Free Miracle by Danielle Steel Page B

minutes later with a cautious expression.
    When he opened the door to her, Quinn was startled by how much smaller she was than he had remembered. They had chatted with each other over their respective hedges. But standing on his doorstep, she looked not only fragile, but tiny. And there was something in her eyes that gave Quinn the impression she was both frightened and sad. If nothing else, it made him want to reassure her. He could see why Jack felt sorry for her. She was a woman who looked as though she needed to be protected, or at the very least needed a friend.
    He stepped aside and invited her in, and she followed him quietly to the kitchen, where Jack was carving the veal roast. She brightened visibly the moment she saw him. The smile that lit her face made her seem instantly younger. And Quinn relaxed the moment they sat down, and he handed each of them a plate, and filled their glasses with wine.
    “How are the lessons going?” she asked comfortably, after thanking Quinn for inviting her to join them. Jack had confessed to her what they were doing every day after work, and how grateful he was to Quinn. Maggie had said he must be a nice man.
    “It's coming, slowly, but surely,” Jack said as he smiled at her. But in truth, he was making good progress. He was able to read clearly now, though very slowly, and some words still stumped him. He had all the sailing terms down now, but was anxious to move on to broader concepts. Quinn was desperate to teach him about sailing as well as reading. He wanted to share that with him, as it was his passion. And Jack was growing anxious to read other books as well. Quinn had also shared many of Jane's poems with him, which touched Jack profoundly. They were lovely and obviously heartfelt.
    “He's a star pupil,” Quinn said proudly, and Jack looked slightly embarrassed. “Jack tells me you're a teacher,” he said to Maggie, as he served dessert and made coffee.
    “I was,” she said easily, enjoying their company more than she had expected. They were a motley crew, drawn together by proximity, circumstances, and good intentions. “I haven't taught in nearly two years.” She looked a little wistful as she said it.
    “What did you teach?” Quinn asked with interest. He could easily imagine her surrounded by very young children, maybe kindergarten.
    “Physics, in high school,” she said, and surprised him. “The subject everyone hated. Or actually, they didn't. Most of my students were fairly gifted. They don't take physics unless they have a knack for it. If not, they opt for biology or calculus, or integrated sciences. Most of my students went on to major in physics in college.”
    “That means you did a good job with them. I always liked physics in college. I never took it in high school. What made you stop?” he asked casually, and was startled and saddened by her answer.
    “My son died. Everything came to a grinding halt after that,” she said honestly. There was no artifice about her, and Quinn liked that. “He committed suicide nineteen months ago.” She could have told them in days or weeks, but no longer did that. She hated the fact that it was months now, and soon it would be years. Time was slowly creating an ungovernable distance between them. She couldn't control it, just as she had been unable to control his actions in the end. “He suffered from severe depression. Most depressed kids don't commit suicide, even if they think about doing it. Usually, it's more bipolar kids. But Andrew couldn't pull out of it. He pretty much lost his grip once he got to high school. I just didn't have the heart to go back to school once he died. They gave me compassionate leave to do some grief counseling. And after I did, I realized I wasn't ready to go back. I'm not sure I ever will be.” But sooner or later, she knew she had to work, at something, if not teaching.
    “What do you do now instead?” Quinn asked quietly.
    Maggie sighed before she answered. “I've