David Morrell: The Covenant Of The Flame

But the man's good-natured smile put her instantly at ease. With a sympathetic shrug, he picked up her clipboard and pen, and although Tess realized it only later, his act of courtesy changed her life. In nightmarish days and weeks to come, Tess would compulsively re-analyze these next few moments and wonder if she'd never dropped her clipboard and pen, maybe they'd never have started talking. Maybe none of the pain, grief, and terror would ever have happened.

But her conclusions were always the same. Events had controlled her. No matter the horrifying results, she couldn't have changed a thing any more than she'd have been able to repress the immediate attraction she felt toward this man. Absurd? Illogical? Yes. Call it chemistry, or call it vibrations. Call it a confluence of the planets or a merging of the stars. Whatever the explanation, her knees had felt weak, her groin warm, and she'd briefly feared that she might faint. But instead of sinking, she'd managed to straighten, face the man, and keep herself from wavering.

The man was tall, six-feet-one at least, and Tess, who was also tall, appreciated men whose shoulders weren't even with her own. He had healthy, glowing, tanned skin, and square-jawed, rugged, classically handsome features. His body was perfectly proportioned, muscular yet trim. His clothes were similar to hers. Sneakers, jeans, a blue cotton shirt, the collar of which projected from a burgundy cotton pullover. But his eyes, though. They were what Tess most noticed. They glinted with a radiance that seemed to come from his soul, and their color was unusual, gray, a tint that Tess had encountered only in the heroes of arousing romance novels that she'd read with guilty pleasure during her middle teens.

As she tried to look dignified, the stranger's good-natured smile persisted. 'Tough day?'

'Not bad. Just long,' Tess said.

The stranger pointed toward the boxes she held. 'And apparently about to get longer.'

Tess blushed. 'I guess I try to do too much.'

That's better than doing too little.' The stranger pressed the elevator button marked LOBBY and narrowed his eyes toward her pen. 'Gold Cross,' he said, noting the manufacturer's name. The words seemed to have particular significance for him. He attached the pen to the clipboard and gave them to her.

Briefly their hands touched. Static electricity must have leapt, for Tess's fingers tingled.

'You work for Earth Mother Magazine !' the stranger asked.

'How did you - ?'

The labels on those boxes.'

'Oh, of course.' Tess blushed again. 'And you? You came from the floor below mine. There's only one business on that floor. A TV production firm. Truth Video.'

'Right. By the way, I've read your magazine. It's excellent. In fact, I'm putting together a documentary that's related to your work – a video on the lack of sufficient safeguards at nuclear-waste sites. Between your work and mine, I can't think of anything more important.'

Than trying to save the planet?' Tess nodded, despondent. 'If only more people felt the same way.'

'Well, that's the problem, isn't it?'

'Oh?' Tess frowned. 'I see so many problems. Which one do you - ?'

'Human nature. I'm not sure the planet can be saved.'

Tess felt surprised by his response.

The elevator stopped.

'Do you need help with those boxes?' the stranger asked.

'No, really, I can manage.'

Then let me hold open the lobby door.'

They emerged to frenzied pedestrians, blaring traffic, acrid exhaust fumes, and a smog-dirtied sunset.

This is what I mean.' The stranger shook his head, sounding mournful. I'm not sure the planet can be saved.' He helped Tess hail a taxi, peered around as if in search of someone, told her 'God bless,' and walked briskly away, blending with the crowd, disappearing almost magically into it.

Tess's fingers still tingled.

The next morning, standing in the lobby, waiting for the elevator, Tess glanced toward the right, noticed the stranger enter the building, and felt her cheeks flush.

'Well, hello again,' he said.

Flustered by her attraction to him, doing her best to hide it, Tess managed a pleasant smile. 'Nice morning.'

'Isn't it, though? When I went for my run, a breeze cleared the air. There's still not much smog yet.'

'You run?'

'Every day.'

'Hey, so do I,' Tess said.

'It shows.'

Tess felt her cheeks flush even more.

'Good for the body,' the stranger said, 'good for the soul.'

'I try.'

They lapsed into silence.

The silence lengthened.

This elevator.' Tess sighed.

'Yes. Awfully slow. But I do my best to take everything as it comes.'

'Sort of like "patience is a virtue"?'

The man debated. 'Let's call it a discipline.'

The doors slid open.

There. You see.' The stranger pointed. 'Everything in time.'

They entered the elevator.

'I promise not to drop anything,' Tess said.

'I was pleased to help.'

'But I didn't have a chance to thank you.'

'Not necessary,' the stranger said. 'You'd have done the same thing for me.'

Tess watched him push buttons for his floor, then hers, and noted with satisfaction that he didn't wear a wedding ring.

The stranger turned. 'I suppose – if we're going to keep bumping into each other – we ought to introduce ourselves.'

Tess loved the way his gray eyes twinkled. She told him her name, or at least her first name. By habit, she deliberately didn't mention that her last name was Drake because people occasionally associated it with her well-known father, and she felt upset whenever she had to talk about the brutal way he'd been killed.

'Tess?' The stranger cocked his head and nodded. 'Beautiful. That's short for…'

'Theresa.' Again she didn't tell the stranger the full truth. Although Tess' was sometimes used as a shortened form of 'Theresa', her nickname resulted from her father's teasing practice of calling her 'Contessa Theresa' when she was a child. He'd finally shortened it lovingly to just Tess'.

'Of course,' the dark-haired, strikingly handsome man said. Theresa. The Spanish mystic, the originator of the Carmelite Order of nuns.'

Tess blinked, surprised. 'I didn't know. That is… I wasn't aware of…'

'It doesn't matter. I've got a knack for collecting all sorts of useless information.'

'And your name?' Tess asked.

'Joseph.'

No last name, Tess noted, just as she hadn't volunteered hers.

The elevator jerked to a stop.

'I guess it's time again for my penance,' Joseph said.

'It can't be that bad. Last night, I got the impression you enjoyed your work.'

'Documenting the decay of the planet? That's hardly enjoyable. Still, I do get satisfaction from trying to accomplish some good.' Joseph left the elevator and turned to her, his face glowing. 'God bless.'

As the doors slid shut and Joseph disappeared, Tess's stomach sank, but not from the upward motion of the elevator.

The next day, Friday, Tess became so absorbed in her article that she worked through her lunch hour. At quarter after two, the rumbles in her stomach made her finally decide that her concentration would suffer if she didn't get something to eat.

When she entered the elevator, she thought of Joseph. Descending, it stopped at the floor below hers. Again, she tingled. No, she thought. This is just a coincidence.

But her knees went weak when the doors slid open and Joseph entered.

He grinned, apparently not at all surprised to see her. 'Looks like we're destined to keep bumping into each other.' He pressed the button marked LOBBY. 'How's your penance?'

Standing close to him, feeling his arm against hers, Tess tried to control her breathing. 'Penance?' Abruptly she remembered that he'd used that expression yesterday. 'Oh, you mean my work. I'm doing an article on acid rain. It's going well.'