Chapter 14
“I did my wife’s hair and makeup for years,” he said. “She had Still’s disease and her knuckles used to swell up horribly. Beautiful, my Ada, but she never left the house without makeup and doing up her hair, no matter how bad she felt. I couldn’t watch her put herself through that all the time, so I learned to do it for her.”
Great. Married. Fantastic. That was all she needed. More drama. “That’s a pretty name,” she said. “I take it she doesn’t like to camp?”
“She died,” Guil said. Lane hitched in a breath to apologize, to say something, anything, when he continued, “quite a while ago.” He dropped silent, combing out Lane’s hair with easy, gentle strokes. He separated the damp sections and twisted, pulling her locks into a simple French braid. He knotted a length of string around the end. “There. That should hold you for a day or so.”