Some solo.’ ‘Well, I guess.’ She sat on the cello chair and adjusted it, took the bow, tightened and rosined it, took the cello from the stand. ... stood next to the fire, leaning against the mantle. She was looking around. ‘I know! Bach’s First Suite for Cello. The Prelude is wonderful.’ She looked for the music. Once she found it she futzed with the tuning, doing this and that, and I found myself cocking my head at her and raising my palms in a question shrug. Finally, she started. But she made. "Wise guy! No. When Willy was shot, I wanted to go out and kill off every one of those bastards, and figure out where they were from and destroy their whole island. Or whatever. You know, my wife was killed by a drunk nearly four years ago, and Willy's taken care of me since then. No, I don't mean like that. Then, when I saw her in the hospital — tubes running into her, pale as anything — I realised I loved her. Then I talked to you ... and I did what you said. And I told her again the next. More

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