slightly where he held her and his breathing hitched unsteadily. She waited patiently while he restored his composure.

“Do you want me to print out the entire article?”

“Grazie.”

She sent the article to the library’s printer and clicked back to her original search. Then hesitated, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Is there anything else you want to look up?”

“Scusilo?”

“Do you want to see if there’s anything about you?”

He thought for a long time then nodded, his hair brushing up and down her cheek. “Sì, per favore.

”

She typed over Jeffrey’s name with Giacomo then stopped. “‘Is the name on your credit card correct?”

“Sì,Bravetti.”

The search engine promptly displayed two articles. The first was from a corporate report on the history of the company. After both Bravetti sons were killed in boating accidents mere weeks apart, Nico in a wreck during a power boat race and Giacomo in an explosion, control of the company passed to their father’s brother Antonio. The second was an article on a fan website devoted to European power boating history titled “A Sad End to 1967”.

She opened the document.

Scrolling down, she skimmed the description of the various races throughout 1967, changes in engine placement and materials until she reached an account from one of the witnesses of the race that had killed Master Giacomo’s brother.

“Nico,” he whispered, his voice a breath away from a sob.

Sam rested her free hand on top of his, giving him her silent comfort while she continued to scroll down with the other hand, reading the web site’s summary of subsequent events.

Although the investigation ruled the accident that killed Nico Bravetti was a tragedy caused by unsafe speed and his determination to best Rodrigo Valente, his brother Giacomo insisted that the new Middlemarch design had been partially to blame. Ironically, he was most likely attempting to confront Middlemarch with his suspicions when they were both killed, the result of a faulty hose in the engine compartment of Middlemarch’s yacht. Bravetti’s yacht was tied up just a few slips down and Middlemarch’s son Jason recalls seeing him running down the dock when he heard them arrive. Although neither Jason nor Pauline Middlemarch remembered the explosion that killed Jeffrey and Giacomo, they survived because they were in the water when the fireball swept over them. Jason’s arms bore bruises in the size and shape of a man’s hands, so investigators speculated that Bravetti’s final act, rather than diving into the water himself, had been to throw both Jason and Pauline to safety. Middlemarch, aboard the yacht when it blew, was killed instantly.

“Oh God. How horrible!” she whispered.

He reached past her and closed the browser window. Operating on autopilot, Sam finished logging out, returning to the library’s main screen.

That’s how he’d died. He’d spent the decades since then wondering if his sacrifice had been in vain, if his heroic efforts to save Jason and Pauline Middlemarch had been successful. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to give your life for something and not know if it was worth it. No wonder he’d been scared of what he might find.

“Come on. Let’s pick up the printout of Jason’s article. Then I can take you home.”

Master Giacomo nodded silently. He followed her as she picked up and paid for her printout then out to the car.

Once they were seated inside and belted in, rather than put the key in the ignition and start the engine, she twisted to face him. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Nico was a good man. Many people came to his funeral.” He took another of his deep, sighing breaths then stiffened his shoulders and turned to look her in the eye. “Jeffrey knew his design was flawed and he let Nico drive his boat in the second heat with no warning. He bragged to me that it didn’t matter, because nobody would ever be able to prove it.”

She felt the blood draining out of her face, leaving her cold and frozen. “What are you saying?”

“The fault in his engine hose was a small puncture that let the gas vapors escape. I know because I put it there.”