Four hours later, James closed his bedroom door silently.
"I think she's sleeping now." he informed his wife who was waiting for him sat on the bed. He shook his head in disbelief as he sat next to her. "I still can't believe it's true."
"Well after spending nearly all day long at SI10, supporting our daughter while she was reliving the worst moment of her life, believe me, I know it's true."
With one arm he got her closer. She put her head on his shoulder and he kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, I should have been there for you."
"How could you know?" she reasoned.
"If I had checked my battery, you would have been able to reach me." He said remembering her words when he arrived home.
"Don't blame yourself. The only thing that matters is that you're here now." She kissed him swiftly before pillowing her head on his shoulder again. "So? You didn't tell me about New York. How is your aunt?"
"Better. She should be out of the hospital tomorrow."
Harry sighed with relief. "Good." At least this was good news. "Have you seen your mother?"
"Yes, yes. She was a bit disappointed not to see you and the kids, but she knows it's not easy with work and school... Maybe we could all go there together once this is over." He suggested.
"Why not." Harry liked the idea of a happy time when this ordeal would be finished. "By the way, why did you come back earlier?"
When no answer came, she raised her head from his shoulder to look at him. He seemed lost in his thoughts. "James?" she prompted.
He looked at her; her beautiful eyes, her shining lips. She hadn't change in those last twenty years; she was still the same woman than the one on the picture. He smiled and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Haven't I already told you when I arrived? I missed my beautiful wife."
"You've only been gone for four days." she remarked.
Could she feel he was hiding her something? Dempsey hesitated. Should he tell her the truth? He felt a bit guilty; since they had finally been able to admit their mutual feelings more than twenty years ago, they had always been honest to each other. But she had already been through so much today that he couldn't bring himself to worry her with this story.
"So what? I can't miss my wife?" he stuck to his guns.
Harry smiled. He was so sweet. She leaned back into his arms and he kissed her on the forehead again.
Despite himself, Dempsey couldn't stop thinking about that encounter with Davis. The scene replayed vividly in his mind.
It was the photo of a beautiful woman with light blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. This picture too had been taken some 20 years ago, but it wasn't intact. There was a round black burn on the forehead of the woman, like one made with a cigarette. "Harry." he murmured and brushed the surface of the burn with his thumb.
"What a waste of a beautiful picture hey!" Davis commented, shaking his head. "So, you knew this girl?"
But Dempsey was lost in his thoughts. "So?" Davis prompted.
"What?" Dempsey jerked awake.
"Do you know what happened to that blonde?" repeated Davis
"Well," he said slowly "I married her."
God, yes, he had married her and she had made him the happiest man ever for the last two decades. The woman he was holding was the best thing that had ever happened to him, she had given him love, happiness and two wonderful children. But there he was, lying to her about something important.
'It can't be that important' he tried to convince himself. 'It was important enough to make you leave New York the very next morning!' he countered himself… He frowned, tightening his grip around his wife.
Did he think there was still a contract on his head in New York? No! They had flown to New York since their wedding on numerous occasions and he never had had any problem. Coltrane was dead and those pictures were 20 years old after all. 'I just didn't like that. After all, it was a disfigured picture of Harry; it was unexpected and it wasn't pleasant.'
Harry entangled herself from his arms and kissed him. "Let's go to bed, tomorrow's going to be a long day."