Wendy stared at him, wide-eyed, as he recounted what he apparently thought of as a fond memory.
Noticing her mood, he gave her a squeeze and kissed her forehead. "Once she gets to know you, she'll like you," he assured her. "I know she will."
"I hope so," she said with a sigh, and kissed him again.
After a few heated moments they came up for air. John held her more tightly and groaned. "I wish we had more time!" he said fervently.
Wendy's head went back and she studied his face in the dim light of the bedside lamp. "Before your mother comes up to bed?" she teased.
He sighed and shook his head.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Dieter and I have to go somewhere," he said. "We'll be gone for a few weeks at
least." Or forever, he thought, depending on how things go.
"Where are you going?" she demanded, frowning.
"Shhh." He laid his finger on her lips. "Don't worry, you can stay here with Mom."
Wendy sat up and looked down on him. "I'd rather go to hell," she said frankly.
Then she drew close to him again, snuggling into his arms. "Or with you."
He shook his head.
"Please," she begged.
"Wendy," he said, tracing the curve of her cheek with his finger, "I can't. I'm sorry to say no to you. But I just can't."
She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. After a moment she nodded.
"Fine," she said. "I understand."
John looked at her in concern; he thought that her eyelashes had grown moist.
Before he could speak Wendy said, "I'm really tired. I should go to sleep now."
She still hadn't opened her eyes and John felt a sinking feeling as she drew herself from his arms and turned her back on him. He reached out for her.
"Good night," she said.
John drew back his hand, confused. He knew he'd somehow mishandled this situation, but genuinely didn't see any alternative. In his heart he understood that
Wendy felt rejected, but he could hardly take her to Antarctica for a raid on a military facility.
He'd missed her so much, had wanted to see her and hold her for so long. But not now! There was just no time. No time to be with her and maybe not even time to heal this breach. He let out his breath in an almost inaudible sigh and reached out to touch her bare shoulder.
"We'll talk tomorrow," he said. Leaning over, he kissed her neck. "Sleep well, sweetheart. Good night."
Getting up from the bed, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him. On the way to his room he reflected on how he'd often wondered as a kid how adults could say things like sweetheart and darling to one another with a straight face.
He thought of the girl on the bed and smiled. And now I know.
Wendy heard the click of the latch as he left the room and raised her head from the pillow. She gave one self-pitying little sniff, then steeled herself. She was going with him. He just didn't know it yet.
John's mother made no comment when he announced at breakfast that he intended to ramble around the estancia with Wendy that day. The very lack of reaction raised Wendy's hackles even more than John's blithe assumption that she'd go with him.
"Do you ride?" John asked her, smiling.
" 'Fraid not," she said. "I wanted a horse when I was little, until my dad explained about mucking out. Then I changed my mind and made do with
Bryer's figures and glossy calendars." She grinned. "Truth to tell, we had a hard time affording my cat."
"I can teach you," John offered.
She smiled at his eager expression, her heart giving a little extra thump, and decided to forgive him. "I'd like that. But first I'd like to enjoy your company with no distractions. I"—she was about to say, I've missed you, but suddenly remembered that they weren't alone and became shy—"can't wait to hear about what you've been doing," she finished lamely.
"Likewise," John said. "Are you finished?"
Wendy instantly laid down her napkin, saying "yes" despite the food remaining on her plate.
"May we be excused?" John asked his mother. Sarah was examining a printout that Dieter had given her and didn't hear him. "Mom?" he said again, somewhat louder.
She looked up at him. "What?"
"May we be excused?"
Sarah glanced at their barely touched plates and shrugged, slightly bemused that he would even ask. "Of course," she said. When the two young people left in a clatter she turned to Dieter. "Suddenly he's exquisitely polite."
"She's the older woman," Dieter observed. "Maybe he's trying to appear
sophisticated."
Sarah gave a little laugh and shook her head. "This thing between them—it's for real, isn't it?"
Dieter nodded, suddenly solemn. This thing between us, he thought, is that real?
Aloud he said, "I'm glad of it. It will give him something special to come home to."
"Hunh!" Sarah said. "That puts me in my place."
"You know what I mean." He laid his hand on hers for a fleeting moment. "He's young and she's a pretty girl; the thought of her will keep him going."
Sarah leaned her chin on her fist and raised her brows. "So did you have some Dulcinea in your life when you went into the field?"
He gave her a look that seemed to liquefy her bones. "Maybe," he said laconically. He gestured toward the printout. "What do you think?"
Sarah straightened and, lowering her eyes, picked up the papers beside her plate, feeling desired and rejected at the same time. "O-kay," she said, all business again. "This looks excellent. I'd be happier if we had a few more storage depots in central Mexico, because I think the U.S. and Canada will be hit harder. And I'd love to get my hands on something bigger than 120mm mortar." She looked up at him. "Don't worry, I know that's impossible. But this is impressive. We'll be in much better shape than I ever could have hoped for." One corner of her full mouth lifted in sardonic amusement. "Clearly your contacts are more reliable than mine."
Dieter snorted. "More money buys better contacts."
***
John cut an apple with his pocketknife and gave the piece to Wendy, who offered it on her open palm to an enthusiastic Linda, Sarah's mare. She smiled at the feel of the horse's soft muzzle and warm breath.
"You breathe into their nostrils to introduce yourself," he told her.
Wendy leaned forward and blew gently, but it seemed to her that Linda wasn't very interested, or else she was doing it wrong, or maybe the mare just wanted more apple. "Gimme," she said, taking the fruit from John's hand. She offered it to the horse and got a very positive reaction. "I think she just smiled."
Watching and listening to the horse crunch up the apple, John was inclined to agree. He put his hand between Wendy's shoulder blades and scratched gently.
She turned to him, her eyes twinkling, a dimple in her cheek.
"Are you getting us mixed up?" she asked, tilting her head at Linda.
"Sorry," he said, blushing. "No, not at all."
"You're distracted, though." She leaned an elbow on the corral fence. Linda nudged Wendy hopefully, knocking her off balance. John caught her, steadying her while he looked into her eyes.
"I love you," he said.
She smiled. Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss across his lips. "I love you, too.
But"—she held up a finger to forestall his kiss—"/am not so easily distracted.
Tell me what's on your mind, John. It isn't me, or at least not all me."