Free Hemlock Veils by Jennie Davenport Page A

detail of the background, he had ears in many places.
    He wanted to lay down a law or town code that would prohibit such behavior. Not just because of his biased opinion on the matter, but because of the distress it gave Regina. But it wasn’t his business. He may have his hold on many things in this town, but people’s personal lives were their own; no matter how much he disagreed with them.
    However, now that Ms. Ashton was in Hemlock Veils, stealing the limelight, Nicole’s grief would be thrown to the wayside. There was someone new to ooh and ahh over, someone from the outside. Though the change disrupted everything, Henry had to admit that the jealousy tainting Nicole’s already tainted features was satisfying.
    “She’s brave,” Regina said again, for the tenth time since Henry had come in. She’d said it to Eustace when he’d entered the diner only a minute before, too, and Taggart just before that. And like Brian did the first few times she’d said it, he nodded, which seemed to irritate Nicole. Hemlock Veils didn’t see many outsiders, especially ones who’d stayed overnight. Hopefully, when the novelty of it all wore off, things would get back to normal.
    Henry sighed, attempting to ignore the hype as he lowered his eyes and read the paper from his corner of the diner.
    The headline on the article in front of him jumped off the page. His heart nearly stopped at the name in bold letters: Shane O’Donnell. The grayscale picture showed his arm lifted in a wave and both scrawny legs in the wheelchair Henry hated. But as it had been for the past nine years, Shane’s smile was easy and bright, as though he had no reason to be unhappy with his life. And in truth, other than the accident that had ruined everything, he didn’t.
    The article was about the Life on Wheels Foundation in Portland and how it had saved so many young people’s lives, including Shane’s. Henry read, wiping his suddenly tense brow.
    We asked twenty-eight-year-old Shane O’Donnell what inspired his vision of the Life on Wheels Foundation (an after-school program for wheelchair-bound teens funded by Shane and other unknown sources), and Shane shook his head, emphasizing that the credit is not his own. According to Shane, it was by the influence of one very special person, the same who pulled him from despair nine years before. Now, because of Shane—and a resource still unnamed—teens once labeled disabled are behind the most selfless and charitable acts occurring in downtown Portland. As though that’s not enough, they also participate in their own sports league, one that sets the bar high for any of us …
    Henry skipped to the bottom.
    So it is by the method of helping those less fortunate and holding them to the same expectations of others that Shane O’Donnell has instilled self-worth in these young minds and accomplished something truly remarkable. He has left his mark on the city of Portland, whether he wants to take the credit or not.
    Wiping a hand down his face, Henry lowered the paper. He’d known this day was coming for some time now, knew it wouldn’t be long before the media would find such an extraordinary person. He stared at the picture of Shane, trapped in the memory of the time he and Shane had first met, ten years ago. It had been one of the most difficult afternoons of Henry’s life, seeing young Shane in that hospital bed, a thin blanket covering legs that would never walk again, and knowing it was completely Henry’s fault. He had etched in his mind the exact placement of every bruise and scratch on Shane’s face, as well as the placement of every signature on his arm cast. Henry had made himself remember, had taken those mental pictures so he could recall them at any given moment—moments like now.
    The bell on the door jingled and everyone fell silent as the famous Ms. Ashton stepped through. He found himself staring with the rest of them as she rubbed at her arm and gave a nod to the gawkers. “Good