Page 113 of Prelude To You

Her eyes darted from me to Nelson, and she looked wholly confused, as if no one ever spoke to her. As Nelson and I continued, he answered the question on the tip of my tongue.

“I don’t think she speaks English,” he said. “One of Mrs. Sheldon’s European recruits she wants to train in the kitchen. I think she’s Italian.”

I stopped and turned back. “Ciao, mi chiamo Isabel.”

Her entire face lit up. “Piacere, Sophia.”

“Ci vediamo,”I replied and continued walking with Nelson, who gave me a curious look.

“I just said hi and that I’ll see her later,” I told him.

“Well, that was interesting,” he noted. “She’s been here six months and I’ve never heard her speak. I think you’ve cracked the code.”

I looked back at Sophia, who gave me a wave. Again my curiosity was piqued by another person’s life story. Where did she come from, and why was she here in a strange place where she couldn’t speak the language? My curiosity about her life diminished my own troubles a bit, and I decided to talk to her a little longer if we ran into each other again.

As we entered Henry’s room, I was immediately struck by the same disheartening mood as before. The only light was near the bed, which I supposed was for me to use when I read. Classical music was playing and the entire room was cast in perpetual twilight. Nelson remained by the door.

“Here we are,” he said. “If you need anything, you know where the call button is.”

“Why don’t you come in?” I asked, not sure I wanted to be left alone.

“This man was a force of nature,” Nelson said. “I don’t want to remember him like this… Anyway, do you think you’ll remember the way back to the library?”

“Yes, I think so,” I said, trying to be cheerful amidst the gloom. “But I’m sure it won’t take you longer than a month to find me if I get lost.”

Nelson laughed. “You’ll get used to it. See you later, Isabel.”

With Nelson gone, the silence was broken only by Bach playing in the background, and the soft humming of the machines that helped keep Henry alive. I went over and squeezed his hand.

“Morning Henry, this is Isabel. I’m going to be staying here with you for a while.”

The only answer I got was the rhythmic sound of the beeping machines. I remember reading somewhere that sometimes comatose patients need to hear familiar voices. More research was required, and I was going to dedicate my evening to that. In the meantime, I’d continue talking to Henry so he could get used to my voice and the company.

“First thing I think we should do is get some light in here, what do you say, Henry?”

I drew the countless drapes wide open. With my body still feeling very tender, it was somewhat grueling. The outside view was a different garden, no less amazing than the one outside the staffroom. There were a couple of ornate benches in a small courtyard, similar to the one Roman was leaning against when I finally finished dancing my way down the lawn.

With daylight flooding the room, it was instantly transformed into a brighter place. I would have tackled the music next but I didn’t want to test Miss Leyland’s patience. All in due time.

I decided to read Henry a short story from Roald Dahl’s book before starting something as serious as Lady Chatterly’s Lover. I sat down, both books in my lap.

Miss Leyland entered and stopped in the middle of the room. “Oh, this is so bright.”

Which made me wince. “I’m sorry, I can close it again.”

“No, no, this is lovely, Isabel,” she said. “I don’t know why no one else thought of doing that.”

“I will close them again before I leave. It’s quite the job.”

“Oh dear,” Miss Leyland laughed. “Tell me you didn’t actually open them all by hand.”

“I did.”

She walked over to a switch next to the bed. “This little button will do the work for you.”

I smiled, feeling foolish. “Something tells me I have a few things to get used to here.”

“Oh I’ve been here a very long time. It’s not possible to get used to everything. You’re doing perfectly fine.”

---