“Ah,” he said with amusement, “now I have offended you again.”
“Now I’m not only sane, but I’m simple, too,” she said dryly, lifting her glass. “Not exactly the exciting image I’ve built for myself.”
He took her hand across the table. “But don’t you see, Lila? That one in Seattle, she was a girl. The one I see now, in front of me, is a woman—a very passionate, beautiful woman.”
She swallowed, looking away from his direct gaze. “While you were deciding who I was, did you spend any time sorting out yourself?” Her voice was constrained, for the picture he presented to her of herself seemed as dull as a dime-store sofa-throw.
He stood and rounded the table, tugging Lila to her feet. “I know all that I need to know about myself. I know that I love you—and that I cannot waste a moment of my time with you.”
He kissed her then, deeply, and began very slowly to undress her. He unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it from her shoulders, then followed suit with her jeans, sliding them off her hips. When Lila would have returned the favor, he stopped her, smiling. “We are not finished with your evening,” he said. “Over here.”
Lila stepped into the hot water he’d prepared in the tub. When she realized he meant to bathe her, she sat up. “No, Samuel, I can’t—”
“Shh.” He pressed his fingers to her lips, lifting a sponge to wash her back. The water was hot, his hands gentle, and Lila allowed herself to be persuaded. He lazily soaped her arms and shoulders and breasts, her feet and knees and belly. A fine sheen of perspiration glowed on his brow, and he shed his shirt midway through. By then it was impossible for her to ignore the lure of his sensual movements, and she unbuttoned his trousers, pushing them away, then tugged him into the tub with her. Water splashed on the floor.
“Are you aiming to show me the devastating talents of a Frenchman?” she asked, running wet hands over his shoulders.
“No, ma chérie,” he said against her mouth, “not even a Frenchman can equal my talents.”
She laughed throatily, moving her legs against his. “And not even you can equal a gal from Oklahoma.”
“But I have the lore of the ancient Arabians at my fingertips,” he countered.
“And I have the passionate Italians in my corner.” She splashed him lightly. “And don’t forget the leprechauns.”
He laughed, and Lila took pleasure in the freedom of the sound. “I’m afraid I cannot top that.”
“Go ahead,” Lila said, unable to cap a giggle. “Try.”
“I suppose,” he said, his breath whispering seductively over her lips, “that a man is always obligated to try.”
* * *
Later he rose from her bed, where the teasing had led them, to fill their glasses and extinguish the candles. One by one he blew them out, and the cabin grew slowly darker, until only the light of the fire, shining orange through the open door of the stove, lighted the room.
Giving her the glass, he settled himself next to her soft body. “Lila, I want to tell you about what is happening.”
She was instantly alert. He felt the small muscles in her legs tighten. “All right,” she said.
He took a breath and explained The Organization, about its world ties and its aim of world peace. He told her about his place in it and that he had been planning to leave it. “But now I must finish this last thing.”
“Your brother,” Lila said.
“Yes. My brother.” He paused. “He is not the man The Organization wants to believe he is. He is only lost and weak, and I must do what I can to see that he isn’t harmed.”
“I understand, Samuel.” She looked at him solemnly. “I have brothers of my own. I would give my own life to save them.”
It was not an idle boast. A little pause fell between them. Then Lila said, “You have to leave, don’t you? When you went to town, you called and they told you it was time.”
He touched the downy flesh of her cheek. “Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
She took a long breath. “When it’s done, Samuel, will you find me?”
And in that second, as he held her close and smelled the sweet, womanly scent of her, he offered her a promise he could not be certain he would keep. “Yes, Lila. I will find you.”
She touched his face. “Make love to me again,” she said urgently. “Please, Samuel.”
And he did, finding succor and healing in her arms and lips and breasts, in her tiny whimpering cries. They joined in the deep silence of the dark night, their souls mingling, hearts joining.
In the midst of it, when they were as closely joined as it was possible for them to be, he took her face in his hands. “Never doubt, Lila, that I have loved you,” he whispered, and kissed the sweetness of her lips. “That I will always love you.”
She pulled him to her, and he felt her tears on his shoulder. He drove himself deep within her, wishing they would always be thus joined, that a parting would never cleave them.
And knew that the dawn would bring sorrow as surely as the night gave them joy.
Chapter 11
The fog hung in the air the next morning, so deep and thick that the light in the cabin was as gloomy as dusk. As Samuel gathered his things together, Lila cooked breakfast and brewed a thermos of coffee for him to take on his journey.
The early hour reminded her of the ranch, for her parents had always awakened before dawn. As a child she had been comforted by the sound of their murmuring voices in the kitchen and the faint gleam of light reflected up the stairs. Her mother hated to see anyone start the day without a solid breakfast. In spite of her numbness, Lila smiled faintly at her own need to send Samuel off with food in his belly, fortifying him against whatever the world had to offer.
When he came downstairs, suitcase in hand, he was freshly shaved, and his hair was brushed neatly away from his face. At the sight of the food piled on the table, he smiled, but it was a hollow expression, one that did not reach his eyes.
As they ate, they spoke in hushed tones about the weather and the way Arrow’s coat was molting, about brown eggs versus white and thick slices of bread for French toast versus thin. Inconsequential things, but Lila knew she would always remember every word he had spoken this morning in his lilting voice.
He didn’t linger for a cigarette or a second cup of coffee. “Thank you for breakfast,” he said, and stood up to put on his coat.
Lila bit her lip hard at the sudden plummet of her stomach. A fine trembling ran through her arms and legs as she stood up, a weakness she ignored as she opened the door for him.
They walked out to the finned Mercedes in the heavy fog, and Lila shivered as the damp mist encircled them. It shrouded the trees overhead and blanketed the air with a profound stillness, one Lila was unable to break, for her throat was bound tight with sorrow.
Samuel tossed his bag onto the front seat, then turned back to her. His hair, grown a little shaggy with the long days without a cut, fell down on his forehead, and with the gesture that had become so heartbreakingly familiar, he brushed it patiently away. Silence, filled with more words that neither of them could bear to utter, roared between them.
As she looked into his liquid eyes, letting her gaze wash over the beloved face, she wondered how she could ever have thought it was dangerous. She lifted a hand to his cheek, engraved with long lines around his wide, good mouth. “God, Samuel, I love you,” she whispered. Her vision blurred but not a single tear spilled over. “Can’t we just go away somewhere, someplace where no one will ever know who we are?”
He touched her hair. “I asked you where you would go and what you would do if you could do anything. Remember?”
Lila nodded.
“If it were left to me, I would stay here with you. But sometimes God only gives a little time. And that has to be enough.”
“Take me with you,” she whispered. “I’m strong. I could help you.”
Roughly he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his che
st, smelling wood smoke in his clothes. Beneath her ear his heart beat hard against his ribs, a sound like the eternal rhythm of the sea. His lips caressed her hair. “You are strong,” he murmured against her ear. “And brave and true. You have restored me, Lila. But I cannot take you.” His arms nearly crushed her, and she welcomed the embrace, dreading the moment she would no longer feel him against her.
Lifting her head, she pressed her mouth to his fiercely. Then, swallowing to dislodge the thick emotions in her throat, she forced herself to drop her hands, step back, let him go. “Walk in balance, Samuel,” she said, and her words were husky.
He stared at her, his face as grim as she had ever seen it. Then he nodded. “I will try.” He dropped his head, began to turn away.
Impulsively she cried, “Wait!” Fumbling with the clasp on her chain, she hurried to him and fastened her necklace of talismans around his neck. “You need it more than I do.”
Gravely he fixed his black eyes on her face. Then he touched the charms around his neck, and she knew he would wear them. “God keep you, Lila Waters.”
And then he climbed into the big car and fit the key into the ignition. The engine awakened with a purr. Samuel slammed the door, and without another backward glance, drove out of her life as abruptly and completely as he had come into it. She watched the red taillights until the fog swallowed them up.
* * *
It was hours before her numbness shattered. She cleaned the cabin, stowing away dishes and quilts, fed Arrow, made an inventory of food that might spoil. Then she walked to town and called Allen, who agreed to fetch her from the cabin, a request he granted without asking a single pointed question. Only, “Lila, are you all right?”
“Yes,” she told him in a flat voice. “I’m fine.”
The call left her nothing else to do. She prepared a lunch she did not eat but fed to Arrow instead. The dog, seeming to sense her departure, stuck close to her, giving her hand affectionate licks from time to time. She was glad of his company.
And glad, too, of the comfort he lent as night crawled into the cabin. She went upstairs to the loft, curling on the bed under the window to look at the fog-draped treetops, and Arrow settled next to her. For the first time in her life, she thought God had been terribly unkind. What point had there been to this interlude? She fell asleep with her head against the glass, Arrow’s soft, broad head under her hand.
Her dreams were troubled but vague—bombs and shouts and guns—and she awoke abruptly from one, her legs jumping. One arm was fast asleep, and she moved off the bed to shake it awake.
In the gloom she tripped over something and bent to see what it was. Her hand closed on the soft velveteen of Samuel’s robe. As her arm tingled painfully to life, she bent her head to the lush fabric, rubbing it against her face as if it were the man himself, and the smell of him enveloped her so acutely that she felt as if she’d been stabbed. Clasping the robe to her chest, breathing in the fragrance of the man who had taken his leave from her, Lila crumpled to the floor and finally wept.
Her weeping carried her away from the cabin, into a cocoon of sorrow so deep that she did not hear the car outside until Arrow started growling next to her. A pounding sounded at the front door, and for a moment Lila’s heart leaped in hope. It was Samuel come back to take her with him, after all.
But, of course, it was Allen, big and wild haired, who took one look at Lila’s face and gathered her into a bear hug. “Oh, honey, you fell hard when you fell, didn’t you?”
He smoothed her hair, murmuring quieting phrases, meaningless and warm, as he rocked her in his friendly arms. Bit by bit Lila felt the first rush of horrible realization—Samuel was gone—ease away, until she could dry her eyes and let go of Allen.
“I’d like to report that your sourdough starter is fresh and foamy, just as you requested.”
“I trusted you,” she said.
In a quieter voice he continued, “I am also to be married in one short week. Can you make it?”
“Of course.”
And so, with little things, she was reminded of the life she had left behind, the life she had forgotten, the life she was forced, now, to make sense of somehow. She smiled ruefully. “I think I know what you meant now about normal life.” She sighed. “Picket fences look pretty good right about now.”
His eyes met hers over the table. “I know.”
* * *
They left at dawn the next morning, on a day as clear as the one before had been thick. The mood of the bright, clear sky did not suit Lila at all. She had brought nothing with her, and so had nothing much to take back, except the robe Samuel had left behind and the turquoise turtleneck he had given her. “Come on, Arrow. I have to get you home now.”
But the dog would not budge. Stubbornly he settled down in front of the door and didn’t move.
She crossed the muddy yard and knelt next to him, putting her arms around him, resting her head against the fur of his great neck. “I’m going to miss you a lot this time, baby. Don’t make it any harder than it has to be. Let me take you back home to your real master.”
Finally, reluctantly, he rose and trotted behind her, jumping dutifully onto the back seat.
They drove on the rutted road to the hermit’s house. As was the custom, Lila called out for John Handy. He emerged from a stand of trees, a pack of malamutes in his stead. “Brung him back, have ya?”
“Yes. I have to go back to the city.”
He nodded. “Come on, Arrow. Fella’s been missing you.”
Lila squatted for one more hug, feeling sorrow well up again at the thought of being completely alone. “You be good, baby. I’ll be back soon.”
Arrow licked her hand in farewell, and Lila turned quickly away. As she reached the car, he howled eerily, mournfully, the sound an exact replica of the pain in her heart. Blinking back tears, Lila whirled and ran back. Arrow raced toward her, gleefully jumping at her as she closed the distance. “Can I take him with me?” she asked the hermit.
“I reckon Arrow already made up his mind about that. He always howls for days after you go.” He whistled at the other huskies and headed back into the woods.
Looking into the yellow eyes of her dog, Lila felt an unexpected pang of regret that she had never seen how much this animal loved the human he’d adopted. It seemed careless, the way she’d left him behind so often. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, kneeling in front of him. “I didn’t understand before.”
He moaned softly in forgiveness. They walked back to the car.
“Good for you,” Allen said. “You always miss that dog so damned much when you get back to Seattle that you drive me crazy.”
Lila looked over the seat. Arrow sat up straight, shoulders squared, huge chest thrust out. His tongue lolled out cheerfully.
Allen shifted his hands to the steering wheel, as if to adjust his next words. “I think there are a few things you need to know.”
She frowned. “What?”
“When The Shell and Fin was bombed, people were looking for you. They came to see me, both the police and somebody else. The police just wanted to talk to you, because they talked to everyone connected with the restaurant. When I told them I didn’t know where you were, they went away.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “But these other guys came back a couple of times, and once I saw them following me.”
“What did they look like?”
“Young. Arabs.” He cleared his throat. “And one other thing. Somebody tore your house to pieces.”
Stunned, Lila could only stare at him. “When?”
“Had to have been the night before last, because I was there to water your plants earlier in the day, and by the time I got there yesterday, it was destroyed.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean pillows sliced open and drawers on the floor and everything out of the cupboards. Like they were looking for something.”
“Looking for what?” Lila shouted.
“You tell me.”
“No. These two were young, like I said.”
Of course, she thought. Hassid would hardly do legwork himself if there were others who could do it for him. Fear filled her mouth, nameless and vague.
“Do you know who they are?” Allen asked.
She nodded. “I saw them, I think, at the airport.” She didn’t know how much to say, how much would be a betrayal. But she trusted Allen completely, and she needed to talk. “I think they were there to kill him. That’s why I took him to my cabin, to protect him.”
“God, Lila.” Allen expelled a hard breath. “Did he blow up the restaurant?”
“No. We were here already.”
“Good.” He shook his head. “What a mess.”
They lapsed into silence after a time, and Allen turned on the radio. They rounded a bend in the highway, coming around a sloping hillside into which the road had been cut. Below was the sea, pounding hard against black cliffs. Allen suddenly shifted his foot from the accelerator to the brake. “Whoa,” he said. “They might have given us a little more warning.”
Several police cruisers were clustered in a line along the road, gathered in a hollow around another car. Seeing it, Lila shrieked, “Stop the car!”
“I can’t, not right here!”
As they passed the flashing lights and milling officers, Lila’s voice caught in her throat on a sob. “Allen,” she cried. “Stop!”
He slowed just beyond the line of cruisers, and pulled over. “They won’t let you near that—”
But before he could finish, Lila opened the door and ran toward the black Mercedes, still smoking, at the edge of the road. Dry grasses and the skeletons of wildflowers had been singed black by the fire in the car, and between the shoulders of two uniformed policemen, Lila could see the peeled paint, bubbles outlined by the bright morning sun. It had burned virulently, leaving nothing but the unmistakable shell. Her first thought was that Samuel had worked so hard to restore it, and now it was destroyed.
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