Self-Defence

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She smiled, as usual.

From her chair she had a fine view of the ocean. This morning it was a wrinkled teal sheet gilded with sunrise. A triangle of pelicans reconnoitered overhead. I doubted she'd notice any of it.

She moved around a bit, trying to get comfortable.

"Good morning, Lucy."

"Good morning, Dr. Delaware."

Her purse was at her feet, a huge macramé bag with leather straps. She had on a light blue cotton sweater and a pleated pink skirt. Her hair was fawn-colored, sleek, shoulder length with feather bangs. Her slender face was lightly freckled, with great cheekbones and fine features ruled by huge brown eyes. She looked younger than twenty-five.

"So," she said, shrugging and still smiling.

"So."

The smile died. "Today I want to talk about him."

"Okay."

She covered her mouth, then removed her fingers. "The things he did."

I nodded.

"No," she said. "I don't mean what we've already been over. I'm talking about things I haven't told you."

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