New Places, New Problems
Chapter 41
Stephen held out a hand and felt the water. "It's too cold for me."
"And not for me?" Claire cried. He had turned the water on himself.
"No."
"But you're the islander -- you can take that sort of thing! I can't."
"They have cold water in towns too." He glanced down. Claire was still trying to pull him and his clothes had got wet enough for him to feel it on his skin now. "And you're making me wet."
"Good!"
"Stop it. I want to wear this tomorrow," Stephen suddenly realised. It would not dry in time if it got completely soaked.
"You do?" Claire was baffled enough to take a step backwards and turn on some warmer water. "You've been wearing it today."
He seized the opportunity to step back as well and began to take off his clothes. "Does that matter?"
"Er...Stephen," she said in a slight panic. "Will you stop at some point?"
Yes, he was going to stop at some point. She needed not be afraid. "Oh, I might. I don't wear my underwear twice, you know. It can get wet."
"You shower with your underwear on?" she asked helplessly.
"My dear, you're showering with all your clothes on," he mocked.
Claire looked frustrated. What he had said earlier turned out to be true, because she would really not be able to take anything off now that it was wet. "How come you can take off your clothes so easily and I can't?"
"Because I know what to wear." He would not wear anything tight.
She stared at him. "You actually consider whether they're easy to take off when wet if you're buying them?"
"Oh yes." Well, he would just look at if they were easy to move around in, which in a way amounted to the same thing.
"Cccccchhhhhhh," said Claire. "You don't look at what they look like, but you think about how quickly you can take them off?"
"That's more useful when you're stuck in a shower with a girl."
"Well, why don't you make sure you get stuck with a girl with easy clothes?"
"Girls are rare. I can't make demands."
"I don't believe you." Claire turned and held her face under the shower. He probably meant that he made too many demands.
"And you shouldn't." Stephen's eyes twinkled. "Let me take a shower while you struggle with your clothes. I know you better than to offer my assistance." If she asked for it, she would receive it, but otherwise not.
Claire looked the other way when he got into the shower. He was strange. She wrestled herself out of her blouse. "Your mother is going to find this very odd." She did not know if she could face Abby after she found out. She was a guest in this house and she should not chase after the son.
"Tell me how she would know," Stephen called over the sound of the running water. He actually doubted that his mother would find it odd.
"Well...she would find all our wet clothes, wouldn't she?"
He dismissed that problem. "Clothes are always wet when they come out of the washing machine."
Claire considered that. Stephen was obviously going to put them in the washing machine. "But wouldn't she find it strange that you washed your clothes after only having worn them for a day?"
Stephen peered around the shower curtain. "Careful or I'm coming out. Oooh," he said, observing her clothes. "You're making progress. I think you should be really glad that I'm a serious schoolmaster." He disappeared behind the curtain again.
"Why?" she called.
He showed his face again briefly. "I'll let you know when our big ones get biology."
Claire did not understand that. She tried for a while and then gave up. It was typical for Stephen to be frustratingly incomprehensible. She wrapped herself in a towel and waited. "Do you want a towel?" she asked when the water was turned off. She thrust one through the curtain before he could answer, ignoring what she assumed to be a snorting sound.
"Yuck!" Stephen cried when he stepped out and laid eyes on her. He was wearing his towel around his waist.
"What?" Claire cried back. "Are you disappointed?" What had he been expecting?
"Yuck," he said again, in a quieter voice this time, but with the same heartfelt dislike.
"Stephen!" she said desperately. "Why are you saying that? Do I look ugly in a towel?"
"Look at us, Claire. Isn't it disgusting?"
He spoke relatively calmly and Claire did not know if it was a joke. "What is? Do I look disgusting in a towel?" She did not want Stephen to think that. "Do you think we misbehaved?"
Stephen had to laugh in spite of himself. Only children misbehaved, but Claire was looking as desperate as a child who did not know what it had done wrong. Her incomprehension was really going to frustrate him one of these days. It was beyond him how she could seriously ask if she looked disgusting in a towel. He took a step forward and felt extremely old, placing his hands on her shoulders in an almost fatherly manner. "Next time you hand me a towel," he said. "Give me one in another colour."
"You don't like green?" Claire did not understand.
Stephen looked at the ceiling. How was he going to explain this? He took a deep breath. "We look disgusting in the same colour."
She frowned as she tried to understand. "Why?"
"Because we just do." He had an intense dislike of this kind of thing. He could not really define what kind of thing it was, but using the same colour towels was something that was part of it.
"Couldn't you just have said so, instead of making me think I look ugly?" she complained.
He had said so, Stephen thought, but she had not understood him. "I said you weren't ugly." He had said something about being a serious schoolmaster.
As much as Claire racked her brains, there was nothing to that effect in her memory. "I don't recall that."
Stephen was sure of it, though. "I probably phrased it differently then."
"Sometimes with you differently means not at all."
"See?" he brightened up. "You understand me." But he knew she did not.
"No, no, no!" Claire hit her hand against the wall in frustration. She did not understand Stephen at all. If she had ever come close, it was all gone now.
"Yes, yes, yes!" he answered with a sparkle in his eyes, moving even closer.
Claire stopped thinking. Several things happened that registered in her body, but not in her brain. Afterwards she could hear Stephen say something when he left the bathroom; something about this being the closest she would ever come to seeing him in a kilt, but she did not really see where kilts came in. Perhaps he had said something else about kilts during her temporary brain failure, although she tended to think his mouth had been otherwise engaged. It was all beyond her. And she was supposed to be a teacher? She understood nothing.
Stephen thought about what he had just done when he was getting dressed. He had kissed Claire. Now that he came to think of it, she had looked pretty confused afterwards. He wondered what she had been thinking. Apparently he had taken her completely by surprise.
And that made him no better than Matthew.
Stephen wanted to bang his head against the wall. He had condemned Matthew, but he had done exactly the same. He remembered all too well how upset Claire had been after Matthew had kissed her. It was very likely that she was going to be upset now too. She might think he and Matthew were the same, that they had the same intentions, but they did not.
He should apologise to her, but would she accept his apologies? She had every right not to trust him. He would not blame her if she was now angry with him.
Stephen stared away absentmindedly. He did not like to talk about his feelings and never knew how to put them into words. It would be an enormous disaster if he tried. He got dressed slowly, trying to think of words that explained his behaviour.
Claire had dressed more quickly and gone downstairs to find Abby. This was something she could not talk to Stephen about. Abby was working at her sewing machine.
"Is something wrong?" Abby inquired when she saw Claire's rather confused face.
"Well," Claire shrugged. "I don't really know..."
That meant that things were definitely not alright if there was room for doubt. She knew that Stephen and Claire had only got home a short while ago, because she had heard them come in. Things had sounded alright then, but something had apparently happened after that. "Sit down," she said invitingly. "I'll listen if you want to talk about something."
"Okay..." Claire sat down and watched her work. She did not know how to start yet. This was difficult. Suddenly she became afraid. What if Abby disapproved of her being kissed by two men in such a short period of time? Maybe Abby thought she had encouraged both of them. Claire did not know whether she had. She had not wanted it, she thought, otherwise she would not be feeling this confused, but maybe she had unconsciously done something to make them think the opposite and then it would be her fault.
Abby glanced back at her work again. "Did you go to town?" she asked as if she had not seen the torment on the girl's face.
"Yes, we did. For a chair." That had been nice of Stephen. He really did not deserve to be criticised for his other actions. It would not be fair. Or would it? It was too confusing.
"I hope you didn't get too wet. The weather was pretty bad."
"We got soaked." Claire paused. "I think I should move out." That thought had suddenly occurred to her and it sounded like the best solution.
Abby raised her head curiously. "Why?" She had been wondering what would happen between Claire and her son and what would be the best for them, given their characters, but she had not considered Claire's moving out as a very good option. The girl needed people to talk to and to lift her out of that depression. Her mind would keep running in circles if she did not talk to people.
"I should live alone."
"Live alone or live away from Stephen?" she asked, guessing Stephen was somehow connected. From the way Claire's eyes widened she knew she had guessed correctly. She wondered why.
"Away from Stephen," Claire whispered.
"What did he do?"
"Nothing, but..."
"Nothing?" Abby doubted that. Claire was not feeling this way for no reason.
"It was me. Probably. I just want to...calm down...before I..." Claire exhaled with a sigh. "I'm confused enough without Stephen. I hope you don't mind my saying that." She was his mother after all.
"No, I don't mind. I would agree with you," Abby smiled kindly. "You look a little confused now and then."
"I can't solve it all at once and they are making it worse."
"They? Who else? Matthew?"
"Yes. They've both kissed me now. Why? What did I do?" Claire looked desperate. "I wasn't --"
"Oh Claire..." Abby left her seat and hugged the girl. "Men!"
"I feel stupid. I don't understand them and I don't know what they want, because they're not telling me. They just kissed me without asking me and I don't know what they expect from me now." Claire began to cry. "I'm sorry. I sound like a baby. What if they did that because they genuinely like me? I shouldn't dislike people because they like me."
"But they should think of you," Abby reminded her gently. "They shouldn't be selfish."
"But maybe they thought I would like it. I don't know."
"Did you?"
"I don't know. I was too stunned to realise anything. I hadn't seen it coming."
Abby sighed. "Do you want me to talk to Stephen?"
"Noooo!"
"Do you want to talk to Stephen?"
"Noooo! Besides, can anyone talk to Stephen? He's too confusing."
And confused, Abby added silently. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to move out on your own in a place where you don't know anyone," she continued. "However, I do think you're right about needing to be a little more apart from Stephen. That leaves only one option."
"I should leave the island?"
"No. If anyone has to leave this house, it would be better for Stephen to do so than for you."
"But he's your son."
"I know." But it would also in his best interest, Abby thought. Eventually.
Chapter 43
Abby wondered how Stephen would take this, which nearly amounted to betrayal. She was his mother, yet she thought it would be best if he left the house instead of a strange girl who had been here only for a while.
She set Claire to work while she went to look for Stephen. He knew why she came, although she had not thought she looked that obvious about it. "Mum," he stated. "What did she say?"
"Never mind what she said," said Abby. Claire had not even wanted her to talk to Stephen, so she would definitely not like her words being repeated verbatim. "It's more important what you're going to do now."
"Apologise?"
She did not know whether that would have a lot of effect. "You shouldn't be living in the same house." Abby hoped he would get the hint and volunteer to move out. He knew enough basic psychology to understand what would be best. Think she's a character in your book, Stephen, she thought. He would know, in such a case.
Stephen thought about his mother's words without giving any answer immediately. He was pretty embarrassed to have his mother interfere in a situation like this at his age and he wondered why she felt she had to. She had never told him what to do about Linnet, except tell him he would find out sooner or later. It was not really good for Claire to move into that cottage all alone, he should think, although he could see that living under the same roof with her was not ideal either. They seemed to have a strange effect on each other. Suddenly he felt his mother was being preposterous. "Come on, Mum. This is insane. Nothing much happened and you want to throw her out of the house like some kind of temptress?"
Abby pursed her lips. "No, I don't want to do that." How could she get Stephen to come up with the idea himself?
"Then what..."
"You can't do everything to Claire. She's still fragile."
He was very aware of that. Did she think he was not thinking that he had acted too rashly? "I know, but -"
"It just happened?" Abby raised her eyebrows. "You ought to make sure that it can't just happen anymore. I'm not condemning you, Stephen. I know you care about her."
Stephen began to see her point, but he was not going to admit that he cared about Claire, nor admit that he might be lacking some self-control where she was concerned. "I'm not sure it would be better for her to be isolated." He took his mother's concern about Claire as a sign that she cared, but he could not reconcile this to turning her out of the house.
"Actually, my plan was to isolate you, dear boy," Abby said matter-of-factly.
Stephen gaped at her. "I beg your pardon?" She was telling him to move out?
"You heard me, I think."
"Yes, I heard you, but -" It was too ridiculous to be true.
"And what do you think of it?" Abby smiled at him encouragingly. "Isn't it infinitely better than making Claire live alone?"
"I'm your son." Stephen had trouble comprehending it.
"That is why."
"I don't understand you."
Abby placed an arm across his shoulders. "Look, Stephen. I realise you're probably feeling insulted by this plan..."
"Heh!" Stephen commented sarcastically. It would be very strange if a son did not feel insulted when his mother came up with such a plan.
"But it's in your best interest."
"I fail to see how."
"You would only be driving yourself crazy if she stayed, isn't that so?"
"Could be." He was not up to admitting anything yet.
"She's several years and issues behind you. You can't expect her to bridge that gap in a few days."
"I really hate this psychological talk," Stephen commented crossly. "Why should I want her to do that anyway?"
"I don't think I have to tell you that. I didn't decide that for you. You were the one who was beginning to give off such signals and I only read them, nothing else. It wasn't me who decided Claire was a nice girl."
"Bwah." He wished his mother would shut up. "So we're not on the same wavelength. What's new? People have been suffering from unrequited...er...stuff for centuries."
Well, in this case Abby thought the stuff was not really unrequited, merely ill-timed. "Don't be blind."
"You're not really being nice to me, Mum. You imply that I have no self-control when it comes to girls and now I'm blind too?" He knew he was exaggerating, but he could not help it.
"Stephen," she said emphatically. "Listen to me and stop feeling injured."
"Grr," he said in frustration. He was feeling lots of things that he could not stop feeling. Injured was only one of them.
"She likes you."
"So?"
"You have to be careful."
"Why?"
"Stephen, darling, if you think it's difficult to listen to this kind of thing, try imagining how difficult it is for me to talk about this kind of thing to an unresponsive rock. Everything just bounces off and I'm not getting any sort of impression of what you're feeling."
"You said I felt injured," he said immediately, not really liking the picture she sketched of him.
"Well, that was just my idea of what a normal person should be feeling. I'm not sure it would apply to you!" Abby was getting a little frustrated too. "Will you just trust your mother for once and listen?"
"Sorry," Stephen mumbled contritely.
"I was right, wasn't I?" she asked softly.
"Yes, you were right."
She saw he looked pained and she touched his face. "It'll be okay."
"Are you sure?"
"I think so."
"How long will this take?" he asked.
"As long as is necessary."
Stephen was silent for a few moments. "And what have you said to Claire about it?"
"Oh, far less. I won't hide from you that she thought it best to move out because you were confusing. I didn't tell her why you were confusing. I only told her it would be best if you moved out."
"And she didn't think this odd?" Stephen would have thought it very strange indeed if he had been Claire.
"Of course she did, but I shouldn't tell her things she ought to discover herself when she is ready for them." Abby smiled.
Chapter 44
Stephen was not ready to accept his mother's opinion right away. He went for a walk around the island. When he returned he was still not completely convinced of the necessity of the plan, but he supposed he could give it a try. The only thing, then, was to turn it into a plausible story. The rest of the island would hear of it too and if they were not given a reason, they would invent one. He could be fixing up the cottage or something. That was very believable. One could not live on Tenrae without acquiring some skills in that department. Claire would not have those.
He paused outside the remnants of the back gate. Some ancestor had made it once, though there was no use for it and it had fallen apart slowly and steadily over the years. Matthew appeared throwing pebbles. Stephen was surprised. This was rather unusual for his friend. "Reflecting on your sins?" he asked.
"Maybe." Matthew decapitated a toadstool with a rock. "Hurrah!"
"Don't let those nature people see you." There had been some nature people on the island not long ago, who had claimed that the islanders did not care about the world they lived in.
"That dreadful woman in tweeds?" Matthew shuddered. "And you're an educated man, doctor!" he mimicked disapprovingly. "The fungus-worshipping witch."
"Och, you're just annoyed that of all the females they could send here to study the wildlife, they had to send her," Stephen said with a shrug.
"They should test her. I bet she isn't even female."
Matthew would be the expert, Stephen guessed. "Dinner?" he asked, suddenly feeling hungry. He had gone for a walk instead of cooking dinner.
"Thought you'd never ask!"
They went inside together. Stephen's parents and Claire had already eaten, but they had left enough for them. He wondered if Claire was going to avoid him now, but his father told him the women were out. The three men watched a game of football without being interrupted and in the 88th minute it occurred to Stephen that they stayed away suspiciously long. Perhaps the women had known there was going to be football on the telly.
After Scotland-Germany there were highlights of other interesting matches, so there was still no time for Stephen to broach the subject with his father. He was glad about that, because he was not looking forward to it. If only he could move out without anybody asking any questions, but whether he or Claire moved out, people were bound to be curious.
He had moved himself in a really difficult position, or rather, his mother had done that. Maybe he should try to convince her to abandon the plan altogether. He had always thought he did not care much about other people's opinions, but now he supposed he had been wrong. While he might seem indifferent, he was not. Stephen took another beer as he contemplated this. It was good that not much in the way of conversation was expected of him during a football match.
It was close to midnight when his mother and Claire returned. By then, he had drunk enough to feel up to talking and he got up. He should talk to Claire. His father and Matthew did not care if anyone left or walked around, as long as nobody blocked their view of the screen. They did not comment.
It was rather impressive to Claire to see Stephen stand in the door opening, hands in his pockets, with the light behind him. She guessed he was standing there for her benefit. If he had wanted to say something to her mother, he would have spoken already.
"Can I talk to you for a moment, Claire?" he asked quietly.
Claire looked at him in surprise. Abby made off quickly and discreetly she was left alone with Stephen and the sound of the television coming from the room behind him. "Talk, Stephen? Are you drunk?" she asked, forcing a laugh.
"No. Shall we go up to my room or don't you want to talk to me?"
"I don't know."
Stephen took his hands from his pockets. "I'll be in my room if you want to listen," he said curtly and went upstairs.
Claire shook her head in confusion. Stephen was not really talkative. Surely listening to him could never take long? What did he want? She went after Abby and found her in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea. "Abby? Stephen wants to talk to me."
"Yes?" Abby did not see a problem.
"But Stephen isn't a talker."
"Aren't you curious then?" she teased.
"What if he's going to say things I don't want to hear?" Claire realised this sounded stupid. "I should listen first, right? Never mind. Sorry. Good night. I'll go listen to what he has to say." She went upstairs slowly and slid into Stephen's study. He was hanging on his couch with his legs stretched out and he did not say anything when she sat down. After a few minutes Claire spoke up. "Have you said anything yet?"
He turned his head towards her with a frown. "No. Are you...deaf?" He wondered why she asked.
"I thought you might have been communicating in some non-verbal way," she said timidly.
"Oh, possibly, not that I know, though. I mean, you always do, I suppose, but I wasn't doing it consciously if I did. Why do you ask?"
"Because I wasn't feeling as if I was waiting for a communication, so I was wondering if it had already happened."
"That is...clear," he commented.
"Is this what you call talking?"
"No."
"Then I'm still waiting, aren't I?"
"Yes."
"When are you going to start?"
Stephen considered it. "When it happens."
"What is it going to be about?" Claire said patiently. Perhaps she could draw it out of him. It was late already.
"Us."
"Why?"
"Because I think that's necessary."
"Stephen...if you can think it's necessary, surely you can think up the words to speak?"
"Oh, I can."
"Why aren't you speaking them then?" she wondered.
"I was waiting for the right moment."
Claire pulled up her legs under her and eyed him curiously. "Don't wait too long, though. I'm about to fall asleep."
"Oh, that's flattering," he said sarcastically. Was his company really that boring?
"It is, actually," she said in a serious voice. "I said we had it, didn't I? But we can have it and I can still be immensely frustrated by you because I still don't know you."
"I can't let you know, because I don't know it myself. I thought I did and then you came here." Stephen frowned. He glanced at her and then looked away when he saw her staring at him interestedly.
Rather than say stupid things she might regret, Claire decided to proceed with care. So she confused Stephen. She would think about that and then question him further. "I'll go to bed and think about that one," she said reflectively.
"I thought you wanted me to talk?" Stephen looked confused.
"Yes, but...not right now. I have to think and then tell you what I've come up with."
"Why?"
"So I'm sure that I don't misunderstand you."
Stephen grinned sardonically. "Can't you just act like some fictional character and say you suddenly realised you hate me or love me or something equally well-defined?"
"Don't be silly. I certainly wouldn't love you if that's the way you -- if you think life is that easy."
"You're making life more difficult by taking naps during a serious conversation," Stephen remarked.
"Well, you may wake me up if you have something interesting to say," said Claire.
"You're not serious."
"I am! If by any chance you feel like talking to me in the middle of the night I promise I won't be grumpy and I'll listen." She looked very earnest.
"I suspect this applies to me as well? You expect me to be cheerful too should you want to talk to me in the middle of the night?"
Claire nodded. "Yes."
"What about my beauty sleep?"
"Why have one if during the day you make absolutely no effort to look handsome?" she mocked, glancing at a prominent hole in his jeans.
"I don't?" He wondered what the state of his clothes could possibly have to do with his looks.
"I..." Claire stopped. "No, I won't go into this. I'm going to bed. I think that's much safer."
"Until I find something to say, that is."
"You won't. You're Stephen."
"But you said you didn't know Stephen," he said shrewdly. "You can't know what he might do."
She held out her hand and got up. "Good night."
Stephen shook it. "Why are you shaking my hand? You're going to bed!"
"It's polite."
"It's polite on other occasions, not at bedtime."
"I don't know what you do at bedtime and I don't want to know either," she said hastily. "Good night, Stephen."
"We're not getting anywhere," he stated. "If you go to bed."
"I was going to bed just because we were not getting anywhere," she corrected.
"On second thought, I think we already got somewhere," Stephen mused. "This is the longest conversation I've had with a woman other than my mother."
"You nerd!" Claire exclaimed with a horrified look. She was appalled that he could be that bad.
He laughed at her. "You shouldn't always take me seriously."
"Well, I take you seriously because you behave badly enough for me to believe it!"
Chapter 45
Claire had just gone to bed when Stephen came. She flicked on the light again. "Have you come to talk?" She supposed he had, because there was nothing else he ought to have come for.
"Why else?" He sat down on her bed.
"You're starting off very eloquently," she teased him, smiling because he had come.
Stephen decided to be direct. "The thing is, Claire, that I should move out. Sometimes you drive me crazy." Contrary to what he had expected, he did not feel nervous when he said that. Claire seemed to be pleased that he was here and that gave him some confidence.
She knew that and she smiled. "This is your house. Your mother said something like that as well, but I don't understand why you have to move out and not me."
"Because you don't know how to fix up a cottage." Stephen was glad she was in the mood to listen without getting upset.
Claire sat up straight. "That's true -- I don't. Why do you have to fix it up? Do you need to get away from me?"
"It might be better for us both. This brother-sister thing doesn't work. Not for me, anyway." Stephen smiled apologetically.
"What brother -- oh, you mean you --" She looked at him seriously. "Er...well..." It did not really work for her either. She had this thing for him, despite his being Stephen. "What am I to you then?"
"I'm not really sure," he said honestly. "Maybe I should find out."
She could not help blushing. "You kissed me. I think you should. It might...help." He should find out what he was feeling and preferably he should tell her, so she would know how to interpret his words and actions.
Stephen had one condition. "If you do the same."
"Kiss you?" she bit her lip and smiled.
"No, idiot. Think about me. Or don't you have to anymore?"
"No, I still need to do a lot of thinking. But..." Claire frowned and pushed a pillow behind her back. She was prepared to think, but she foresaw some practical problems. "All your stuff is here. You need those things. You can't just move them over to that cottage for maybe a week, or however long it might take us."
"I've been thinking about that too."
"And what did you conclude?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"That's a lot. Let me go. It's a more practical solution. You needn't be living there to be able to fix the cottage anyway. What am I doing?" Claire asked herself. "I need a friend and you need a girlfriend. It's very easy."
"And you don't need a boyfriend?" Stephen was not really sure he needed a girlfriend. He was not that pathetic or desperate, was he? He wondered who would be able to give him a serious answer to that question. With so few people around him he could easily have developed a desperate attitude without anyone telling him so.
Claire thought the boyfriend was no priority right now, if they ever were in anyone's life. She realised, though, this was not a conversation she would have with just anybody. The mere fact that they were discussing this was evidence enough of some attraction, but attraction was not enough. "I can't love you if I don't know you, Stephen. I could be in love with you, but that's all." She hoped he would not take that badly, but he smiled.
"And are you?" To have Claire think about it was enough. He was probably not so desperate after all then.
Claire took his hands. "A little, maybe. Probably enough to want to take part in these idiotic plans. Bahh, Stephen. I'm beginning to feel embarrassed. If we try not to frustrate each other, I don't think there's any need to separate. How could we even separate before we're married?" she asked lightly.
"I'll talk more." Stephen got up. He meant what he said. He would really try to talk more and tomorrow they would sort out if anyone was moving out.
Claire laughed softly. "Don't break that promise." It was so like him to say that and leave.
He did not appear to have understood that right now he was not doing what he had just promised. "Good night," he said to her as he left the room.
"Night," Claire called after him. She gave him two minutes and then followed him. After all, they still had not reached a conclusion. He could not walk away from her if he was in his own room.
© 2000, 2001 Copyright held by the author.