far more like me."
Emily blinked and her mouth opened. Once she'd slapped a man in a public park, hard, for beating his dog. Just an instant reaction on her part. At the time Eric told her she was lucky the man didn't take out charges against her. And now, though she'd never known him to do more than raise his voice, he was saying she was just like him.
"Don't be surprised," he told her. Then, "I thought you knew."
"What? Because I went into archeology, too?"
"No. No. Not that. The other thing. Because…" His voice trailed off. "Maybe it wasn't so obvious to you. Rose and I would talk about it so much I guess I took it for granted that you saw it, too." Briefly he glanced at her again. "You're almost exactly like I was at your age."
"And that makes you worried?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because…well…your mother would frequently worry that I'd do something rash or careless."
"Like what? You're the most careful supervisor I've ever seen at any dig."
"Yeah. Well. Now. That's not the way I've lived my entire life. I did pretty stupid things in Bagdad."
He paused. She waited for him to go on.
"Sometimes, when I wasn't on duty, I'd change into civs and go out into the city, even though it was off limits to do so, on our own, while I was there. Against orders. Every now and then with some other crazed out guys, but usually alone. Not really looking for trouble, but not caring if we found it. Sometimes we, or I, would look for it. Like I said: stupid."
They drove a while without speaking, her thinking about what had been said. It was something totally new to her about him and she didn't know what to make of it.
A sign flashed by, announcing five more miles to Philadelphia.
It acted like a trigger to make Eric speak again. First he said, "Two o'clock." Just a noncommittal observation. But then his voice came out dry and strained. "Em?"
"Yes?" she answered quickly.
"Promise me you won't do anything rash? You won't do anything careless, or stupid?"
She saw him staring rigidly down the highway. Then he turned to face her. She met his eyes and nodded. "I won't," she confirmed.
Eyes back on the highway, he extracted another promise from her. "And please don't do anything without letting me know? I can't coddle and protect you from bad things like when you were little. I know that. But I don't think I could take it if anything happened to you, too."
Emily thought it over for all of a second. "I won't, Dad, as long as you promise me the same. We don't do a thing without the knowledge and consent of the other."
"Deal."
"Deal," she echoed.
When they entered the city limits, Eric asked, "Shall we go on to the police station?"
Emily listened to her travel-weary bones. "Please, no. Let's go to the motel and get some sleep."
Eric sighed, long and tired. "I suppose you're right. I'm probably too tired to handle that right now myself."
He aimed the car for their hotel.
12
The grass and trees glistened wetly, but the rain had finally stopped. John Hardy shivered, not only from the cold (though it was bitterly cold) but also from the memories of that other night.
This night's character was almost the same. All he needed was to add her blood to his shirt. One set of images invariably led to the other. Hardy shook his head, trying to erase the pictures of the trial from his mind's eye, but it also played through to the end.
Again he cursed himself, wondering why he was here. Some damned neighborhood sentinel would probably see him wandering through, a man out of place, must be dangerous. Bums don't come into neighborhoods. They would call the cops. Damned stupid, coming here.
But he continued anyway, not knowing why, not able to stop.
Like some night animal, he stayed away from the lights. And when he couldn't avoid them, he tried to walk natural, as if he belonged. Most of the
Emily blinked and her mouth opened. Once she'd slapped a man in a public park, hard, for beating his dog. Just an instant reaction on her part. At the time Eric told her she was lucky the man didn't take out charges against her. And now, though she'd never known him to do more than raise his voice, he was saying she was just like him.
"Don't be surprised," he told her. Then, "I thought you knew."
"What? Because I went into archeology, too?"
"No. No. Not that. The other thing. Because…" His voice trailed off. "Maybe it wasn't so obvious to you. Rose and I would talk about it so much I guess I took it for granted that you saw it, too." Briefly he glanced at her again. "You're almost exactly like I was at your age."
"And that makes you worried?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because…well…your mother would frequently worry that I'd do something rash or careless."
"Like what? You're the most careful supervisor I've ever seen at any dig."
"Yeah. Well. Now. That's not the way I've lived my entire life. I did pretty stupid things in Bagdad."
He paused. She waited for him to go on.
"Sometimes, when I wasn't on duty, I'd change into civs and go out into the city, even though it was off limits to do so, on our own, while I was there. Against orders. Every now and then with some other crazed out guys, but usually alone. Not really looking for trouble, but not caring if we found it. Sometimes we, or I, would look for it. Like I said: stupid."
They drove a while without speaking, her thinking about what had been said. It was something totally new to her about him and she didn't know what to make of it.
A sign flashed by, announcing five more miles to Philadelphia.
It acted like a trigger to make Eric speak again. First he said, "Two o'clock." Just a noncommittal observation. But then his voice came out dry and strained. "Em?"
"Yes?" she answered quickly.
"Promise me you won't do anything rash? You won't do anything careless, or stupid?"
She saw him staring rigidly down the highway. Then he turned to face her. She met his eyes and nodded. "I won't," she confirmed.
Eyes back on the highway, he extracted another promise from her. "And please don't do anything without letting me know? I can't coddle and protect you from bad things like when you were little. I know that. But I don't think I could take it if anything happened to you, too."
Emily thought it over for all of a second. "I won't, Dad, as long as you promise me the same. We don't do a thing without the knowledge and consent of the other."
"Deal."
"Deal," she echoed.
When they entered the city limits, Eric asked, "Shall we go on to the police station?"
Emily listened to her travel-weary bones. "Please, no. Let's go to the motel and get some sleep."
Eric sighed, long and tired. "I suppose you're right. I'm probably too tired to handle that right now myself."
He aimed the car for their hotel.
12
The grass and trees glistened wetly, but the rain had finally stopped. John Hardy shivered, not only from the cold (though it was bitterly cold) but also from the memories of that other night.
This night's character was almost the same. All he needed was to add her blood to his shirt. One set of images invariably led to the other. Hardy shook his head, trying to erase the pictures of the trial from his mind's eye, but it also played through to the end.
Again he cursed himself, wondering why he was here. Some damned neighborhood sentinel would probably see him wandering through, a man out of place, must be dangerous. Bums don't come into neighborhoods. They would call the cops. Damned stupid, coming here.
But he continued anyway, not knowing why, not able to stop.
Like some night animal, he stayed away from the lights. And when he couldn't avoid them, he tried to walk natural, as if he belonged. Most of the
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