Chapter 3 - THE FIRST MOVEMENT
Lorenzo entered room 4B just before dinner.
He expected to find the same silent, motionless man he had visited in brief intervals over the past five years. He had prepared himself for the familiar sight: his father facing a wall, his body trapped by the strokes, his eyes fixed on nothing.
Instead, the curtains were open.
A fire burned in the fireplace.
A thick blanket covered Giovanni's legs, and a fresh bowl of soup sat on the table.
Lorenzo stopped.
“Who did this?”
Giovanni's eyes moved toward him.
For the first time in months, Lorenzo felt that his father was truly looking at him.
He crossed the room and knelt beside the wheelchair.
“Father?”
Giovanni's lips did not move.
Lorenzo took his hand. It was warmer than he remembered.
“I'm sorry I haven't been here more often.”
A faint pressure touched his palm.
Lorenzo froze.
“Did you squeeze my hand?”
Nothing happened again.
He looked toward the door. Mrs. Gable stood there, wearing a sympathetic expression.
“It's probably a reflex, sir. Sometimes patients have involuntary movements.”
Lorenzo's gaze hardened. “When was his room last cleaned?”
“Every day.”
“Who prepares his meals?”
“The kitchen staff.”
“Who feeds him?”
Mrs. Gable hesitated. “Whichever maid is assigned.”
Lorenzo looked at the soup. “This isn't from the kitchen's usual menu.”
“Perhaps the cook made something different.”
“Who is assigned to him?”
“Nora, mostly.”
“Bring her to me.”
Nora arrived ten minutes later, her hands still damp from washing dishes. She looked frightened when she saw Lorenzo standing beside the wheelchair.
“Sir?”
“Did you prepare this soup?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because his lunch was cold.”
Mrs. Gable cut in. “She has been taking food without authorization. I've warned her about it.”
Lorenzo ignored her.
“Why did you open the curtains?”
“The room was dark.”
“Why did you buy that blanket?”
Nora glanced at Giovanni. “He looked cold.”
“You spent your own money?”
She nodded.
Lorenzo studied her face. “Why?”
Nora seemed confused by the question.
“Because he needed one.”
The simplicity of the answer unsettled him.
Lorenzo looked toward Mrs. Gable. “You told me he was being treated like a king.”
“He is, sir.”
“Then why did a maid have to buy him a blanket?”
Mrs. Gable's face tightened.
Nora lowered her eyes. She did not want to be the reason anyone lost a job, even a woman who had made her life miserable.
“It's all right, sir. I only wanted him to be comfortable.”
Lorenzo turned back to her.
“What is your name?”
“Nora, sir. Nora Hale.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Three months.”
“And you're pregnant?”
“Six months.”
His eyes moved briefly to her belly. “Who approved your workload?”
Mrs. Gable answered quickly. “She is perfectly capable of performing her duties.”
Nora's cheeks flushed.
Lorenzo noticed.
“That's not what I asked.”
Mrs. Gable's smile vanished.
“I assign the work, sir.”
“Then you will give me the complete duty roster before the end of the day.”
He dismissed her with a gesture.
When Nora turned to leave, Giovanni's fingers moved.
This time, Lorenzo saw it clearly.
His father's hand tightened around Nora's wrist.
Nora stopped.
“Sir?”
Giovanni's grip was weak, but deliberate.
Lorenzo stared at their hands.
“Father?”
The old man's eyes shifted from Nora to his son.
His lips trembled.
A sound emerged from his throat—rough, broken, barely more than air.
Lorenzo leaned closer.
“What is it?”
Giovanni tried again.
A single syllable came out.
“Nor…”
Nora's eyes widened.
Lorenzo looked at her.
“He said your name.”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
Giovanni's fingers tightened once more.
For five years, the doctors had described him as unreachable.
May you like
But the old man had just spoken.
And he had chosen to speak for her.
