Only A Whisper

by Gayle Wilson

  “There’s no reason to go home to do that. And I’m still involved in therapy, working with people I’m comfortable with, have confidence in.”

  “You’re still in rehab?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Did you think I’d given up, querida?”

  “I didn’t think about it,” she admitted. And she hadn’t. She had blocked from her mind the grueling weeks she’d spent getting her shoulder back in shape. And Rafe had now devoted more than two years to that same kind of pursuit.

  “It’s just that it’s been so long,” she said. She knew the chances of improvement lessened dramatically with the passage of time.

  She touched his face, running her finger lightly over the faint evidence of the surgeon’s repair. When he spoke again, she thought it was to ease the strain that had grown from her comment.

  “Do you ride, Rae?”

  She laughed, welcoming the change of subject. “You’re talking to a Texan. Since I was born.”

  “Ski?” he asked, and there was no answering laughter in his eyes.

  “Yes,” she said softly. Not a change of subject, she had realized.

  “Climb?”

  “No.”

  “Run?”

  “Not competitively.”

  She wished she hadn’t started this. The cold darkness was in his voice, and she had put it there.

  “Do you like to dance, Rae?”

  And this time she didn’t answer.

  He spoke very deliberately. “I will never do any of those things again. I’m very grateful to walk across a room. No one gave me any hope that I ever would, but I didn’t intend to spend the rest of my life in that damn chair. And as long as any possibility exists for further improvement, I’m going to pursue it. And then I’ll go home. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “All those things I used to do, that you still can do—”

  “I don’t care about any of those things,” she interrupted vehemently.

  “You’re a liar, Rae. I care about them. And so will you. Eventually you’ll get tired of doing nothing together but making love.”

  “I hope you don’t have any money riding on that,” Rae said gently, and the black eyes came up to find hers. “Don’t hold your breath, Rafe, waiting for me to get tired of making love to you.”

  “I need you so much,” he whispered, his fingers threading through the disordered tangle of her hair to pull her closer to the caress of his lips. “I need you to hold off the night that’s just waiting for me to give up.”

  “I can make a different kind of night. Do you remember Scheherazade?”

  “A Thousand and One Nights,” he replied.

  “I am very creative.”

  “I know,” he said, smiling.

  She pushed him to his back, taking the wineglass from his hand. He closed his eyes in anticipation of whatever she intended. She tipped the remaining trickle of wine so that it ran slowly in a golden stream along the dark trail of hair that led down from his chest across his navel to its inevitable end, and then she began, as he had done, to remove all traces of it from his body.

  THEY HAD THEIR first fight when she told him she intended to accept the job Dell Stewart had offered. It seemed the perfect solution, one that would allow her to stay in D.C.

  “Doing what?” Rafe asked.

  “I don’t know. We didn’t get that far. He just offered me a job. At the time I was planning to go back to Texas, so I didn’t bother—”

  “With the DEA?” he interrupted.

  “Yes.” She kept her voice calm and reasoned. What the hell did he expect her to do?

  His lips tightened, and his eyes were almost as cold as the day she’d hit him. Almost.

  “Back to the same dangers.” It wasn’t a question.

  Probably a lot more dangerous, but she didn’t tell him that.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “To make a living?” she suggested, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “I have this bad habit. I enjoy eating.”

  “You know damn well you don’t have to work.”

  “Really?” she said, one eyebrow rising as if she had never considered that. She knew what he was suggesting. It just wasn’t an option. She could imagine her mother’s reaction.

  “I think I have enough for both of us.”

  “And we’ll all live together in Carlos’s happy home. I don’t think so, Rafe, but thank you for the thought.”

  “I won’t have you involved in that again. Enough, querida, and you know it.”

  “You won’t have it?” she repeated softly. “I’m a cop, Rafe. This is what cops do. Chase the bad guys.”

  “You were planning to go back to law school.”

  “If I went home. If I lived with my mother, I could probably manage the tuition. Do you want me to go home, Rafe?” she challenged.

  The midnight eyes held, cold and hard, but behind them were the memories, old and new. It was an idle threat, and they both were aware of that, but she needed to hear him say no.

  “That’s my choice, querida?” he asked. “You go back to again being somebody’s target or I tell you to go home? That’s the decision you’re asking me to make?”

  “No,” she replied. “That isn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

  “If that’s my choice, then go home,” he continued over her withdrawal of the ultimatum, his voice tight with anger. “I don’t want you working for the DEA. For any of them.”

  “I’m not going home,” she said. “That’s not even an option.”

  “And what options are left?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer. There were some things he would have to figure out on his own.

  IT WAS ALMOST worse telling her mother. She offered all the same arguments Rafe had used.

  “You don’t have to go back to work, Rachel,” her mother had argued. “Not if you’ll come home, live with me.”

  “I can’t come home.”

  “Why not? At Christmas you’d made up your mind. It was all settled. What’s changed, Rachel?”

  “Everything,” she admitted. I know who he is, what he is. Everything’s changed.

  “Such as?” her mother asked.

  “There’s a man.”

  “A man?” her mother repeated. And said again, in a different tone entirely. “A man, Rachel? A cop?”

  “No.”

  “What, then? What does he do?”

  “He handles money. Investments. For his family.”

  “Investments,” her mother repeated. “Legitimate?” she asked sharply.

  Rae laughed. “Very.”

  “Then what’s wrong? Something’s wrong. I can tell from your voice.”

  “I think he’s probably…very well-off.”

  “He’s rich?” her mother asked. “Is that bad, Rachel? You sound as if that’s a problem.”

  “There are lots of problems, Mama.”

  “Do you want to tell me about them?”

  “Not especially. I just wanted to tell you that I love him. And I can’t leave Washington right now.”

  “Are you going to get married?”

  Rae smiled at the question. A natural progression in her mother’s mind.

  “If he asks me.”

  “And you’re afraid he won’t?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Don’t you settle for anything less, Rachel. You won’t be happy, honey. Not you.”

  “I know, Mama. Everything’s just so hard right now.”

  Her mother didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “I’d like to meet him,” she said finally.

  “I’d like for you to. Maybe soon. I’ll call you.”

  “I love you, Rachel, baby.”

  “I love you, too.”

  THE WEEKS gradually turned into months—five months that she treasured, storing the memories of each day in her heart, trying to prepare for a night when he would no longer seek her body in the darkness and touch her into flame.

  Rafe ha
d moved out of the embassy and into a town house not far from her apartment. Their belongings had gradually scattered between the two: a toothbrush in both, a few of her dresses hanging in one of his huge cedar closets, a drawer of clean shirts and underwear in her bureau. Their nights were spent in either place—almost always together.

  And then one Monday Elena called to invite her to dinner on Friday at the embassy.

  “Just the four of us,” she said. “There’s no need to dress.”

  Which was good news, Rae thought, mentally reviewing her wardrobe. When she mentioned the invitation to Rafe, his response was so casual that she realized she shouldn’t attach any significance to the evening. Elena and Carlos simply wanted to get better acquainted, Rafe explained. His attitude was definitely no big deal, and she tried to put it out of her mind.

  She spent the week dreading the evening and wondering why. She was working hard, helping Dell put the finishing touches on an operation they were fine-tuning. Rae wouldn’t be in on the takedown—something Dell had made clear from the start. And she had to admit she was glad. DEA agents were supposedly addicted to that rush, but Rae had already had enough adrenaline highs to last a lifetime. She hadn’t mentioned what she was working on to Rafe. Her job was forbidden territory. The less he was reminded of what she did for Dell Stewart, the better.

  On Friday, she had hoped to have time to go home and change, but just in case, she’d worn a simple black dress, and as the hands of her office clock crept past seven, she realized it would have to do. A change of earrings and shoes, both of which she’d brought to work, and she would be able to make it.

  Carlos was charming, welcoming her, and Elena seemed to be as warm and friendly. It wasn’t until after dinner, over coffee served in Carlos’s small library, that Elena brought in the presents.

  “What’s the occasion?” Rae asked, wondering why Rafe hadn’t warned her. Her budget would have stretched far enough to buy something. A token, maybe, but it was the thought that counted.

  “Rafe’s birthday,” Carlos answered. “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “He forgot to mention it,” she said. She glanced at him, a little embarrassed that she hadn’t known.

  “Because you would have worried about a present,” Rafe said.

  “I would like to have gotten you something,” she admitted.

  “I already have everything, querida,” he said softly. “Everything I need.”

  “I know. It’s just that birthdays are special. I wish I had known.”

  “Birthdays are special,” Carlos agreed. “Especially Rafe’s.”

  Especially Rafe’s. Each birthday a miracle. A gift. Considering.

  “And for that reason,” Carlos went on, “I have a very special present. Something I know is perfect.”

  He handed Rafe a long package wrapped in foil and tied with glittering ribbon. Elegant. And expensive, Rae guessed, judging by the wrappings. She watched as the dark fingers that knew her body so well dealt with them. Rafe finally opened the box to reveal his brother’s gift: a magnificent ebony cane, its L-shaped head and ferrule of worked gold.

  Rafe glanced up to smile at his brother, but Rae’s heart ached suddenly, wondering what Carlos had intended. It seemed almost a cruelty, she thought, a mockery of the endless effort.

  “Thank you,” Rafe said softly in Spanish.

  “It’s nothing,” Carlos replied, “compared to what you’ve given.”

  “Enough,” Rafe said, changing back to English, his embarrassment obvious.

  “Try it,” Carlos urged.

  “Querida, would you like to see me try Carlos’s present?” Rafe asked.

  “Maybe later,” she suggested, smiling at him.

  “And why not now?” he questioned, holding her gaze. “I think the attempt is long overdue.”

  Using the curved wooden arm of the ivory sofa and the cane, Rafe pushed himself up. She held her breath as he limped slowly across the expanse of carpet, leaning on the cane, until he stood before the sofa where she was seated.

  Using only the single, slender cane. He had come so far, and she knew suddenly that the evening’s surprise had really been intended for her. This was why she’d been included in the family celebration.

  “A nice present, querida,“ he said, smiling down at her. “Don’t you agree?”

  “A very nice present, you show-off,” she returned, standing to put her arms around him. “Happy Birthday, Rafe,” she whispered against his cheek. “A very Happy Birthday, my darling.”

  And in her heart, the hope that she’d tried so hard to bury took new life.

  She was still at the embassy when the call came from Colombia. Carlos had arranged it, of course. Rafe used the library phone, and she eavesdropped on his conversation while pretending to concentrate on whatever Carlos was saying.

  Rafe’s responses to his mother’s questions reminded her of her own careful evasions during the past few months. It took a moment for the sense of the most important words to register. Rafe was going home. He had just given his family in Colombia that message—that he would see them next week. Apparently that, too, had already been arranged.

  And why not? He’d come as far as possible with physical therapy, further than anyone had ever believed he would. And now it was time to return to his own country and his family, to go back to his life. It was nothing her mind hadn’t accepted months ago. She had gone into this with her eyes open. He had certainly warned her. No commitments, querida. No commitments.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, breaking into whatever Carlos had been saying. She really had no idea what he’d been saying. And it didn’t matter. The only important thing was that she got out of here before she made a fool of herself. “I’m afraid I have an early day tomorrow.”

  She was standing by then, her hand held out to Carlos, who took it automatically. She saw Rafe glance up at her from across the room, the phone still against his ear.

  “Thank you both for a lovely evening,” she said. She gathered up her purse and began to walk toward the door. She was aware of Carlos’s protest, aware that he’d made one, but she needed to get away.

  Rafe said something to her from across the room, his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, but she shook her head. She turned and walked the rest of the short distance to the door. Once she was outside, where no one could see her in the concealing darkness, it would be okay. Just not here. Please, just not here.

  She’d walked a few blocks, hurrying in the near-summer heat, before she managed to find a cab, and in its dark interior she finally relaxed the tight control she’d demanded of herself for so long. All the tears she had denied for weeks found release. All the emotions she’d hidden in the day-to-day routine of work and in the night-after-night wonder of being with him. It was over, and Rafe had simply chosen a rather oblique way of letting her know.

  Oblique, but effective. His physical therapy had ended, and now he was going home. She had always known it was inevitable, but still, she hadn’t been prepared.

  Rafe was sitting on the landing of the steps leading up to her apartment when she got out of the cab. As she walked up to him, she found herself hoping the darkness would hide the evidence of the tears she’d shed. Old habits.

  “I didn’t think the party was over, querida,” he said softly.

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I don’t know. It just seemed…I just needed to leave.”

  “Would you sit down and talk to me about why?” he asked.

  She sat beside him on the stairs. The new cane was between his knees, held loosely with his right hand. After a moment, he put his left arm around Rae’s shoulders and pulled her against the solid strength of his body.

  “I thought this was so important,” he said, turning the cane in his fingers. “And finally I’d accomplished it. But when I looked up, you were gone. What I’d worked for for so long didn’t mean much, querida, without you there.”

  “
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil it.”

  “You didn’t spoil anything. It was just no longer as important as I had thought. When I saw you leave, my heart,” he said—And then he stopped, the beautiful voice faltering suddenly. “I would willingly have gone back to the wheelchair, Rae, to sit again in the darkness, watching you sleep…just to have you still there.”

  He was looking out into the night, but the fingers of his left hand smoothed up and down her arm, comforting. “I was right before, querida. I already had everything. I didn’t need this.” He lifted the ebony stick slightly. “The other didn’t matter to you.”

  “No,” she whispered. None of it had ever mattered. And finally he knew.

  “Why did you run away, querida?”

  “I heard you talking about going home.”

  “I haven’t been home for more than two years.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Is that what’s wrong? You don’t want me to go home?”

  “I know you have to go home,” she said.

  His lips touched her temple and lingered there for a moment.

  “I just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon,” she admitted.

  “You could come with me,” he invited softly.

  “I haven’t been working for Dell long enough to ask off,” she said. “But thank you. I would like to have seen your country.”

  “Colombia. Where everyone works for the cartels,” he said.

  “Don’t. I may have deserved that at one time, but I know better now.”

  “And would you also have liked to meet my family, querida?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “They would like to meet you. I don’t think they really believe there is a woman willing to marry their black sheep. At least…not anymore.”

  She said nothing, the tears threatening again.

  “Are you willing to marry me, my heart?”

  “As long as I can have all the trimmings,” she promised. White lace and babies.

  She turned her head to rest her cheek against the fine material of his suit.

  “I have another present for you. I know now I should have given you this one first. It’s by far the more important.”

  He propped the cane against his leg and reached into his jacket pocket. He removed his arm from around her shoulder to open the jeweler’s box.