silence on her part, and longing on his. There was so much he still had to tell her about Mitchell Groome. There’d been the items they’d found in Groome’s trunk: the jars of specimens and Max’s handwritten log books. Both Anson Biologicals and Sloan-Routhier had denied any connection to the two men, and now Groome, angered by that disavowal, was threatening to drag the pharmaceutical giant down with him. Lincoln had come to tell Claire all this and more, but instead he remained silent, his unhappiness weighing down on him so heavily it seemed a burden just to take a deep breath.
He said, hopefully, “Claire?”
She raised her eyes to his, and this time she did not look away “I can’t turn back the clock,” he said. “I can’t erase the hurt I caused you. I can only say that I’m sorry I wish there was some way we could go back to He shook his head. “The way we were.”
“I’m not sure what that means, Lincoln. The way we were.”
He thought about it. “Well, for one thing,” he said, “we were friends.”
“Yes, that’s true,” she admitted.
“Good friends. Weren’t we?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “Good enough to sleep together, anyway.”
He felt himself flush. “That’s not what I’m talking about! It’s not just the sleeping together. It’s-” He gazed at her with painful honesty. “It’s knowing there’s a possibility for us. A possibility that I’ll be seeing you every morning when I wake up. I can wait, Claire. I can live with the uncertainty.
It’s not easy, but I can stand it, as long as there’s a chance we’ll be together. That’s all I’m really asking for.”
Something sparkled in her eyes. Tears of forgiveness? he wondered. She reached out and stroked his face. It was the gentle caress of a lover. Even better than that, it was the touch of a friend.
“Anything’s possible, Lincoln,” she said softly. And she smiled.
He was actually whistling when he walked out of the hospital. And why shouldn’t he? The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the ice- encrusted branches of willow trees clacked and glittered like hanging crystals. In two weeks would come the longest night of the year. Then the days would open up again, the earth cycling back toward light and warmth. Toward hope.
Anything’s possible.
Lincoln Kelly was a patient man, and he could wait.
