C47 Forty Seven
That woman was Stacy. She could be another Stacy, but why was my heart throbbing, sending me a feeling that she was the Stacy that Luke didn’t want me to know?
Everything fits, the harder I think about it. She’s the exact definition of Luke’s type—a blonde Barbie doll; except, of course, the wheelchair.
I didn’t have the right to ask her who she was, so I didn’t say anything further