The Witness: A Novel (67 page)

“None of us can, without God’s help. With His help, we can
decide
to do it. That’s the first step. The second step is to do it, not once, but many, many times. The greater the offence against us, the longer it may take to forgive.”

No kidding. She could not speak. Mercifully, Father Rogers did not stare at her wet cheeks.

“Love is stronger than fear, Jenny. It may mature more slowly, but its roots are deeper and its life longer.” He looked up. “God’s presence is everywhere, but I always feel it particularly in this room. These wide windows enable us to see His world so clearly, don’t you agree?”

“I’m not promising anything,” she finally said.

“Of course not,” Father Rogers agreed. “That is a commitment you make to God, not to me.” He set his plate on the table. “May I pray with you before I go?”

“I don’t think I’ll live long enough to forgive him.”

Rogers smiled. “Then I will pray that you have a long life,” he said.

“Will you pray for Colin, too? Joanne’s son.”

“I know Colin well,” Rogers nodded. “I’ll pray that the love between you will grow.”

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I
t was Saturday, and Colin and Jenny went for a walk. She knew Mr. MacKenna wouldn’t follow them; Colin had given him a twenty-four-hour leave. Joanne would not invade their privacy, either in the house or elsewhere. “Colin, I want to come home,” she said.

His face was filled with concern. “Mac said you had a rough week.”

“I did. It’s safe here, I know, but safety isn’t everything. We’re losing each other.”

“Jenny, I can’t be certain that all the bulletins have been removed,
or that new ones won’t be posted.”

“Colin, I’ll wear dark glasses. I’ll bleach my hair. I’ll gain weight! September 14 is a week from Tuesday. It will have been one year since—since. Please don’t leave me here.” They had walked far enough from the house so they could not be seen. She stopped and put her arms around him. “I love you. I miss you,” she said.

“This hasn’t been easy for me either, Jen.”

“How about this? I’ll take my rolling bag and walk out to the lane. Someone will come along. I’ll hitch a ride. There’s a train station in Ashford, isn’t there? I’m sure someone would direct me—maybe even a
policeman.
I’ll buy a ticket for London and take a cab from the station to Hampstead.”

“Mac would stop you, Jenny.”

“What if I talked him into coming with me? I could hold a newspaper in front of my face. Or wear a hat with a wide brim. I bet your mother has one. Colin, there are so many ways I could disguise my appearance.”

“Jenny, the risk assessment—”

“Colin, I’m less afraid of the monster hurting me than I am of his coming between us.” It had been so long since he had held her, really held her. She pressed her body against his. “Tell me you don’t want me to come home.”

He knelt down in the grass and took her in his arms. “This week,” he promised. “If your picture’s not posted, I’ll collect you this week.”

“When?” she panted.

“I’ll drive down Wednesday night. We’ll leave before first light on Thursday. I’ll have to work a regular day on Thursday.”

Her smile was dazzling. Perhaps that was why her tears affected him so deeply—because they washed away her smile. She sat up, and he brushed the leaves from her hair and the back of her clothes. “When I scratch my chigger bites, I’ll think of you,” she teased.

Her sense of humour, in the most unexpected places—God, he had missed her.

C
olin was at the wheel of his car, Jenny’s bags in the boot. No additional flyers had been posted, and after early morning good-byes, she was on her way back to Hampstead with him. When they arrived at the flat, Colin changed clothes quickly. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. “I hope not too late.”

She had the entire day ahead of her, and she had promised him that she wouldn’t go anywhere. She wrote a letter of thanks to Joanne and then decided to send a note to her own mother, in spite of the possibility that heart failure might result. She surfed the TV channels. She reviewed her Italian. By mid-afternoon she was sleepy, so she made herself a cup of tea, taking it, however, into Colin’s bedroom rather than her own. She missed him. She had come back from Kent to be with him, but of course he would gone a lot of the time.

She took her cup back to the kitchen. She was still sleepy, and remembering Joanne’s words about sleeping on her husband’s side of the bed to feel close to him, she climbed into Colin’s bed and rested her head on his pillow.

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W
hen Colin came home, the flat was quiet. “Jenny?” he called. There was no response. He took a quick look in her room. Could she have gone out? After her fervent assurances that she wouldn’t? He stepped into his bedroom to hang up his coat, and there she was, asleep in his bed, her jeans in a heap on the floor. He reached over and stroked her cheek gently. “Jenny,” he smiled, “what are you doing in my bed?”

She sat up slowly. “Missing you.” She pushed the covers back.

Her feet were bare; her legs were bare. She had napped in her t-shirt and knickers. He watched her pull on her blue jeans. Damn. It hadn’t been an invitation.

He had brought Chinese food for dinner, and she seemed shy and quiet while they ate. She leaned against him while they watched TV, and he reminded himself that Knowles’ restrictions were likely still in force and regulated his response to her. They did not have another
appointment scheduled. Perhaps they would go later the next week if the tube and train stations remained void of adverts about her.

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J
enny lay in bed, frustrated with herself and the events of the evening. Colin had been warm and affectionate but restrained, and she had been unsure about how to proceed. Dr. Knowles had encouraged her to visualize making love to Colin, but he hadn’t told her how to make that vision a reality. One of them would have to make the first move, and she wished that he had—but of course he had, weeks ago, and she had shut it down. He couldn’t read her mind, and anyway, she was supposed to be responsible for herself. She slipped out of bed.

His door was open. “Colin? Colin, are you awake?” she whispered. She heard a muffled sound. “May I come in?”

He pushed himself up on one elbow, and the sight of his bare chest made her knees feel weak. She had her nightlight in her hand, and she held it out. “Would you plug this in for me? In here?”

“Let me get some trousers on,” he said.

She hadn’t realized that he slept in the nude. “No, don’t do that,” she said quickly. “Just show me where the outlet is.”

He pointed to the left of the chest of drawers. She knelt down, affixed the light, and then approached the bed. “I’ve been in a cocoon, and I’m ready to come out. But there are so many butterflies in my stomach—will you help me?”

“Jenny, are you sure about this?”

“Yes. I want you, all of you, and I don’t want to hold anything back.”

Her nightdress had thin blue straps on each shoulder. He pushed one aside. “You’re trembling, Jen.”

“I don’t care. I love you so much.”

He moved the other strap and watched the soft fabric slide to her feet. “Come here to me then.” He made room for her beside him.

She did not have to tell him what to do. Kisses, deep kisses, which she returned just as passionately as they were given. Kisses everywhere, his hands everywhere. His fingers between her legs, then grazing her chest.

He cupped her face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

She took a deep breath, the way people do before plunging off a high dive. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

He moved on top of her and felt her body tense. Should he pull away? No, her arms were around him, holding him close. He eased into her as gently as he could, whispering her name, once, twice. He heard her fractured breaths abate and felt her lift her knees, and a fierce desire to give her every good thing and to protect her from every bad thing surged inside him, and he didn’t give a jot how unrealistic it was.

She had hoped solely for the absence of pain. She heard his voice and relaxed, totally unprepared for the shock of pleasure she felt. What
Colin was doing wasn’t violent; he was caressing her. Her physical sensations intensified. She began to move with him, as if they were one body. They were one body. Like the sugar she dissolved in her tea, she didn’t know where her skin ended and his began.

Wanting to prolong their closeness, Colin slowed his pace. In the glow from the nightlight she could see his tender smile. He stroked her face and kissed her again. When he increased his tempo, she did as well. He called her name, not in a whisper but in an involuntary outburst, raw enough to tell her how great his need for her had been. And then her tears started—tears unlike any she had shed before: tears of relief, renaissance, revelation. He kissed her wet cheeks and told her he loved her. For the first time since the attack, she forgot about her scars and felt beautiful.

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I
n the half light of dawn, the nightlight flickered, casting shadows across her naked body. She stretched, realizing that the cool shivers on her skin came from the tips of Colin’s fingers. They floated over her, barely touching her, smooth gentle strokes up her thighs and across her bottom. The sensations remained for a few seconds even after his fingers had moved on. He kissed her ears and her neck. She rolled onto her back. Some parts of her body were waking up faster than others, but his body was fully awake. Her eyes still closed, she put her arms around his neck and welcomed him in.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

W
hen she awoke next, he had showered and gone. Even naked, she felt warm in his bed, and she made no move to get up. She thought about how alive he had made her feel. For a long time she’d only known she was alive because she’d had pain. Then the physical pain had receded, and emotional pain had been the indicator. Finally she had traded fear and trembling for passion. Now she was filled with a sense of well-being. Milan Kundera had described the lightness of being as unbearable, but the lightness she felt now wasn’t unbearable at all. It was a weightlessness that spread throughout her, the result of deep burdens removed. Nothing of gravity held her down, and the wings of happiness were beneath her. Why didn’t her body lift off the mattress?

D
r. Knowles’ first questions to Colin and Jenny centred on the handbill episodes and their response to them.

“My freedom of movement is still significantly curtailed,” she answered. “I didn’t go back to the bookstore until yesterday, and I was uneasy even then. It’s probably paranoid of me, but I feel like people are looking at me everywhere I go.”

“Was your time in Kent productive?”

She smiled. She should start a new list:
Dr. Knowles’ Cute Adjectives
. “The most productive thing that happened in Kent was my convincing Colin to let me come home.”

“And after your return?”

She blushed deeply and looked at her lap. “My body is Colin’s now,” she whispered. “I gave it to him.”

“Good for you,” Knowles said softly. “Would you tell me a bit about it? Without disclosing any details you’d like to keep private, of course.”

“I missed him so much when we were apart. When I came home, I was nervous, but I wasn’t afraid. There’s a difference, but I don’t know how to explain it. I cried almost the whole time, but I wasn’t afraid.”

“Why did you cry, my dear?”

“First, because it didn’t hurt, and I was so relieved. Then because it felt good, which I never expected. I cried because being so close to him was overwhelming.” Her voice broke, and she laughed at herself because she was crying. “I cried because I was happy, and later I cried because it was over.”

Neither man could restrain a smile.

“Did we break the rules?”

“No,” Knowles said. “It had to be your choice, not mine. If I had given you permission, it would have meant that I was in charge. That was never my intent. Any problem areas?”

Initial tension every time, Colin thought, but it always eased, so he didn’t feel bound to report it. There was something, however, that she needed to disclose. He took her hand. “We need to tell him about Tuesday, my love.” She’d been tense when he left for work. Reluctant to see him go, but all right. “One year ago Tuesday Jenny was attacked,”
he said. “I left a bit late for the Yard. About midday Casey rang to tell me she wasn’t answering her mobile. I couldn’t get through either. I went home.”

“I couldn’t get up,” she explained. “I had cramps in my legs and pains in my chest and stomach. Sharp pains.”

All the lights had been on in the flat when he arrived. Midday, and all the lights were on. He’d found her in bed, lying on her side with her knees pulled up. “I wanted to ring for an ambulance. She wouldn’t have it.”

“No more hospitals,” she said. “No more strangers’ hands.”

“I decided to run her a bath. If it didn’t help, an ambulance was still an option.” She’d cried when he lowered her into the water, but she’d been able to stretch out her limbs. She’d accepted the glass of wine he brought. And the refill.

“The hot water eased the pain.” She hadn’t had anything to eat, and the wine had made her tipsy. He’d been sitting on the edge of the tub, and she’d splashed him, first by accident and then on purpose. He’d splashed her back, but her laughter at his sopping shirt had turned to hysterical tears. He’d put his arms around her slippery body and held her. Then he had kissed her. She had responded with a rush of emotion, stripping his clothes away, and he had taken her out of the bath and made love to her, but she had never closed her eyes.

Knowles leant forward, knowing from their pauses that far more had happened than they were telling him.

“Colin put me to bed.”

She had cried hard, and her words had broken his heart. “Colin, I wish you’d been my first,” she’d said. “In all the ways that matter, I believe I was,” he’d replied. He hadn’t gone back to the Yard; he hadn’t been able to leave her.