VANGUARD(59)

But in truth, who else but Michael did she trust that much? She lay down beside him, gazing at his face. She ran her fingers softly over his ravaged features, still unable to believe he was with her. His eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened.

“Hi,” Sophie whispered.

“Mana mila. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she replied, “thanks to you.”





-





Michael slept for twelve hours. By the time he woke, Sophie had cooked and eaten a bowl of plain rice. He seemed distraught that she’d gotten up on her own.

“It’s okay, honestly. I’ve done nothing but lie down for two days. It’s all right for me to move around a little.” She eyed him nervously. She wasn’t sure what had happened to him during the time she’d been sick, but he seemed different. Sweeter, maybe. Guilty?

Michael went out at one point and returned an hour later with ripe bananas. Bananas in the winter in a warzone? Those must have cost a fortune! He told Sophie that it was early evening outside. She had no idea what day it was.

“Bananas are good, easy on your digestive system.” He mashed them up in a bowl, and would have fed them to her if she’d let him.

“Michael,” she said after she’d finished the fruit, “is there something you want to say? Something you need to tell me?” He looked at her, green eyes wide and unreadable.

“Yes, mana mila, there is.” Her stomach dropped to her toes. He was going to tell her it was a huge mistake. “I did a lot of thinking while you were sick.” This sounded worse with every second, and she started to tremble. He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands. She could see them shaking as well.

“I…I….” He broke off. “You are too far away.” He held his arms out to her. “Come to me. Please.” She padded over, snuggling into his arms. This wasn’t scary. This felt good.

He pulled her back so that they lay together on the bed. He’d changed the sheets while Sophie ate, and the fresh cotton felt cool. His fingers ran softly over her face, tracing her features, her mouth. She cupped his cheek, and he leaned into her hand. Then he slid forward and kissed her sweetly. She made a sound of disappointment when he pulled away.

“Thank you. Thank you for coming to find me. For saving me. I have not properly thanked you for this.”

She smiled and kissed him again. Even after a ravaging bout of illness, she could feel her desire for him simmering deep inside.

“I love you,” he said softly. “I have been in love with you for so long.” She drew in a sudden breath of surprise at his words. “I have done such a dreadful job of showing you how I feel,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth as he spoke. “I would not blame you if you did not wish to see me again after we return home. But I love you. I have always loved you. You have ruined me for other women, mana mila.”

“Maybe you have done a bad job of showing me,” Sophie answered. “I’m not sure I did any better. But I knew anyway. I’ve always known. I have never loved anyone else as I love you. We belong together, Michael. It just took us a little longer than most to find our way to each other.”

He kissed her again, and again, then they lost track of time. Eventually his stomach started to growl, making them laugh. Sophie sat on the bed and watched while he made himself a meal and ate it. They planned their departure for the next day. They talked.

She slept in his arms that night, wearing one of his t-shirts. It wasn’t the romantic night she had planned to have with the love of her life.

It was better.





Chapter 13





February 21, 2014





“Today is WHAT?!”

“February 21,” he repeated.

Sophie took a step backward and sat down on the bed. Commandant Jaros wanted Michael back on February 24. Somehow while she had been ill, she’d lost two days.

I don’t know how I’m going to do it.

She started to shake, and he was at her side in an instant.

“Relax. There was nothing you or I could do while you were ill. We can talk more about a plan on the drive home. Yes?” He ducked his head a little to see her face, and smiled at her.

She smiled weakly back. Michael was right. He frequently was, although she hated to admit it. To him or herself.

“Finished with breakfast?” he asked.