The dilapidated fishing boat rocked gently against the wharf as Lucas tied the final knot.
The modest cottage on the village outskirts awaited him, as it had every evening since Maria passed. There was no laughing from children, no warm hug, just the silent companionship of his thoughts and images of the lady he adored but couldn’t replace.
He looked at Maria’s portrait on the mantel. “Should’ve listened when you wanted children,” he said quietly. “Always said we had time. Now look at me, talking to your picture like you might answer back.”
Suddenly, a faint but clear sound interrupted his thoughts. It sounded like a whimper or cry carried by the wintry wind.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw it: a woven basket on his porch, with blankets stirring inside.
“Dear God,” he muttered, taking the bundle in his arms. A baby boy, no more than a few months old, looked up at him with wide, interested eyes.
“Where did you come from, little one?” Lucas searched the vacant street, but whoever had left this valuable cargo had long gone, leaving only a note in the basket:
“Don’t look for me. Please take care of him. And love him like your own. Thanks & Goodbye.”
A tear streamed down Lucas’ cheek as he remembered Maria’s comments from years ago: “A child’s love is the purest thing in this world.”
“Matias,” he whispered gently, the name returning to him like a whisper from the past. It was Maria’s father’s name, a good, robust name for a son. “What do you think about that, little one? Would you like to be Matias?”
That night, Lucas constructed a makeshift crib out of an old wooden crate, filling it with nice blankets. He placed it next to his bed, unable to stomach the notion of leaving the infant alone in another room.
“I promise you,” he whispered, reaching down to touch the baby’s velvet cheek, “I’ll be the father you deserve.”
The infant slept soundly, one little hand still curled around Lucas’s finger, as if it knew he was home.
Seventeen years passed like leaves in the wind.
Matias looked up unexpectedly one morning while they were working in the garden. “Dad? Remember when you told me about finding me?”
Lucas’s hands remain still on the tomato plants. “Of course.”
“Were you… were you ever sorry? That someone left me here?”
Lucas drew his son closer, soil-covered hands and everything. “Matias, you weren’t left here. You were given to me. The greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
Suddenly, the screech of tires outside interrupted their peaceful conversation. Lucas looked out the window and saw a sleek red Mercedes approaching. A tall man wearing an expensive suit came from the car.
The knock seemed to reverberate throughout the house.
The man’s voice was educated and cautious. “I’m Elijah. We need to talk about the boy. I’m here to take him.”
“Who on earth are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his fingers pressing against the doorframe until his knuckles turned white.
“I think you do.” Elijah’s eyes fixed on a point over Lucas’s shoulder. “Hello, Matias.”
“You’re my nephew and I’ve been looking for you for 17 years.” Elijah’s voice softened. “May I come in? This isn’t a conversation for doorways.”
Elijah spoke of his sister — Matias’s mother — of her struggles, her disappearance, and her deathbed confession just weeks ago.
“She was young and scared,” Elijah explained, his perfectly manicured hands clasped in his lap. “Our father wouldn’t have understood. She ran away with you after her boyfriend, your dad, dumped her, hoping you could have a better life than she could provide at that time.”
“So she left me on a doorstep?” Matias’s voice cracked. “Like I was NOTHING?”
Elijah added, looking to Lucas, “he’s all we have left of her. And there’s so much waiting for him. The best schools, connections, opportunities. A life beyond…” he motioned to their humble surroundings.
“He’s right though, isn’t he?” Lucas’s voice broke. “You deserve more than fish nets and vegetable gardens. More than an old man’s company.”
“I want to go,” Matias said softly after a long silence.
Lucas turned, stung.
“Son—”
The goodbye was too fast after 17 years of love. Lucas helped pack a bag, his hands shaking as he folded Matias’ favorite blue sweater, which he had saved three months’ worth of fishing money for.
Lucas stood in the doorway, watching as the red Mercedes vanished, taking his heart with it. Matias’ face was tilted backward, watching him through the rear window, his hand pressed on the glass.
Days blended together. The silence was no longer peaceful, but oppressive. Lucas began talking to the chickens more, just to hear a voice — any voice — in the yard.
Then, one evening, a knock came on the door. He opened the door to find Matias standing there, with sagging shoulders and red eyes.
“They’re nice, Dad. They’re my blood. But you’re…” Matias’s voice broke. “You’re my FATHER! The only one I’ve ever needed. The only one I’ll ever need. I can’t be without you.”
“This time, I’m not leaving you… no matter what.”
He seized Lucas’ hand and clutched it fiercely, as if to compensate for the weeks they’d been away. They realized they were all each other needed.
Heartfelt Prayers for the Bryant Family After Another Tragic Loss
Joe “Jellybean” Bryant, the father of the late Basketball Hall of Famer Kobe Bryant, has passed away at 69, as reported by La Salle University’s athletics department.
According to La Salle men’s head basketball coach Fran Dunphy, The Philadelphia Inquirer noted that Joe had recently suffered a stroke, although the exact cause of death has not been confirmed.
La Salle University, where Joe both played and coached, released a statement saying he “was a beloved member of the Explorer family and will be dearly missed.”
Joe was an accomplished basketball player in his own right, having been drafted as the 14th overall pick by the Golden State Warriors in the 1975 NBA draft. He played four seasons with the Philadelphia 76ers, three seasons with the San Diego Clippers, and one season with the Houston Rockets, in addition to his time playing in Europe.
The 76ers honored Joe as “a local basketball icon, whose legacy on the court transcended his journey across Bartram High School, La Salle University, and his first four NBA seasons with the 76ers from 1975-79.”
His sudden passing comes four years after the tragic deaths of his son Kobe and granddaughter Gianna, who were killed in a helicopter crash alongside seven others.
Kobe’s widow, Vanessa Bryant, shared her condolences on Instagram, saying, “We hoped things would’ve been different. Although the times we spent together were few, he was always sweet and nice to be around. Kobe loved him very much.”
Doug Young, a former teammate of Kobe, praised Joe as the perfect role model. “Joe was our JV coach at Lower Merion, and I could not have asked for a more positive mentor, teacher, and role model,” Young told ESPN. “It’s difficult to overstate how much he influenced me and my teammates. He made basketball fun and inspired us all to be better; he believed in us. I’ll never forget his infectious smile, his bear hugs, and the incredible bond he shared with Kobe. Growing up in Lower Merion, there was no family we loved and admired more than the Bryants, and that started with Joe.”
Arn Tellem, vice chairman of the Pistons and formerly Kobe’s agent, expressed his sorrow over Joe’s passing and joined the basketball community in mourning a true Philadelphia hoops legend. “Our friendship opened the door for me to represent Kobe as he entered the NBA, a memory I’ll always cherish. Joe was a devoted husband, father, and grandfather, whose warmth touched everyone he met.”
May he rest in peace.
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