around to care for you.â
âCare for me!â A flash of sarcasm lit her eyes.
âLook on that episode yesterday as an aberration. It wonât happen again.â âBut you think that Iââ
âForget it,â he said shortly. âI lashed out without taking time to consider what I was saying. I want you fit, before I. . . before we talk about it again. I owe it to Alec to look after you. Just stay until youâre back to normal, okay?â
The familiar lethargy was creeping over her again. She didnât want to think about the terrible things he had suggested. It was tempting to relegate the whole episode to the back of her mind and pretend it had never happened. Especially when Ethan was being so persuasive, his voice quiet and reasonable. Her brain felt muzzy, and she wasnât up to arguing, let alone making arrangements for the flight back and someplace to live and the myriad other decisions that would be needed if she left. She knew it was weak and spineless, but the very prospect of having to do all that both frightened and exhausted her. âAll right,â she agreed, stifling the warning voice at the back of her mind. âIâll stay.â
He said, âGood.â Then he left her, to return later with two plates of salad. âThink you can get this down?â he asked.
âIt looks delicious.â She wasnât hungry but, somewhat to her shame, she was grateful for his determination to take care of her.
âOutside?â he suggested. âIâve got a sun umbrella up now.â
She had not noticed, even though she had spent the last five minutes staring out at the patio and beyond it to the sea.
While they ate they spoke little, but gradually Celeste was aware of the slackening tension, and as they sipped coffee afterwards, Ethan said, âDid you go down to the beach yesterday morning?â
Celeste shook her head. âI saw the path. Is it safe?â
âPerfectly.â He cast her a sharp glance, and she knew that he was thinking of how Alec had died, smashing onto the wave-swept rocks at the bottom of a cliff. He said, almost too casually, âIf youâre nervous Iâll take you down the first time.â
Celeste said, âNo, Iâll be all right on my own. Iâm sure you have things to do.â
âSome. Work has a habit of piling up when Iâm away. If youâre thinking of going there now, perhaps you shouldnât be alone, though.â
âI feel fine,â she lied. âAnd Iâd like to see the beach.â She didnât feel fine, but she wasnât dizzy or sick anymore. She was quite capable of walking a few hundred yards.
âDonât be surprised if you see a naked body or two. Only locals use the beach, and itâs accepted that nude swimming and sunbathing are okay.â
âThanks for warning me. Itâs safe for swimming, then?â
âUnless a storm blows up. But I think you should wait until you feel stronger before swimming on your own.â
âI donât really feel like swimming today, anyway.â They were talking like strangers, politely but with no warmth. âIâll do the dishes before I go,â she offered.
âDonât bother. Itâll only take a minute. Youâre the invalid.â He gathered up the plates and got to his feet.
âIâm not,â she said. âI mean, itâs just. . .â Her voice trailed off. She didnât know what it was, but it seemed an age since she had felt truly alive.
âDepression, the doctor said,â Ethan told her.
âYes, but he thought. . .â
âThought what?â His gaze had sharpened.
âIt doesnât matter,â she said listlessly. The doctor had obviously assumed that Alecâs death was the cause, and she had not told him that this lack of energy and even of interest had begun long before that, only intensifying to unmanageable
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