Chapter 4 - The Towel and the Truth
Luca didn't yell. He didn't drop her. Instead, his powerful arms pulled the shivering girl against his chest as he lowered himself onto one knee on the damp floor.
He reached for a clean, thick white towel from the warming rack nearby and wrapped it gently around Nora’s red, icy hands. Holding her small hands inside the warm terrycloth, he rubbed them gently to bring back her circulation.
Luca looked around at the scattered piles of unwashed linen on the floor, then down at Emily, who was leaning weakly against the doorframe, her face completely drained of color.
Luca looked back at the little girl in his arms.
"Who told you to wash my clothes?" Luca asked, his deep voice unusually soft, though a dark current ran beneath it.
May you like
Nora shook her head quickly, her blue ribbon swaying.
"Nobody," Nora whispered, looking up at him with innocent, wide eyes. "Mama’s sick."
