Chapter 21 : The Silver Cane

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving the mansion cloaked in darkness. The once grand estate now exuded a haunting aura, its decaying walls whispering tales of forgotten memories. A few dimly lit rooms cast melancholic shadows, intensifying the somberness of the night. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on Angela's weary heart.
Engrossed in the task of changing the linen on Leonardo's bed, Angela moved methodically, her movements synchronized with the hushed ambiance. Leonardo, perched on the edge of his solitary sofa, sat in brooding silence. The postponed wedding hung like an unspoken specter between them. "Your bed is ready," Angela murmured.
Leonardo's voice, filled with a tinge of melancholy, broke the silence. "What time is it?"
"It's almost seven in the evening," Angela replied, her voice carrying the weight of the night.
"You can rest now," he said, his words dripping with a deep weariness.
Angela held onto the doorknob for a moment, a sense of heaviness settling upon her before she reluctantly stepped out of Leonardo's room. Leaning against the doorframe, she sought a brief respite from the weight of the day's events. She retreated to her room, her footsteps echoing in the corridors of the mansion.
Inside her room, Angela sought solace beneath the cascading water of the shower, washing away the exhaustion etched on her face. The water droplets clung to her hair, patterning the warm bed as she collapsed upon it, her body wrapped in a white towel. Gazing upwards, her tired eyes fixated on the stained, peeling ceiling. The stillness of the night allowed the memories of the mysterious veranda, the lady in white, and the weeping woman in the painting to resurface, tightening her already troubled stomach. In a sudden jolt, she sat upright, desperately trying to shake off the haunting thoughts. Determined to distract herself, she resolved to tidy up her neglected room.
Since the day she had taken residence, Angela had been consumed by Leonardo's needs, neglecting her own space. She pulled herself up from the bed, searching for cleaning supplies. The room, cloaked in layers of dust, bore the testimony of her disregard. As she swept the accumulated debris, the air grew heavy with the scent of forgotten neglect. Satisfied with her efforts, she pushed the bed cover against the wall, and in doing so, a chilling clanking sound pierced the silence.
Angela's curiosity piqued, she knelt, her hands exploring the hidden recesses beneath the bed. A glimmer of something shiny caught her eye, and as she drew it out, her breath hitched. It was an old silver cane, its once polished surface now tarnished by time. "What is this doing under the bed?" she whispered her voice barely audible in the haunted room.
As Angela's footsteps echoed through the night, she clutched the silver cane tightly, searching for Mrs. Gale. The flickering lights of the garage revealed Mrs. Gale sitting amidst a haze of smoke. Angela's intrusion startled her, widening her eyes as she attempted a dry smile. "You caught me smoking," Mrs. Gale admitted with a hint of resignation.
"Good evening, Mrs. Gale," Angela greeted, her voice filled with apology. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I need to ask you about this." With a purposeful gesture, she held up the silver cane, ensuring Mrs. Gale had a clear view of it.
Mrs. Gale's words caught in her throat as her gaze fixated on the ancient artifact Angela presented. "Where did you get that?" she finally managed to utter, her voice tinged with surprise.
"It was under my bed," Angela explained, her tone laced with curiosity. "Whose cane is this?"
A moment of silence enveloped them as Mrs. Gale hesitated. Finally, she revealed the cane's true owner. "It belonged to Leonardo's grandfather, Florencio. He passed away many years ago." Mrs. Gale's hand reached out, lightly touching the tip of the cane. "I thought it was lost during a family trip."
"Can Leonardo use it?" Angela inquired, her eyes searching Mrs. Gale's face for any sign of hesitation.
"There's no reason he can't," Mrs. Gale replied, her voice filled with a sense of finality. The matter seemed settled, and Angela's presence was dismissed.
Returning to her room, Angela clutched the silver cane tightly, her mind spinning with questions and unease. The weight of its history and unknown secrets bore down upon her. As she settled into her bed, she kept the cane close, its presence casting an enigmatic shadow over her thoughts. In the realm of her restless dreams, she hoped to uncover the truths hidden within its weathered exterior.
Early the next morning, Angela found herself seated beside Leonardo, observing him as he peacefully slumbered. Her gaze lingered on his slumbering form, her mind filled with a mixture of emotions. She longed to delve into the depths of her feelings, to ascertain the true nature of her heart. Had her anger truly dissipated? Astonishingly, the resentment that had once consumed her upon arriving at Vera's grounds seemed to have vanished completely.
Leonardo stirred, his senses gradually awakening to Angela's presence. "Hmm, you're up for breakfast quite early," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Trying to impress me, are you?"
A gentle smile graced Angela's lips as she responded, "No need for that, Leonardo. I'm simply here to fulfill my duties. And speaking of which, it's time for you to rise and shine. Take a refreshing bath, and I'll return in fifteen minutes with your breakfast."

But before they could proceed, Leonardo's voice held a note of apprehension. "Before we go any further, tell me about your plans for today. I have the right to know if you intend to cast me aside."
Angela's smile remained unwavering as she assured him, "Put those worries aside for now. We will discuss it later. Now, come on, get up, you naughty boy. You have a long day of work ahead."
An hour later, they stood together at the entrance of the estate, the front door wide open. Angela's voice brimmed with purpose as she addressed Leonardo, her tone determined. "Do you still remember the layout of the lawn?"
"Yes, the image is still vivid in my mind," Leonardo replied, gripping the doorframe. He began describing, "I faced the sprawling lawn, with the swing on the right side leading down to the orchard, as I discerned from the fragrance in the air. And to my left, the trees guided me to the gate, the primary entrance."
"Excellent. Let us begin, then. You will use a cane to navigate your way to the swing," Angela declared.
"A cane? Did you acquire one for me?" Leonardo inquired, surprise coloring his voice.
"No, I stumbled upon your grandfather's cane beneath my bed," Angela explained, guiding Leonardo's hand to touch the handle of the silver cane.
But to her astonishment, Leonardo's demeanor suddenly shifted, a surge of fury coursing through him. The cane slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the ground as he forcefully pushed it away. His expression contorted with anger, leaving Angela momentarily stunned. Frowning in confusion and concern, she cried out, "What's wrong with you?"
"I don't want to use that; it belonged to the most detestable old man I've ever known," Leonardo retorted, his voice filled with disdain as he stepped back as if the mere touch of the cane could scorch him.
"He's dead, and you must give him a little respect," Angela responded, her resolve unyielding. She couldn't comprehend Leonardo's deep-rooted aversion towards his grandfather and pressed for further details about the old man. "This cane will be your support, and you have your grandfather's blood in your veins."
"I hate him being my grandfather; he despised me during my childhood days," Leonardo spat bitterly. "I hope he's in hell now."
"That's peculiar," Angela commented, her curiosity piqued. "But Mrs. Gale informed me that he passed away long ago. Why do you still harbor such hatred towards him?"
Leonardo fell into an oppressive silence, and Angela, aware that it was still early in the day, attempted to soothe him. "You can't let such hatred consume you, Leonardo," she sighed. "Allowing hatred to control your heart will hinder your ability to lead a virtuous life. It's a curse."
"He was the curse of our family; I witnessed my father suffer under his oppressive household rules. Thankfully, he died before I dared to confront him," Leonardo admitted.
Angela realized she had unwittingly unearthed another painful chapter in Leonardo's life, and remorse washed over her. After a long pause, Angela picked up the cane. "You must find it in your heart to forgive him," she implored.
"Not at this moment," Leonardo replied curtly.
"Why not?" Angela inquired gently.
Leonardo lifted his shirt, revealing a three-inch scar on his back. "Can you see this?" he asked, the pain evident in his voice.
Angela's eyes focused on the scar that marred his shoulder, a visible testament to deep-seated animosity. She understood how the wounds of childhood abuse could cultivate lasting resentment within a person.
"At times, he was a good man, but other times, a monster," Leonardo continued, his voice laced with bitterness. "This scar was the result of breaking one of his trivial house rules: the never-to-enter-his-office rule. And he struck me with that cane."
Angela listened intently, her mind racing to find a way to melt Leonardo's heart and guide him toward forgiveness.
"He caught me inside his office, lashing out with that cane relentlessly. The tip struck my back repeatedly until I ended up in the hospital," Leonardo recounted, his voice tinged with lingering pain.
"Yet, you must find it within yourself to forgive him, to liberate yourself from the curse," Angela urged gently, hoping to break the chains of resentment that bound Leonardo's heart.
"It doesn't matter; he's already dead," Leonardo replied, his voice filled with resignation.
"Do it for yourself," Angela advised, her voice laced with sincerity.