Nothing Sacred. Tara Quinn Taylor

glad to be here,” he said, holding her gaze with his own.

      Something happened to her in that second. She felt…a jolt. A sudden, unexpected peace. She wanted to believe in it. To hope that someday things would be okay.

      But that was only because she was overtired.

      She knew better.

      Breaking eye contact, Martha nodded.

      And dialed.

      EVEN HEARING ONLY ONE side of the phone conversation between Ellen’s parents, David could tell what was happening.

      Martha was asking for support that Todd Moore was unwilling—or unable—to give her.

      Will Parsons had told David a little about his once-closest friend, Todd Moore. He’d described Todd as a man searching for meaning in life, trying his best to be fair while daring to seek out happiness during his time on earth. David had been prepared to give the man the benefit of the doubt. But now…

      “I don’t know what to say to her, either, Todd. I don’t really think it matters all that much. She needs you. Especially you—” Martha turned away as her voice broke. “Right now.”

      David watched the slender muscles along the back of her neck as she nodded. “I understand.”

      Then she murmured, “Yeah, I know.” Her voice had softened, filled with the kind of intimacy that could only develop over years of knowing everything there was to know about a person.

      “Okay.” Another nod. Slower.

      Watching as much as listening, David filed away the insights he was learning, sensing that he was going to need them.

      Todd Moore was letting Martha down again. And she was allowing him do it.

      She expected nothing more.

      Which might be why she got nothing more.

      “I’ll tell her.” Her voice was filled with resignation and disappointment. Of the two, the resignation seemed stronger.

      David felt a tug of concern that he couldn’t ignore. Resignation was a step further than disappointment into emotional darkness. And much harder to combat. Perhaps he’d been led to a job that was beyond his limited capabilities.

      “EL?”

      Shelley slid quietly into her older sister’s bedroom a few minutes before the alarm was due to go off on Friday morning.

      “Yeah?”

      “You awake?” She wanted to climb into the double bed, find Ellen’s toes with her own, cuddle up like she used to do when she had nightmares. But she was afraid to touch her. Didn’t know if that was okay.

      Or even if she really wanted to.

      “Yeah.”

      “Can I…sit?” She motioned to the end of the bed.

      “Of course.” Ellen sat up, propping pillows behind her back. She moved slowly, gingerly. Her hair was all flat from having dried by itself after the shower they’d made her have at the hospital the night before. Mom had told them about that. And about the pill Ellen had to take to make sure there was no kid. Shelley wanted to run.

      Instead she sat. Stared. Didn’t know what to say. She was afraid she’d do something really stupid, like cry.