Chapter 14 - THE CHAIR BESIDE HIS FATHER
Nora returned to the estate four days later to collect her belongings.
She had agreed to recover in a guest suite while she decided what came next.
Agreed.
The word mattered.
Lorenzo had offered.
She had set conditions.
Her own phone.
Her own money.
No expectation that she would care for Giovanni in exchange for a roof.
“No debt,” she told him.
“No debt,” he repeated.
The east wing smelled different.
Clean laundry.
Fresh coffee.
An open window briefly admitting cold air while the room was cleaned.
Giovanni sat in a properly fitted wheelchair.
A nurse introduced herself before stepping aside.
On the table rested a large letter board.
Communication was still slow.
Sometimes frustrating.
But the board belonged to him.
People waited for his answers now.
Nora entered with Lily in her arms.
“Somebody wanted to meet you.”
Giovanni’s face changed.
Not with a sudden recovery.
Not with a smile broad enough to erase five years.
His eyes simply filled.
Nora sat beside him.
With the nurse’s help, she positioned Lily safely in the crook of his supported arm while keeping her own hands beneath the baby.
Lily slept through the introduction.
“She’s rude like that,” Nora whispered.
Giovanni’s breath caught in what might have been the beginning of a laugh.
Lorenzo stood near the window.
Nora noticed he was wearing the same sweater she had seen the day before.
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
“Have you been sleeping?”
“Some.”
The nurse gave him a look.
“Badly,” he admitted.
Nora shifted Lily back into her arms.
“I’m going to feed her.”
She left father and son together.
For several minutes, Lorenzo didn’t move.
Then he pulled a chair beside Giovanni.
“I thought paying for everything meant I was doing my part.”
His father watched him.
“I didn’t want to see you like this.”
The words sounded uglier outside his own head.
He forced himself to continue.
“So I stayed away.
And people hurt you while I congratulated myself for taking care of you.”
Giovanni looked toward the letter board.
Lorenzo called the nurse, then sat through the slow work of finding the words.
Not a speech.
Not forgiveness.
Three words.
YOU WERE GONE.
Lorenzo bowed his head.
“I know.”
Giovanni looked at the board again.
This time, the message took longer.
Lorenzo waited without checking his phone.
Without moving toward the door.
At last, the nurse read it aloud.
“Will you stay?”
Lorenzo covered his father’s hand.
“Yes.”
May you like
Giovanni held his gaze.
Now came the part that would take more than a promise.
