Genuine Lies

you, and what it would be like to be there while you were here.”
    “Goddammit, Julia.”
    But she didn’t even hear him. “I must have dozed off. I took dramamine before the flight, and Kenneth served wine with lunch. Made me sleepy. I woke up when the plane … I might not have told you I’m afraid of flying. Well, it’s not flying so much as being cooped up in there with no way out. And this time, when the plane started to buck, I told myself not to be a wimp about the whole thing. But the pilot said—” She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “He said we had a problem. We were going down so fast.”
    “Oh, sweet God.” He was up, too terrified to realize how rough he was when he hauled her to her feet. His hands were moving over her, checking for injuries, making sure she was whole. “Are you hurt? Julia, are you hurt?”
    “No, no. I think I bit my tongue,” she said vaguely. She thought she remembered the taste of blood and fear in her mouth. “Jack said we were going to make it. The fuel—there was something wrong with the fuel line or the gauge. I realized it when it got so quiet. The engines shut down. All I could think of was Brandon. He’d been robbed of a father, and Icouldn’t bear to think of him being alone. I could hear Jack swearing, and the radio crackling with voices.”
    She was shaking now, hard and fast. He did the only thing he knew and picked her up off her feet to cradle her against him.
    “I was so scared. I didn’t want to die inside that damn plane.” Her voice was muffled with her face pressed against his throat. “Jack yelled back for me to hang on. Then we hit. It felt like I was hitting the tarmac instead of the plane. Then we bounced—not like a ball. A rock—like a rock if rocks could bounce. I heard metal screaming, and the wind rushing in. There were sirens. We were fishtailing, like a car out of control on ice, and there were sirens. Then we stopped, we just stopped. I must have already unstrapped because I was getting up when Jack came back. He kissed me. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “Not a damn bit.”
    “Good, because I kissed him back.”
    Still rocking her, Paul buried his face in her hair. “If I get the chance, I’ll kiss him myself.”
    That made her laugh a little. “Then I got out, and I came back. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.” She sighed once, then twice before she realized he was holding her. “You don’t have to carry me.”
    “Don’t ask me to put you down for a while.”
    “No.” She laid her head on his shoulder. Safe, secure, treasured. “In my whole life,” she murmured. “No one’s ever made me feel like you.” When the dam burst, she turned her face to the curve of his throat. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be. Cry as long as you want.”
    He wasn’t very steady himself as he carried her into the living room so he could sit on the sofa and hold her to him. Her sobs were already quieting. He should have known that Julia wouldn’t draw out any bout of weakness.
    And he could have lost her. That thought swam over and over in his mind, forming its own whirlpool of fear and rage. She could have been taken from him that quickly, that horribly.
    “I’m all right.” She straightened as far as he would permitto wipe the tears away with the backs of her hands. “It hit me, really hit me, when I saw you and Brandon.”
    “I’m not all right yet.” The words were jerky. He closed his mouth over hers, not as gently as he might have wished. His fingers speared through her hair, closed into a fist. “How useless everything would be without you. I need you, Julia.”
    “I know.” Her system settled, but she was content to stay cradled in his arms. “I need you too, and it’s not nearly so hard as I thought it would be.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek. How wonderful it was, how liberating, to know she could touch like that whenever the whim struck. And how liberating it was to trust. “There’s more, Paul. You’re not going to like it.”
    “As long as you’re not going to tell me you’ve decided to elope with Jack.” But she didn’t smile. “What?”
    “I found this under my seat on the plane.” She got to her feet, yet even when she was no longer touching, she felt connected to him. She knew before she took the paper out of her skirt pocket and offered it, what he would be feeling.
    Rage, that impotent, useless fear that went with it. And an anger that was different from rage, less