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gently on Adalynn’s. Her fingers were like ice, but she didn’t
move her palm away from the arm of the desk chair. Cassia
curled her palm over Adalynn’s, taking her hand and clutching
it tightly. “You were never a whore and you’ll never become
one.”
Adalynn looked at her, her huge gray eyes filled with
sadness, and rage scoured through Cassia’s chest like steel
wool again. “How can you say that with all that you know
about me?”
“Because you weren’t a whore,” Cassia said firmly. “And
that’s a dirty word for a sad, sad profession that is filled with
pain and desperation and women doing what they have to do
to survive. People use that word in such a terrible way. People
have no compassion. If your mother meant that you’d use
someone for your own gain, I know that’s not what you did.
There are many different kinds of love. I think you were truly
loved, and I also think that your late husband would want you
to be happy now.”
Adalynn sniffed. She reached up and brushed at her eyes.
“You’re right. He would say that.”
“I think you have a good moral compass, Adalynn. I think
you’re a good person. I think people can be motivated by
many things. Greed. Fear. The many different kinds and forms
of love. I don’t think you’ve ever done anything out of greed,
and I hope you won’t let fear have any place in your life now. I
guess what I’m really asking is, are you happy?”
Adalynn’s eyes were gray thunderheads that promised a
storm, but never delivered more than a gentle rain when it was
most needed. “You’re asking if I want you to stay.”
“No. I’m asking if you’re happy.”
