Risky Business

the strength to stand wavered. “What?”
    “Murdered.” His voice was cold again, hard again. “A few days ago I met her, paid her for a name.”
    Liz braced herself against the rail. “The name you gave to the captain.”
    Jonas lit his cigarette, telling himself he was justified to put fear back into her eyes. “That’s right. She asked some questions, got some answers. She told me this Pablo Manchez was bad, a professional killer. Jerry was killed by a pro. So, it appears, was Erika.”
    “She was shot?”
    “Stabbed,” Jonas corrected and watched Liz’s hand reach involuntarily for her own neck. “That’s right.” He drew violently on the cigarette then hurled it overboard before he rose. “You’re going back to the States until this is all over.”
    She turned her back on him a moment, needing to becertain she could be strong. “I’m not leaving, Jonas. We have the same problem.”
    “Liz—”
    “No.” When she turned back her chin was up and her eyes were clear. “You see, I’ve run from problems before, and it doesn’t work.”
    “This isn’t a matter of running, it’s a matter of being sensible.”
    “You’re staying.”
    “I don’t have a choice.”
    “Then neither do I.”
    “Liz, I don’t want you hurt.”
    She tilted her head as she studied him. She could believe that, she realized, and take comfort in it. “Will you go?”
    “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
    “Neither can I.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her cheek to his shoulder in a first spontaneous show of need or affection. “Let’s go home,” she murmured. “Let’s just go home.”

10
    E very morning when Liz awoke she was certain Captain Moralas would call to tell her it was all over. Every night when she closed her eyes, she was certain it was only a matter of one more day. Time went on.
    Every morning when Liz awoke she was certain Jonas would tell her he had to leave. Every night when she slept in his arms, she was certain it was the last time. He stayed.
    For over ten years her life had had a certain purpose. Success. She’d started the struggle toward it in order to survive and to provide for her child. Somewhere along the way she’d learned the satisfaction of being on her own and making it work. In over ten years, Liz had gone steadily forward without detours. A detour could mean failure and the loss of independence. It had been barely a month since Jonas had walked into her house and her life. Since that time the straight road she had followed had forked. Ignoring the changes hadn’t helped, fighting them hadn’t worked. Now it no longer seemed she had the choice of which path to follow.
    Because she had to hold on to something, she worked every day, keeping stubbornly to her old routine. It was the only aspect of her life that she could be certain she could control.Though it brought some semblance of order to her life, it didn’t keep Liz’s mind at rest. She found herself studying her customers with suspicion. Business thrived as the summer season drew closer. It didn’t seem as important as it had even weeks before, but she kept the shop open seven days a week.
    Jonas had taken the fabric of her life, plucked at a few threads and changed everything. Liz had come to the point that she could admit nothing would ever be quite the same again, but she had yet to come to the point that she knew what to do about it. When he left, as she knew he would, she would have to learn all over again how to suppress longings and black out dreams.
    They would find Jerry Sharpe’s killer. They would find the man with the knife. If she hadn’t believed that, Liz would never have gone on day after day. But after the danger was over, after all questions were answered, her life would never be as it had been. Jonas had woven himself into it. When he went away, he’d leave a hole behind that would take all her will to mend.
    Her life had been torn before. Liz could comfort herself that she had put it together again. The shape had been different, the texture had changed, but she had put it together. She could do so again. She would have to.
    There were times when she lay in bed in the dark, in the early hours of the morning, restless, afraid she would have to begin those repairs before she was strong enough.
    Jonas could feel her shift beside him. He’d come to understand she rarely slept peacefully. Or she no longer slept peacefully. He wished she would lean on him, but knew she never would.