Angel Fire - Lisa Unger [31]
The desert air was cold that night, so when she returned downstairs she made a fire in the living room. Jeffrey had opened a bottle of Clos Pegase chardonnay he’d found in the kitchen. They both lay on their stomachs, facing the fire, resting on fat, cotton-covered down pillows.
“How’s your shoulder?” she asked.
“Good as new,” he lied. He didn’t like to talk about his pain, didn’t like to seem weak or vulnerable—especially to Lydia. He never wanted her to think he couldn’t be strong for her, with her.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He sat up and faced the fire. He didn’t want to look in her face when he was lying to her. She always knew.
“I’d expect nothing less,” she said.
He smiled. “Well, it gets a little stiff.”
She sat up and moved behind him, began gently massaging his shoulder. “You haven’t said what you think about all of this.”
“I don’t know what to think. It seems pretty thin. But I believe you, you know that. We’ll check it out.”
“Good enough.”
She didn’t blame him. She realized her ideas must sound crazy to someone like him, so solid, so grounded. She knew he needed hard evidence to be convinced of the truth. She also knew that sometimes the truth left only a scent on the wind.
She rubbed his shoulder carefully with the flat of her hand, feeling the tense muscle relax slightly under her touch.
Jeffrey could feel the heat of her body against his back. Only the gravest discipline kept him from turning around, carrying her to bed, and making love to her until the sun came up. He knew about discipline, about control. He hadn’t survived this long without it.
Jeffrey was an army brat, raised on military bases across the country. Because his family had moved almost every two years and because he was an only child, Jeffrey had learned to rely on himself at an early age. His father was a hard man with no time for tears or tantrums. A high-ranking decorated officer, Jeffrey Mark Sr. was a man of honor. Jeffrey remembered his father with respect but not affection.
When Jeffrey and some of his friends stole his father’s car and were brought home to their parents by local law enforcement, Jeffrey’s father decided to send him away to military school. In spite of the hysterical protests of his mother, Jeffrey left his parents’ home the following fall. He was glad. He wanted to get away from both of them.
At school, the regimen, the high academic standards, and the constant physical exertion relaxed and exhausted him. He excelled there and went on to West Point. But he knew before he graduated that the military life was not for him. He liked the order and the discipline, but he craved risk, danger. He wanted a steady diet of adrenaline.
But lately thrills like those he sought when he was younger were becoming less appealing, especially since he had been shot. The pain in his shoulder as Lydia worked the muscle, her closeness, reminded him of the way he ached for her when they were apart. He was forty, with nothing in his personal life to show for it. He realized that Lydia was the only woman he had ever loved. There had been other women, but his job, his schedule, made relationships hard to maintain. And he had never felt so kindred with anyone. He was alone, except for Lydia. And even with her, the way they were now, he felt alone.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, sensing that he was far away.
“Just about how I’ve missed you the last few weeks.”
“I’ve missed you, too. But you’re here now.”
But for how long? And then how long until I see you again? I don’t want to hold you down. I want to be your home. I want to be the place where you come to hide. “I’m glad,” he said.
“Does your shoulder feel better now?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Much. Thanks.”
She moved away from him, afraid to have her hands on him any longer. She sat in