From the Heart

flat.”
    Her words were truer than she knew, he thought. Quickly he released her and took a step back. “You’re going out?”
    “Just for a run with Ulysses.” Jessica looked beyond his shoulder. “And he’s gone now.” Looking back at Slade, Jessica offered her hand. “It’s good to see you. Come in and have a drink.”
    Warily, Slade stepped inside, but evaded the offered hand. She turned away to fling her jacket over the newel post, shutting her eyes tightly a moment when her back was to him. “Let’s go in the parlor,” she said brightly when she faced him again. “There’s a nice fire in there.”
    Without waiting for his answer, Jessica dashed away. She was moving, Slade observed, at her usual speed. And the shadows were gone from under her eyes—gone as if they had never existed. She was as she had been in the beginning—a woman with boundless energy. He followed her more slowly into the parlor. She was already pouring Scotch into a glass.
    “I’m so glad you came, the house is too quiet.” Jessica picked up a decanter of vermouth with no idea what was inside. As she poured she continued to talk. “It was wonderful for a few days, but now I almost regret that I sent everyone away. Of course, I had to lie to get them out of here.” You’re talking too fast, too fast, she told herself, but couldn’t stop. “Itold David and the staff I was going to Jamaica to lie in the sun for a week, then I bought them all airline tickets and shoved them out of the house.”
    “You shouldn’t be alone.” He was frowning at her when she handed him his drink.
    “Why not?” With a laugh, Jessica tossed back her hair. “I couldn’t stand being treated like an invalid. I got enough of that in the hospital.” Sipping her drink, she turned to the fire. She wouldn’t let him see the hurt. Every day that she’d been confined in that sterile white room she had waited for his call, watched the door for his visit. Nothing. He’d cut himself out of her life when she’d been too weak to prevent it. Slade stared at her slim, straight back and wondered how he could leave without touching her.
    “How are you?” The question was curt and brief.
    Jessica’s fingers tightened on her glass. Do you care? she wondered. She sipped the vermouth, making the words slip back down her throat. Turning, she smiled at him. “How do I look?”
    He stared at her until the need was a hard ball in his stomach. “You need to gain some weight.”
    She laughed shortly. “Thank you very much.” Needing to do something, Jessica wandered over to toy with the keys of the piano. “Did you finish your book?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then everything’s going well for you?”
    “Everything’s going just dandy.” He drank, willing the liquor to dull the ache.
    “Your mother liked the figure?”
    Confused, he drew his brows together. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she liked it.”
    They lapsed into silence, accented by the crackling wood and drifting notes. There was too much to say, Slade thought. And nothing to say. Again, he cursed himself for not being strong enough to stay away.
    “You’ve gone back to work?” he asked.
    “Yes. We’ve had a stream of customers since the publicity. I suppose it’ll taper off. Have you resigned from the force?”
    “Yes.”
    Silence fell again, more thickly. Jessica stared down at thepiano keys as if she were about to compose a symphony. “You’d want to tie up loose ends, wouldn’t you?” she murmured. “Am I a loose end, Slade?”
    “Something like that,” he muttered.
    Her head came up at that, and her eyes fixed on his once, searingly. Turning away, she walked to the window. “Well then,” she whispered. With her finger, she drew a maze on the glass. “I think I’ve told every proper authority every proper thing. There was a steady stream of men in dark suits in my hospital room.” She dropped her hand to her side. “Why didn’t you come to see me . . . or call?” Her voice steadied as she stared at the reflection of the lamp in the window. “Shouldn’t there have been a final interview for your report—or is that why you came tonight?”
    “I don’t know why the hell I came,” he tossed back, then slammed down his empty glass. “I didn’t come to see you because I didn’t want to see you. I didn’t call because I didn’t want to talk to you.”
    “Well, that certainly clears that up.”
    He took a step toward her, stopped himself, then thrust his hands in his