Some part of her recoiled from what she had done…the concealment of her relationship with Francesca, her deliberate attempt to distract Robin and find out whether she posed any real competition or not and the look on Jenny’s face at Provocations when she made a point of letting her know that Robin was her date.

It was more than guilt she felt for what she’d done. It was shame for what she’d become. Or perhaps it was some transformation in her yet incomplete, from a woman who never gave a second thought to her dalliances to a woman with a conscience. Somewhere in the process of falling in love with Jenny, something had shifted deep inside her.

And it was that conscience that was making it difficult to think how to keep Shane’s confidence, when every bit of information, however discontinuous, might provide her treatment team with the clues they needed to bring her back. Shane had trusted her, as much as she trusted anyone which wasn’t much, and Marina was sure that Shane had told her things that nobody else knew. And Shane had kept her confidence as well, knowing that Marina had fallen hard for Jenny and was going crazy with conflict over it, she’d said nothing to the others. How odd that she’d had no honor where Robin was concerned and here she was, worrying about keeping Shane’s secrets.

Shane. Even now she could picture how her face had shifted to a vacant stare from a look of such intense pain (and something else, her mind niggled at her to remember it). It was the most frightening thing she’d seen in a long time. Something bothered her but she couldn’t say what it was. It was as if she knew something that would make all the pieces fit together, but didn’t know what it was.

She tried to shake off the mood and walked into the kitchen. She noticed Shane’s cell phone lying on the floor by the table leg, surrounded by pieces of the broken cup. She picked up the phone, and pocketed it, then pulled open the cleaning cupboard, took out broom and dustpan, swept up the broken glass. Then she began to shake, only now daring to think what might have happened if she hadn’t come back from switching the loads of laundry when she did. Her mind filled in the thought, and for one brief moment, the ceramic shards gleamed red and bloody in the dustpan. She opened the door beneath the sink and dumped the broken cup into the trash, kicking the door shut with her toe.