âYouâre so tense and keyed up; youâve been looking at your watch every five minutes.â Her fingers continued to search until finally she touched his hand; gently she closed her fingers on his. âWhat is it, Henry? Iâve had an awful feeling these last few weeks that you want to tell me something and you canât. Itâs something about you and me, isnât it?â She tried to smile, but her whole body shivered. âSo tell me, Henry ⦠just tell me this is all the silliest damned thing youâve ever heard of.â
He knew at once he had nearly revealed too much. âI swear to God, Faithâwhat are you talking about? Thereâs a lot of things going on. Iâm a little strung out. Iâll be all right.â
âSo you really have nothing you want to tell me? Nothing at all?â
âNo,â he said. âExcept Iâm going back in there. I have to.â
He turned his head to look at the rain.
She saw the back of his neck where the hair whorled into a thin dark fold and it all came flooding back to her, the apartment in Chicago, the roughneck boy she had loved so recklessly, the disgrace and humiliation when he lost everything. âIn a minute,â Faith said. âYou can go in a minute. But first, is this something Iâve done?â She drew closer to him. âOr have you done something? Why wonât you tell me? Have you fallen in love with someone else?â
It was unnerving how close she came to the truth. He remembered holding Sheilaâs face in his hands and her tentative, young kiss. There were moments when he thought how easy it would be to throw away everything he had worked for and escape with her.
But not this night.
His smile came easily. âFaith,â he said. âWho would I fall in love with? Who, but you?â
Sudden relief swept through her. His face, close to hers, seemed pale but he was smiling; that great warm smile flowed toward her from his eyes, his mouth, the tilt of his head, from all the stretches of the whispering rain. âOh, I love you so much,â she told him. âI always will. Please donât scare me like this.â She thought, Whatever it is, my darling, weâll get through it. Impetuously, she kissed him and clasped him to herself a long time, letting the kindling of her love come again as once, years ago, she had known it, trusting only in that, believing in it and wanting to believe, with all her heart, in him.
She felt him start to pull away and let him go. âOh, I nearly forgot,â she said. âLook.â She held out the two ten-dollar bills from her pocket. âLook what I found.â
He glanced at her outstretched hand and began to laugh. âChrist, Faith, itâs just money. This goddamned place is practically carpeted in ten-dollar bills.â
âYes,â she said, âI know. But these two are mine.â And so are you, my darling. So are you .
Henry shrugged and then he put his arm around her shoulders. Moving her toward the door, he said, âYou shouldnât stay out here in this rain. Go on in with the others; I wonât be gone much longer.â He opened the door for her and let her pass, and as she stepped inside, ahead of him, Slater looked down at his watch.
Now .
5
Beecham laid the room key on the dresser, took up his gym bag and stepped out to the sidewalk, shutting the door behind him. It was ten past eleven. With the wind whipping around him, he went through the hedgerow of rubbery jade plants and, again, studied the low, swarming clouds. The night smelled heavily of rain and electricity. He shoved the oversized bag onto the passenger seat and climbed in behind the wheel of the Mustang. Raindrops were beginning to pepper the windshield.
Driving toward Canyon Valley Drive, he remembered his own grandmother, who had raised him, and how she had talked to him and read him stories from the Bible. She told him there
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