attention.'

'They say you're so sweet, brave, and funny.'

'Aw, shucks,' he said with exaggerated shyness, but he was genuinely

embarrassed.

'A couple of them told me how lucky I am, married to you.'

'You punch them?'

'Managed to control myself.'

'Good. They'd only take it out on me.'

'I am lucky,' she said.

'And some of these nurses are strong, they probably pack a pretty hard

punch.'

'I love you, Jack,' she said, leaning over the bed and kissing him full

on the mouth.

The kiss took his breath away. Her hair fell across his face, it

smelled of a lemony shampoo.

'Heather,' he said softly, putting one hand against her cheek,

'Heather, Heather,' repeating the name as if it was sacred, which it

was, not only a name but a prayer that sustained him, the name and face

that made his nights less dark, that made his pain-filled days pass

more quickly.

'I'm so lucky,' she repeated.

'Me too. Finding you.'

'You'll be home with me again.'

'Soon,' he said, though he knew he would be weeks in that bed and weeks

more in a rehabilitation hospital.

'No more lonely nights,' she said.

'No more.'

'Always together.'

'Always.' His throat was tight, and he was afraid he was going to

cry.

He was not ashamed to cry, but he didn't think either of them dared

indulge in tears yet. They needed all their strength and resolve for

the struggles that still lay ahead. He swallowed hard and whispered,

'When I get home. . . ?'

'Yes?'

'And we can go to bed together again?'

Face-to-face with him, she whispered too: 'Yes?'

'Will you do something special for me?'

'Of course, silly.'

'Would you dress up like a nurse? That really turns me on.'

She blinked in surprise for a moment, burst out laughing, and shoved a

cold sponge in his face. 'Beast.'

'Well, then, how about a nun?'

'Pervert.'

'A girl scout?'

'But a sweet, brave, and funny pervert.'

If he hadn't possessed a good sense of humor, he wouldn't have been

able to be a cop. Laughter, sometimes dark laughter, was the shield

that made it possible to wade, without being stained, through the filth

and madness in which most cops had to function these days.

Вы читаете Winter Moon
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