“What’s this?” I asked.
He went very still under my fingers.
“Old scar,” he said. “From when I was a kid.”
“What happened?”
A pause.
“I fell,” he said. “Playground.”
“Kids are dangerous,” I said, smiling.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “They are.”
Then he took my hand and kissed my palm and changed the subject.
I didn’t think about it again for twenty years.
Two years later, we got married.
By then he’d been out of my medical care for almost two years. Dr. Lim had taken over completely. We’d made sure of it.
The night before the wedding, I traced his face with my fingertips again. We were sitting on the back steps of the little house we’d just rented. I could smell the honeysuckle along the fence.
“You have a strong jaw,” I said softly.
“Is that good?” he asked.
“I think so. You feel steady.”
