Read Speechless for Free Online Page A

and canned goods,
and propane canisters. With the well providing water, it was a relatively
comfortable life, if not ritzy. By the end of next week, they would be living
on whatever he could harvest from the garden, canned tuna and rice, but for now
they might as well eat the meat.
    No, not a vegetarian. Not that I’m in a position to be
picky.
    Stone sautéed the chicken, then poured a can of seasoned
tomatoes over it to finish cooking, adding the yellow squash he’d picked
earlier in time for it to cook as well. The meal passed in uneasy silence, Eva
sitting up in bed and picking at her food and Stone eating alone at the table.
But despite the discomfort of the silence, Stone felt no desire to break it.
Nothing he could say would relieve the tension. Nothing would absolve him.
Absolution. He was here as a result of his quest for absolution. With Eva… She
was leaving in a week and a half. He had to remember that. It was far better
that he need absolving for keeping away from her than for getting close and
then hurting her. Or endangering her. God damn it—the next week and a half
could not pass fast enough. But there was a chance it would be less than that,
he realized.
    “Is there anyone at home who might have called out the
search and rescue teams for you?” he asked, collecting her dirty dishes.
    Not likely, at least not until I miss my father’s weekly
phone call. My assistant’s mother died on Monday, so she’s otherwise
occupied—she had been planning to come with me. It’s summer, so there aren’t
many people at the university and most of them don’t expect to see me this
week, because of this trip. I suppose someone might see the car at the
trailhead.
    “I doubt it. I don’t think they patrol that area too frequently.”
Stone pumped water into the pot he’d cooked in and heated it for dishwashing.
“I should check your more serious scrapes tonight and your leg, especially
since you’ve been moving around more.”
    I suppose you should. How is it you, a supposed international
consultant, know so much about first aid and broken bones, anyway? Or is that
another thing you can’t tell me?
    “I was an EMT for a few years.”
    OK, but most EMTs don’t actually set the broken legs they
encounter, do they?
    “It was in a fairly rural area, where accidents were common
and medical personnel scarce. We were recruited to help in the ER sometimes.”
Stone pulled the covers away from Eva’s leg. It was still swollen and
discolored and he wished he had some ice to bring the swelling down. He hesitated
before touching it, half-afraid the feel of her skin under his fingers—even
this tender, black-and-blue skin—would capture him again, half-afraid he would
hurt her as a way of making her shrink from him.
    Can you tell if it has moved just by looking? Eva’s
voice—exactly the voice he would have imagined for her, if she could speak like
most people—echoed in his head, an edge to it this time, irritation and
impatience and sarcasm combining to shake him out of his reverie.
    He ran his hand lightly down her leg, feeling for the edges
of the break and their proximity to each other. Because of the swelling, he had
to probe with more force than he liked and Eva hissed through clenched teeth.
But both ends were still in place and Stone moved on to check the scrapes from
which he’d had to pluck dirt and gravel. Most were healing, but the worst, the
abrasion on her hip, was an angry red and inflamed. It made his own hip sting,
looking at it.
    “It had to be this one,” he muttered to himself, the wound
that required the most baring of her body, closest to her most private place.
He felt his hand moving to caress the soft curve of her belly, to rest against
her opposite hip and he pulled it back, pulled his attention back to the wound
and the first-aid kit beside him. “This is going to sting, Eva.”
    His patient just nodded, her eyes closed and again Stone
felt the need to take away all her hurts, to