Jeremy no longer had her; she was free to walk barefoot on her own floors and to buy nothing instead of everything she liked. Peace.

Althea was treated under her maiden name, Brockett failing to provide their desired anonymity. Laywomen in nurses’ uniforms preferred surnames like Smith and wore sunglasses.

Henry held her hand as the doctor examined her back, probing a dark throbbing bruise to her vocal displeasure. Pain, pain, pain, which stemmed from pleasure, pleasure, God! and crash. Henry was amazing; this hurt.

One reason why Jeremy couldn’t satisfy her: He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do God!

 

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