Standoff

by Sandra Brown

  I had a video, too. From Gladys's camcorder. The quality of the tape wasn't very good, but no other reporter in the world had it."

  She took a deep breath, glanced up at him, then back down. "But you were on the tape. Recognizable. And I didn't want to exploit you after… after what happened in the motel. It was personal then. I couldn't exploit you without exploiting part of myself too. So I threw them away. No one ever saw or heard them."

  "Hmm. Well, that's not what I was thanking you for."

  Her head sprang up. "Huh?"

  "I saw your stories about the standoff, and they were great. I mean that. Outstanding broadcast journalism. You deserve all the accolades you received. And I appreciate your keeping our private conversations private. You were right about the exposure. It was bound to happen with or without help from you. I see that now."

  For once in her life, she had nothing to say.

  "The reason I came to thank you is for making me take a hard look at myself. My life. How wasteful it's been. After Shari died and all that followed, I needed solitude, time and space to think things through, reassess. That used up… say six months. The rest of the time I've been doing exactly what you said, hiding. Punishing myself. Taking the coward's way out."

  The pressure building inside her now wasn't tension, it was emotion. Maybe love. Okay, love. She wanted to go to him, hold him, but she wanted to hear what he had to say.

  Furthermore, he needed to say it.

  "I'm going back. I spent the past week in Dallas talking to some doctors and researchers, newcomers who share my aggressive approach to fighting this thing, doctors who are tired of having to go through umpteen committees and legal counsels to get approval of a new treatment when the patient is suffering and all other options have been exhausted. We'd like to take medicine out of the hands of lawyers and bureaucrats and return it to the doctors.

  So, we're forming a group, pooling our resources and specialities-" He looked hard at her. "Are you crying?"

  "The sun's in my eyes."

  "Oh. Well. That's what I came to tell you."

  Economically, efficiently, in as business-like a manner as she could, she rubbed the tears from her eyes. "You didn't have to travel all this way. You could have E-mailed me, or called."

  "That would have been cowardly too. I needed to say this in person, face-to-face."

  "How'd you know where to find me?"

  "I went to the TV station. Talked to Gully, who also asked me to deliver a message." A small bob of her head indicated that she was listening. "He said, Tell her I ain't dense. I just figured out the meaning of complicated.'

  Does that make sense?"

  She laughed. "Yes."

  "Care to explain?"

  "Maybe later. If you're staying."

  "If you don't mind my company."

  "I think I can tolerate it."

  He returned her wide smile, but his faltered, and his expression turned serious again. "We're both pretty intense when it comes to our work, Tiel."

  "Which I believe is part of the attraction."

  "It won't be easy."

  "Nothing worthwhile is."

  "We don't know where it will lead."

  "But we know where we hope it will. We also know it will lead to nowhere if we don't give it a try."

  "I loved my wife, Tiel, and love can hurt."

  "Not being loved hurts worse. Maybe we can find a way to love each other without it hurting."

  "God, I want to touch you."

  "Doc," she murmured. Then she laughed. "Bradley?

  Brad? How do I call you?"

  "A simple 'Come here' will do for now."

  Then he closed the distance separating them.

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