“No,” she sobbed, fighting against the terrible, tearingpain. “It’s not.”
“I know, Claire. I know.”
He did. He did know, and it should have made it better.It frightened Claire all the more, because she wasn’t sure shewanted him to. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to have her secrets, to know every nightmare she remembered. She wassure she didn’t want him to have the whole truth, and thatwas what hurt most of all, because suddenly she wanted verymuch to be the woman Tony Riordan remembered.
“I’m sorry,” she managed, her hands around his back,where she could feel the scars even through the cotton of his shirt. She could feel them against her breasts, horrible scarsshe should have remembered. Scars that should havechanged a man. Should have broken him. Somehow they seemed to only have made Tony Riordan all the stronger,and that made her more ashamed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Claire,” he said with that voice that flavored its common sense in such rich compassion. “You havenothing to be sorry about.”
She wanted to laugh. She couldn’t. She wanted to screamand run and hide and curl up into a tiny little ball, but beyond the security of Tony’s arms, the rest of the worldwaited. Johnny and Jess and Peaches and Nadine, everyone at work who still didn’t even know that Claire had everbeen in the army, much less served in Vietnam. Everyone who would pity and question and wonder without ever really understanding. Everyone who would want more than she could ever give.
And so, for these brief moments, she rested. She hidwhere it was safe and quiet and sweet, and she took the timeto force the pain away again, because it tore chunks out ofher every time she had to face it. She closed her eyes and sherested on the rhythm of Tony Riordan’s heart and gave herself up to the strength of his arms. And for that moment,because he knew and didn’t demand, because he cared anddidn’t intrude, because of reasons Claire didn’t even wantto name yet, she felt safe. There in the dark, she could almost believe that she could face the dawn without fear.
“What would you say to an all-expenses-paid working vacation?” she asked, her voice unforgivably small, herheart pounding like a marching band.
Tony’s hand faltered a moment. His hold never eased ortightened. She thought he smiled. “I’d love to see Virginiain the summer.”
And that was that.
Sometime later, when Claire was feeling strong enoughto go back in her house alone, she took a moment to consider what was happening. She shook her head and foughtfor a smile. “You’re sure you want to put up with all this.”
He smiled, and there in the dark, halfway between the nightmares and the comfort of a well-lit house, Claire allowed herself to be enchanted. She allowed her heart toquicken, her breathing to slow, because his smile made herfeel, just for a moment, like a bright young girl again.
“I’m very sure,” he said, and held out his hand.
Claire took it. She tempted herself with the rasp of calluses against her palm. She imperiled herself with thewarmth that wrapped her with that simple gesture. Againshe smiled, but its color was more tentative, more anxious. “It really hasn’t ever been this bad,” she protested.
And then she went along with Tony into the house, feeling better and worse by degrees about what had happened,because it meant that now Tony Riordan wouldn’t have toleave.
