White lies

"What difference does my memory make?" he snapped, and she jerked her gaze upward, realizing that he was angry. "No other woman has a claim on me, and you know it, so don’t bring up that crap again. Why should we wait?"

"I want you to be certain," she said, her voice troubled.

"Damn it, I am certain!"

"How can you be, when you don’t know what’s happened? I just don’t want you to regret marrying me when everything comes back to you." She tried a smile, and it only wobbled a little. "We’re together, and we have time. That will have to be enough for now."

Steve forced himself to be content with that, and in many ways it was enough. They lived together in the truest sense of the word, as partners, friends and lovers. It was a week before the snows came again, and in that week they explored every inch of their high meadow. He showed her the laser-beam sensor he’d installed across the trail and demonstrated how to operate both the radio and the computer. It was a relief not to have to hide from her how deeply he’d been in- volved in espionage, though she got a little huffy with him because all the equipment had been hidden from her in the shed and only now had he gotten around to telling her about it.

He liked making her lose her temper. It was exciting, in a primitive way, to watch those blue eyes narrow like a cat’s. It was the final sign that he’d tormented her into attack. The day he’d thought she was an intruder and tracked her in the snow, then tackled her, her rage had startled him, caught him off balance, but it had excited him. Most people who knew Jay would never think she was capable of that kind of anger, or that she would physically fight anyone. It told him a lot about her, about the passionate, volatile side of her personality and about what it took to bring it out. Probably very few people could make her angry, but because she loved him, he could. And after he’d provoked her to anger, he liked to wrestle with her and love her out of her temper.

Physically she delighted him. She was still too thin, though she ate well, but he liked to watch her trim hips and rounded buttocks in her tight jeans too much to complain. Her skin was satiny, her breasts high and round, her exotic mouth full and pouty; no matter how she dressed, she turned him on because he knew what lay under those clothes. He also knew that all he had to do was reach for her and she’d turn into his arms, warm and willing. That kind of response enchanted him; there was something so new about it, as if he’d never known it before.

Then one morning they got up to find that it had snowed again during the night, and it continued snowing all during the day, not hard, just a continuous veil of flakes sifting down over the meadow. Except for trips outside to bring in more firewood, Jay and Steve spent the day in the cabin, watching old movies. That was an extra benefit of the satellite dish; they could always find something interesting to watch on television, if they were in the mood. It was perfectly suited to a lazy day when they had nothing better to do than to lie around and watch the fat snowflakes drifting down.

Just before dark, Steve left to check the area, something he always did. While he was gone Jay began cooking dinner, humming as she did so, because she was so contented. This was paradise. She knew it couldn’t last; when his memory returned, even if he still wanted to marry her, their lives would change. They would leave here, find another home. She would have to find another job. Other things would take up their time. This was time set aside, out of the real world, but she meant to enjoy every minute of it. Briefly a dark thought intruded: This could be all she had. Perhaps it was. If so, these days were all the more precious.

Steve entered through the back door, slapping snow off his shoulders and shaking it out of his hair before taking off his thick coat. "Nothing but rabbit tracks." He looked thoughtful. "Do you like rabbit?"

Jay turned from the cheese she was grating for the spaghetti. "If you shoot the Easter Bunny…" she began in a threatening tone.

"It was just a question," he said, and grabbed her for a kiss, then rubbed his cold, beard-roughened cheek against hers. "You smell good. Like onion and garlic and tomato sauce." Actually, she smelled like herself, that sweet, warm, womanly scent he associated with her and no one else. He buried his cold nose against her neck and inhaled it, feeling the familiar tension growing in his loins.

"You won’t get any points for telling me I smell like onions and garlic," she said, returning to her chore even though he kept his arms looped around her waist.

"Even if I tell you how crazy I am about onions and garlic?"

"Humph. You’re like all men. You’ll say anything when you’re hungry."

Chuckling, he released her to set the table and begin buttering the rolls. "How would you like to take a trip?"

"I’d love to see Hawaii."

"I was thinking more in terms of Colorado Springs. Or maybe Denver."

"I’ve been to Colorado Springs," she said, then looked at him curiously over her shoulder. "Why are we going to Colorado Springs?"

"I’m assuming Frank doesn’t want us returning to Washington, even briefly, so he’ll fly the doctor out to check my eyes. That means, logically, either Colorado Springs or Denver, and I’m betting Colorado Springs. I’m also betting he doesn’t want the doctor to know the location of the cabin, so that means we go to him."

She had known he would have to have his eyes checked again, but just talking about it brought the real world intruding into their private paradise. It would feel strange even seeing other people, much less talking to them. But reading strained his eyes, and enough time had passed for them to realize his sight wasn’t going to improve. She thought of how he would look in glasses, and a warm feeling began spreading in her stomach. Sexy. She gave him a smile. "Yeah, I think I’d like to make a trip. I’ve been eating my own cooking for a long time now."