InSight

this anymore.”
    Abby heard Luke’s harsh words for the second time and didn’t know what to say. Other questions begged to be asked, but she had pushed too far, dug too deep, and opened old wounds with a rusty knife. The therapist in her knew she needed to stop prying, and she would have if Luke hadn’t stopped for her.
    “I’d better leave. I have an early morning shift. I’ll call you tomorrow. Lock the door.”
    “Wait,” she said, waving her hand. She heard the door open. Damn. Had he seen her beckoning to him and ignored her on purpose? The door closed. Luke left without touching her, at least not physically. But the emotional slap in the face stung as much as if he had.

Chapter Twelve
    A Rare Solar Eclipse

    L uke didn’t call the next day or the next. Abby forced herself not to think about Luke McCallister, but the tone of his voice the other night echoed in her mind. As much as she was beginning to care for him, she couldn’t put herself in another situation that would end badly. She wasn’t his therapist and didn’t want to be, but Luke had issues he was determined to keep from her, and she didn’t want to destroy whatever they had by digging into a place he didn’t want to go.
    She was about to call the taxi service to take her to pick up Daisy when Lucy dropped by the office to suggest going out to dinner. Lucy’s treat. Abby explained where she was going.
    “I’ll take you.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Positive. We can talk on the way.”
    Abby knew her mother would pump her about Luke, and she wasn’t sure she was up for the inevitable barrage of questions, but she had no choice. Lucy would have been hurt if she refused.
    Salivating like an adolescent discussing a new boyfriend, Lucy started in as soon as the car door closed. Some things in life were givens. Lucy’s curiosity, no intrusion, about Abby’s love life was one of them.
    “Where have you been keeping him, honey? He’s quite something. Handsome, intelligent, good personality. Of course he’s deaf, but who needs to hear anything when you’re making love. And no man talks afterward anyway.”
    Oh, damn, here it comes. “He can talk, Lucy, or didn’t you notice?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Actually, I don’t.” The sound of traffic took the edge off the silence inside the car, but Abby’s response didn’t stop her mother.
    “I thought you couldn’t date patients.”
    “That’s why he’s not my patient.”
    “Well, what is he? Are you lovers? Tell me all about him. I want to know everything.”
    Abby sighed. Lucy was not going to give up. Now she wished she had taken a taxi to avoid this. Her mother desperately wanted to be her friend. She went from high school to marriage to motherhood by the time she turned twenty, and by twenty-eight she was a single parent saddled with an eight-year-old child. Men weren’t friends. They were lovers or protectors or providers, but not friends. Abby’s profession had transformed her into a confidant. She’d never mastered the role of confider. Not since Stewart.
    “We’re not lovers yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” Unless Luke’s closing the door the other night meant he was closing her out of his life. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about this.” She flipped the crystal of her watch. “It’s five forty-five. The vet closes at six. We’ll talk later.”
    Lucy huffed. “Be that way.”
    They drove in silence. Abby opened the window to let in fresh air. If the pattern prevailed, Lucy would sulk for a while, then start in again. The woman never let go.
    “Don’t be mad,” Abby said.
    “You never tell me anything. I feel left out of your life.”
    Damn. Why did I say anything? “What do you want me to tell you, Lucy? That Luke makes me feel like a woman for the first time since Stewart? That he’s become so important I’m scared to death of losing him when he realizes he’s signing on to be my white cane. Is that what you want to hear?” She tried to keep her chin from quivering, but if Lucy looked, she’d see. Abby knew she’d look.
    “Oh, Abby, darling, I’m sorry I pushed. I know how hard that was for you. You’ve always been so self-contained. I’ve tried to make up for lost time these last eight years, but how can anyone make up for a lost childhood? What I did to you is inexcusable, and I’m sure you harbor deep resentments, but there’s nothing I want more in life than for you to be happy.”
    Abby didn’t want to have