“I was doing my job, Pearse.” She said it softly, not sullenly…maybe with a touch of pleading.

His anger toward her didn’t soften. It filled his throat, choking him. “You used me, Sam.”

Her eyes flashed at him, bright and fervent. “It was a chance to get al-Rami. You expected us to pass that up?”

“I gave my word,” he said stiffly, bound up by his own anger.

“To a terrorist?”

“My word, Sam. Mine. He trusted my word. And I betrayed him. He won’t forget that. Or forgive.”

“Well, excuse me,” she lashed back, “if I don’t get too excited about what might upset Mr. Sheik al-Rami!”

He looked at her. Just looked. And saw the fire in her eyes slowly fade to anguish. She jerked, and looked away. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” she said tightly. “They were supposed to get in position and wait for my signal before moving in. I would’ve waited until the time was right. I would’ve-”

“The right time. Exactly when would that’ve been, Sam? Before or after the interview? Before or after we’d secured the hostages?” Before or after we made love?

“After dark, for starters,” she snapped back, glaring at him. “A broad daylight attack was just stupid. I would have waited until you’d gotten what you wanted from al-Rami, and I’d definitely have waited until we were safely out of there. My God, Pearse, do you think I don’t know what that interview meant to you? Do you think I’d have risked all our lives by calling in an attack on top of us? Who do you think I am?”

“That’s just it-I don’t know what to think,” he said bitterly. His anger was fading, leaving him feeling cold and tired. Hollow inside. “And I sure as hell don’t know who you are. Obviously.” He fell silent, too upset to go on, yet unable to bring himself to go and leave her there. She made a sound like air escaping from a tire, and turned her face away.

After a while, gathering his energy and will because he simply had to know, he asked softly, “So, who is it, Sam? Who are you working for-CIA? Homeland Security? Who?”

“You know-” she broke off, cleared her throat “-you know I can’t tell you that.” Her voice was as soft as his, but muffled and slurred where his was sharp and bitter.

Frustrated, still furious with her, he growled, “At least tell me how long you’ve been doing this. How long have you been an agent and I didn’t know?”

“How long?” Her head swiveled back to him, and she was the old Sam again, the Sam he knew so well, with that lift to her chin and tilt to her head that were both arrogant and defensive at the same time, and an aching vulnerability about her mouth even her defiant eyes couldn’t hide. “Those months when we didn’t see much of each other? That’s where I was-in training. I was recruited in flight school, went into training right after.”

“When were you going to tell me about it? Ever?” He tried, but couldn’t keep the pain from leaking into his voice. “My God, Sam. I asked you to marry me.”

“Yeah, and now you know why I couldn’t say yes,” she shot back, in a voice as ragged as his.

He stared at her, hot-eyed. After a moment she went on in a whisper he didn’t have to strain to hear, and it occurred to him only then that it had stopped raining.

“I’d just finished my training, you know…when I found out you’d gotten married. I’d been in the field for weeks, and that was the last big thing, and then I was done. I came home and the first thing I wanted to do was call you. I couldn’t reach you at the number I had, so I called Mom and Dad. And that’s when they told me. That you were married.”

Cory let a breath out and rubbed a hand across his eyes. When and how, he wondered wearily, had it come back around to him? How was it that he now felt guilty again, when it was she who’d kept such a huge, important catastrophic secret from him? His Sam, a secret agent? He couldn’t get his mind around it.

“So, I guess we’ve both been keeping secrets,” Sam said, as if she’d read his thoughts. She paused, and then, in a voice thick with gravel: “The only difference between us is, now you know all mine.”

He didn’t lift his head or uncover his eyes, but he knew by the scraping sounds and then the sudden emptiness around him that she had gone.

Sam was still shaking-with anger, she told herself-as she dropped ungracefully onto a root beside Esther Lundquist. She held out the bamboo cup-thrust it, her movements as jerky and uncontrolled as a broken windup toy.

“That was great,” she said, in a gruff voice that completely belied the words. “Thank you.”

Esther threw her a sharp look as she took the piece of bamboo and returned it carefully to the bundle near her feet. Then she reached over and gave Sam’s hand a squeeze and said softly, “Dear, you’re more than welcome.” And her pale blue eyes smiled with gentle sympathy.

Oh, great, thought Sam, cringing inside. Were we talking that loudly, or is it just my face? Some secret agent I am-couldn’t hold my own in a dorm-room poker game.

Casting about for something innocuous to say, she nodded at the bundle between Esther’s feet. “How did you manage to make that-the cup? It’s really cool.”

The woman’s smile broadened, crinkling her eyes. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Hal’s made a few things-eating utensils, bowls and so forth. He’s quite clever with his hands.”

“Yes, but…bamboo this thick is tough-like wood. I mean, you must have had to cut it somehow.”

Esther hunched her shoulders like a guilty child and touched a forefinger to her lips in a quick silencing gesture. “Shh-don’t tell anyone,” she said with a crafty glance over her shoulder. Then she plunged a hand into the mysterious bundle and pulled out an oblong object thickly wrapped in leaves. She began to unroll it, and Sam gasped when she saw the dull glint of a knife blade.

“Holy…cow,” she said, remembering in the nick of time that she was speaking to a missionary of God. “Where did you get that?”

“I found it,” Esther said, with a pleased little laugh. “I imagine one of them must have dropped it. You can’t imagine how useful it’s been. We keep it hidden, of course-I’m sure they wouldn’t approve of us having it. Not that we’d ever use it as a weapon-heavens no. Hal and I don’t believe in violence.”

Sam gazed at her for a moment, then shook her head. Her eyes drifted to where Hal and Tony were sitting together some distance away, their heads bowed over one of Tony’s cameras. She took a deep breath, wondering when she’d acquired the aching lump in her chest. An alien need, a compulsion to talk to someone, rose up in her and flattened her pride like a steamroller. “You two amaze me,” she said softly.

Esther looked up from the task of rewrapping the knife, her eyebrows arched in surprise. “Oh, my, we do? Why?”

“Because…you seem so…close.” She gave her shoulders a little shake, not happy with the word but unable to come up with one better. “After all you’ve been through, in the middle of all of this…you still seem, I don’t know…domestic, I guess. Like…you’re this happily married couple and this just happens to be your life.” Embarrassed, she stabbed at the ground with the heel of her boot and mumbled, “I’m not saying it very well.”

Esther’s laugh was a little trill of amusement. “I think you’ve said it beautifully. We are a married couple, and this does happen to be our life-for now, at least.”

“But it could all end tomorrow.” A cold shiver ran through her and she bit down on her lower lip, wishing she hadn’t said it, unable to help herself.

Esther glanced up from her task, no longer smiling, though her eyes were serene and unperturbed. “Yes, it could. But that’s true no matter where you are, isn’t it? Just think of all the people who left home to go to work on that terrible day that changed our world, and never returned. It happens in smaller ways every day, in cities and small towns, all over the world.” She shook her head as she went back to her packing. “Hal and I have talked about it, of course we have. We’ve both agreed that if it ends for one of us-whenever that may be-the other must be strong and carry on-for the sake of our children, if nothing else.”

“You have children?” For some reason the notion both surprised and appalled Sam.

“Oh, yes-two lovely boys. Teenagers.” Esther’s smile was back, brighter than ever. “I’m sure they’re home in Ottawa now, quite safe and sound.”

“That must be so hard,” Sam said inadequately, shaking her head. She couldn’t even imagine it.

Esther was still smiling, but with a shine of tears in her eyes-the first Sam had seen. “Oh, yes, of course it is. But Hal and I are both blessed with wonderful families. Our hearts are at ease, knowing our boys are being cared for and loved.”

Sam stared at her feet; her throat felt clogged with wistfulness and longing. “It must be wonderful,” she said softly, barely aware she was saying it out loud, “to have so much in common. To have no secrets…”

Esther made a scoffing noise and briskly dashed away a tear. “I don’t know about secrets-I haven’t really thought about that. But Hal and I have very little in common-well, there’s the way we feel about each other, I suppose.”

“And religion, surely?”

She made that same disparaging sound, almost a laugh. “Oh, goodness no-you should hear the arguments we have sometimes.”

“So…the two of you do…I mean-”

Esther’s eyebrows arched with amusement. “Married couples do argue, dear. So do friends, lovers, companions, partners…Hal is truly all those things to me, and I do try not to keep secrets from him, but really, we’re nothing at all alike. He’s a dour Swede-” she made a face to illustrate “-and I…well, I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m something of a flibbertigibbet. I’m nauseatingly upbeat and optimistic. I guess you could say…oh dear, it’s such a cliché, but you really could say we complete each other.” Her lined cheeks were pink and her eyes bright, making her look slightly embarrassed, and years younger. “He keeps me grounded,” she finished softly, “and I suppose I keep him from becoming mired in melancholy.”