He doesn’t deserve forgiveness for what he did to me. But, after much soul searching, long sessions with my therapist and a lunch with AJ Chegwidden last week, I took off three days, drove to the beach and sat on a cold sand dune to considered my inability to just get over Clayton Webb.
I love him, damn it. We have to talk.
Damn AJ Chegwidden!
I’d been surprised by his invitation, but I gladly met him at McMurphys for old time’s sake. He looked so relaxed. We spoke like old friends instead of CO and subordinate and I found myself breaking down, pouring out my bitterness over Clay’s final betrayal. AJ's response was not what I’d been looking for.
"Even with everything you’ve seen during your career, you’ve no idea what someone in black ops goes through. You need to hear what he has to say; you need to tell him how he hurt you. What do you women think we men are? Mind readers?"
Well that goes both ways. How could Clay think that what he did could ever be acceptable? Strong? Superwoman couldn’t have withstood the pain his supposed death caused me. What he did was worse than anything Harm ever said or implied about my character.
And while I’m on the subject, why I’m no longer in love with Harm? Why when he’s been the kindest he’s ever been to me am I pulling away? Once, AJ wondered when his office had turned into a production of Hello Dolly. What I want to know is how long is my life going to be a high school rendition of Send in the Clowns?
Clay and I have to talk; but I’m not sure that we can survive it. He wasn’t enthusiastic when I called him last night. However, he said he would clear his calendar to drive out here. I made sure to get him a room of his own. As good as sex was with him, this is too important to reduce to hormones again. I did that after I killed Sadik. But sitting here watching the white caps dance on the water, I can admit that I really miss sex with Clay.
Damn him. Of all the men in my life, Clay made me realize that I didn’t know anything about men. "Mind reader, my ass. The wind picks up I shiver in the cold breeze. I should wait for Clay in my room.
"Sarah?"
Will rage bring me back from the edge of what I’m contemplating? I turn to face him. No, all I feel is sadness. Why does everything in my life have to be tinged with tragedy? I know I should walk away, but I’ve been through so much with Clay. "Thank you for coming."
He shrugs. His hair is blowing every which way and his bomber jacket is zipped up to his chin. "Its 33 degrees out. Are we going to have this conversation here?"
I stand and fight the urge to touch him. "Let’s walk."
Exasperation twists his features. "It’s cold, damn…fine."
I didn’t expect this to be easy. I know he’s suspicious of my motives. He tried to make amends four months ago. He tried to explain his reasons on that deck at Manderlay. I wasn’t ready then; is he ready now.
It’s too windy to talk so I lead him into one of the few places open this time of year. It’s a small bar that makes incredible hamburgers. "Harry, can we have the back booth?"
The old curmudgeon of a bartender snorts. "Nah. I’m saving it for Madonna."
"Thanks Harry." I look at Clay. "Hot Cocoa?"
"Sure." We both keep our jackets on as we slide into opposite seats of the booth. "What’s this about, Sarah?" I’ve left you alone. I’ve stopped sending flowers."
"Probably better for the flowers. Though I’m curious as to why you stopped when you did?"
"Because Rabb called and asked me to."
"I see." I’m not surprised. Harm was truly embarrassed by my entertaining outbursts each time the flowers were delivered.
"Why? You miss cutting the heads off them, smashing the vases and sending them back to me neatly wrapped?" He sounds tired but I’m glad he isn’t groveling.
"A little. It helped, I think."
He snorts and leans his head back. "What do you want?"
Harry arrives with our cocoa, giving me time to gather my arguments. I’m a damned good lawyer. I should be able to do this – if I can avoid reaching out to him too soon. Damn it. How can I want him so much?
"I really want to understand, Clay. How could you possibly have thought what you did to me would ever be acceptable?" I try and rein in the anger that always bubbles out when I closely exam the heartache he inflicted. I’m only partly successful.
"I told…"
"No. You told me that you thought I was low maintenance. Which, by the way, was a profoundly stupid thing to say."
His chuckle surprises me. "Yeah. Mother couldn’t help herself. She slapped me too."
"Why?"
"I compared you to her, bemoaning the fact that you had me fooled and that you really weren’t as strong as she had been through the years."
"And she didn’t agree with your assessment of me?"
"No. She didn’t agree with my assessment of her." He shakes his head sadly. "Why should I have gotten that right? I’ve been wrong about everything for a long time now. Like I told you in Paraguay, I lost my touch. I’m sorry I screwed everything up. I just thought you would know, like you did when Harm was lost in the Atlantic."
"Oh my God." I’ve never understood my gift; it came out of nowhere and disappeared without fanfare. I can’t even trust my gift of time anymore. "That’s pretty slim reasoning," I say softly. "Oh Clay. You truly based your plan on me FEELING that you were still alive?"
He blushes and looks away. "A little perhaps. I can’t swear that I would have done it differently regardless. I was consumed. Consumed with finding The Hawk. Consumed with male pride." He calmly meets my incredulous stare. "You have no idea what its like."
Well AJ was right. "No. You want to explain it?"
"I was the wonder boy, Sarah. I was better than my father and they still talk about him in some quarters of the intelligence community. I needed to prove I was still the best." He voice drops and I know that he is going to admit something that he’s never admitted to himself before now. "I needed to prove I was still a man."
"I see." What else can I say? Am I really that surprised?
We drink our cocoa and are silent long enough that Harry feels safe in asking if we want food. "Sure, bring us a couple of burgers with the works. Okay?" I ask them both. Harry nods, Clay just stares at his hands.
"Well?" I finally ask. "Are you?"
He heaves a sigh and looks up. "Are I what?"
I manage a weak laugh. "Are you still a man?"
He shrugs. "Got me. I go into work. I do my job – a job I still can’t talk about. I go home. Mother has forgiven me for assuming that she was so damn brave for all those years." He slaps the table in obvious frustration. "Did it ever occur to either one of you to just say you couldn’t handle it? You certainly told me in no uncertain terms to stop drinking the Cana!"
I bury my head in my hands. "I swear to God, it’s a man thing, isn’t it? Are you out of your mind? Handle it? Handle what? Not knowing? You tell me you’re going to Germany and the next thing I know you’ve drowned off the coast of Indochina? What the hell was I supposed to handle?"
"It’s what I used to do."
"Used to do?"
"I’m in from the cold, Sarah. The only time I’ll ever leave the country is to go on vacation or to hold some ambassador’s hand when we have a major op going on." He nails me with a stern look. "Of course, the plane can always crash."
"True. And a tsunami could be building up off the coast to wash us both away," I counter.
"Cute." But he reaches out his hands to cover mine. "I still can’t tell you what do. I will still do things and order things done in the name of National Security that you and the great Harmon Rabb will find distasteful."
"Necessary things?"
"No, Sarah!" His low hiss of anger is a like a physical blow. "I do nefarious things just for the hell of it! I tortured Atif for fun."
"Stop it!" I know I have to throw him a bone. "Harm admitted that, had Atif been cleared, he would’ve been tempted to pull the trigger himself."
"Tempted Sarah. I would’ve done it."
I look him right in the eye. "Have you?" His hands squeeze mine until it hurts. Stopping only to allow Harry to put our food in front of us, he tells me some of the awful things he’s done. Each time I demand to know the reason and each time he gives me an answer, from Theresa Marcello right up to pulling the trigger in the park that day. "I could have hit Tanveer and then my mother wouldn’t have his blood on her hands."
"You missed!"
"Yes!"
"Because you saw me walking with him."
"Yes."
Further discussion is put on hold as he determinedly eats his hamburger. "Damn good fries," is the only comment he makes.
"Are you a very good assassin, Clay?" I ask as soon as Harry cleans the table and sets steaming mugs of coffee and heaping bowls of homemade bread pudding before us.
"It was never part of my job description." He begins to stir his coffee though he’s put no cream and sugar in it. "Theresa was harder than it should’ve of been. Tim was my friend and AJ took the hard shot. I got better with time."
It’s my turn to sit back and stir my black, unsweetened coffee. "AJ told me about Italy. He also said that I could never understand what men like you and he go through."
"When?" he brow wrinkles and his eyes flash. And I know.
"When did you talk to him?" I demand.
"Shit!" I’m afraid he’s going to bolt. "What the hell did he tell you that I said?"
"Until this moment, I had no idea that you’d even seen him. I push the coffee cup away and wrap my hands around his still clutching his cup. "Clay, he invited me to lunch and he asked me how I was doing with Creswell. After he offered to set Creswell straight, we just kind of wandered into CIA territory."
"What’s going on with Creswell?"
I’m not ready to share the incident in Okinawa that seems determined to haunt me throughout my career. I smirk. "Need to know."
He sighs and pushes my hands away, but only until he can grasp them in his again. "I’m sorry I hurt you, Sarah." He closes his eyes for a moment. "I love you."
My smile grows. "I’m so relieved." And before he can comment, I continue. "Because, even though it’s the most insane thing I’ve ever admitted to, I still love you."
"After what I did!"
"Yeah. After what you did."
The awe on his face almost breaks my heart. But I steal myself. "However."
He waits. He makes no snide remarks and for a moment I flash on how this conversation would go if Harm were sitting there instead. There’s no petulant ‘here we go.’ He waits.
"I would like this to work." Relief floods his face. "But for a very long time, our relationship will be fragile."
"I understand."
"Do you? I’m talking very little trust here, Clay. I admit that you having a desk job – that’s not go to change is it?" I demand.
He sighs. "No. That’s not going to change."
"Good! That makes this easier. Regardless. I need to know if you’re not coming home. Even a vague, ‘you know honey, shits hitting the fan at work today, I may not make it home,’ is preferable to ‘Shit happened,’ after the fact."
He shakes his head. "You know that won’t always work. But I swear, I’ll try, Sarah. I’ll want this to work too."
"Good. If you’re at Langley, surrounded by people, there’s no reason why you can’t say to someone, ‘call my wife and tell her I’m going to be late.’
"Wife?" Fear and joy mingle in his eyes.
My face is so hot that I’m sure he can feel it through our joined hands. For a moment, I’m speechless but I resolutely meet his shocked look. "Do you think that I would put this kind of effort into someone I just wanted to date?"
The look on his face is priceless. We never talked about children or marriage or anything of great importance – until that night when I finally broke down after Sadik. Clay stands up and I wonder if he’s going to leave me sitting here. Instead he sits down on my side of the booth, nudging me over. "After I truly understood what I had lost with you, I was determined to never marry. I wanted no one but you Sarah. What I did has nothing to do with your strength. I overstepped the bounds. Please let me spend the rest of our lives making that up to you."
I’m shaking. This has gone too far, too fast. We have to slow down. "I told you want I want. I don’t need you groveling. I just want your respect and all that entails."
He leans in until our lips are so close I can smell the coffee and brandy from the bread pudding on his breath. "Respect and love, Sarah. No matter what happens after today. You will have my respect and my love until the day I die."
His kiss is sweet and soft and he only stops because Harry mutters, "This ain’t no lover’s lane."
Clay leans out of the kiss and sighs contentedly. I nudge him with my hip until he’s standing and pulling out his wallet. He drops far too much money onto the table before grabbing my hand and pulling me out onto the street where he throws him arm around my shoulders. "Well Colonel?"
I hadn’t planned on this. I was determined to make sure this could work before I take him back into my bed. But, damn it. I want him so desperately; more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
When we reach the motel, I open my door and pull him inside. "Come in from the cold, Clay."
continue to: Into her Warmth