He smiled. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. “Why should it matter?” he said. I like the way you shared it. At other times, it would seem that the sea itself had gone away. I see now that you make a game with me indeed. ’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own. Now what I want you to feel is this. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. Ruth returned to the table.
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