Light of Day (19 page)

“I think the coffee is finished,” Lila said. “Do you want some?”

He reached for her hand, small and light, and put it on his chest. “Not yet,” he said softly, and kissed her again. He felt greedily hungry, overcome with a need to fill himself with her before he had to go, knowing it would never be enough.

Four days had passed since he had called The Organization. With luck he had one day after this one to love this woman, only one day that would be theirs before his task took him away to the unknown future, where there might not be another day for them, ever again.

So he kissed her with more violence and longing than the morning would seem to have left him, and she, sensing his need, yielded easily.

* * *

A little past noon the rain pattered down to nothing more than a thin mist. Looking at it through the window above the bed, her legs draped lazily over Samuel’s, Lila said suddenly, “Let’s go for a drive.”

“To where?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I know a nice little cove about ten miles south of here. I don’t particularly care where—I just want another ride in your car.”

He shifted on the pillow, his hair in attractive disarray, incredibly black against the linen. In his eyes was a soft expression, one that spread past laugh lines into the broad planes of the face beyond. “All right, my little adventuress. A ride it shall be.”

“Good.” She kissed him quickly, cheerfully, and jumped up to climb into her clothes. A lingering stiffness in her back was easily ignored, and she slapped Samuel’s leg when he followed more lazily. “The day will be gone if you don’t get up.”

After a wash in the basin Lila kept filled inside the cabin, they were ready. As they stepped out into the mist, Arrow tagged along hopefully, his tail bobbing as he trotted out behind them. “No, Arrow,” Lila said. “You’re damp and you’ll smell up Samuel’s car. Go back inside.”

The dog’s head dropped, his shoulders sagged and the curly tail unfurled. Samuel chuckled. “Let him come. We’ll open a window a bit.”

“Are you sure? He’s dirty. He might ruin your seat.”

“I’ll get a sheet. You may come along, Arrow. Go wait by the car.”

Immediately the tail sprung back into its feathery loop. Lila laughed. “You’re spoiled rotten, dog.”

Telling Lila he needed to test the strength of his shoulder, Samuel drove. In spite of the wind rippling the plastic over the broken window, the car was warm when the heater cranked on. As they sailed down the slender oceanside highway, Lila sighed with satisfaction, touching the dashboard, admiring the view of the sea over the blunt, powerful nose of the car. “Perfect,” she said.

“I’ve always liked driving,” Samuel commented. “I’ve driven all over Europe on some of the most beautiful highways in the world.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Is it as beautiful as the photographs show?”

“Yes.” He glanced at her. “The rivers and the cottages, and the forests… Yes,” he repeated, “it really is.”

“Do you think you’ll ever live in Europe again?”

“I don’t know.” He touched her hand across the seat, gathering her fingers in his. In a moment he had to let them go to shift for a deep curve in the road. “Once my grandfather died, I had no desire to return, really.”

“So where is home, Samuel?”

An expression of sadness crossed his lips. Quickly it changed to wryness. “Perhaps my wanderlust has made it impossible to settle anywhere, to call any single place home.”

“Everyone needs a home, Samuel, a place to rest when they’re tired.”

“Really.” He glanced at her. “Where, then, is yours?”

For a moment Lila didn’t know how to answer him. Oklahoma? She thought of the ranch of her parents, of the life she had left thirteen years ago. It was no longer hers. Nor was Seattle her home, for it had always been a temporary spot on her agenda. The cabin came closest, but without Samuel in it, she knew it would be unbearably lonely. “I don’t suppose I have one, either,” she admitted finally.

“And see how well you are doing?”

“Am I?”

“You are the sanest, most grounded woman I’ve ever met.”

“Bleh.” Lila wrinkled her nose. “Couldn’t I be mysterious or sexy, instead? Who wants to be sane?”

“Everyone does. If everyone was as sane as you are, Lila, there would never be another war.”

“Thank you. I’ll accept the compliment in the spirit it was intended, then.” She grinned at him. “I guess.” Seeing where they were, she pointed to a small road leading from the highway down to the sea. “Here’s our turn.”

He navigated it easily, guiding the big car over the rutted road with care. At the edge of the beach, the road simply died. “This is good,” Lila said.

“I’m very glad to hear it. I had thought we might be driving to the Orient. I know you are fond of this car, but it isn’t able to drive long distances over the water.”

She slapped his arm. “Come on.”

As they walked to the cave, Lila said, “I’d like to travel in Europe. I envy you that experience.”

“Americans all long to travel to Europe. I’ve never understood it.”

“That’s a sweeping generalization, Mr. Bashir.” She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as quietly elitist as you are.”

He stopped. “You keep saying that. Am I really?”

“Yes.” She stopped, her tennis shoes digging into the soft, wet sand. She’d spoken without thinking, but now saw the pensive look on his intelligent brow. “It’s part of you, Samuel. I would never change it.”

“All the same, I have spent my time trying to overcome such things.” He looked toward the water. In profile his forehead seemed broader, his nose more hawkish, his chin sterner. And this troubled him, that she teased him about something he didn’t like.

Lila tipped forward on her toes, leaning her weight on his arm. “It’s also very important to avoid taking oneself too seriously,” she said in a whisper.

He glanced at her, his lips curled in a rueful grin. “You are an elf.”

“Leprechaun, remember?” she responded, and brushed her hair back from the tips of her pointed ears. “See?”

He chuckled. “So I am enchanted—is that it?”

“No one can resist both marzipan and leprechaun magic.” She shot him a look from beneath half-lowered lids. “You thought I was only kidding, didn’t you?”

“Never,” he said, and caught her to him, sweeping her into his arms in an embrace. Lila laughed. “Put me down, you brute,” she cried. When he released her, she saw the love shining clearly in his black eyes.

Her heart was suddenly so overwhelmingly full that it threatened to burst. She turned and ran with the power of it, her throat full, her chest burning, her heart thudding. She ran from the knowledge that he had to leave her, that she had to go on somehow without him, that after these days at the cabin were finished, she might not ever, ever see him again.

Not as long as she lived.

At the edge of the huge and eternal sea, she stopped, breathing in short, hard gasps, trying to hold back the tears. She looked at the undulating gray waves, moving in the same manner they had for as long as the earth had been alive, longer than any human could imagine. It comforted her to know it would still be moving long after her great-great-grandchildren had gone to their rewards.

The mist fell lightly on her cheeks, salty as her tears. For an instant she bowed her head and prayed with all the force she owned, prayed in a mingling of languages.

For in that moment she knew that if God was kind, she didn’t have to go away completely empty. She could take with her more than memories. She could take a child.

She turned to see Samuel standing where she had left him, his hands thrust in his pockets, the wind whipping his hair over his forehead. His face was as stony as the cliffs surrounding them.

With a sudden sense of resolve, she knew that they couldn’t waste these precious hours in mourning. Whatever bits of time they were granted would have to last.

She walked back to him. “Forget the cave,” she said. “I have a better idea.” Lacing her fingers through his, she led him back to the car. Lila started the engine and left the door open. The Vivaldi recording in the tape player swirled out into the air, light flutes and strings underscored by the pounding sea.

Lila held out a hand to Samuel. “Would you like to dance?”

“Yes, I would. Very much.”

Gracefully he gathered her into his arms, looking steadily into her eyes as they waltzed in the wet sand. He danced the way he made love, with passion and tenderness and spirit, communicating with hands and eyes the most subtle messages, tenderly making up for Lila’s awkwardness. In his lashes and his hair, mist clung in tiny, diamond drops. She could not take her eyes from him.

“You are the most passionate, beautifully intriguing woman I have ever had the good fortune to meet,” he said, leading her in a turn, his eyes glittering with laughter. “And if I am enchanted, I hope the spell remains forever.”

“Leprechauns are very powerful,” Lila murmured. She met his lips with passion, her heart swelling once again in unbearable fullness. “I love you,” she whispered.

He pressed her face into his shoulder, and their dance slowed. Around them the sea pounded, violins soared and seagulls squawked. Into the shoulder of his jacket, smelling of tobacco and cologne, Lila wept.

* * *

When they returned to the cabin, Samuel sent her upstairs to rest. She protested vigorously, but he said that he had a surprise, one that would take a little time to prepare.

So Lila climbed the stairs, dragging quilts with her, and surprised herself by sleeping until past dark.

During her nap, rain had begun to fall in earnest again, and she decided that had been what awakened her. That and the heavy body of Arrow, lying across her feet. One of her ankles was turned at an uncomfortable angle beneath the dog. With a grimace she tugged it free. “Good grief, Arrow. You’re not a puppy, you know.” He looked at her a moment with one yellow eye, then fell back asleep.

She stretched and dressed. “Samuel, can I come down now?”

He appeared at the foot of the stairs. “Ah, you’re awake.” He gestured, a smile creasing his face. “Please.”

At the scene that greeted her downstairs, Lila sighed. “Oh, Samuel.” The table was set with a length of dark green fabric, overlaid with a gauzy bit of white. Candles glowed from every corner of the room, dancing on windowsills and counters and the head of the bed. Near the stove was the galvanized tub, filled with water that visibly steamed. A scent of herbs thickened the moist air of the room, and Lila breathed deeply. “It smells heavenly.”

“It will taste heavenly, too,
mademoiselle.
You are not the only one who is able to move about in a kitchen.” He lifted a rakish eyebrow, and his hair fell contrarily on his forehead as he gestured her to her seat. Lila smiled and sat.

“Wine?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He stepped outside and brought in a small box lined with plastic, out of which he produced tulip glasses and a bottle of the local vintage. The glass of the bottle immediately showed condensation.

“Did you go to town while I slept?”

“Yes.” He poured the wine with a flourish, and glass aloft, said, “To your health.” He tasted it and sighed in satisfaction. “I’m getting used to this. I think I rather like it.”

With the same exaggerated flourish, he served their meal, an elegant braised chicken with herbs, and a side dish of broiled mushrooms on toast. From the oven he took a long loaf of crusty bread.

“Samuel,” Lila said, “this is wonderful. Thank you.”

They ate with relish, both of them, and drank freely, for Samuel had several bottles of wine in the tub he left outside in the cold rain. After the meal, he made coffee with a hint of cinnamon and served a bread pudding, heavy with raisins.

Stuffed, Lila sank back against the wall, her feet out in front of her. With a smile she glanced at him, his sleeves rolled up on his elbows, his face and body relaxed. “You’re hired,” she said.

He met her grin with one of his own. “Head chef, I assume?” He patted his pocket for cigarettes, and finding it empty, sipped his wine instead. “You know, Gerald at The Shell and Fin was one of the finer chefs I’ve met. I was very impressed with him.”

“He was trained in New Orleans,” Lila said. “It doesn’t get any better than that.”

“I hope he’s been able to find other work. Pity that lovely place was a victim of all this. I liked it.”

“So did I,” she said a little sadly. “It’s strange to imagine Seattle without it.” Spying his cigarettes and lighter on the counter near her shoulder, Lila grabbed them and handed them to Samuel. “Looking for these?”

“Ah, thank you.”

Watching him perform his ritual, she asked, “Do you care about the restaurants, Samuel? Or are they just a front?”

“Originally I saw them only as a means to an end,” he admitted. “But I learned to understand them, to see what part they play in people’s lives.” He glanced at his cigarette. “I like restaurant work, oddly enough.”

“So do I. It’s just too grueling for me.” She turned her glass on the cloth. “Too bad, though. I think I’m good at the kind of work I was doing at The Shell and Fin. I like the people. I enjoy seeing all the pieces fit together.” She grinned. “And it’s always a crisis, one right after another. I get a high on that feeling, when you know it’s all going to fall apart any second, and then, somehow, the team pulls it off.”

“Yes.” His voice was warm. “When there are dozens of people waiting at the door and the chefs are swearing, but the work is beautiful, anyway, and the waiters rush in, then become so calm on the floor…”

“Exactly. It’s like a dance.”

He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward, pouring them both another glass of wine. “If you could do anything, anywhere you liked, what would it be?”

Lila widened her eyes. “I have no idea,” she said after a moment. “I mean no serious idea. I’d like to ride a train in Europe, and a camel in the desert. I’d like to climb mountains in Peru, maybe even Tibet.” She shook her head. “I don’t know, I guess.”

“You don’t really want those things, Lila.”

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Well, tell me what I do want, then.”