“My parents?” He was startled. “My parents taught me not to be a damned idiot, and they did that with their deaths.”

“Your parents made a fatal mistake, and in the end, they knew it, and they sacrificed themselves for you. That’s what you learned, Adam.” She seemed to think it was so simple. “That was the lesson your parents taught you. If the cause is good, you don’t shy away from sacrifice. Do you know how rare that is?”

He looked out at the horizon, to that space where the edge of the turbulent sea met the pale blue of the sky. Ever since he had escaped those mountains, he’d been angry at his parents for putting him through hell, for leaving him to grow up alone. He didn’t brood about it: he was, as Elle said, too sensible for that. But it had been there, a niggling bitterness on the edge of his consciousness. Now she had shined a light on the whole of those years, and he remembered the good times: Dad watching his mother as she taught Adam his lessons, his eyes shining with love, Mama helping the two of them in the metal shop and creating her own joyful art to place around the cabin, evenings of making music and telling stories. He had talked as he had never talked to anyone...until Elle.

“You know what no one else knows, and you see more than anyone else sees.”

“I see who you are. I like what I see. The story you told, about Big John Hammer, that confirms my belief that you’re the greatest man I’ve ever met.”

“Why? I failed.”

“You could have made yourself into the hero of the story. That’s what Hammer expected you to do. That’s what he was prepared for. Instead you stood in defense of your dead, and you made a fool of him in the process. Turning aside from the cheers, telling the truth and knowingly plunging yourself into the quagmire of his lies.”

He felt as if he should argue. But why? If Elle wanted to believe he was a great guy, he’d be a fool to dissuade her. “The revelations about you prove how strong you are.”

“So we’re a good match.”

He liked how smug she was.

She turned serious. “I don’t like what happened with Clarice. It worries me, but I don’t see how it could have anything to do with...” She waved a finger at her neck.

“Nor do I.”

“Nothing more has occurred that’s threatened me.” She lightly touched the place on his shoulder where he’d been shot, the place where she’d only a few days ago removed his stitches. “I believe it’s you who’s in danger.”