“We’ve missed you, Tom.” The voice had grown softer. The sadness in it leaked from the receiver and into his soul. “It’s been so long. Seven years…”
“It was yesterday!” He regretted, but was unable to blunt, the harshness in his tone.
There was a pause, and then, “I wish you’d come home. Tom. I think…perhaps you need to.”
“Emma…” His voice cracked. “I can’t.”
“Jennifer wouldn’t have wanted this for you. You know she wouldn’t. It’s time, Tom.” There was a pause and then a whispered, “Time to say goodbye.” And he knew she was crying.
“Soon,” he growled, his voice guttural with pain. “I’ll come for a visit. I promise. Listen, say hello to Frank for me, will you?”
“Of course I will. Oh, Tom, I’m so glad you called. I just wish-”
“Good night, Emma.”
“Tom? Be good to yourself…”
He gave her the chuckle she wanted and hung up. Groped for his cigarettes, lit one and pulled the smoke past the band of pain around his chest, held it until he felt the slightest easing, then exhaled on a long sigh. He sat quietly smoking, staring out at the city lights-Arlington, not Washington; his fifth-floor room was on the opposite side of the hotel, the best he’d been able to do at the last minute-and let memory carry him back to a long-ago summer afternoon…
Voices and laughter, whoops and splashes, the smell of charred meat drifting up to his bedroom window from the yard that backed up against his. A slender, dark-haired woman waving to him, calling to him: “Hi, we’re your new neighbors-the Hostetlers. That’s our daughter, Jennifer, there in the pool. Would you like to come over for a swim? Jenny would love some company…”
Even now the memory could make him smile, remembering the way his thirteen-year-old hormones had stirred at the sight of that dark head emerging from the water, sleek as an otter…the perfect, sunburned oval she’d turned to him, with a look of utter disdain…the way she’d pranced the length of the diving board, so proud of her budding body, to execute the most glorious cannonball he’d ever seen. Love at first sight, that’s what it had been.
Time to say goodbye…
Hawk shook his head, a small, silent rejection, drew on his cigarette one last time and stubbed it out. Emma was right, he knew that. Seven years was long enough. But try telling that to his heart. His heart seemed to have its own timetable, and about all he could do was wait for it to reach the same conclusion. He’d know the moment it happened, he was sure of that. He’d feel it.
And until then… He stood and stretched, then pulled off his shoes and lay down on top of the bedspread, flat on his back with his hands laced across his midsection. Until then, he had a job to do, and days to get through, one at a time. Tomorrow was a new day, and it was shaping up to be an interesting one, at that.
He’d pretty much accepted that his mission now had two objectives. The first-and still the most critical, of course-was to recover that painting and the vital piece of information Jarek Singh had hidden inside it. The second and probably the more difficult task was to protect Jane Carlysle.
Hawk programmed himself for sleep the way he’d learned to do as a boy of sixteen, and then perfected seven years ago, first clearing his mind, making it a blank screen on which he projected a pleasant, relaxing vision. Most often the vision he chose had something to do with the sea, a calm sea with sunlight streaming through clouds, sparkling on gently rocking swells…the cries of seagulls and the swish and murmur of waves washing on warm sands.
Tonight, though, for some reason, the image that came to fill the screen in his mind and refused to leave, no matter how hard he tried to supplant it, was…a face. A woman’s face. A nice face with a kind smile and sea-gray eyes with telltale laugh lines at the corners, eyes that could light with sudden joy, the way the sea does when the sunlight hits it a certain way…or go dark and deep with sadness, anger or fear. Jane Cartyste’s face.
He found it an oddly comforting vision.
Jane woke to find sunshine streaming through her uncurtained window, and beyond it a soft spring sky with only a few fat puffy clouds scurrying in pursuit of the cold front that had blown through in the night.
How different things always look in the morning, she thought, buoyed by thoughts of spring. But she was a naturally optimistic and msilient person; like bad dreams, the night’s doubts and fears had vanished with the daylight, leaving her with only an edgy sense of anticipation and excitement.
The first thing she did, after the morning mists and cobwebs had cleared, was reach for the phone. A check-in call to the girls was long overdue. They were full of the anticipated questions and reproaches, the loudest of which were in response to being roused at seven-thirty on a weekend morning.
Maybe she was only under the influence of the champagne sunshine, but Jane found that she had no trouble coming up with the necessary lies and reassurances that had been beyond her capabilities last night. Since lying had never been one of her talents, she was surprised and relieved that hers were so readily accepted. She thought it probably had a lot to do with the fact that Tracy was nursing a homework hangover and Lynn’s head was swimming with the details of her latest scheme to postpone her final year of college.
“Eurail Youthpasses, Mom. Kevin says that’s the only way to go. You can go anywhere, for three months. You have to go with a companion, so that’s okay, and we can extend it, if-”
“Hey, wait, who said anything about extending?”
“How was the auction, Mom?” That was Tracy, with a yawn that sounded as if it could have sucked in the whole phone. It was followed by a sleepy snicker. “Meet lots of cute guys?”
Knowing that it was safe because they’d never believe her anyway, Jane told the truth. “A couple, actually.” She paused for a chorus of “Ha-ha’s” and “Yeah, rights,” then added her diversion. “I bought some things.”
More yawns, politely smothered this time. Then a duet: “Hmm…really?” “What’d you buy?”
“Just some small stuff.” They’d never understand about the Roy Rogers six-shooter. She wasn’t sure she did, herself. “A painting-kind of nice, I think you’ll like it. I’m going to have it appraised this morning. A gallery in Georgetown-somebody Connie knows.”
“Do you think it might be valuable?” That was Lynn, the analytical one. Jane could almost see her, suddenly sitting up straighter, back against piled pillows, her interest hooked by the tantalizing thought of money. She was David’s daughter, alas, but a darling in so many ways that it was easy enough to overlook one small avaricious streak.
“Oh, no, not really,” she said quickly, anxious to head that idea off at the pass. “I didn’t pay much for it. I’d just kind of like to know what it’s worth.”
“Good idea. Kev says you should have everything in your household appraised anyway-for the insurance. He’s got all his mom and dad’s stuff on their computer. You should do that, Mom. Kev could probably do it for you. There’s this neat program-”
“So, when are you coming home?” Tracy, of course, trying to sound casual, though Jane could almost see her daughter’s forehead creasing with anxiety, worrying about dwindling refrigerator stores. With a few more months yet to fledge, she seemed content for now to cling to the safety of the nest, feathers fluffed, plaintively chirping. Which was okay with Jane; she wasn’t in any great hurry to see her last baby fly away. One at a time was about all she could handle.
She made soothing, mother-bird noises into the phone. “Soon. Tomorrow, probably. I’ll call you when I know exactly-by the way, I’ll need one of you to pick me up at Raleigh-Durham. I just want to see a few of the sights in Washington while I’m here. I told you I might.”