Seeing Denny’s hands shake was as upsetting for me as it was for him. After Eve’s death, he glanced at his hands often, held them before his eyes as if they weren’t really his hands at all, held them up and watched them shake. He tried to do it so no one would see. “Nerves,” he would say to me whenever he caught me watching his manual examination. “Stress.” And then he would tuck them into his pants pockets and keep them there, out of sight.
