Aria's smile faded. "What did he ask?"
"'On entend la mer, d'ici?'" Damien kept his voice low. "Can you hear the sea from here."
"In French."
"Easily. With a Marseille accent."
Aria turned to the bed. Her father's head had rolled toward the window, and his mouth had fallen open. One hand lay curled on the blanket next to the call button.
"He doesn't speak French," she said. "He never did."
"Raymond doesn't."
She sat down in the vinyl chair. It was still warm.
'Marcel,' she thought.
The hall door opened, and Elias came in with his coat over his arm and a tablet in his hand. He went straight to the monitor and read it.
"The nurse said he was awake."
"He was," Aria said. "He spoke French."
Elias looked up from the screen. "To you?"
"To Damien. Right before he fell asleep."
"One sentence," Damien said.
Elias laid his coat over the foot rail of the bed. "Did he grow up speaking it?"
Aria hesitated. "I think so."
