Chapter 29

“Does he have nightmares a lot?” I stirred the chili and then moved away from the stove to uncork the wine, a Shiraz I thought would go well with it.

“Yeah. ‘A lot’ is an understatement.”

I didn’t look at Maisie. I could hear her smoking behind me, the quick nervous puffing.

I sat down with her. “I have to ask. What happened to him? Is he sick?”

“Not sick. Not physically, anyway. I suppose he has what they call PTSD these days. You’ve heard of it? It stands for—”

I cut her off. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. I’ve heard of it.” I touched her hand lightly and then withdrew. “What was the trauma? Was he in the service? Can you tell me?”

She took a long drag and expelled the smoke almost angrily. “I wish I knew! I wish he knew!”

“I don’t understand.”