Shelter
Chapter 9
By: Mariel
"You might as well take off your coat and make yourself at home. We're here for the night."
Take off your coat. Make yourself at home. We're here for the night...
His words hung between them, their double import heavy in the air. The case was over, the lost was found, and all that was left to do was tie up the myriad of loose ends this particular case had engendered. But instead of sensing completion, they felt something else rising between them, something barely begun that demanded a response. They stood in silence, a room span apart. The storm raged outside, a little girl readied herself to leave in a room nearby, but for a moment, they were outside reality, two people separate from the rest of the world and embarking on something that made their hearts pound.
It was a heady, freeing sensation.
Finally, Samantha cleared her throat and found her voice. "What happened?"
"Storm's worse," he said. "They've pulled the plows and closed the roads."
Samantha looked around, her mind searching for something concrete to latch onto besides the man in front of her. "It's not likely that the power will last, then. Something's bound to blow over and fall on a line. We should get a fire started, and look for candles." She quirked a smile. "Add a bottle of wine and we could have the perfect evening..." Her smile faltered when she saw the look in his eyes.
The heady sensation of living only in the moment swept over her again. The precipice they had been steadily moving towards since the first time they'd met was right in front of them. There was nothing else - no going back, no second guesses. She would kiss him tonight, and he would kiss her back, she would hold and be held and the sharing would be wonderful and earth- shattering and life-altering and, for a moment at least, they would say to hell with everything else. The thought of touching and being touched, of allowing whatever it was between them to happen took her breath away. Unfamiliar and so welcome she felt she could weep, a surge of happiness welled up inside of her.
She dragged her eyes from his and looked around, forcing herself to act with some degree of normalcy. "We'll be fine," she said. "I'm sure there are enough towels that we can shower, if we want." Her eyes met his for one second, then slid away. Would everything she said lead down the same path?
"I'll go back to the car and pick up our stuff. You-"
"No!" Samantha broke into his words abruptly. "I-" She stopped, not wanting to say aloud that she didn't want him to leave, that she wanted him here, with her. She looked at him, her eyes dark, afraid that the moment building so beautifully between them would dissolve and disappear if he left. "You can go in the morning. The storm should have died down by then, and you'll be able to see where you're going."
Uncertain she had convinced him, she added, "We've got food, shelter, and wood for the fire...you don't need to leave...We can wait for a change of clothes." Her words trailed off into silence. Her voice had sounded breathy, and her pulse beat a steady tattoo. He was still staring at her, and the room felt suddenly smaller and very warm and she knew that tonight they would create something that, once made, would not easily be undone.
Emma had emerged from her bedroom. Looking from one silent agent to the other, she frowned. "What's the matter?"
Her question made both adults start in surprise. Recovering first, Samantha turned towards her and smiled. Shrugging off her parka and laying it over the back of the sofa with hands that trembled only slightly, she said, "Nothing. We just found out we have to stay here the night. They've closed the roads, so it's not safe to leave."
Turning to Jack, Emma asked, "You were going to leave us here?"
Realizing she must have overheard a part of their conversation, he explained, "I wasn't going to leave entirely, I just wanted to pick up our overnight bags from the car."
Emma looked at one of the windows and said, "It's too windy and snowy outside." Reinforcing the wisdom of her words, the wind chose that moment to buffet the side of the cabin with an unusually strong gust. Wood creaked and wind whistled through cracks in the window casings, filling the room with an eerie, sad moan that faded regretfully into silence.
Walking across the room, Emma slid up onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table and looked over at the two adults. "You don't need to go now. There are new toothbrushes in a drawer in the bathroom. I know, 'cause I saw them. Brenda has all kinds of clothes in the bureau in my room, too. You can share." Her hostess duties out of the way, she asked, "Can we talk to Brenda, now?"
Jack looked at her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. She had obviously spent a good part of her time alone here thoroughly going through the place. "You still want to, eh? I wondered. It took you quite a while to get dressed and out here."
"You said we were leaving. I had to pack my suitcase," she said in an adult tone. Waiting a heartbeat, she added in a matter-of-fact voice, "I was thinking about running away, but I couldn't get the window open. It's too stormy out there, anyways." She looked from one adult to the other. "I don't-"
The two agents watched as the little girl's calm facade began to crumble. Trying to speak again, she started, "I want-". Again, her lips trembling, she was unable to finish. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Fighting them, she finally got out, "It's not fair. I want a mommy and a daddy. She promised. And now you're going to make me go back, and-" She stopped talking and bent her head down, fighting not to cry.
Samantha moved to kneel beside her. Looking up into the little girl's face, she found she had no idea what to say. Finally, desperately wanting to reassure her somehow, she said, "You're right; maybe it's not fair. But things will work out." Knowing her words weren't enough, she looked over at Jack, her eyes pleading for his support.
Jack walked over and sat at the table across from Emma. Not able to find it in his heart to lie, he told her the truth. "What Brenda was trying to do is illegal, Emma. She didn't have the right to take you from your mother. You can't take kids from their parents and give them to other people because you think the kids will be better off or happier. It can't work that way. Brenda may have wanted you to be happy, and you may want new parents, but she had no right to do what she was doing."
Emma frowned. "Then she's in trouble?"
Samantha nodded and rose to take a chair beside her. "I'm afraid so. There are other kids who have gone missing that we think she perhaps helped find parents for."
"And you're going to find them and make them go back to where they came from? That's mean. Brenda says every kid deserves a good home to live in. It's mean to make them go back," she repeated. She paused a moment to think, then added sadly, "I'm never going to have a real family, am I?"
Jack and Samantha shared a glance. They were in over their heads here, and knew it. Some things were impossible to explain in terms understandable to a six-year-old. Some things were inexplicable under any circumstances.
"I'm going to phone the hospital now. You want to talk to Brenda if she's awake, right?" Jack asked.
Successfully diverted, Emma nodded.
As it turned out, they couldn't speak with Brenda. The nurse who answered the phone, however, was cautiously optimistic about her recovery and suggested they call back in the morning. "Everything looks good, but it was quite a bang to the head she took," she told Jack.
After closing his phone and passing on the message to Emma, Jack asked her, "Are you hungry? We can get you something to eat."
Looking very small and sad, Emma shook her head. "I had a sandwich Brenda made for me before she left. And a banana and a glass of milk before I went to bed."
Again, Jack and Samantha shared a sad glance. Here was a six-year-old who fed herself, made her own bedtime snack, and put herself to bed when the adult she was expecting didn't arrive home on time. Independence at a young age, but at what cost?
"You know what?" Samantha asked, "It's three o'clock in the morning. I think you could probably do with a little more sleep, so why don't we get you into bed for a bit? In the morning, they'll have cleared the roads, and we'll be able to go and see how Brenda is doing ourselves, okay?" Samantha looked at Jack, knowing that they should probably be going directly back to the city to return Emma to her mother. He nodded, however, silently agreeing to the detour.
Rising from her chair, Samantha watched as Emma slid from hers. Following her to the bedroom, she asked, "Do you need to brush your teeth or anything?"
Emma shook her head and looked up at her. Looking anything but, she said, "I'm okay."
Resisting the urge to put her arms around her and tell her she was sorry, Samantha nodded. "Call me when you're in your pj's again, and I'll come and tuck you in."
* * *
A few minutes later, Samantha emerged from Emma's bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her.
Jack sat in the middle of the sofa, holding two mugs of coffee. Joining him, she accepted the mug he passed her and sat back comfortably. "It's not fair," she said softly, still shaken by the emotions Emma's situation had evoked in her.
"No," he agreed, "it's not. But it's not our job to decide what happens. We've done what we need to do - we've found her. What happens after that is out of our hands."
"And you don't feel frustrated by that?"
He took a sip of his coffee, then turned to face her more fully. Resting one elbow on the back of the sofa, he said, "Of course I do. But I'm not the one to say what's right and what's not. There are too many variables. Brenda was playing God, Samantha. That's a dangerous thing. It may be she has always chosen correctly, but it's a dangerous path she's taken. And a wrong one."
Still feeling frustration at the situation, she nodded and took a first, tentative drink of the hot brew he had made while she had been in with Emma. It was unexpectedly good. Looking from her mug to him in surprise, she allowed it to take her away from her depressing thoughts. "This is great."
"You thought I'd make you a bad cup of coffee? I'm wounded."
His eyes smiled at her, and she relaxed as, under their warmth, the mood betwen them gently shifted.
Watching her expression carefully, Jack searched for a word, then said softly, "You look...content."
She held his gaze. "I am," she whispered, not needing to explain why.
Reaching across her, he set his coffee down on the end table behind her, relishing the temporary closeness. Moving back, he replaced his arm along the back of the sofa. Softly, he touched her hair. "I should make you coffee more often, then." In silence, he watched his fingers as they played with a few strands of her hair. Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he admitted in a low tone, "I'm feeling oddly at peace, too. I shouldn't be, but I am."
He also had no need to explain why.
Turning slowly, she set her coffee down beside his on the end table. Moving around again, she settled closer to him and lifted a hand to trail slender fingertips against the silver hairs at his temple. Without speaking, he bent his head. Silently, she leaned forward to meet his lips with her own.
The storm outside seemed to suddenly hush.
Cupping the side of her face with his hand, he gently caressed her mouth with his lips. Savouring her, savouring the moment, he slowly deepened their kiss, moving to hold her tightly against him when she parted her lips and his tongue slid against hers.
The cacophany of emotion and physical reponse their kiss elicited left them breathless and shaken. Pausing a moment, they looked at one another in wonder. Raising a shaking hand, Samantha dared not look into his eyes. Instead, she caressed the side of his face with her fingertips. "I-"
Whatever she would have said was cut off as his mouth again descended upon hers.
End chapter 9 Shelter
"You might as well take off your coat and make yourself at home. We're here for the night."
Take off your coat. Make yourself at home. We're here for the night...
His words hung between them, their double import heavy in the air. The case was over, the lost was found, and all that was left to do was tie up the myriad of loose ends this particular case had engendered. But instead of sensing completion, they felt something else rising between them, something barely begun that demanded a response. They stood in silence, a room span apart. The storm raged outside, a little girl readied herself to leave in a room nearby, but for a moment, they were outside reality, two people separate from the rest of the world and embarking on something that made their hearts pound.
It was a heady, freeing sensation.
Finally, Samantha cleared her throat and found her voice. "What happened?"
"Storm's worse," he said. "They've pulled the plows and closed the roads."
Samantha looked around, her mind searching for something concrete to latch onto besides the man in front of her. "It's not likely that the power will last, then. Something's bound to blow over and fall on a line. We should get a fire started, and look for candles." She quirked a smile. "Add a bottle of wine and we could have the perfect evening..." Her smile faltered when she saw the look in his eyes.
The heady sensation of living only in the moment swept over her again. The precipice they had been steadily moving towards since the first time they'd met was right in front of them. There was nothing else - no going back, no second guesses. She would kiss him tonight, and he would kiss her back, she would hold and be held and the sharing would be wonderful and earth- shattering and life-altering and, for a moment at least, they would say to hell with everything else. The thought of touching and being touched, of allowing whatever it was between them to happen took her breath away. Unfamiliar and so welcome she felt she could weep, a surge of happiness welled up inside of her.
She dragged her eyes from his and looked around, forcing herself to act with some degree of normalcy. "We'll be fine," she said. "I'm sure there are enough towels that we can shower, if we want." Her eyes met his for one second, then slid away. Would everything she said lead down the same path?
"I'll go back to the car and pick up our stuff. You-"
"No!" Samantha broke into his words abruptly. "I-" She stopped, not wanting to say aloud that she didn't want him to leave, that she wanted him here, with her. She looked at him, her eyes dark, afraid that the moment building so beautifully between them would dissolve and disappear if he left. "You can go in the morning. The storm should have died down by then, and you'll be able to see where you're going."
Uncertain she had convinced him, she added, "We've got food, shelter, and wood for the fire...you don't need to leave...We can wait for a change of clothes." Her words trailed off into silence. Her voice had sounded breathy, and her pulse beat a steady tattoo. He was still staring at her, and the room felt suddenly smaller and very warm and she knew that tonight they would create something that, once made, would not easily be undone.
Emma had emerged from her bedroom. Looking from one silent agent to the other, she frowned. "What's the matter?"
Her question made both adults start in surprise. Recovering first, Samantha turned towards her and smiled. Shrugging off her parka and laying it over the back of the sofa with hands that trembled only slightly, she said, "Nothing. We just found out we have to stay here the night. They've closed the roads, so it's not safe to leave."
Turning to Jack, Emma asked, "You were going to leave us here?"
Realizing she must have overheard a part of their conversation, he explained, "I wasn't going to leave entirely, I just wanted to pick up our overnight bags from the car."
Emma looked at one of the windows and said, "It's too windy and snowy outside." Reinforcing the wisdom of her words, the wind chose that moment to buffet the side of the cabin with an unusually strong gust. Wood creaked and wind whistled through cracks in the window casings, filling the room with an eerie, sad moan that faded regretfully into silence.
Walking across the room, Emma slid up onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table and looked over at the two adults. "You don't need to go now. There are new toothbrushes in a drawer in the bathroom. I know, 'cause I saw them. Brenda has all kinds of clothes in the bureau in my room, too. You can share." Her hostess duties out of the way, she asked, "Can we talk to Brenda, now?"
Jack looked at her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. She had obviously spent a good part of her time alone here thoroughly going through the place. "You still want to, eh? I wondered. It took you quite a while to get dressed and out here."
"You said we were leaving. I had to pack my suitcase," she said in an adult tone. Waiting a heartbeat, she added in a matter-of-fact voice, "I was thinking about running away, but I couldn't get the window open. It's too stormy out there, anyways." She looked from one adult to the other. "I don't-"
The two agents watched as the little girl's calm facade began to crumble. Trying to speak again, she started, "I want-". Again, her lips trembling, she was unable to finish. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Fighting them, she finally got out, "It's not fair. I want a mommy and a daddy. She promised. And now you're going to make me go back, and-" She stopped talking and bent her head down, fighting not to cry.
Samantha moved to kneel beside her. Looking up into the little girl's face, she found she had no idea what to say. Finally, desperately wanting to reassure her somehow, she said, "You're right; maybe it's not fair. But things will work out." Knowing her words weren't enough, she looked over at Jack, her eyes pleading for his support.
Jack walked over and sat at the table across from Emma. Not able to find it in his heart to lie, he told her the truth. "What Brenda was trying to do is illegal, Emma. She didn't have the right to take you from your mother. You can't take kids from their parents and give them to other people because you think the kids will be better off or happier. It can't work that way. Brenda may have wanted you to be happy, and you may want new parents, but she had no right to do what she was doing."
Emma frowned. "Then she's in trouble?"
Samantha nodded and rose to take a chair beside her. "I'm afraid so. There are other kids who have gone missing that we think she perhaps helped find parents for."
"And you're going to find them and make them go back to where they came from? That's mean. Brenda says every kid deserves a good home to live in. It's mean to make them go back," she repeated. She paused a moment to think, then added sadly, "I'm never going to have a real family, am I?"
Jack and Samantha shared a glance. They were in over their heads here, and knew it. Some things were impossible to explain in terms understandable to a six-year-old. Some things were inexplicable under any circumstances.
"I'm going to phone the hospital now. You want to talk to Brenda if she's awake, right?" Jack asked.
Successfully diverted, Emma nodded.
As it turned out, they couldn't speak with Brenda. The nurse who answered the phone, however, was cautiously optimistic about her recovery and suggested they call back in the morning. "Everything looks good, but it was quite a bang to the head she took," she told Jack.
After closing his phone and passing on the message to Emma, Jack asked her, "Are you hungry? We can get you something to eat."
Looking very small and sad, Emma shook her head. "I had a sandwich Brenda made for me before she left. And a banana and a glass of milk before I went to bed."
Again, Jack and Samantha shared a sad glance. Here was a six-year-old who fed herself, made her own bedtime snack, and put herself to bed when the adult she was expecting didn't arrive home on time. Independence at a young age, but at what cost?
"You know what?" Samantha asked, "It's three o'clock in the morning. I think you could probably do with a little more sleep, so why don't we get you into bed for a bit? In the morning, they'll have cleared the roads, and we'll be able to go and see how Brenda is doing ourselves, okay?" Samantha looked at Jack, knowing that they should probably be going directly back to the city to return Emma to her mother. He nodded, however, silently agreeing to the detour.
Rising from her chair, Samantha watched as Emma slid from hers. Following her to the bedroom, she asked, "Do you need to brush your teeth or anything?"
Emma shook her head and looked up at her. Looking anything but, she said, "I'm okay."
Resisting the urge to put her arms around her and tell her she was sorry, Samantha nodded. "Call me when you're in your pj's again, and I'll come and tuck you in."
* * *
A few minutes later, Samantha emerged from Emma's bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her.
Jack sat in the middle of the sofa, holding two mugs of coffee. Joining him, she accepted the mug he passed her and sat back comfortably. "It's not fair," she said softly, still shaken by the emotions Emma's situation had evoked in her.
"No," he agreed, "it's not. But it's not our job to decide what happens. We've done what we need to do - we've found her. What happens after that is out of our hands."
"And you don't feel frustrated by that?"
He took a sip of his coffee, then turned to face her more fully. Resting one elbow on the back of the sofa, he said, "Of course I do. But I'm not the one to say what's right and what's not. There are too many variables. Brenda was playing God, Samantha. That's a dangerous thing. It may be she has always chosen correctly, but it's a dangerous path she's taken. And a wrong one."
Still feeling frustration at the situation, she nodded and took a first, tentative drink of the hot brew he had made while she had been in with Emma. It was unexpectedly good. Looking from her mug to him in surprise, she allowed it to take her away from her depressing thoughts. "This is great."
"You thought I'd make you a bad cup of coffee? I'm wounded."
His eyes smiled at her, and she relaxed as, under their warmth, the mood betwen them gently shifted.
Watching her expression carefully, Jack searched for a word, then said softly, "You look...content."
She held his gaze. "I am," she whispered, not needing to explain why.
Reaching across her, he set his coffee down on the end table behind her, relishing the temporary closeness. Moving back, he replaced his arm along the back of the sofa. Softly, he touched her hair. "I should make you coffee more often, then." In silence, he watched his fingers as they played with a few strands of her hair. Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he admitted in a low tone, "I'm feeling oddly at peace, too. I shouldn't be, but I am."
He also had no need to explain why.
Turning slowly, she set her coffee down beside his on the end table. Moving around again, she settled closer to him and lifted a hand to trail slender fingertips against the silver hairs at his temple. Without speaking, he bent his head. Silently, she leaned forward to meet his lips with her own.
The storm outside seemed to suddenly hush.
Cupping the side of her face with his hand, he gently caressed her mouth with his lips. Savouring her, savouring the moment, he slowly deepened their kiss, moving to hold her tightly against him when she parted her lips and his tongue slid against hers.
The cacophany of emotion and physical reponse their kiss elicited left them breathless and shaken. Pausing a moment, they looked at one another in wonder. Raising a shaking hand, Samantha dared not look into his eyes. Instead, she caressed the side of his face with her fingertips. "I-"
Whatever she would have said was cut off as his mouth again descended upon hers.
End chapter 9 Shelter