nothing less. You just live it."
He turned away now to stare toward the house, where the lights glowed in
the windows. Where music--Cam on guitar--carried by the breeze played a
pretty tune.
"I lived it until I was twelve and one of the men she'd sold me to went
a little crazy. He knocked me around pretty hard, but that wasn't so
unusual. But he was flying on something and he went after her. They tore
the place apart, made enough trouble that a couple neighbors who'd made
it their business to mind their own got riled enough to beat on the
door.
"He had his hands around her throat," Ethan remembered. "And I was
sprawled on the floor, looking up, watching her eyes bulge, and I was
thinking, Maybe he'll do it. Maybe he'll do it for me. She got her hand
on a knife, and she jammed it into him. She jammed it into his back just
as the people beating on the door busted it in. People were shouting and
screaming. She pulled the son of a bitch's wallet out of his pocket
while he was bleeding on the floor. And she ran. She never even looked
at me."
He shrugged, turned back. "Somebody called the cops and they got me to a
hospital. I'm not clear on it, but that's where I ended up. Doctors and
cops and social workers," he said quietly. "Asking questions, writing
things down. I guess they went looking for her, but they never found
her."
He lapsed into silence so that there was only the lap of water, the call
of insects, the echoing notes of a guitar. But she said nothing, knowing
he wasn't finished. Not yet finished.
"Stella Quinn was at some medical conference in Baltimore, and she was
doing guest rounds. She stopped by my bed. I guess she'd looked at my
chart, I don't remember. I just remember her being there, putting her
hands on the bed guard and looking down at me. She had kind eyes, not
soft but kind. She talked to me. I didn't pay any attention to what she
said, just her voice. She kept coming back. Sometimes Ray would be with
her. One day she told me I could come home with them if I wanted."
He fell silent again, as if that was the end. But all Grace could think
was that the moment when the Quinns had offered him a home had been the
beginning.
"Ethan, my heart breaks for you. And I know now that as much as I loved
and admired the Quinns all these years, it wasn't enough. They saved
you."
"They saved me," he agreed. "And after I decided to live, I did
everything I could to be something that honored that, and them."
"You are, and always have been, the most honorable man I know." She went
to him, wrapped her arms around him, and held tight despite the fact
that his arms didn't enfold her in return. "Let me help," she murmured.
"Let me be with you. Ethan." She lifted her face, pressed her mouth to
his. "Let me love you."
He shuddered, broke. His arms came round her now, fiercely. His mouth
took the comfort she offered. He swayed there, holding on to her, a
lifeline in a thrashing sea. "I can't do this, Grace. It's not right for
you."