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Show Woodworth/118 chair. They are at the center of all this motion, so still. He turns and looks up at her. "No, of course you didn't." She stares at him, unsure if he said it, unsure if she has suddenly slipped into some place where she can make things happen the way she would want them. "Marty?" he says. He puts down the sandpaper and comes over to her. Puts his arms around her. "Of course you didn't," he repeats. Looks into her eyes, and tells her, "No one was responsible for what happened to Jake. It was an accident. He took something that was a lot stronger than he thought it was. That's all." Marty watches his eyes, hoping to believe him, hoping he won't see the truth in her eyes. "There's nothing you - or anyone else - can do -fU- %.£* rsofc*- Gray hands her a rabbit, puts it in her hands. It's less than a handful, even though her hands are smell. She can feel its heart beating against her palm, feel how tense its muscles are. She is afraid that it will jump from her hand, hurt itself. She covers it with her other hand. A breath of whisker touches her skin, and she can still feel the heart, but no bulk. Almost as if she has trapped nothing but a heart beat in her hands. Her heart beats faster with it. "We'll raise it ourselves," Gray tells her. "You can be its mother." She nods, unsure at first, then vehemently. Yes. They will keep this heart beat alive." "I know it's hard. But you should just forget about what's happened." She waits for the heart beat, the pulse in her hands and neck. But there is nothing. She stares at him. She feels as if she is made of clay. That, suddenly, all movement has gone out |
