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This was much different from their kiss in front of the hospital. That kiss had been a reassurance, more than a friendly reassurance, but a reassurance nonetheless. This kiss was not passionate by any means, the midst of a hospital was neither the time nor place for that, but it was gentle, tender, and above all loving. When she pulled back, she saw all those emotions in his eyes as well. Now she didn't have to wonder about the other times when she had thought she had seen something in his expression. She knew.

"Harry," she began hesitantly wanting to answer everything she saw in his eyes.

"James," he corrected gently, "Ruth if you can't remember the legend you created, you'll make it impossible for me to."

Ahh. Yes. He was still in the legend. James. James her lover who was almost living with her. She bit her lower lip and stiffened. She dropped her eyes to his shoulder and kept them fixed there. Seeing that look in his eyes and knowing that it was all part of a lie was more than she could bear.

Her eyes darted up to his and she forced her lips into a quick smile, "Oh, yes, James. I need to get back to the waiting room. The surgeon could be coming out at any time I suppose."

His eyes narrowed and he was watching her with a puzzled expression, "Ruth…"

"Really I do need to go back," she said, backing out of his arms. He tightened his hold on her momentarily before letting his hands drop to his sides.

"Just a moment and I'll go with you," he sighed and turned to the machine, dropping coins in and making their selections. She waited, face turned away from him. She was grateful when he passed the paper cup of tea to her so that she had something to keep her from tying her hands into knots. He took his cup of coffee and placed his free hand on her lower back. She stiffened again, and could feel him hesitate but then he pressed his hand more firmly to the curve of her spine.

She forced herself to relax and started toward the waiting room, reluctantly grateful to have his support even if it was only feigned. She corrected herself. His support wasn't feigned. He was offering her all the support that a friend could give. It wasn't his fault if she wished he was there as more than a friend.

They settled into two remarkably uncomfortable chairs. She wondered at that. Why did hospitals have to make everything so miserable? Did they think that if they had comfortable chairs that people would actually want to stay there? Was there anything that could induce a sane person to remain in hospital for one second more than was entirely necessary? Her attention was drawn from these thoughts by Harry's shifting and settling into his chair. He draped one arm behind her and took a sip of his coffee. She leaned back slightly, enjoying the solid warmth of his arm.

Her eyes darted toward the surgical theatre. She was worried about her mother but also about the state her relationship with her mother. They'd never been particularly close. It was not that they were completely at odds. There were just too many little things between them for them to truly see eye to eye. In many ways they were polite acquaintances who visited each other out of obligation and habit instead of true warmth. From what the nurse had said, it was likely that either she would have to stay with her mother or her mother would have to stay with her for several weeks. She didn't mind the work, but she wasn't sure if they'd be able to stand each other for that long. Without realizing it, her hand had dropped to her spy's thigh and she was tracing patterns there absentmindedly with her index finger. She did realize, however, when the hand that had been resting on the chair behind her touched her shoulder with gentle pressure, and his thumb began to draw soothing circles on her collarbone.

She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her carefully from the corner of his eye as well. When he saw her glance, he leaned toward her. "You should rest. The surgery is likely to take a long time."

"I don't think these chairs were designed to be restful," she said ruefully, "Maybe these should be in the interrogation rooms."

He gave her a small smile to acknowledge her feeble attempt at humor and then frowned in thought. "Is there anyone else we should call?"

She closed her eyes. Silly woman. She'd been so pre-occupied with her spy and with worry about her mother that she hadn't even thought about calling anyone else. Withdrawing her mobile from her coat pocket, she mentally reviewed all the calls she would need to make. Her throat tightened at the thought of repeating what little news she knew and answering the same questions multiple times; dealing with others' worry when she could barely focus on her own. She had just started to scroll through her contacts when Harry covered her hand with his.

"Is there one person that we could call that could be trusted to tell everyone else?"

She smiled at him in relief. Smart man, her spy. She should have thought of that. "Nancy is the biggest gossip of the lot."

"Find the number and I'll speak to her," he said, "That way she can't pepper you with questions you can't answer just yet."

"You don't have to…" she began.

His hand tightened on hers. "No, I don't, but I want to help you." Then he smiled, "And it will give Nancy an extra bit of juicy gossip to get a call from James."

She was too distracted by the warmth of his hand and the relief of his support to resist anymore. She pressed the number and handed the phone to him. He took it from her with his left hand and surprised her by wrapping his right arm back around her shoulders.

"Hello, may I speak to Nancy...," he lifted his eyebrows at her in question, and she supplied Nancy's last name silently and he repeated into the receiver, "Calen." She shook her head violently and corrected him, emphasizing the last letter, "I mean Calum."

"No, don't hang up. This isn't a marketer. I'm James, James Salmon. Ruth's, ahh, friend."

She could hear Nancy's exclamation on the other end of the line, and Harry's lips tightened around a smile. "Ruth is fine, but I'm afraid I do have some bad news."

Closing her eyes again, she leaned back against the arm that surrounded her and listened to his side of the conversation.

"Elizabeth has been in an accident. It seems she'll recover, but she is seriously hurt." He paused and listened patiently for a few moments before taking advantage of Nancy's need to take a breath.

"Ruth is terribly busy, but she asked that I call you. She assured me that you could be trusted to let everyone else know. You have no idea what a relief it is to have someone to rely upon."

She opened her eyes and rolled them at Harry. Spreading it a bit thick wasn't he. His mouth twisted wryly as he listened to Nancy. The thumb that had been drawing circles on her shoulder began to tap lightly. "No, no, I don't think you're needed here yet." Ruth sat up in alarm, but he tugged her back gently so that she was snug against his side. "Elizabeth's not out even out of surgery yet, and I doubt anyone will be allowed to stay with her tonight."

The warmth emanating from her spy was intoxicating. She felt the knots that nerves had begun to tie in her shoulders start to relax. Finally, the conversation ended, "Yes, of course, we'll call you when Elizabeth is out of surgery, and we're grateful for your willingness to help." Did he mean that? Were she and Harry a 'we'? Then she remembered. No. Of course not. He meant James. Her spy would always stay in the legend.

He clicked the mobile off and handed it back to her with a smirk, "Nancy says hello."

She smiled back at him. "And that is the woman you cheerfully condemned me to spend a long Saturday afternoon with."

"Us," he corrected, "I condemned us to spend a long Saturday afternoon with her. Surely by then we'll come up with a suitable excuse."

Us. We. This was all becoming terribly confusing. She definitely felt a headache approaching. She sighed and closed her eyes again.

He tightened his arm around her shoulders, drawing her head to rest against his chest. She started to pull away, but he spoke low in her ear, "Surely James can comfort his 'woman-friend' can't he?"

She still hesitated, but he kept his arm firmly around her. Finally, she relaxed. She needed this comfort, and he seemed perfectly willing to give it even if it was just as James. She'd sort out her confused feelings later. It didn't take long for the rhythmic lullaby of his heartbeat and warmth of his arm to lull her to sleep.

She awoke what seemed a long time later with a start and a cramp in her neck. She sat up straight and looked over at him to gauge his reaction. She also darted a surreptitious glance down at his lapel to ensure that she hadn't drooled on him. The embarrassment of that really would have sent her over the edge. He was studiously keeping his gaze on the wall across from them, and she noted that there was the small crinkle between his brows which indicated that he was concentrating on something. The mysteries of domestic terrorism? This week's rugby match? What to buy at Tesco's later? When she stretched, his gaze shifted to look at her with a soft smile. None of those then.

He leaned toward her, and she felt his breath ghosting against her ear, "Salmon? Seems an unusual last name."

If she turned her head a fraction of an inch, she could brush her lips against his cheek. Surely if this were James, he wouldn't mind. Would her spy? She was stopped short of doing just that by his prodding voice.

"Come now, Ruth, it must have some significance."

She closed her eyes and reined in her thoughts, trying to stuff her desire forcefully back into the box inside her heart marked 'Harry', 'Eyes Only', 'Keep Out', and 'Top Secret'.

"He was a spy, in the Bible."

"There are spies in the Bible?" he asked, eyes flicking to hers again and then caressing her face as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking.

"Many actually," she said, swallowing and trying desperately to concentrate. "It never says in so many words, but he was sent into Jericho by Joshua…"

Harry sang softly, "Joshua fought the battle of Jericho…"

"Exactly," she looked at him in surprise.

He answered her look, "Contrary to popular opinion I have been to church once or twice."

"Yes, well, Joshua sent two spies into Jericho and they were hidden by a," she hesitated, "working woman named Rahab. Rahab and her family were the only people from Jericho to survive when the walls came tumbling down." She referenced the children's song he had started to sing with a small smile.

"Mmmm. The two oldest professions working together," he said, "More interesting than I would have thought."

She smiled at him, "Later, Rahab is mentioned in the genealogy of Jesus. She was married to a man named Salmon."

"Who naturally must have been the spy that she helped," he finished for her, "So James is a spy?"

"No," she said quickly and perhaps a bit too forcefully, blushing, "That story was just fresh in my mind when I had to come up with a name. Nothing is ever specifically said, it's just implied. I was taken with the story at the time; that a prostitute would be mentioned in the genealogy of Christ. It all seemed rather romantic."

He chuckled softly, "My Ruth. I knew you had to have a reason."

His Ruth? Was that Harry or James speaking?

She didn't have time to ponder that question for long because the receptionist called for the family of Ms. Bickley at that moment.

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