The Whole Truth (A. Shaw 1)

“I have something to tell you,” she said, drawing the sheet around her.

“Katie, you don’t have to-”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, let me just get it out before it burns a hole in my gut.”

He waited, watching her.

“I was doing this for the story. Even when I flew over to see you in the hospital, part of me was thinking about getting my career back on track. And then I got this new assignment and came to London. I could just feel I was on my way back.” She looked down, balling the bedcovers in her hands, cheeks quivering. “I don’t even think I’m human, not anymore. I used to be, I’m just not sure when I stopped. It’s been a while, I know that… I’m sorry.”

“Katie, you’re a reporter. It’s in your blood.”

“That doesn’t make it right. And I’m a shit, don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay, you’re a shit. But if we’re going to work together, we have to trust each other.”

“I trust you. I think the problem is you don’t trust me. And I can’t blame you.”

“I haven’t had a lot of practice, trusting people.” He paused. “But I’m going to have to work on it. Besides, I need your help. Sometimes you see things I don’t. I haven’t found many people who can do that.” He managed to smile weakly at her.

She smiled back, the small thaw in their relationship immediately rekindling her spirits. “I’m going to grab a shower. Get up on the bed while I’m in there. You must be stiff as a board.”

Shaw pulled himself off the floor and slowly eased down on the bed. He listened to the shower come on. The bed was warm from Katie lying there, and then his eyes closed. The next thing he knew he smelled coffee, bacon, and eggs.

He sat up and looked around. Katie was dressed and sitting in front of a room service table. She poured out a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

“What time is it?” he said.

“Eight-thirty.”

He sipped his coffee.

“Hungry?”

He nodded, rose, and sat across from her. “You should’ve gotten me up when you got out of the shower,” he said grumpily.

“It was a lot more convenient this way,” she said. “With you sound asleep I could get dressed in here and not in the tiny bathroom. You know, this marriage arrangement is going to turn out to be awkward,” she said, eyeing him over the rim of her cup.

He stretched out his bad arm gingerly.

“Is that why we’re going to the doctor’s?’

“Yes, but just not for the reason you’re probably thinking.”

“What a surprise.”

They grabbed a taxi to Leona Bartaroma’s cottage, a simple stone structure set off a gravel road. It was about two miles from Malahide Castle where Leona was a tour guide. When they got out and looked around Katie said, “Strange place for a doctor’s office.”

“She’s retired.”

“Oh, that makes perfect sense.”

Leona invited them in, said hello to Katie, and sat them down in her roomy kitchen overlooking the back garden. She said nothing about Shaw’s altered appearance but eyed Katie. “May I speak freely in front of her?”

“I wouldn’t have brought her otherwise.”

“Frank already called.”

“Of course.”