end results.
October 10, 2000, Heathrow Airport,
Boarding Concorde Flight #414
5:09 p.m. Greenwich Mean Time
Jessica's parting with Richard Sharpe proved miles different from those times she and James Parry had parted. While parting with James had proven Shakespeare's “sweet sorrow” theme, there too had always been the element of guilt that James managed to leave her with, that she should feel guilty at leaving him, at not instantly changing over her life to box it all up to fit into his neat little world there in Hawaii. Richard would have none of that, and he didn't shed any tears, actual or metaphorical at her leaving, but rather said, “I will make it my business to visit America to see you, Jessie.” He'd taken to calling her Jessie James since the incident, and he had since shortened it to simply Jessie. “I won't let a pond as small as the Atlantic stand between us, not for long anyway.”
It made her smile, hearing him say such words in so matter a fact a tone, as if no obstacles existed between them, because Richard wouldn't allow obstacles.
“You have a place to stay-a warm bed-anytime you visit,” she assured him. “You've made my time here more valuable than any dme I've spent on the planet, Richard. I… I can honestly tell you now, I love you. I truly do.”
This caught him unaware, and he audibly gasped. “I had no idea. You hold your cards so close to your chest, as you Americans put it.”
“Hold on there, Inspector. You haven't said those words to me, either.”
“I hadn't dreamed you could feel so deeply for me. I thought our relations… relationship purely a matter of… you see, physical attraction.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“I mean… I guess, I mean to say, I hadn't considered a woman of your intelligence and beauty to be all that, well… interested in a dull sot like myself, an aging fellow to boot, and-”
“Older men intrigue me. You've lived a life, Richard. And you do have more to offer than anyone I've known, Colonel Sharpe.”
“Including Parry?”
She had told him all about her love affair with Parry, and he had been silent and understanding, and when she'd finished, he had told her all about his wife, Clarisa, and his two daughters, his eyes sparkling as usual when he spoke of the children.
Final boarding on the Concorde for America was called. She'd been given clearance to sit in the jump seat in the cockpit behind the pilot and copilot, and she felt extremely excited about the trip home, and nothing Richard said or did spoiled any of it. He remained focused on her the entire time of their parting, never once making her feel odd about leaving so soon, as she had decided, never once asking her to remain longer, but rather promising to see her sooner than she might like. They kissed a final, long, passionate kiss, embracing as lovers, the world falling away from around them, dissolving into oblivion for they lived, each and the other, in this moment alone. He whispered in her ear, “We're good together, you and I.”
“Yes, yes we are. I'll tell my shrink all about you,” she teased, “and I'll ring you up as soon as I get to a phone. I must admit, I'm anxious for home, my place.”
“I certainly understand that, but I rather doubt you'll be happy over there in the Colonies for long without me.”
She laughed and socked him with a petting punch to the cheek.
“And I wager that I will ring you up long before I hear from you,” he challenged.
“It's a wager I will take.”
He breathed a great breath, his chest heaving. “Off you go, now,” he quietly said, and she saw a moment's weakness flush over his features as he held her pair of bandaged hands in his.
“The bandages make my wounds look more severe than they are,” she told him. “I'm really in no pain, though I wish more feeling would return.”
He instantly controlled his emotions with a joke. “You jolly well better get more feeling back in those fingers. I want you, touch and all. Time you toddled off now, sweetheart.” He kissed her a final, lingering kiss good- bye.
And toddle she did, staggering a bit under the influence of his intoxicating taste. She parted with him in harmony and in romance. All the way to the airport, he had spoken of working diligently to breathe life into the flame of their newly kindled relationship. She believed he meant every word, but she feared the distance, knowing what distance had done to Parry and her.
Heathrow Airport bustled about her and Richard where he stood waving her off. All she saw remained him, his smile wide and caring, all the rest of reality had faded, blurred, moved about her in slow motion. She thought of what he'd said to her the night before, after they'd made love for what might well be the last dme. “I'm soon to retire,” he had told her, “and I have always thought that a retirement to America might not be a bad idea.” It had sounded like a fishing expedition, to see her reaction.
“I think it a marvelous idea,” Jessica had replied.
“I'd do a bit of consulting, that sort of thing, perhaps even with the FBI, so I might live rather close to your area there, Quantico, Virginia? I've always thought Virginia a pretty sounding place.”
“Are you serious?” she'd asked, beaming. “If you are, I could speak to a few people in key positions at the FBI on your behalf. I could start with my chief, Santiva.”
“You'd do that for me?” he teased.
“You know damned well I would, Richard. It's so right for you. What else would you do in retirement? An active man like you?”
“Fish, hunt, trap wild game like you?” he joked in return. “I'd have to cultivate some bad habits and bad hobbies, for certain.”
“Do you dive?”
“Dive? Do you mean like this?” he buried his head in her bare bosom, both of them laughing.
“Stop it! No, dive, as in dive the ocean?”
“No, but I've always wished to learn. Never found the time, you see.”
“Then you must learn someday, and we'll do some diving together. There's nothing more fantastic aside from… aside from being with you, here, like this.”
He had next gently kissed her, but she pulled away, grabbed a pad of paper, and began jotting notes to herself, plans for his retirement from the Yard and his moving to America.
“You are serious, and not simply making a fool of me, are you?” she asked, looking up from her notes.
He had laughed then at her enthusiasm and replied, “I don't want our relationship to end when you get on that plane tomorrow, Jessie, if that's what you mean.”
“Good. Neither do I.” And now they waved their final good-bye which was not supposed to be their final good-bye, but she feared it might be, feared how he would feel once she left. She hesitated a nanosecond before boarding, her fear of losing him overwhelming, sending gravel through her veins, freezing her to the spot, a nausea replacing the concrete mixture in her blood vessels.
But when she turned to look back, to tell him that she might simply stay another few days, she found that he had done the smart thing: He had disappeared. Out of sight, out of mind, but not really, not ever, she told herself as her frozen legs found movement again. She handed her boarding pass to the flight attendant who looked curiously at her bandaged hands. The hands made her feel as if she were attached to two balloons. “It looks far worse than it is, really,” she assured the attendant.
“I recognize you from your photos in the Times” said the attendant. Then the young woman gasped before asking, “Would it trouble you too much to grant me your autograph for my nephew. Dr. Coran? He collects them, you see. Name is Nigel; Nigel Caulder.”
Jessica managed a half smile and said, “Why would anyone want my autograph?”
“Oh, he's keen on all to do with criminals, criminal detection. You're a hero after that Crucifier thing that was all the rage in the rags.”
With some difficulty, Jessica signed her name for little Nigel on the back of an envelope the woman extended.
