Iris Johansen - Across the River of Yesterday

"You too."

"I always sleep well." He rose and looked down at her. "You just have to remember to watch out for those ambushes."

"You have them, too?"

"We all have them." He smiled again. "You're not alone, Serena." His gaze suddenly fell on the glass on the nightstand. "You forgot to drink your orange juice, so I emptied it out and brought you some fresh. Just what you need for a nightcap." He sat down again, picked up the glass and gathered her up into the curve of his arm. "Bottoms up."

"No, I don't-"

"Shh." His voice was velvet soft and coaxing. "You need it." He smiled that smile that enfolded her in sunlight and caring. "Come on, there's just a little in the glass and I want to feel I've done my duty to appease the gods of nutrition. I didn't have any milk to give you. You wouldn't want to make me feel bad, would you?"

Who would ever want Gideon Brandt to know sadness or discomfort? He was everything that was caring and loving, and so dear she could feel her throat tighten with emotion as she looked up at him. What difference did it make if she didn't want the orange juice? It wouldn't hurt her. She opened her lips and finished off the juice in a few swallows. As he took the glass away, she wrinkled her nose at him. "Satisfied?"

He nodded as he set the empty glass on the nightstand and laid her back against the pillows. "For now. You've been a very sensible girl." He stood up and flicked off the lamp. She could see his shadow move across the room to the door.

"Now watch out for those bushwhackers and get to sleep." He paused at the door. She couldn't see his face but she didn't need to see it. It was all there in his quiet voice. "I'm here for you, Serena. Always."

A moment later, he was gone, leaving the door ajar.

He heard the swift patter of her feet on the tiles and knew she was coming to him.

He had been lying awake, thinking and listening to the thunder and the rain beating against the tile roof. He had always liked rain. There had been precious little of it in the desert country where he had grown up and, when it did come, it was like a blessing on the parched land.

"Gideon?" Serena's voice was shaky and uncertain. She was standing in the doorway.

"I'm awake. Bushwhackers?"

"I did what you told me and went to sleep, but the thunder woke me and-"

"Ambush," he finished for her. He sat up in bed. "Bad luck. I hoped you'd get a good night's sleep. Come here."

She hesitated. "I don't want to bother you. I only thought…" She stopped. "I don't know what I thought."

"You thought you'd come see your friend and together we'd blow those bushwhackers to kingdom come." He chuckled. "Now come over here and we'll get down to it."

She came slowly to him. "Shall I turn on the light?"

"Not unless you want to. Sometimes darkness is better. You might toss me that robe on the chair. I'm naked as a jaybird and I don't want to shock your convent sensibilities." He stood up and shrugged into the white terry cloth robe she handed him. "There. Now come to bed and snuggle." He drew back the sheet, pushed Serena down on the bed and then lay beside her, pulling her into his arms. She smelled clean and sweet and felt wonderfully right in his arms. As he tightened his clasp about her he realized she was trembling. He had thought she would be when he had heard her voice. She wouldn't have come to him if the pain of suppressing those memories hadn't been impossible to bear alone. He experienced a sudden aching regret as he realized what that meant. It was time.

He cradled her cheek against his shoulder, his palm cupping the back of her head. Thank heaven, she had come to him. She was very close to breaking, and she mustn't be alone when it happened. "Now, we're going to talk a little. Is that all right with you?"

"Yes." The assent was muffled against his shoulder.

"I think it's time we got to know each other. I was born on a little ranch in Texas and spent most of my childhood there. We lost the ranch when I was thirteen, and my parents died that same year. I was in an orphanage until I was sixteen and then wandered around the country, taking any job that came along." His fingers were soothingly rubbing her temple. "Then Vietnam and some more wandering. Recently I decided it would be better to be rich than to be poor, so I guess I'll have to settle down for a while. Ross will be very relieved. He has a taste for the good things of life. There. Now you know all about Gideon Brandt, Esquire." He looked down at her. "Have I talked you to sleep?"

"No."

"Are you an only child?"

"No, I have a younger brother. I don't see much of him. He attends school in England. My stepfather was awarded custody of-" She broke off and he felt her stiffen against him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to talk about it, you don't have to talk about anything." His voice was very soft. "But it's time we shot those bushwhackers out of the saddle and there's only one way to do it, Serena."

"Gideon, I-"

"Shhh. You've got to invite them in and let them take their shot at you. You've got to remember. Then you'll be in control again."

She could feel the panic rising within her. "Nol"

"Yes." His voice was totally certain and she suddenly remembered that Ross had called him relentless. "It's time to face it. Then it will be all over and you can start to heal. You're not alone. I'm here. I'm holding you. Now, remember, Serena."

She began to shake as if in the throes of malaria. "Gideon…"

"Don't talk about it, unless you want to, but admit to yourself that it happened. It did happen."

"No!" The word was uttered through clenched teeth. "Don't make me!"

"You were in your nightgown, and your feet were bare."

And she remembered.

The tears were suddenly raining down her cheeks and harsh sobs were wracking her body. "Ugly. Oh, God, so much ugliness. Gideon…"

"It's all right, baby." His voice was a low croon in her ear. "It's all over, it's gone now."

"It will never be gone. I'll always see…"

"No, you'll always remember, but after a while you won't see it anymore. There are so many beautiful things in the world, and I'll show them all to you. Whenever you start to remember, I'll pull another one out of the hat and then it will fade away again." His voice was a level above a whisper as his hand stroked her hair. "Do you believe me, Serena?"

"I don't know. I just don't…" The sobs were no longer tearing at her body, but she couldn't seem to stop the tears from flowing. "I can't think."

"Then I'll quit my jawing and let you rest." His lips touched the top of her head. "I'm not going to hassle you, baby. Relax now. You can think about what I said later. Right now, we'll talk about something else. What do you want to do?"

The sudden switch of subjects bewildered her. "Do?"

"You know, do you want to swim the English Channel or be a clown in a circus or be the first lady to go to Mars?"

"Oh." She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "I've always wanted to be an artist. I love to paint. My mother took me to the Louvre once when I was a little girl and someday I'm…" She trailed off, floundering. She was actually thinking about the future, she realized with astonishment.

"See?" Gideon said softly. "There is a tomorrow. Now that you've faced the past, you can go on. One of these days you'll be as famous as Titian or Da Vinci or Rubinoff. Will you paint me a picture?"

Her arms tightened around him. "I'll paint you a mural," she said with passionate intensity. "I'll paint you your own Sistine Chapel, if you like."

He chuckled. "I appreciate the gesture, but a painting will do. A Serena original."

The tears had stopped. The wound was still throbbing, but it was already beginning to heal. "You'll have it," she whispered. She wanted to give him the moon, gift-wrapped. He had given her so much. "Anything you want."