Slow Dancing

16 | lo stesso

1 6

l o   s t e s s o

[It.] : The same; applied to tempo, articulation, etc.

GETTING A FULL day's paid leave was something that I used to my full advantage. After waking up at eleven, I decided to drive home and pay a visit to my father, whom I sorely missed. I found him in the garden as usual and he was more than amused to see me, wondering if I'd gotten so homesick that I had quit my job altogether and crawled back home.

"Of course not," I said indignantly, when he suggested that. "I thought you'd be happy that I'm here to see you."

"I am," he insisted, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked up at me. "Can't you see me smiling?"

"You're frowning because of the glare from the sun, Dad."

I watched as he dug around a rose plant and transported it by its roots into a fresh new pot. A part of me wished that I could be here all the time to help him – thank God for Castor, who worked here over the summer, and Millie, who occasionally chipped in to help now that I was no longer around.

"So, your boss, this – boy," he began.

I almost smirked at that, wondering if my father actually knew just how rich and influential Kaden Bretton was. My father had heard almost everything there was to know about my new job. But, unlike Parker, who was rather protective and made sure that Kaden didn't overstep any boundaries; Dad accepted it all with a general air of amusement.

"Are you getting through to him yet?"

"I don't know," I told him honestly, helping him to load several pots into the cart. "I thought I was last night – when I stayed behind to help Kaden at work...but, well, we seem to have reached some sort of impasse."

"Well, you know the solution to any and every problem is good – "

" – communication," I finished and nodded. Dad had basically drilled that into me since I was a child and it was a concept I never quite forgot. "I get it. And I've always believed it. Until this new version of Kaden came along and wouldn't listen to anything I said. So Millie told me that actions speak louder than words and that I should show him that I still care about him."

Dad chuckled. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Not too good," I admitted, with a sheepish smile. "Sometimes it works, but sometimes he gets angry and just shuts himself off."

"I see, " Dad said, after a moment's pause. He continued working in silence for a while, before looking over at me. "You know, people shut themselves off for many different reasons. Maybe this boy's not so much angry as he is scared."

My eyebrows knitted together. "Scared?" I echoed, testing the word out on the tip of my tongue. But it seemed almost implausible that Kaden, the man who had the world at his feet, would be scared of anything – least of all me. "I don't think he's scared."

"Just hazarding a guess, sweetheart."

I shook my head at him with a fond smile, and continued loading the pots. After a few minutes, a sudden thought came to mind and I paused. "Hey, Dad?" He looked over at me, and I straightened. "Remember that orphanage Mum used to volunteer at?"

He smiled softly at me. "You still remember that?"

"Of course. One of the things I'll never forget. Do you by any chance happen to remember the name of the home?"