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more from him, this time his absolution for my own sins.
 What is it? he said, alarmed.  Mark?
I managed to get my battered vocal cords to cooperate.  Thank you& for& 
For my life.
His face twisted.  I d never let anyone hurt you, you know that, he said.
I lost it. Suddenly I was sobbing. I couldn t stop.
Quite calmly, he gathered me to him, and astonishingly what he said was,  That s right.
Let go. Let it out. That s just what you need.
It was the last thing on earth I needed. I shook my head but the tears wouldn t stop.
And Stephen held me through it all, as though this were perfectly normal behavior,
nothing to be ashamed of. In my whole life no one ever gave me permission to fall apart, to
let go. He was the only person in the world who thought I needed taking care of, protecting.
 Is any of this blood yours? he asked, his hand still moving carefully over my gore-
soaked shirt.
I pulled back a little. Wiped my face with my hand, then my sleeve. My eyes were still
leaking, but the worst was over.  Literally or metaphorically? I got out.
 What kind of talk is that? he muttered, pulling me against him, and he kissed my wet
eyes.
It was& something inside me melted away, and I leaned against him. I said helplessly,
 I thought you were dead. That I d killed you. I shouldn t have come back. I knew it but I --
 Stop it. His vehemence stopped me.  Don t say that again.
I nodded, wiped my face in his shirt. It was embarrassing to have fallen apart with him
like that, and yet& it was liberating. Cleansing.
 Can you stand?
I nodded tiredly, sat up. Remembered something, clutching at him with my good hand.
 Buck! He s not dead. At least he wasn t fifteen minutes ago.
 Okay. Let s get you on your feet. Hold your right arm against your chest.
I obeyed. He hooked an arm around my waist and lifted me to my feet, and I managed
not to throw up or black out. He walked me over the dead terrorist, and then got me up the
stairs. As we reached the kitchen I heard the sound of sirens in the distance.
That reminded me that I had phone calls to make as well. My brain just didn t seem to
be working. I wiped a hand across my wet lashes.
 Go get Buck, I said, pulling away.  I can handle this.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
The mattress dipped. I came to groggily, lifting my head. In the dawn s early light, I
could see Stephen climbing into bed beside me.
 It s just me, he said.
Which somehow seemed like the understatement of the year. We had only finished
talking with law enforcement an hour or so earlier. Stephen had finished patching up the
wounded -- me -- and the bodies had been carted away.
 How s Buck? I asked. My voice was still raspy from the bruising on my throat.
I had crashed not long after the vet had arrived. Stephen said,  I think he s going to be
all right. John s hopeful that because of his age and his general condition, he ll pull through.
 That s good.
 How are you? He stretched out beside me, and I moved awkwardly into his arms. He
hugged me, careful of my shoulder -- and ribs -- and leg.
 I m all right. And I realized I was. I studied his drawn face.  How are you?
He met my eyes.  I ll be all right.
I swallowed over the blockage in my throat.  I m sorry, Stephen. I can t tell you how
sorry.
 I know. And you ve got plenty to be sorry for. His smile was faint.  But not that.
You re lying here next to me, alive, and that makes all the difference in the world.
My eyes prickled again, and I closed them. I couldn t remember crying since I was a
little kid, but apparently I was making up for lost time.
He said gently,  If those tears are for me, they re not necessary.
I nodded. Took a deep breath and managed to get control. I opened my eyes again.
 What changed? I asked.  Last night you sounded pretty sure it was over.
 Then you re the one person I managed to convince. He nuzzled my face, finding my
mouth with his -- about the only part of my body that didn t hurt. I put my good arm around
him, ignoring the pain of my ribs. He kissed me softly, mouth, nose, eyes.
He said,  I guess I finally faced the fact that by sending you away I was just hurrying up
the thing I was afraid of all along.
 I know what I want now. And I won t leave you ever again.
He smiled, not entirely convinced. It didn t matter because I knew I was telling the
truth, and convincing him in the days to come would be its own reward.
He asked at last,  Can you tell me now what happened to you?
I lay quietly, watching his face.  I ve told you most of it. Dawn cast an uncertain
watery light, like the tints in Dulac s illustrations of the Rub�iy�t. Stephen s eyes looked gray
and unreadable. I said,  I was in Kandahar with another agent.
 Barry, he said.
 Barry Shelton, yes. I closed my eyes. It was easier like that.  Taliban resistance is very
strong in that part of the country. Ostensibly we were there on a fact-finding mission, but
we were actually there to shore up wavering support from local tribes for the US and UK
efforts.
He brushed the knuckles of his hand against the lower part of my jaw -- where the skin
was paler from the beard I had worn for months.  Go on.
I opened my eyes. I found I wanted to watch his face, after all.  We were sold out.
Betrayed. I don t know by whom. Or why. It doesn t matter. It s nothing new. Nothing that
hasn t happened before. Nothing that won t happen again. To someone else.
 What happened?
 We went to meet with a local warlord, and we were taken prisoner. I swallowed,
seeing it all again, feeling the fists, the boots, seeing the naked hate in the faces that had
smiled a few minutes before. Reliving the sick helplessness, the brutal buzz of fear, knowing
what was ahead for us.  They were transporting us across the border. Our allies attacked.
Created enough of a diversion that we were able to get free. I managed to escape. Barry was
killed. Shot.
 And you decided you d finally had enough.
It was important that he understand this. I said,  I d decided I d had enough before I
ever went. The last time we talked& when you said it was over -- I decided then that if,
when, I got home -- I was packing it in. That if you d still have me, I d try and make it up to
you. I know you don t believe that.
He interrupted.  I was angry and disappointed. I thought for my own sake, I needed to
move on. We d lost two years together, and I didn t know if you d ever see your way to
settling down. I thought you d changed your mind -- and I didn t blame you because,
frankly, about the most excitement we see around here is when Buck corners a possum.
 I suppose it depends on your definition of excitement. Personally& 
He said,  I m not saying it doesn t have its moments. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]