“I almost died once, myself,” she said. “I jumped into a quarry. I couldn’t swim. Still can’t.” “What?” “My brother jumped in right after me. Somehow got me to the side.” “I see,” Wakely said, slowly unraveling her guilt. “Your brother saved you—so you think you should have been able to save him. Is that it?” She turned to look at him, her face hollow. “But Elizabeth, you couldn’t swim—that’s why he jumped in after you. You have to understand, suicide isn’t like that. Suicide is lot more complicated.” “Wakely,” she said. “He didn’t know how to swim either.”
