Chapter 48

I jump up breaking our circle and switch on the light that sends current to the crystal chandelier. Livie sits quietly with her eyes closed, rubbing her hands back and forth across the table. I look from Henry to Livie, but no one speaks.

Henry goes to Livie and she rises, knocks her chair backward, and clings to her husband for support. He puts his arm around her and leads her from the room.

I follow them out, righting Livie’s chair as I pass her place at the table. I stop and look down at the bloody marks on the highly polished surface. They look like the ceramic handprints children take home to their parents from kindergarten. The fingers are long and delicate, much larger than Livie’s for she is frail with tiny bones.