“You know, being outside has helped. It’s caused me to think about a lot of different things … selfish things, really. My childhood, the lifestyle I was raised in … how I ended up in here, whether I’ll ever get out. There are so many things that I’ve never done … so many things I would change if I could. I loved my parents, but, for the first time, I realize that I really hate what they did. I hate the fact that they never gave me a choice—”

“We can’t choose our parents, Mick. What’s important is that you not blame yourself. None of us have any control over the deck or the hand we’ve been dealt. What we do have is total responsibility as to how we play the hand. I think I can help you regain control of that.”

He moves closer, the rain pouring down both sides of his face. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“Destiny?”

“Do you think our lives, our futures have been … never mind, forget it—”

“Do I think what happens to us is prearranged?”

“Yes.”

“I think we have choices. I think it’s up to us to choose the right destiny to pursue.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

She stares helplessly into the glistening puppy-dog eyes. “I’ve been close a few times. It never seemed to work out.” She smiles. “Guess they weren’t meant to be part of my destiny.”

“If I wasn’t … incarcerated. If we had met under different circumstances. Do you think you could have loved me?”

Oh, shit … She swallows hard, her pulse causing the base of her throat to twitch. “Mick, let’s get out of the rain. Come on—”

“There’s something about you. It’s not just a physical attraction, it’s like I’ve known you, or knew you in another life.” “Mick—”

“Sometimes I get these premonitions. I felt one the moment I first saw you.”

“You said it was the perfume.”

“It was something more. I can’t explain it. All I know is that I care about you, and the emotions are confusing.”

“Mick, I’m flattered, really I am, but I think you’re right. Your emotions are confused, and—”

He smiles sadly, ignoring her words. “You’re so beautiful.” Leaning forward, he touches her cheek, then reaches out and loosens the knot of jet-black hair.

She closes her eyes, feeling the length of hair unravel down her back, becoming heavy with the rain. Stop this! He’s your patient, a mental patient, for God’s sake. “Mick, please. Foletta’s watching. Could you just come inside? Let’s talk inside—”

He stares at her, the ebony eyes despondent, revealing a soul tortured by forbidden beauty. “ ‘She doth teach the torches to burn bright. It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night, as a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear—’ ”