believed she needed to talk, and he wanted to be the one she talked to. âIf youâre comfortable with me, Iâm a very good listener.â
âThey teach you listening skills in preacher school?â
She had a biting wit that would have been more amusing under less tragic circumstances. âYes, and I aced my classes.â
âWhy would you want to listen to people whine and complain? I got my fill of that with the johns who paid me. Pathetic bozos, all of them.â
âBut Iâm not a pathetic bozo, right?â He didnât give her a chance to answer, just in case her answer wasnât what he wanted to hear. âI just want to help, thatâs all.â
âYouâd have been a helluva lot more help when I was a kid.â She slipped her hand away.
âI wish Iâd been there.â He wished that more than anything.
Her disbelief was plain, and fired by anger. âIt wouldnât have mattered. Problems like that are a hell of a lot easier to ignore. Neighbors donât want to get involved. Relatives look the other way. What makes you think youâd have been any different?â
A heavy weight settled around his heart. âItâs unforgivable not to intervene if you know someone is hurt.â
âYep. Un forgivable.â She pinned him with her shrewd gaze. âYou got that much right.â
âThey donât deserve your forgiveness, Cyn, thatâs true. But you deserve to forgive and move on. To let it go from your life so it canât bother you anymore.â
She eyed him, then shook her head with a rusty laugh. âYouâre not going to let this drop, are you?â
He didnât want to. He stared into her mocking eyes, searching for the right words, when suddenly she pushed to her feet.
âIâm going to show you something.â
The abrupt change took him by surprise. âAll right.â
She turned and headed back upstairs. Bruce watched her exit, saw she was still limping a bit, but also saw the anticipation in her body language. She wanted to shareâshe was ready to take that next step.
He was grateful to be the man she confided in.
Cyn returned moments later with a stack of books. Out of all the things Bruce had expected, books hadnât figured in.
She plunked the pile on the table. âYou wanna know about me? Well, here I am.â She indicated the books with a wave of her hand. âThis is why I donât need you or your sympathy or your help.â
Dumbfounded, at a complete loss, Bruce watched her pick up one slim volume.
âAfter I ran off,â she said, her eyes still narrowed and her attitude aggressive, âI didnât trust anyone. I couldnât. It would have been dumb.â
Bruce took the book from her. His heart twisted at the title: The Roots of Child Abuse and Neglect. He looked at Cyn. âThe books helped?â
As if she clenched her teeth, her jaw worked. âFriendships were out. Canât be friends with people you canât trust, and most everyone on the street would steal you blind with a smile. Public places like the movies or malls were too iffy. So I read.â
He remembered her telling him that her reading interests varied. Apparently, she educated herself on whatever she thought she needed to know.
âThere were two independent bookstores near my corner. One was run by foreigners. They didnât care who bought a book, as long as you had cash. Theyâd even order titles for me.â
Bruce felt such admiration, he couldnât bring himself to look away from her. âThis is some heavy reading.â
âI guess.â She opened the cover on the book, flipped idly through the pages. âRemember I said I watched the other hookers, and knew I didnât want to end up that way? Well, I watched my mother and Palmer, too, and God knows, I sure didnât want to be like them. They disgusted me. So I figured I had to learn as