Come on, he coaxed, patting his green-patterned thigh, cajoling with the voice, the husky growl shed never been good at resisting. Put your head down here. Try and get some rest.
Youre legs too bony to make a decent pillow, she muttered. But she was already rearranging herself grudgingly, scooting around, leaning toward him, then sinking downlike something without bones or willuntil her head, her earthen her cheek settled onto the hard ridge of his thigh like a weary bird finding its roost.
Weary She hadnt known how tired she was. Sleep, like a gate-crasher denied admittance only by the strength of her will, now came barreling through abandoned barricades to overwhelm her. Surrounded by warmth and a familiar feeling of security, she felt Corys hand come to rest on her hair, touching tentatively, at first, then moving slowlylightly stroking, fingers weaving through the short, damp strands.
She thought, Oh, how Ive missed this.
I could have had this. If I hadnt insisted on becoming a pilotif I hadnt allowed myself to be recruited by the Companyif I hadnt lost my temper that nightif I hadnt walked away.
In her unguarded state that night came back to her so vividly. She remembered the sick cold feeling in her chest and belly, the trembling weakness in her legs as shed walked away from him down that rainy Georgetown street.
She remembered how shed held her head high as she walked and stared at the streetlamps through a blur of tears and rain. How shed listened until it seemed as if her whole head was vibrating. Hoping.
Silly me-Im hoping hell call to me, tell me not to go. That hell tell me he loves me and needs me, that he cant possibly live without me, that he wants me just as I am, that its okay if I want to be a pilot, or become a spy, or whatever it is I want to do, if only Ill come back.
But of course he doesnt call, and I keep walking down that street in the rain, too proud to admit it isnt what I meant to do. That this isnt what I wanted.
If Id done it differently
Moisture pooled in the corners of her eyes, made tiny puddles beneath her lashes. Just moisture-not tears, she told herself. Im not crying. Samantha June doesnt cry, not over lost causes.
Buthis touch was so gentleso soothing. With her eyes closed, lashes floating gently on the cushion of tears, she felt his long, sensitive fingers comb the hair back from her templetuck a strand behind her ear. It felt so good. She gave a small, shuddering sigh. Safety and contentment settled over her. Twilight drifted down
Then, from somewhere far above her she heard his voice, a familiar and comforting murmur, like a lullaby
What happened here, Sam? This little scar behind your ear?
Chapter 6
Awareness and adrenaline stabbed through her with the same brutal stroke, like a lance of double-edged steel. The bubble of safety and comfort and sleep that had briefly cocooned her shattered and vanished as if it had never been. Her body twitched and quivered; her hand jerked protectively to the tender place behind her ear, displacing his. Her mind snapped into focus, sharp and crystal clear. Too late!
I can feel a bump there. Its still tender, isnt it? You flinched when I touched it earlier.
She coughed and mumbled, I had a few stitches-nothing serious. Vibrating inside, she sat up and moved away from him, swiveling her body around so her back was against the wall and there was a buffer zone of space between her arm and his. She had to force herself to make the movements slowly, making it seem a casual thing rather than the panicked retreat it was.
Is that why you cut your hair?
She gave him a look and a short laugh, surprised because, under the influence of her own guilt, it was the last thing shed expected him to ask. She looked away again and touched her hair with a self-conscious hand. Yeahit looked kind of weird with a chunk cut out of it, so I figured, you know, why not. That was a few months ago-its grown out quite a bit, actually.
I like it. Looks good on you.
Thanks. Even as she accepted the compliment she could feel his eyes on herhear his mind humming away, thinking up new questions to ask. To distract him, she nodded toward Tonys corner, from which the snoring continued unabated. How can he sleep like that under these conditions? I wish I had the knack.
I think its something you develop in childhood. In his case, its what comes of being one of eleven kids.
Wow. Really? Sam leaned her head back against the wall. Well, thats something us only children arent ever gonna know about, isnt it? Then she checked herself and glanced over at him. But I forgot-I guess it was different for you, wasnt it? In foster homes. She paused, but as usual he didnt answer. Why had she imagined this might be any different from all the other times shed tried to ask about his pasthis childhood?
She studied his profilelike a menswear ad in a glossy magazine, she thought, with his eyes fixed intently on some far-off place, muscles visible in a jaw too square and uncompromising for the rest of his face. It was an interesting face rather than handsome-shed always thought so, from the first moment shed laid eyes on it that long-ago afternoon in the White House rose garden-long and angular, with hollows and creases that made it seem scholarly even without glasses. Without the shield of his glasses, which at the moment were tucked in the pocket of his shirt, his eyes seemed even gentler, somehow, the intensity of their gaze veiled by thick lashes, the fan of creases at their corners more suggestive of humor than that laserlike focus that could be so unnerving.
Maybe it was because of that that she pushed bravely on now, when normally such stubborn and intimidating silence would have caused her to abandon the field like a craven coward.
What was it like for you? In those foster homes. Were theygood to you?
Still he didnt reply, and she felt the familiar hollowness insidethe terrible deadness of futility. Then he shifted in a restless way, and when he spoke, in a gravelly voice that didnt sound like him, it wasnt what shed expected.
What makes you think Im an only child?
For a moment she could only stare at him, unable to make sense of the words, as if hed spoken in a foreign language. But youre-I thought- She stopped, as the meaning of what hed said rolled over her like the delayed winds from an explosion. Breathless with shock, she said, Wow. You mean you-I didnt know you had siblings. Is it-are they-I mean, my God
Four, he said, and his voice and eyes seemed almost regretful. But oddly, his body, close to hers but not touching, seemed to hum with tension. Two of each.
My God. She said it again, dazed. Why didnt I know? How could I not have known this? Why didnt he tell me? After a moment she cleared her throat. Are they-
Younger. All of them. I was the oldest.
It was anger that finally squeezed past the immobilizing shock, both of body and mind. And she was too upset herself, then, to notice the tense hed used, or heed the quality of his voice-a certain carefulness, as if the slightest puff of breath might scatter memories too fragile to hold up to examination. She plunged on, her outrage building with every word, fighting to keep her voice under control, to keep him from knowing how devastated she was.
You never told me you have brothers and sisters. I mean-when you said you grew up in foster care, I just assumedhow could you not have told me?
The better question, Cory thought, wasnt why hed never told her before, but what had possessed him to tell her now?
He hadnt meant to. The words had suddenly appeared, his mind playing a trick like a magician plucking a coin from thin air. And, as it usually was with magicians tricks, he couldnt for the life of him figure out how it had happened.
Why didnt I tell you?
Shed drawn her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, as a barricade against him, he thought, and her eyes, gazing at him across the tops of her knees, were dark with reproach and betrayal. He stared at her, appalled at the pain hed caused her, unable to think of an explanation that would be enough for her. Shed always wanted brothers and sisters, he knew that. Shed been born two months early, had spent weeks fighting for her life in a NICU, and for her parents, Tris and Jessie Bauer, one million-dollar-miracle baby had been enough. To think, in all the years theyd known each other, after all theyd been to each other, that he had siblings hed never spoken of, never shared with herhe couldnt blame her for being angry. One more thing he was never going to be able to make right.
How could he make her understand that some secrets were too shameful to share? That some wounds were endurable only if undisturbed? That sometimes guilt was a hornets nest to be tiptoed around and left alone?
So, she said in a blunt voice, with a defiant little toss of her head, Where are they now? Do you see them often?
He shook his head. I havent seen them inyears, he said, and saw a spark of new outrage flare in her eyes. In Sams extended family, any kinfolk-brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins-were a taken-for-granted part of everyday life. Even the ones who lived far away from the old home place in Oglethorp County, Georgia, managed to come home for the major holidays and family events.
You havent- Air gusted from her lungs with the word, Why?
He looked away. Because, he said with a soft sigh of resignation, I dont know where they are.
What? What do you mean, you dont know? And even without looking at her he knew shed be staring at him with lightning bolts in her eyes, bristling with dismay and disbelief.
He put his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The cat was out of the bag, the initial panic and turmoil were passing, and he felt a strange quietness nowa sense of acceptance and inevitability. Maybe, he thought, the words had come simply because it was time. Because for some reason this moment and this place were the right ones, crazy as it seemed-the middle of a Philippine jungle, with uncertainty and peril all around, and Samantha back in his life again, and maybe, just maybe, another chance for them to get it right this time.
And suddenly he knew for certain he wanted that chance. He always had wanted it. He just wasnt sure he was capable of what it would take to make it happen.
Beginning-that was the hardest part. She was waiting for an answeran explanation he wasnt sure he was ready to give her. He drew a breath that shuddered with the strain, and when he spoke, the words felt as if they were being stripped from him, like the protective bark from a tree. We were separated after our parents died. I dont know what happened to the others. I think some of them were adopted.