She did not smile. Not really. But the look warmed him just the same. “That would be so nice.”
Thirty minutes later, he knocked on her door. “Come in.”
She was tucked away in a bed identical to the one he had occupied for over seven years. Only with her the bed seemed vast. Colin left the door open and pulled the room’s lone chair over close to her bed. “What should I read?”
She indicated the tablet on her bedside table. “It’s already drawn up.”
He turned it on, read the title page, “‘The Silk Road: A New History of the World.’”
“It’s wonderful,” she told him. “The writer, he looks at history as if the center of the world was Asia. Not the west.”
Colin had to smile. “So you don’t want to hear a story about a princess trapped in a tower with her teddy bear.”
She snuggled deeper, watching him. “Read.”
And so it began.
Two, sometimes three nights each week, he entered her room and read. Grant stopped by a few times, just checking through the open door, then retreating. Consuela occasionally stayed on after dinner and sat with them as well. Holding Sofia’s hand, pretending the history fascinated her like it did the child.
The first week of July, it all came to a head. He and Consuela both accompanied Sofia to New Hanover Regional that day. When the doctor summoned them into the conference room, they kept firm hold of Sofia’s hands. The light-panel covering almost the entire side wall held a dozen images of her eyes. The doctor stood at the far end, as if wanting todistance himself from their tension. He announced, “Benign.”
Colin felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe.
Consuela asked, “You’re sure?”
“I, my colleagues here and at Greenville University Medical. We agree. The tests all indicate the same thing.” He tapped one eye, then the other, moving down the line. “Here and here and here. All of them. Dysplastic nevus. Freckles. No malignancies.” He seemed unable to accept the news himself. “What is more, the growth of these freckles has slowed to almost nothing. Young lady, you are beyond fortunate.”
Sofia flung herself into Consuela’s arms. And wept.
Colin asked, “So, she’s done? We can go?”
“We need to monitor the nevus, make sure they do not extend so far as to mar her sight.” He found it easier to study the images. “At this stage, the mind will overcome these blocks in her retinas, just like it does for the point where the optic nerve connects. But if she begins to notice any deterioration, or cloudiness …”
They celebrated with another Guadalajara feast. One so joyful not even the occasional tear could mar the event.
Through the rest of that summer, every now and then a small hand would knock on his door. And he would climb the stairs and enter the narrow room. And read a young girl to sleep.
CHAPTER36
The next week Colin went in for his regular haircut, and Angelo invited him back for another evening session. He had scarcely settled into his seat when there was a knock on the outside door.
“Stay right there.” Angelo left in a cloud of cigar smoke, and returned with a sleek African American gentleman, dapper in starched striped shirt and vest and trousers to a gaberdine suit. Pearl and gold cuff links. Diamond pinkie ring. Hair that shone in the overhead light. “Colin, meet Jaden Barrett. Another jazz addict.”
“How do, Colin. How do.”
Colin wasn’t sure how he felt, having an interloper join them. “Nice to meet you.”
“Jaden and I play poker once or twice each month. We and his missus all like the horses.”
“Try and make it to Charlottesville for the Foxfield, Camden for the Colonial,” Jaden told him. “We take in the Derby or Preakness every year or so.”
“Get out to Vegas now and then.” Angelo pulled inanother chair. “Take the big one, Jaden. Make yourself comfortable.”
He settled into Angelo’s office chair. “You like to gamble, Colin?”
He hesitated, then settled on a simple, “No.”
Angelo held the cigar box open to Jaden. “Other than he’s got a fine ear, I don’t know hardly anything about this kid.”
