Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"How long have you been here?"

"An hour or so." Irana got to her feet. "Would you like a glass of water?"

Emily realized her throat was dry. "I can get it."

"Why? I need to stretch my legs anyway." Irana went to the carafe on the nightstand and poured water into the glass. "I'm not used to being still. If I'm not asleep, I have to move."

Emily glanced at the clock-2:40 in the morning. "You should be asleep." She took the glass Irana handed her. "I don't need you."

Irana shrugged. "Maybe I was the one in need. I couldn't sleep be¬cause I was worried about you. I've found that if I don't do something when I'm fretting about someone, I regret it. So I camped out with you." She sat back down in the chair. "Drink your water. I know you want me to leave. I'll do it when I'm sure you're wide-awake. It's too easy to fall back into a nightmare."

Emily took a sip of water. "I'm awake now." But she found she didn't want Irana to leave yet. The horror of Staunton and Joel was still hovering too close. "You're being very kind, but I'm sure you have other patients who need you. I didn't mean to impose when Garrett brought me here."

"You haven't imposed. You work, you eat, you sleep." She paused. "And sometimes Satan sends you a nightmare to torment you."

"Satan?" Yes, Staunton was as close to the concept of Satan as she'd ever known. "I guess you could say that. There are all kinds of Satans in this world. I suppose it's natural for you to blame it on Lu¬cifer. Garrett said you were once a nun."

"Yes."

"And that you were having a crisis of faith when he first met you."

"Not of faith. I never had doubt in God or my desire to serve him." She grimaced. "It was how I was to serve him that was the trouble. I was always rebellious, always questioning, always too willing to be¬lieve that my conscience alone should dictate my actions. The Church is a strong and wonderful institution. I tried for eleven years to serve God in the way that the Church said that I should." She shook her head. "I failed."

"Garrett said that he was partly to blame."

"Did he? He's wrong, and I've told him so a hundred times." She smiled. "But if guilt makes him keep my hospital running and helps to heal my patients, that's not such a bad thing. Someday the guilt will fade away, and there will only be the goodness and generosity of the deed left behind."

"Why does he think he's to blame?"

"Ask him. He told me no confessionals. Even though I'm the one baring my soul." She got to her feet. "And now I'll let you try to go back to sleep. Though I don't promise I won't drop in on you again."

"It's really not necessary. But I do thank you for the thought."

"It's necessary," Irana said. "For my own peace of mind. I'd like to say it's God's will, but I don't have that kind of arrogance. I suspect it's because the Sisters were right and I'm vain and selfish and I believe far too much in my own instincts." She paused as she opened the door. "If you press the button on the nightstand, it will ring in my room. I'll come if you need me."

Emily shook her head.

Irana smiled. "Have it your own way. But you'll have to put up with me serving your meals from now on. And I'm cutting you down to six hours of work at the hospital. That therapy is over."

"No!"

"Yes, that was as much an escape as if I gave you a sedative. It's time we gradually eased you back into the real world."

The real world. Yes, these last days have been like being in a dream, Emily thought. Hard work, staring down at the tiles she was scrubbing. Then later, the billowing white curtains, sea breeze, bright sun followed by darkness.

"But not yet." Irana's gaze was reading her expression. "I said grad¬ually, Emily. Garrett wants me to keep you resting as long as I can."

"And do you always do as he orders?"

"Heavens no, but sometimes we actually agree." She waved as she closed the door behind her.

The real world. Staunton and ugly memories and nightmares that might not ever stop. She had to face it all soon.

But not now, not this minute. She lay back on the pillow and gazed out at the moonlight filtering through the window. She felt an odd sense of peace and serenity. She could feel the breeze as it rushed past the sheer curtains to brush her cheeks. Nothing harsh, nothing threatening. Irana would come if she pressed the button on the night¬stand. Garrett was in his villa on the hill. Neither of them could be called friends, but she felt safe with them.

And she was not alone.

"COME ON." IRANA STRODE across the tiny patio, reached out, and pulled Emily out of the deck chair and onto her feet. "You look en¬tirely too lazy. We're going for a walk on the beach. I need exercise, and I want company."

"You say that every day." Emily smiled as she fell into step with Irana as they walked out onto the sand. "Poor Irana. All these people on the island who love you, and you have to depend on me for company? I don't think so."

"I don't see why not." Irana grinned. "I'd have to make conversation with anyone else. You don't talk that much." She made a face. "But I may have to find someone else soon. You're almost back to normal. Of course, I don't know what normal is for you. All I know is the Emily you are now."

"I'm not sure I know who I am right now either." She gazed out at the sun-baked beach. It was amazing how she had become accustomed to life on this island in the last ten days. She had lived only in the mo¬ment, and Irana had been the center of those moments. Walks on the beach, mornings when she'd helped out at Irana's infirmary, evenings when Irana had occasionally dropped in and had her dinner with Emily. "But I know I'm grateful to you, Irana."

"Why? I've done nothing."

"That's it. You've done nothing. You don't ask me questions; you let me take, without giving." She paused. "And you haven't preached at me."

"I don't have the right. I don't know what you went through in those mountains. I can only do the best I can to live my life according to the Golden Rule and try not to hurt anyone else. I let God handle everything." She picked up a seashell. "Isn't this pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"And if God can make something this beautiful, I imagine he can heal what Satan broke. He doesn't need me." She smiled at Emily. "He's already started. Every time you look out at that surf, don't you feel just a little better? Every time the tide goes out, doesn't it take a tiny bit of the pain with it?"

"Perhaps." She gazed down at the seashell in Irana's hand. "God or nature?"

"God is nature."

"Well, God or nature or Irana. I'm grateful to all of you," Emily said. "I'll be sorry to leave this island."

"For the first few days. Then you'll be caught up in the real world. That's where you belong."

"I'm not so sure. It can be very cruel in the real world."

"Yes, but your instincts are to go to battle against that cruelty; you're one of the soldiers."

Emily's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Soldiers?"

"We all have our roles in life. Haven't you battled your entire ca¬reer to keep beauty and history alive?"

She nodded slowly. "But I never thought of myself as a soldier. Is Garrett a soldier?"

"Oh, yes. Without doubt. The quintessential soldier. And he knows it. He's not like you. He doesn't have one sole focus. He's been fight¬ing all his life in one way or the other. That's why he decided to go after you. He couldn't resist. You were just one more battle he had to win."

"All his life?"

"Most of it anyway. From what I could gather from Dardon and bits Garrett has dropped. His father was a drunkard and a criminal who moved from country to country from the time Garrett was born. He evidently paid no attention to Garrett, who had to scramble just to eat. He was a street kid, and it's amazing that he managed to survive. But he did survive and managed to acquire an amazing if unconven¬tional education along the way. He knows a little bit about practically everything. Do you know he speaks nine languages? The longest time he was allowed to settle anywhere were the years he spent in Afghani¬stan. His father ran guns there and sold weapons to the rebels. He was killed two years after he arrived in the mountains, but Garrett stayed on with friends he'd made there."