The child goes to her. Candace is tired from our visit, and Kat is giving away no words today. As I have nothing else to add, we sit in silence as the fan circulates the air above our heads and sweat beads on our brows and necks.

When we leave a little while later, Candace tells us she’ll see us tomorrow. A hint of a smile tugs at Kat’s mouth.

• • •

The next afternoon Candace wants Kat to herself during the visiting hours on the patio and I am asked to wait inside in the reception area. I watch with hesitation as Kat is led back. She turns once to look at me and I assume she wants assurance I’ll be waiting for her, so this is what I tell her.

The next day it happens again, and the next. I ask the nurse who has been escorting Kat if Mrs. Hocking and her daughter are enjoying their visits, but what I truly want to know is if Kat is speaking to Candace.

The nurse smiles and shrugs. “They spend most of their time looking at nature books Mrs. Hocking has borrowed from the sanatorium library. You know how the child is. She doesn’t talk.”

On the fifth day, when Kat is collected to be taken back to Candace, she grabs my hand as if to take me along.

“I’m not sure I’m invited to go onto the patio with you,” I tell her.

Kat stares at me for a few seconds before frowning and whispering the first word I’ve heard from her in days. “Come,” she says.

I look to the nurse for confirmation that I am also being asked to come to the patio and she again shrugs; this was apparently Kat’s idea.

“I see no harm in your going back with her,” the nurse says. “You can always sit off to the side.”

When we arrive on the patio Candace looks up in surprise at my approach; the smile she had been wearing for Kat diminishes a bit.

“She wanted me to come,” I say softly.

“How do you know she did?” Candace asks, brow furrowed.

“Because she said it.”

This seems to silence Candace for a moment. The visit commences then with Candace asking Kat about how we spent our morning. Perhaps this is one reason why Kat wanted me here, to answer what is probably a daily question. I tell Candace about the walk Kat and I took after breakfast and the lizard that crossed our path and the nice invitation from the innkeeper’s wife when we returned to let Kat help her make empanadas, which are tiny little turnovers filled with meat, onions, and spices. After we share about our morning, Kat heads to the shadiest part of the patio to draw pictures on her tablet.

“Do you want me to go back into the waiting area?” I ask Candace.

“No.”

We watch Kat for a few minutes.

“So. Your father’s word book,” Candace says. “Do you have it with you?”