Northern Lights

down, and that son of a bitch kept coming."
    He looked down at his wine while she listened, while she waited. He set it on the counter. "There was no choice, and here I had one. And I considered blowing him to hell. You should know that. You should know it was in me to do that."
    "Do you expect me to care if you had? He tried to kill my friend, tried to kill you. I wouldn't have cared, Nate. I guess you should know that's in me."
    "It would've been . . ."
    "Wrong," she finished. "For you. For the man you are, for the kind of cop you are. So I'm glad you didn't. Your right and wrong are more defined than mine. That's just the way it is."
    "It was a year ago that Jack died."
    Sympathy swam into her eyes. "Oh boy, you just keep getting punched in the gut, don't you?"
    "No. No, I called Beth on the day. Jack's wife. I called her, and it was good. She was good. And talking to her, I realized I wasn't going to sink again. I don't know when I got out of the pit, exactly, and sometimes the ground's still a little soft and unstable under my feet. But I'm not going back down."
    "You never were." She poured more wine in her glass. "I know people who have or who probably will. The kind who fly into the side of a mountain on a clear day or go off into the bush to die. I know them. They're part of the outer world I run in away from here. Burned-out pilots or some Outsider who stumbles up here because he can't take the world anymore. Women beat down from being abused or neglected for so long they'll just lie down and let the next man kick them to death on the street.
    "You were sad, Nate, and a little lost, but you were never one of them. You've got too much core to be one of them."
    He said nothing for a moment, then he reached out, touched the ends of her hair. "You burned away my shadows."
    "Huh?"
    The half smile came back to his lips. "Marry me, Meg."
    For a moment she stared at him, those crystal-blue eyes full power on his. Then she tossed the half-eaten slice of pizza into the box.
    "I knew it!" Throwing her hands up, she spun around on her heels and clomped around the kitchen with enough violence to have the dogs leaping up to sniff at her. "I just knew it. Give a guy some good sex, a couple of hot meals, soften up enough to say you love him and— boom! —next breath it's marriage talk. Didn't I tell you. Didn't I tell you?" She whirled around to jab a finger at him. "Hearth and home, tattooed on your butt."
    "Looks like you nailed me."
    "Don't you smirk at me."
    "A minute ago it was a half-smile, and you thought it was kind of cute."
    "I changed my mind. What do you want to get married for?"
    "I love you. You love me."
    "So? So? " Her arms were still flapping around, and now the dogs figured it was a game and made playful little lunges at her. "Why do you want to screw that up?"
    "Just crazy, I guess. What are you, chicken?"
    She sucked air in her nose, and her eyes went to cold fire. "Don't you play that crap on me."
    "You got marriage fear?" He leaned back on the counter, picked up his glass again and sipped his wine. "The brave little bush pilot gets shaky in the knees when the M word comes up. Interesting."
    "My knees are not shaking, you jerk."
    "Marry me, Meg." His half-smile went full blown. "See, you went pale."
    "I did not. I did not."
    "I love you."
    "You bastard."
    "I want to spend my life with you."
    "Goddamn it."
    "I want to have babies with you."
    "Oh." She gripped her hair and pulled as an indescribable sound ground out of her throat. "Cut it out."
    "See?" He contemplated another slice of pizza. "Chicken."
    Her right hand closed into a fist. "Don't think I can't take you down, Burke."
    "You already did, first time I saw you."
    "Oh, man." The fist dropped to her side. "You think you're cute, you think you're smart, but what you are is stupid and simple. You've already been through this marriage thing, got the shit kicked out of you, and here you are asking for more."
    "She wasn't you. I wasn't me."
    "What the holy hell does that mean?"
    "First part's easy. There's nobody else like you. I'm not who I was when I was with her. Different people make, well, different people. I'm a better man with you, Meg. You make me want to be a better man."
    "Oh God, don't say things like that." She could feel her eyes burn. The tears rising up from her heart were hot and strong. "You're the man you always were. Maybe you were shaky for a while, but anybody is when they've been beaten up and tossed aside. I'm not better,