Alexander
I heard Fiona’s voice when I opened the door. She was reading a nursery rhyme to the baby, speaking in a songlike cadence, her voice just above a whisper. Wishing not to interrupt, I quietly closed the bedroom door behind me, removed my shoes and jacket and crept in to the adjoining room.
Lexi was in the crib and appeared to be asleep already. Fiona sat in the rocking chair, a large hardbound book open atop her blanket-covered lap. Her eyes flicked up to acknowledge me as I entered the nursery and her lips curled with a slight smile, but she did not lose her place or slow her pace. She continued reading the passage in a low, melodic voice until she had recited the whole thing through to the end.
I dared to speak in a quietest of whispers. “That was beautiful.”
Fiona smi
