The footsteps began climbing the staircase.
I stepped behind the bedroom door just as Owen entered.
He paused when he saw Marjorie sitting upright.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
His voice was still quiet, but the kindness I had once heard in it was gone.
“I needed a drink,” Marjorie replied.
“There’s water beside you.”
He crossed the room and lifted the full glass from her nightstand. Then his attention moved to the folded paper clutched in her hands.
“What is that?”
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Marjorie pulled it against her chest.
“Give it to me,” he said.
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Marjorie.”
I stepped out from behind the door.
“She told you no.”
Owen spun around.
For the first time since he had begun visiting, his calm expression collapsed.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have a key.”
“You had no right to enter.”
“And you have no right to isolate her.”
