Chapter 1: The Hand by the Fire
THE SOUP BY THE FIRE
Nora was twenty-three, and for three months she had fed the old man in that room without anyone asking her to.
The sitting room was cozy and bright that afternoon.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows onto the cream carpet, and the fire in the hearth burned steadily.
A cushioned chair and a small tea table stood by the window, and the door opened onto a lit hallway.
There was no lettering anywhere in the room.
By the fireplace sat the man the staff called Old John, in a wheelchair with a light blanket across his knees.
He was about seventy-five, with thin silver hair combed neatly back, and his expression was calm.
Beside him, on a short stool, sat Nora in a black-and-white uniform and a white apron, her hair tied neatly back, her belly round and plain to see.
She held a steaming bowl of soup and fed him one spoonful at a time, patient and gentle.
The door swung open.
Mrs.
Gable entered briskly.
She was about fifty-five and long-faced, with her hair pinned up without a strand out of place, in a dark dress.
One step behind her, a man in a tailored black suit paused in the doorway.
He was about forty and square-jawed, and his face gave nothing away.
Mrs.
Gable walked over to the wheelchair.
She touched no one.
She raised one hand and pointed at the door, and her voice was hard.
"Leave him.
Get back to work."
Nora placed one hand gently on her belly.
The other still held the bowl steady.
She looked up, and her voice was soft but did not give way.
"He hasn't eaten."
In the doorway, the man's eyes moved over the two of them.
He said nothing.
In the wheelchair, the old man slowly raised a hand that trembled and closed it around Nora's.
He turned his eyes toward the man at the door.
His voice came in pieces, but every word was clear.
"Son...
she...
cared for me."
Mrs.
Gable flinched and took half a step back.
The man at the door slowly turned his head and settled his eyes on her face.
His voice was cold as ice.
"You told me he was treated like family?"
The color drained from Mrs.
Gable's face.
Her lips parted, and she could not make a sound.
The old man's hand stayed closed around Nora's, and in the hearth the fire went on burning, and the bowl in Nora's hand was still steaming.
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What will Old John’s son do after hearing the truth about Nora?
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