Hiding in the Shadows tbscus-2
Page 26
He leaned over the back of the couch, sliding his fingers into her hair and drawing her to him for a kiss. The kiss held hunger, and something else, and when she could, despite what she'd told Bishop, Faith involuntarily said, "Tomorrow is soon enough, isn't it?"
Kane stroked her cheek, then came around the couch to sit in the chair across from her. "Soon enough for what?"
"To say whatever it is you feel you have to say."
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's between us, Faith. I don't want anything between us."
She braced herself. "What's between us?"
"This guilt."
Faith knew, but asked anyway. "Guilt?"
"Guilt. Because Dinah's been gone not even two months. And I'm in love with you." Now that the moment had come, she wondered how on earth she could tell him. How she could convince him when even a part of her still didn't believe it. But she had to try.
It sounded so simple in her mind, so incredible when she said the words aloud. "Dinah isn't gone. She's here. She's me."
Kane didn't move, didn't seem surprised. But he said, "How is that possible?"
She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The human will is ... a remarkable thing. Dinah wanted to survive, wanted it very badly. But her body ... wouldn't survive. She knew that. She had known for a long time it was going to happen. And she knew something else, something Dr. Burnett told her just hours before they grabbed her. That ... Faith ... hadn't really survived that crash. That only the barest flicker of brain activity could be recorded, just enough to keep the body breathing, the heart beating. A living shell without a mind or a soul."
Kane said unevenly, "But two separate women ... You can't expect me to believe..."
"You already believe. You feel it's true even if everything you've been taught about life and death and the soul insists it can't be possible."
"How? How is it possible?"
She shook her head. "I don't know how. I know there was a ... connection between Dinah and Faith before the crash, a closeness that was immediate and powerful. I know that each of them was psychic to a degree and in different ways." She shook her head again. "Maybe that had something to do with it. I don't know how. I only know that it happened."
"You speak of Dinah and Faith as if ... as if you're neither of them."
She thought of her words to Bishop, and conjured a smile. "In a way, I'm ... the third point of the triangle, created when the other two touched. I woke up without a memory, and for a while I was caught between the two people I had been, neither one nor the other but with shadowy recollections and half-conscious mannerisms and muscle memories. I could even play the piano. For a while."
Kane glanced at the piano and remembered her sitting on the bench looking lost and bewildered. Still, he blinked, "This is so ... unbelievable. How do you know it isn't what you believed all along, a psychic connection? That it isn't as simple as you remembered things that Dinah said to you while you were in the coma?"
Softly, she said, "Dinah sat by the bed and talked to an empty shell, Kane. There was nobody there to hear, nobody to remember what she said."
Unable to be still a moment longer, Kane rose and began moving around the room. He knew she watched him with grave green eyes. How could she claim... How could she believe...
"Faith..." He stopped, looked at her.
Understanding, she said, "I've gotten used to the name. We've all gotten used to the name."
In a raw voice, he said, "I saw her body. I see it torn and mangled every time I close my eyes. I have to plan a memorial service so everybody who knew her can say goodbye."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Kane walked to the window and stood staring out.
"I told you I'd say what I had to, even if it wasn't what you wanted to hear." She closed her eyes. Yes.
"I can't... I don't know how to accept this, Faith. I don't know if I can."
She wanted to tell him it was all right, that she would wait until he came to terms with it all. Wanted to tell him again that she loved him, had always loved him. But she hurt too much and her throat was too tight to allow her to say anything at all. Her purse was on a chair near the door. It was all she needed, really; most of the clothing she had here didn't fit the way or another. And she was starting over anyway.
She picked up her purse, and she walked out. Kane heard the door close quietly. Without turning, he said to the empty apartment, "But I don't want you to go."
It just didn't seem like Christmas with a temperature of nearly seventy and brilliant sunshine, but the insistent carols on the radio warbled again and again that it was beginning to look that way and Santa Claus was coming and bells were jingling ... Faith turned off the radio and thought how perfectly understandable it was that the suicide rate went up around holidays. Alone, she wouldn't have been able to bear it.
Thank God for Haven House, where she had spent hours helping decorate and bake and wrap presents for the kids. Thank God for Katie, who had been puzzled by Faith's sudden inability to play the piano, but forgiving. There weren't many blanks left now. There was even, finally, acceptance. And gratitude. Faith went back to trying to concentrate on the college-course catalog, silently debating whether to put her writing skills to good use in a course — other than journalism. Or communications field maybe advertising. Even if she had to take just general-interest courses until she made up her mind, she fully intended to sign up for the next semester. She needed to get on with her life.
She had ordered a pizza to be delivered, so when the doorbell rang she went to answer it with a twenty it in her hand.
"I never take money from redheads," Kane said.
"I was ... expecting a pizza." Faith hoped she wasn't staring at him as hungrily as she thought she was. Then again, maybe he'd think she was longing for pepperoni and cheese.
"May I come in?"
"Oh... of course."
"Very nice," he said, looking around at the comfortable overstuffed furniture and elegant but casual decorations. "This looks more like you."
Faith was afraid to probe that remark. "I needed to ... start over here. A clean slate."
He looked at her for an unreadable moment, then said abruptly, "I saw you at the memorial service."
"Yes. It was lovely." She had seen him, too, but had kept to the fringes of the crowd. She had spoken to Bishop briefly; she had forced herself not to ask him anything about Kane, and he had volunteered nothing.
"It was ... closure," Kane said.
"Was it?"
He took a step toward her. "I told you I'd say what I had to this time."
Faith swallowed hard. "Yes."
He reached out to her, his hand sliding under her hair to lie warmly alongside her neck. "And that I won't stop myself from touching you this time because I'm not sure you want to be touched."
She closed her eyes and pressed herself harder against his hand in mute pleasure.
"And that I won't let you shut me out of the parts of your life that matter," Kane finished unsteadily, and kissed her. "Not again. Never again."
When she could, Faith said, "I'll never try to shut you out of any part of my life, I promise."
He kissed her again, his hunger intense, unhidden, his arms drawing her close, holding her as if he meant never to let her go. "What I have to say is that I love you, Faith. Whoever you were, whoever you are or will ever be — I love you. And that's all that matters."
Faith looked into his eyes, deep enough to see the love and the beginnings of belief, of acceptance. She reached up and touched his face, the backs of her fingers stroking gently.
"That's all that matters. I love you, Kane."
The pizza delivery boy thought he must have been given the wrong address, because even though he rang and rang, nobody ever came.
FBI Agent Noah Bishop has a rare gift for seeing what others do not, a gift that helps solve the most puzzling cases. Read more of his electrifying adventures in two stand-alone novels of psychic
suspense.
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