He just looked at her, said nothing.
“You won’t tell me even that much?” His silence, and the lack of trust it signified, came as a crushing disappointment. She lowered her head so she’d no longer have to look into his shuttered eyes.
After a lengthy silence, he said, “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Well, I don’t. I thought you…we…”
Placing his index finger ben
eath her chin, he tipped her head back until she had no choice but to look into his face. And in his expression she saw all she needed to know and more than she needed to understand.
“You thought right,” he whispered. “I, we, did.”
His hand slid around the back of her neck and pulled her up into a kiss so evocative and intimate that it aroused every cell in her body. Craving closeness, she clutched handfuls of his shirt and stood on tiptoe. His hand settled on her butt and secured her against him.
The kiss was bone-melting, intensely passionate, but short-lived. When he ended it, he cupped her face between his hands and stared into her eyes, then released her so abruptly she fell back against the tile wall. By the time she realized it was over, he was halfway down to the next landing, where he turned a corner and disappeared. He didn’t look back.
She stayed there for several minutes, holding her fingers against her throbbing lips, tasting him still, and trying to make sense of the last few minutes. When she replayed the scene in her mind, she realized that dialogue was missing. What had been left unsaid?
Eventually she left the stairwell. Eva was in the corridor talking with a nurse. She ended the conversation and walked toward Amelia. “I recommended they increase the dosage of Gary’s sedative. He’s fighting it.”
“He’s in pain?”
“Mental anguish. Did Dawson leave to get something to eat?”
“No, he’s meeting with the deputies downstairs. His researcher…” Noticing the strange look that had come over the other woman’s face, she asked, “What?”
“The two deputies who were in the waiting room earlier? Tucker and—”
“Wills. Yes.”
“I just left them talking to the surgeon. They wanted to know about the bullet’s trajectory. Something technical.”
For several seconds, Amelia could only stare at her with misapprehension. Then she jogged toward the direction Eva had indicated. When she rounded a corner, there stood the two deputies engaged in conversion with the surgeon.
Wills noticed her. “Ms. Nolan?”
“Where’s Dawson?”
“Isn’t he with you?”
“You weren’t meeting him? About some information his researcher…” She could tell by their blank expressions that they had no idea what she was talking about. She turned quickly toward Eva. “He lied to me.”
“He lied to all of us. And Gary knew it.”
Diary of Flora Stimel—February 22, 2007
I’m so excited! Jeremy is a daddy! His son Hunter Davis Wesson (I think of it as Wingert) was born at four something this morning. Carl didn’t remember the exact time. Men never remember the details! But he did remember that the baby weighed seven pounds, three ounces. I didn’t get to weigh Jeremy when he was born, but I think he had to have weighed at least that much!
Jeremy called Carl, which he’s not supposed to do unless it’s an emergency, like somebody’s discovered the cabin or something. (He’s paranoid about Amelia’s daddy. Calls him a shrewd old buzzard.) Carl would only talk for a minute, but Jeremy was able to tell him that the baby was born Cesarean. Both mommy and baby are fine.
Carl said maybe—just MAYBE—he’d take me to the hospital. We could pretend we were there for someone else and look at the baby through the nursery window. I’m holding my breath!
But I should know better than to get my hopes up. He wouldn’t allow me to go to Jeremy’s graduation from either high school or college. I’ve only seen him in his dress Marine uniform from a distance when he was serving as an honor guard at a football game. Carl said a drunk and rowdy crowd that big was safe for us to venture into.
I didn’t even ask if we could go to Jeremy’s wedding. I knew Carl would never hear of it. But I did ask if we could park across the street from the church and see them when they came out and got into the limo. Carl asked me if I had shit for brains. He said the wedding of a congressman’s daughter would be crawling with cops. I hadn’t thought of that. I guess maybe I do have shit for brains. Ha-ha!
My mama and daddy always said so. I thought about them today when I got the news about the baby. They’re great-grandparents. Or they are if they’re still alive, which I doubt. They’d be old now.