through which size needle was the best.
âListen, Iâll leave the two of you,â she said.
Evie nodded.
âIâll see you next Tuesday then.â
There was a large black car parked on the street outside her driveway. Martha recognized the driver immediately as soon as she stepped out.
Sarah Millen looked wretched and Martha could see she was still distressed about the accident, and unsure how she would react towards her. The woman was on her own and must have organized someone to mind the kids for her.
âI hope you donât think Iâm intruding, but I had to come by and see you and thank you for what you did helping with that poor boy I knocked down. If he had died I donât think I could have lived with myself!â she admitted, her voice breaking.
Martha could see how upset she still was.
âListen, would you like to come inside, Mrs . . .â
âItâs Sarah, please call me Sarah.â
âCan I get you a glass of water or a soda?â Marth offered.
âWater would be just fine, thanks.â
She left the woman sitting in her living room and a minute later watched her gulp down the iced water as if her life depended on it.
âAre you OK?â
Sarah Millen just shook her blond head silently.
Martha was filled with pity for her but unsure what to do.
âI could have killed him! I canât sleep or eat with thinking of him, of his mother and father. I try to work and I keep seeing that Saturday, that Godawful day! I canât get it out of my mind.â
Martha blinked, hesitating, wondering what this stranger expected of her. The younger woman sounded frantic, hopeless, and her eyes were welling with tears.
âMy husband says itâs all my own fault. I know that â Iâm not trying to blame anyone, I should have been concentrating more. I told that to the police sergeant, that I totally admit itâs my fault. That I hit that little boy!â
She was becoming even more distraught and upset.
âI already made a statement,â Martha admitted.
âIâm not here about that. God, Iâm not! I need you to help me. I saw what you did for the boy, the way you touched him. I think Iâm going crazy, I have these bad dreams and I canât eat, and trying to take care of the kids is . . .â
âDo you want me to help you?â Martha offered softly.
Sarah nodded, a shuddering breath gripping her.
Martha closed her eyes and as she reached forward and laid her hands on the womanâs shoulders she felt the tension and stress and fearwithin her so strong that she could almost imagine it running up her own veins.
âSarah, I need you to take slow soft breaths and feel the warmth and energy flow from my fingers into your muscles, I need to lift some of that awful heaviness from you, let it sift and run away like sand,â she began, the healing energy flowing through her as she began to work.
Chapter Six
LARAâS ENQUIRIES BORE fruit: she managed to locate the Lucas and McGill households, which were situated close to each other in Eastonâs quiet suburban neighbourhood. Well-maintained one-and two-storey homes clustered together under the shade of broad-leafed sycamore trees. The lawns were parched, summer blooms struggling to raise their heads in the intense heat; even the few kids still outdoors were wilting. Generations of middle-class Irish Catholic families had been raised in this neighbourhood and attended the large parish church and school only minutes away. Two small boys lazily cycled on the quiet streets and she guessed that on summer evenings the air was filled with the scent of charcoal and hickory smoke. Sensible family cars were parked outside decent homes.
Her few lines on the accident had already appeared in the paper but something had attracted her back to investigate the story further,her sense of intuition telling her that she might stumble onto something far more
âListen, Iâll leave the two of you,â she said.
Evie nodded.
âIâll see you next Tuesday then.â
There was a large black car parked on the street outside her driveway. Martha recognized the driver immediately as soon as she stepped out.
Sarah Millen looked wretched and Martha could see she was still distressed about the accident, and unsure how she would react towards her. The woman was on her own and must have organized someone to mind the kids for her.
âI hope you donât think Iâm intruding, but I had to come by and see you and thank you for what you did helping with that poor boy I knocked down. If he had died I donât think I could have lived with myself!â she admitted, her voice breaking.
Martha could see how upset she still was.
âListen, would you like to come inside, Mrs . . .â
âItâs Sarah, please call me Sarah.â
âCan I get you a glass of water or a soda?â Marth offered.
âWater would be just fine, thanks.â
She left the woman sitting in her living room and a minute later watched her gulp down the iced water as if her life depended on it.
âAre you OK?â
Sarah Millen just shook her blond head silently.
Martha was filled with pity for her but unsure what to do.
âI could have killed him! I canât sleep or eat with thinking of him, of his mother and father. I try to work and I keep seeing that Saturday, that Godawful day! I canât get it out of my mind.â
Martha blinked, hesitating, wondering what this stranger expected of her. The younger woman sounded frantic, hopeless, and her eyes were welling with tears.
âMy husband says itâs all my own fault. I know that â Iâm not trying to blame anyone, I should have been concentrating more. I told that to the police sergeant, that I totally admit itâs my fault. That I hit that little boy!â
She was becoming even more distraught and upset.
âI already made a statement,â Martha admitted.
âIâm not here about that. God, Iâm not! I need you to help me. I saw what you did for the boy, the way you touched him. I think Iâm going crazy, I have these bad dreams and I canât eat, and trying to take care of the kids is . . .â
âDo you want me to help you?â Martha offered softly.
Sarah nodded, a shuddering breath gripping her.
Martha closed her eyes and as she reached forward and laid her hands on the womanâs shoulders she felt the tension and stress and fearwithin her so strong that she could almost imagine it running up her own veins.
âSarah, I need you to take slow soft breaths and feel the warmth and energy flow from my fingers into your muscles, I need to lift some of that awful heaviness from you, let it sift and run away like sand,â she began, the healing energy flowing through her as she began to work.
Chapter Six
LARAâS ENQUIRIES BORE fruit: she managed to locate the Lucas and McGill households, which were situated close to each other in Eastonâs quiet suburban neighbourhood. Well-maintained one-and two-storey homes clustered together under the shade of broad-leafed sycamore trees. The lawns were parched, summer blooms struggling to raise their heads in the intense heat; even the few kids still outdoors were wilting. Generations of middle-class Irish Catholic families had been raised in this neighbourhood and attended the large parish church and school only minutes away. Two small boys lazily cycled on the quiet streets and she guessed that on summer evenings the air was filled with the scent of charcoal and hickory smoke. Sensible family cars were parked outside decent homes.
Her few lines on the accident had already appeared in the paper but something had attracted her back to investigate the story further,her sense of intuition telling her that she might stumble onto something far more
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