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Hal Hendren's funeral drew public attention. It was thought by all those in attendance that he had been martyred. Those who had scoffed at his fanaticism before he left, now had their heads bowed reverently at the gravesite. Television news teams from major Texas cities and several national networks crawled over the cemetery like ants, setting up their camera angles.

Jenny, sitting with Bob and Sarah beneath the temporary tent, still couldn't believe that Hal's mission had resulted in this. It still seemed impossible that he was dead. She expected any moment to wake up from a bad dream.

Since she and Cage had returned from Monterico, the par­sonage had been in chaos. The telephone never stopped ring­ing. There was a steady stream of visitors. Government agen­cies sent representatives to interview Cage and her about their impressions of the Central American country. With the inter­ference of well-meaning church members, the whole event had taken on a carnival atmosphere.

Jenny had slept very little since she had awakened in Cage's arms in the hotel room in Monterico. She had come awake slowly, and when she realized that she was sprawled across his naked torso, wearing only her slip, she shoved herself up to find his eyes open and watchful.

"Ex…excuse me," she stammered as she scrambled off the bed and retreated to the bathroom.

Tension between them crackled like a bonfire as they dressed to leave. They seemed prone to bump into each other accidentally, which required awkward mumbled apologies.

Every time she hazarded a glance in Cage's direction, his eyes had been as sharp as razors, studying and analyzing her. So she had avoided looking at him, and that had seemed to irritate him.

They had been driven to the airport in another rattletrap car and put on the aircraft bearing Hal's coffin. In Mexico City Mr. Whithers had scuttled around like a beetle, making ar­rangements for their flight to El Paso, where a funeral home limousine from La Bota would meet them to carry the body home.

Cage had stood at the window of the airpo

rt staring at noth­ing, his shoulders hunched, his face tense, chain-smoking. When he caught her eyes on him and saw the surprise on her face—she hadn't seen him smoke since that night before Hal left—he cursed under his breath and ground the cigarette into the nearest ashtray.

They had said little to each other on the flight to El Paso. The drive from there to La Rota, which had seemed intermi­nable as they followed the white limousine with its grim cargo, had been virtually silent.

They had said little to each other ever since.

The comradeship that had developed between them in Mon­terico no longer existed. For reasons she couldn't even name, Jenny was even more uneasy around him than she had been. He entered a room; she left it. He looked at her; she averted her head. She couldn't say why she took such pains to avoid him, but she knew it had something to do with that night in the Monterico hotel room.

So he had held her. So?

So he had held her against him on a bed while they slept. So?

So he had held her against him on a bed while they slept, while she had been wearing nothing but a slip and he only a pair of slacks. So?

They had been surrounded by danger. They were friendless aliens in a foreign land. People did things in situations like that they wouldn't ordinarily do. One couldn't be held ac­countable for uncharacteristic behavior.

And it was probably insignificant that when she was first roused from sleep, one of his hands had been splayed wide on her derriere, the other closed loosely, but possessively, around her neck, and that her fingers had been entwined in his chest hair, her lips alarmingly near the flat disk of his nipple.

Now Jenny stared straight ahead at the flower bedecked cof­fin and willed away the memories of that morning. She didn't want to recall that infinitesimal span of time just after waking when she had felt warm and safe and serene, before she came to the jolting realization of just how wrong that serenity was.

She wouldn't risk getting close to Cage again. His strength and endurance were like a magnet that relentlessly pulled at her. She might even be tempted to look to him for support now if he weren't sitting on Bob's far side, his parents be­tween them.

The bishop concluded the gravesite service with a long prayer. In the limousine that took them home, Sarah wept softly against her husband's shoulder. Cage stared moodily out the window. He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar button. Jenny twisted her handkerchief and said nothing.

Several ladies from the church were already at the parson­age, brewing coffee, ladling punch, slicing cakes and pies for those who would come by to pay their respects after the fu­neral. And there were many. Jenny thought the parade would never stop. Weary of being consoled, she left the living room and went into the kitchen, where she insisted on washing dishes.

"Please," she said to the woman she replaced at the sink. "I need to keep busy."

"You poor dear."

"Your sweet Hal is gone."

"But you're young yet, Jenny."

"Your life must go on. It might take a while…"

"You're holding up well."

"Everybody says so."

Tags: Sandra Brown Hellraisers Romance
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