Always - Iris Johansen [35]
He stroked her hair, staring absently into the darkness. Lisa was so alone, he reflected. He had tried to comfort her with his own philosophy, but he realized it might not apply in her case. Her dossier had stated that she had no close friends or relatives. Her parents were dead. Very possibly it was her isolation that kept her grief so raw and painful and caused her to turn inward and dwell on her loss. There had to be some way for him to help her conquer that isolation.
Clancy could feel the weariness dragging at him, and he steeled himself against it. He was almost as emotionally exhausted as Lisa, but he couldn’t give in to it. Tonight he had stripped away the protective barrier against pain that she had built so carefully. By the time she awoke he had to be ready to give her something to replace it. He settled her slender body more closely against his own with instinctive protectiveness and tried to concentrate his thoughts on what that elusive something would be.
It was still dark when Lisa awoke, and she was immediately conscious that Clancy was no longer beside her. It didn’t alarm her. He had promised he would stay with her, and he wouldn’t leave her. She didn’t even question that instinctive and complete trust. It was just there. She sat up and brushed a tendril of hair away from her face. “Clancy?”
He was standing by the French doors. She could see the glimmer of his white shirt in the darkness. Then she saw the glimmer move and knew that he had turned to face her. “I’m right here. Everything’s fine.”
She knew that; she was experiencing a sense of peace and serenity she hadn’t known for a long time. “Didn’t you sleep at all?”
He came toward her. “I wasn’t tired. Besides, I had some thinking to do. How do you feel?”
“Good,” she said softly. “And very grateful. What time is it?”
“A little after three in the morning. Would you like to go back to sleep, or do you think you could eat something? You haven’t had anything since breakfast yesterday.”
“You and Galbraith are certainly concerned about my eating habits,” she commented. “Perhaps I should furnish you with a few statistics documenting that thin is healthy.” She shrugged. “I suppose I could eat something. I’m certainly too wide awake to go back to sleep.” She threw aside the sheet. “But first I want to shower. I feel terribly slept in.”
“All right.” He flipped on the lamp by the bedside table. “I’ll make an omelet for you while you shower.”
“Fine.” She hopped out of bed and crossed to the bureau. Pulling out underthings, slacks, and a loose green tunic blouse, she headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
But when she came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Clancy was still in the bedroom. He had flung the French doors wide and stood in the doorway looking out into the courtyard.
“Clancy?” She walked slowly toward him. “Is there something wrong?”
“No.” He turned and gave her a reassuring smile. “I just thought we’d talk first. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes, of course.” There was something about Clancy’s demeanor that made her uneasy. “What is it?”
“I’ve been doing some thinking tonight.” He took her hand and drew her out into the courtyard, where the heavy scent of honeysuckle and hibiscus drifted on the soft tropic air. “I’ve gone over everything time after time, but I can’t come up with any other solution. I want you to know I’m not thinking of myself, though it will give me something I want, too. I honestly believe this is what you need.”
“Clancy, I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about,” she said. The lamplight from the bedroom was streaming through the open French doors, and she could see that Clancy’s features were set and a bit