Karin Slaughter - Skin Privilege

'Don't forgive me,' he said. His hand was weak but he held on to her as tight as he could. 'Don't ever forgive me.'

Lena couldn't stop herself. Not after all that had happened, all he had done for her and Sibyl.

He glanced at her, then looked away quickly. 'Better get now before that nurse comes back. Makes me wish I was back in a damn coma.'

'All right,' she said, letting his hand slip from hers. Neither one of them had ever been good at talking about their feelings. 'Call me if you need me, okay?'

Lena shuffled out of the room, feeling more tired than she'd thought herself capable. The doctors had told her the reason was because she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Lena thought it was because all she did was lie around the hospital all day with nothing to do but feel sorry for herself.

Her room was right next door to Hank's and she could hear the phone ringing from the hall. Lena hastened her step, snatching up the receiver mid-ring.

'This is a collect call from an inmate in Coastal State Prison,' an automated voice informed her. Lena didn't sit on the bed so much as fall. She waited for the recorded voice, her heart thumping against her ribs as she heard, 'Ethan Green.'

Lena crooked the receiver between her shoulder and ear, pressing the button on the phone to accept the call.

There was silence, nothing but a soft beep every three seconds to remind them that time was passing.

He said, 'How you doing?'

Lena glanced around the room, feeling like someone was watching her. 'Why are you calling me?' she demanded. I don't want to talk to you.'

'That why you accepted the call?'

'I'm hanging up right now.'

'I heard about what happened.'

Her hand had been hovering over the phone, ready to hang up, but she stopped at his words. Of course Ethan had heard about what happened. His

network would have fed him the news before the media even knew about it.

'That toothache I had when you saw me?' She knew he wasn't expecting an answer. 'Don't worry about it,' he told her. 'I got some medicine. It doesn't hurt anymore.'

She thought about Fred Bart, the way the dentist had smiled with his nasty little teeth before he set Charlotte on fire. She spoke before she could stop herself. 'Good.'

'Nobody hurts my girl. You got me?'

'Nobody but you,' she reminded him.

He chuckled lightly. 'That's right, Lee. Nobody but me.'

Her breath was coming up short. Her hand was still inches from the hook, ready to hang up, but she couldn't make herself do anything but listen.

'I'm gonna write to you,' he told her, his voice soft, coaxing. 'I'm gonna write to you and you need to write back, okay, baby?'

'No,' she said, a begging quality to her voice. She tried to be stronger. 'I don't want you in my life anymore.'

'You think it's that easy? You think you're ever going to get away from me?' He laughed again, humoring her. 'I'm gonna be out of here before you know it, Lee. Then we can start over. Just you and me. Okay?'

She shook her head, words failing her.

'Sleep tight, baby. I'll be thinking about you.'

Lena hung up the phone, still hearing his voice, sensing his presence in the room. Who would get to her first – Ethan or Harley? Both men always settled their scores. Neither let anyone get the upper hand. Would she be beaten to death or wake up a

couple of weeks from now with some stranger sticking a needle in her arm, telling her not to struggle, that it would be easier if she just gave in? Lena hoped it was the needle; hoped to God that she would never have to see Ethan Green ever again.

She looked up at the ceiling where shadows danced against the white tiles. Ethan was still there – filling every part of the room, every part of her soul. She lay back in bed, his dark presence hanging over her, until exhaustion won out and she finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sara sat on the front porch, talking on the phone to her mother. Jeffrey had called half an hour ago and said he was just crossing the Grant County line, but she wasn't going to feel safe until he was home. He had told her he needed to talk to her about something, and Sara guessed it was the same thing that had been bothering her for the last few days. She couldn't keep going on like this. Something had to give.

Her mother sounded exasperated. 'Are you listening to me?'

'Yes, Mama,' Sara lied.

'He told me that he'd fixed the automatic sprinkler. Half the plants are dead.'

'I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose.'

'We've been home less than a week and he still hasn't offered a credible explanation.'

'I'm sure he meant to fix the sprinkler.'

'Sara,' Cathy began, and Sara braced herself for a lecture. Surprisingly, her mother offered, 'Do you want me to come back over? I can be there in five minutes.'

Sara loved her mother, but Cathy had been with her practically twenty-four hours a day over the last week. She needed time alone to think. 'Jeffrey will be home soon.'

'You sound so distant. Is it the lawsuit?'

'No,' Sara answered, but the word brought a sour taste to her mouth. Buddy Conford had called two days ago to tell Sara that Global Indemnity was settling with the Powells. The parents would get two million dollars for their son's death, barely enough to cover Jimmy's hospital and lab fees. Buddy had tried to make a joke about how rare it was that an insurance company was actually paying off somebody's medical bills, but Sara hadn't been in the mood for humor.

'If it's not the lawsuit, what is it?'

'Mama…'

Obviously, she'd had enough. 'Sara Ann Linton, I am your mother, and I know when something is bothering you.'

Sara let out a stream of breath between her teeth.

Cathy cut straight to the heart of the matter. 'Did you hear from the adoption agency?'

'Yes,' she said. The social worker had left a message on the machine that morning while Sara was at her parents' house. She'd come home to find the red button flashing, but had let three hours pass before she pressed play. It was the same thing that kept her from checking the mailbox or listening to the voice mail on her cell phone. Sara had waited so long to hear that there was a child out there for them, but now that the moment was at hand, she could not bring herself to reach out.

'And?' Cathy prompted. 'What did she say?'

'She said that they have a nine-month-old boy,' Sara answered. 'He's mixed race, Asian and African- American.'

'Oh, honey, that's wonderful!'

'Is it?' Sara asked, feeling like her heart was going to break. Just saying the words had conjured up the creamy skin and wiry hair – the way his little feet would curve into the palm of her hand. 'What am I going to do, Mama, stay up with a baby all night while I wait for the phone to ring so some stranger can tell me my husband's dead?'

'Stop being ridiculous,' Cathy snapped. 'Cops have families, Sara. Plumbers have families. You take a risk every time you get behind the wheel of a car or go to the post office. You can't put your life on hold because you're scared of something that might happen.'

'Jeffrey's so stubborn,' she argued. 'He never listens.'

'Welcome to marriage, honey. I'm sorry we can't organize you a parade.'

Sara put her hand to her neck, tried to coax the words that needed to come. 'What if…' she tried. 'What if…' She dropped her head in her hand, finally voicing her darkest concern. 'What if I can't take care of him, Mama? What if he gets sick or injured and I can't…'

Her mother was gentle, but stern. 'It is not your fault that Jimmy Powell died of leukemia.'

'What if my baby gets sick?'

'I know you pretend you don't believe in these things, but you'll know the first time you hold your child that he is a gift on loan from God. For however long that gift lasts, you cherish it, you hold it to your heart, and you do the best you can to never let go.'