The Shield of Time

XXI

He had a moment alone with her in the living room, by grace of General Grahovitch, before they embarked for Washington. As he entered, he saw her at a window, staring out across the lawn to the river and the hills beyond.

“Veevee,” he said.

She didn’t turn. He came behind her, laid his hands on her waist and said into her ear, with the blue-black hair tickling his lips and smelling like summer, “Everything’s settled. All over but the shouting.”

Still she didn’t move.

“Of course,” he said, “the shouting’s apt to last quite a while. I’m told that half the government officials who’ve heard the news think I ought to be hanged for scattering the plans around so widely. But the other half sees that we really had very little choice and didn’t break any important laws, so the only thing to do is accept the fait accompli and make heroes of us. I can’t say I relish that prospect, but we should be able to sneak off eventually.”

“That’s good,” she said in a flat voice.

He kissed her cheek. “And then—” he said shyly.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I don’t doubt you’ll have a wonderful time.”

“What do you mean, me? I’m thinking about us.” He grew aware of the tension under his hands. “Hey, you aren’t worried about those old charges, are you? I have Grahovitch’s personal word that you’ll get not just a pardon, but a national apology.”

“It was good of you to remember about me, in the middle of everything else,” she said. Slowly, forcing herself, she turned about and met his gaze. “I’m not surprised, though. You’re that kind of guy.”

“Nuts,” he blustered. “Got to take care of my own wife, don’t I? Uh—” He saw with uncomprehending shock that she was not crying simply because she had wept herself dry.

“I’ll miss you like anything, Pete,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t think I’d tie a man like you…to somebody like me…do you? I haven’t sunk that far.”

“What do you mean, sunk? Don’t you want me? That tone—before sunrise—”

“That was different,” she said. “I didn’t expect we’d live. So why not give each other what we could? But for a lifetime? No. It’d be too onesided.”

“Don’t you think I’m anything at all?”

“Oh, Pete, Pete.” She took his head between her hands. “Can’t you see? It’s the other way around. After everything I’ve done and been—”

“Do you think that matters to me?”

“—everything I still am; because habits don’t go away just by my wishing they would. Yes, it does matter. Not now; you’re still too young to understand. But later it would. As the years passed. As you came to know me better, and know other people too, people like Leah Abrams, and started realizing—No. I can’t do that to you. Or to myself, even. Let’s say a clean goodbye.”

“But what will you do?” he asked, stunned into stupidity, seeing only afterward that the one rational thing might perhaps have been to prevent her by force from departing.

“I’ll manage,” she said. “My kind always does. I’ll disappear—I know how to do that very thoroughly—and get a new face somewhere, and find something to keep me busy. Remember, darling, how short a time you’ve known me. In six months you’ll have trouble recalling what I looked like. I know. I’ve known so many.”

She kissed him, a hasty gesture, as if she were afraid. “But next to Johnny,” she said, “I liked you the best.”

Before he could stir, she was out the door, walking down toward the riverside where several Army aircars waited. Her head was held high.